#her even more of that? guy turns good for girl then gets the girl??

[mahyuume]

CAPABLE OF LOVE!

— synopsis. the ways he proofs being capable of showing love!

pairing. various!haikyuu, jjk, bllk, mha x reader | genre. romance, fluff, crack.

reminders. I’m posting after a suuuper long break, hope you guys like this! | mlist

I THINK I NEED I NEED A PICTURE, is something you’ve said countless times to your boyfriend (who will one day be your husband) then proceeding to whip out any kind of device capable of taking a photo. Currently, is happening right now.

“Baby, we need a picture, again!” You gleam at him, the look on his face already dreading the next fifty photos going to be taken; exhausted from taking the last hundred— or maybe more than that photos. But, reluctantly, he agrees. “Fine, but this is the last time,” the boy sighs then flashes his award winning smile. Just in time for- click! that. Now holding the freshly printed Polaroid, he takes a look at your face instead of the physical copy of you both.

Staring at the facial features adorned on you, he sees no flaws whatsoever. He stares at your eyes; shiny but with the hints of clear joy. Lips— he’s kissed them multiple times, but never got over how soft and plush they felt. Always wondered how you do it.

“Are you even listening to me?” You turned your head to him, giving him a small frown. He snaps back into his senses from you cutting his train if thought; now darting back at your eyes, then lips again. “Sorry,” he clears his throat, trying to get rid of all the mushy thoughts in his head. “What were you saying?” Giving a small huff, you re-explain why you both need so many photos. But truth be told, he wasn’t listening one bit. Okay, just a little, but your face is something he could look at for hours. The look of love is real when it comes to him, due to the fact that he always manages to accidentally ignore you; all while adoring you.

As voices drown out, he thinks about adding this new photo to the heart shaped Polaroid collection in his room. Cracks out a stupid smile, then further proves to be undeniably whipped for you.

TOBIO KAGEYAMA, MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, NAGI SEISHIRO, RIN ITOSHI, KUNIGAMI RENSUKE, SHOTO TODOROKI, NEITO MONOMA.

‘CAUSE IT’S NEVER ENOUGH! Is what your boyfriend says almost if not every-time he gifts you things. His reasoning is always “just because” and that he truly meant it when he said if he could give you the whole world, he would. And what I just relayed out for you to process, plays out in your daily life. And is, right now.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Repeated sounds of the doorbell chiming in your ear, you smile as you already know who’s behind the door while opening it for your love. But this time like most, it’s not your love facing you. It’s a big teddy bear that’s twice his size. You’re even surprised a thing like that could fit into his car!

“And who is this for?” You question him, a silly one at that. “Some cute girl I met.” He responds but not so clearly since the bear completely hides his figure besides the arms of his holding it up, drowning in the big fluffy stuffy. You roll your eyes at his answer, “Oh? Come in and tell me all about her.” Entertaining him, you take the legs of the bear and help him inside. And oh my, it was pretty heavy. But no surprise your super strong fiancé could lift it without a sweat.

“I would but…” “But?” “I have more things for the pretty girl inside my car,” he looks over at you with a stupid smile. “If you don’t mind.” He says while walking away back to the front door in a seemingly rush.

Coming back, his hands and arms are full of designer goods, and some even being valentine gifts. Talk about a man who can treat!

“You got me all this?” A gasp leaves your pretty lips as he stares at them, it making him smile in return too. “Yup.” Helping him get the bags, he watches you with a dumb look that makes you wanna slap him for being such a mushy lover. Of course, in a good way!

Opening your early valentine gifts, each one never failed to surprise you and leave you even more grateful for the man watching and recording your reactions. He points to the Nekta bag next to you. In the video, you’re surrounded by countless luxury brands but he decides to point out a specific one.

“Open that one baby.” He smirks behind the camera, watching your face twist into one of excitement and shying away from the camera. “Why? What’s in here?” You say as your paid for nails on hands reach for the Nekta bag. Opening it, there’s many boxes to choose from. You’re not sure which he meant. “Which one?” He points to a small one, the tiniest out of the bunch.

Unraveling the box and seeing the message, cluelessly, you didn’t notice how your boyfriend set down the phone and got down on one knee.

‘Look in front of you dummy.’ You read aloud then looked up. And there he was, holding the missing ring from the box, proposing to you with it.

“Will you marry me?”

HAJIME IWAIZUMI, SATORU GOJO, SAE ITOSHI, REO MIKAGE, KATSUKI BAKUGOU.

TO SEE YOU SMILING IN MY MIND is a memory you often hear being told over and over again by your boyfriend. His dreams of you both are beyond romantic or very dramatic, there’s really no in between.

By far the most exaggerated thing he’d ever say is something about how you two turned into fishes and lived a happy life together swimming around the ocean, avoiding sharks and fishermen. But this time, it’s quite different.

Ding! Ding! Your phone goes off at 7:35pm, right as you’re getting ready for bed or doing whatever it is. Checking what notified you, a smile lit across your face as you read your boyfriend’s display name.

Weird random: Babe

Weird random: I had another dream call me rn it’s so important

Giggling and mentally calling him a weirdo, you read the messages in-app then click the Video Call option.

“Oh my gosh baby, you won’t believe what I dreamt of.” Is what you hear your boyfriend say from the audio of your phone that’s now prompt up on a water glass as a substitute for a stand. “What’d you predict this time?” You cheekily asked him as he closes the space between his device and face; now a super close up of him is in your screen.

You’re not complaining though. He’s in one of those hoodies you promised yourself to ‘borrow’ one of these days and has messy bed hair, which tells you he just woke up from a nap.

“Okay so like, it’s me and you right,” he settles his phone down somewhere around his house, now making hand motions like a story teller. “Mhm.” “We’re having this cute date and stuff right.” “And?” “And then like, you look so beautiful. Like so, like, just so beautiful that flowers bloom when you walk near them type of beautiful!”

Laughing at his silly compliment, it doesn’t fail to make your cheeks turn a pink hue. “You’re so corny I swear…” it’s his turn to laugh at your comment, “Come on girl, don’t tease me like that.” His voice suddenly turns into one more of a softer beat, “hurts my feelings.” He says as he puts a hand on his heart, seemingly clutching it. Rolling your eyes at your favorite boy, he continues on with his story- dream. His dream.

“Then boom, some random dude comes up to you and goes like ‘hey you’re pretty’ and I’m like ‘dude back off’ and then we get into a fight in order to see who wins your love.” At this point he was just background music as you did your night routine. “Babe, are you even listening?” Or maybe not.

“Of course I am.” You look at him from the side of your eye, noticing how he’s now closer than earlier. “Doesn’t seem like it.” From the looks of it, it seems like you’re plain out ignoring him. But you’e not, really! “Promise I am.” Adjusting the camera to face you fully now, he focuses on you rather than talking about his hefty dream storyline.

“What if I just married you, like, tomorrow?”

What a nice question he asked, and your answer is…

“I don’t know?” You stop doing whatever you’re doing and look at him. “Why’re you asking?” “No reason.” Liar. “Stop lying!” His hands go up in protest, “I’m not!” He looks away for a bit then returns to stare at you. “Just… just had a dream about it.” And it clicks.

“So that’s what you were trying to tell me?” And like that, it’s as if a lightbulb went off in his head. “Ah, I guess so…” he muttered, hand on his nape as he realizes he’s not the best at lying when it comes to you. “I mean, come on!” He finally breaks, “you looked so good in the wedding dress and we…” his voice trails off the second you were getting invested.

“We?” You omit him to continue, but it comes out hurriedly. “We had a big, happy family. Like seriously happy.” He admits with a smile, clearly smitten about you. This makes you innerly gush about him.

“Yeah?” “Yeah. We did.” He sighs, “If only it were true.” He fake pouts, an ugly thing he does that makes you laugh horribly. “I mean, it can be.” You nonchalantly said, as if you weren’t wishing for the same thing. His eyes light up from your sentence, lips curling into a smile. “You can’t take that back!” You laugh at his antics, “as if I would ever.”

SHOYO HINATA, TOORU OIKAWA, YUUJI ITADORI, MEGURU BACHIRA, YOICHI ISAGI, KEIGO TAKAMI (HAWKS).

​৻ꪆ. Happy valentines everyone! I hope you like this one. (It’s been planned ever since December.) there were supposed to be two more lines added but I seriously ran out of time and didn’T know who else to write for… so, take this??

[ebodebo]

Friends Who Kiss!

with Jason Todd.

...it's okay to kiss a friend. right?

You catch a whiff of cheap beer and weed from a mile away, even before stepping into the party.

The scent hit you like a wall as the door swung open, revealing a crowd of crossfaded college students behind a plastered guy who could barely hold it together.

“Yo! Who brought the strippers?” He shouts, slurring his words, clearly trying to joke about you and your friend.

“Knock it off, dipshit,” your friend shoots back, rolling her eyes as she shoves him aside and reaches for your hand, pulling you inside behind her.

It felt oddly surreal.

You had been to countless college parties at both sororities and fraternities, yet nothing could quite prepare you for the atmosphere of this place.

To your left, a couple was grinding, nearing dry-humping, against each other on the tattered couch.

To your right, a group of friends were passing around a blunt, all while downing shots of vodka.

And ahead of you and your friend, a raucous game of strip beer pong was in full swing. 

The two guys, their competitive spirits high, were down to their boxers while the girls remained fully clothed.

Who knew that most college guys, the self-proclaimed beer pong champions, were so ass at the game?

As you approached the kitchen, the smell of stale beer and sweat hit you. "You want a drink?" Your friend chimes, her voice barely audible over the thumping bass.

Her hand was already reaching for two plastic cups and a bottle of straight Jägermeister.

"Getting straight to it, huh?" You reply, grinning as she pours a heaping shot for herself.

"Gonna need the alcohol to deal with these fucking moron guys," she laughs, automatically pouring a shot for you too.

"You know I have an eight a.m. tomorrow?" You raise an eyebrow as she slides the liquor your way.

With a smile, she takes hold of her plastic cup. "All the more reason for you to drink," she replies, her lips brushing the rim.

"You're a bad girl," you tease, a playful spark in your eye as you quickly grab the cup and bring it to your lips.

"The baddest," she purrs, and you both down the shot in unison.

The tangy citrus liquor burns as it goes down, leaving a fiery trail in its wake.

"Tastes like shit," you hiss, wiping your lips with the back of your hand as the intense aroma lingers on your tongue.

"All the booze that gets you fucked up tastes like shit," she corrects, picking up a left-out slice of lime and sucking the juice from it.

"Here," she offers you a fresh lime wedge.

You bite into the wedge, the juice washing away the harsh taste of the potent liqueur.

"Let’s pour another," your friend suggests, already reaching for the bottle of Fireball on the counter.

You roll your eyes but didn’t turn down the offer.

After all, you had been pretty good these last couple of months, only enjoying the occasional glass of wine.

As she fills the plastic cups with whiskey, the remnants of Jägermeister mingling with the liqueur, you notice some commotion by the entrance.

Your gaze drifted over to the front door, curious about the sudden influx of people that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

"I knew you’d show up!" A guy shouted excitedly.

"Dude, you've got to try this new stuff I brought back from Ibiza!" Another one yelled.

"What’s all the fuss about over there?" Your friend remarks, Fireball dripping from her lip down to her chin in her usual carefree style.

You side-eye her, glancing at her now empty cup.

"Sorry! It was just calling to me," she says, raising her hands in mock surrender.

"It’s a liquid," you reply dryly, adding to the playful banter.

"It was!" She insists with a grin.

You roll your eyes at her playful antics and turn your attention back to the commotion, where an apparent celebrity has caught everyone’s attention.

To your surprise, it was Jason, someone you recognized well, making his way through the crowd.

Guys were clapping him on the shoulder, and girls were gazing at him as he passed by.

A truly ridiculous sight.

When his eyes locked onto yours, he veered off course and headed straight towards you and your friend.

You shook off your disbelief and chuckled as he approached.

"Ladies," he greets with a smile.

"Hi, Jason," your friend timidly greets.

"Blondie," he tips his head towards her.

"Big man on campus, huh?" You tease, a playful glint in your eye. 

He shrugs, rolling his eyes. "You know how they are."

"Thought you'd be in Gotham tonight?" You cut in before he can greet you separately, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

"Eh. Plans changed," he remarks, a sly smirk on his lips.

You pick up the plastic cup with Fireball, placing the rim on your lips. "Have they?"

"Yeah," his eyes wander to your cup. "You gonna drink that?"

"I was planning to—" You begin before Jason takes the cup and downs it in one gulp.

"Sorry. Was a little thirsty," he suspires, wiping the alcohol from his lips.

Your eyes narrow. "Yeah. I'd say so."

"Well...I'm gonna leave you too," your friend beside you says. "Nice to see you, Jason," she beams.

"Likewise," he winks at her as she walks away, almost hitting the wall. "She's cute," he remarks.

"What were your plans before you detoured here?" You ask, eyebrow raised, paying no mind to his previous comment.

"That's classified, Sweetheart," he says, his voice a mix of authority and warmth.

"Oh, right," you nod along, moving closer to him. "I almost forgot you habitually swing around Gotham at night."

"Hey, hey!" He mutters, ushering you to a nearby empty hallway. "What the hell is up with you?" Concern laces his tone.

"You totally flaked on me yesterday," you mutter, annoyance in your tone. "Had to go eat dinner with my mom alone."

"What do you—oh shit," he sighs, realization dawning on him. "That was yesterday?"

You nod. "Yeah, and you ditched me."

He runs a hand over his face, a mix of frustration and regret evident in his expression. "I'm—fuck. I'm really sorry."

There is sincerity in his tone, but you’re not ready to let him off that easily.

You wanted to bust his balls a little.

"I'm still mad at you," you say, turning your head away from him and crossing your arms.

He lets out a breathy laugh at your display. "Is that how it's gonna be?" He remarks, his voice low.

"Seems so," you reply matter-of-factly.

"That's a shame," he mutters gruffly.

You glance at him, arms still crossed. "Why's that?"

"Well…I just. Nah. Never mind," he says, raising his hands as if to shoo away the question.

You turn to face him fully. "Now you have to tell me!" You exclaim, playfully pushing his shoulder with your hand.

"I was just thinking we could, you know, do another shot?" He suggests. "Have a little fun?"

You purse your lips. "Hmm. It depends on what the shots are."

He smiles. "Whatever the hell you want."

You give him a curt nod, satisfied with his answer. "Good answer."

Grabbing him by the forearm, you pull him back to the kitchen, where you pour a mixture of whiskey, vodka, and juice into two plastic cups.

"This is gonna taste like shit," Jason groans as he peers into the cup on the counter.

"Yeah, but it's what I want," you pass him the cup, taking the other in your hand.

He rolls his eyes playfully. "Okay, okay."

You both knock back the shots simultaneously.

It tastes...well, like shit.

But, whatever.

You just wanted to get fucked up.

And maybe bust Jason's balls some more.

Only time will tell.

"We can't. We're just friends," you murmur, a hint of desperation in your voice.

You've known Jason for years, and your friendship has always been a safe haven, a place where you could be yourself without any romantic complications.

But tonight, something has changed.

"Come on, Sweetheart," Jason coaxes. "We can have fun. Can't we?"

You're struggling to understand how this unexpected turn of events has shaped your night.

You and Jason weren't even really that drunk, just tipsy.

Not slurring words or wobbly when walking, just loose lips apparently.

After that weird cocktail mix you made, you and Jason took one more shot of straight vodka, made your way to one of the rooms off the kitchen, and simply sat on the ground in front of the bed and talked.

Talked for how long?

You're not entirely sure.

But somewhere in between talking about your exam next Wednesday and Jason's nights spent as a vigilante, things became more intimate.

Because now he was trying to convince you that one kiss won't hurt.

You do want to kiss him.

Desperately actually.

But the fear of losing his friendship or changing the dynamics holds you back.

"I don't know..." You trail off as Jason's hand brushes against your cheek. "Won't it be weird after?"

"Not if we don't make it weird," he hums, eyes staring at your lips.

You release a small breath as his hand moves to cup your jaw.

"You tell me no if you don't want to," his voice is serious, and his eyes lock with yours.

You nod, teeth digging into your lip. "I think...just a small kiss won't hurt. Right?" You try to convince yourself as you find yourself leaning closer.

"Yeah," he says mechanically. "Small," he affirms as his lips press into yours. 

You weren't entirely sure what you expected, but, holy shit, it wasn't this. 

Your skin sizzled, and a fire ignited in your stomach. 

His lips were so soft against yours. 

Although it was meant to be a brief kiss, just a fleeting moment of connection you both knew you shouldn't indulge in, the pull was too strong and the desire too intense to resist. 

It was a battle you were losing, and you didn't even want to win. 

Your lips moved in perfect sync. 

Why the hell would you want to stop that?

You placed your hand gently on his jaw, drawing him closer and deepening the kiss.

A soft groan escapes from him, and you catch it in your mouth, causing you to whimper.

Jason can't help it.

The soft sounds you were making were slowly driving him up the wall.

His hands moved to grip your waist, pulling you onto him so you straddle him.

You never stop kissing him.

Not even to complain about him moving you onto his lap.

You can't even find it in you to be bothered.

Your hands are moving through his hair, as his messily skim over your hips, occasionally squeezing your ass.

"Can’t believe I waited so long to kiss you," he whispers against your lips.

"Feels so good."

A soft moan escapes your lips at his compliment, and you can feel a wave of tingles spreading over your skin.

"Yeah?" You murmur, your teeth playfully nibbling at his bottom lip.

"Oh fuck," he mumbles, fingers digging into your waist. 

His heavy-lidded gaze catches yours. "Yeah, feels so good, Baby."

You let out a soft breath in response to his endearing words. "Should we...stop?" you ask hesitantly, your fingers gently running through his hair.

Internally, hoping he says no.

“No, Sweetheart,” he replies softly, his gaze fixed on your lips with undeniable fascination. “Unless you want to.”

Just as you’re about to respond, a loud banging on the door startles both you and Jason.

"Occupied!" You shout back, turning towards the door.

You shift your focus back to Jason's eyes, and in that moment, something pulls you back into reality.

"Oh, fuck," you exclaim, shifting off his lap and settling onto the carpet beside him instead.

"You oka—" Jason begins, sensing your frenzy before you interrupt him.

"Oh my God. We totally just made out," your hands are anxiously gliding through your hair. "And I liked it!" 

Jason lets out a shallow laugh as his hand gently rests against your shoulder. "It's alright," he coos. “I liked it, too."

Your eyes flick to his. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, it was...really nice," he awkwardly says. 

Your lip quips at his awkwardness. "It was," you agree.

"Listen, I—" He starts to say, but is cut off once more by a notification on his phone. It’s from Barbara, alerting him about a local crime circuit in Blüdhaven.

"Shit," he curses as he moves to stand. "I'm really sorry. I have to—"

"It's okay, Jason. I get it," you say with complete assurance. "Gotta go play vigilante."

"I'm in a rush, so I'm not going to touch on that," he shoves the phone into his pocket. "Can I come by your dorm after?" He carefully asks.

"Yeah. Okay..." You nod your head, pursing your lips awkwardly.

"You're being weird about it," Jason tips his head down.

"No! No! I just...let's talk later, alright?" You exhale deeply, doing your best to suppress your shyness.

He gives a nod before leaning down to kiss your forehead, then turns and walks out of the bedroom.

As he steps out, you lean your head against the bed's edge, allowing yourself to dive deep into your thoughts.

It wouldn't be the worst if you and Jason started dating.

If that's what he wanted.

He's kind, charming, and quite attractive.

You're unsure if it's just your inebriated state of mind.

But then you remember drunk words are sober thoughts.

So, yeah…you may be totally crushing on one of your greatest friends.

There are worse things to have happened.

author’s note: sorry to tease, but writing smut is too much atm lol also tried a new format hehe i’m kind of feeling it. not proofread!

divider by @/saradika-graphics!

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hiiiiii, stumbled across your blog when trying to find COD fics to gush over and yours are SO FUCKIN GOOD. I love how you write the TF 141 guys!!

My personal fave is Simon and I thought the SFW ABC’s HC were so cute! I’m wondering if you’d be interested in writing a NSFW ABS’s for him as well!

Don’t rush it or feel pressured to do it tho. Thank you pookie ❤️

Oh my goodness! I remember the SFW Alphabet I did for Simon. That was forever ago, back when I first broke 1k followers. Compare that to now with over 6k and if feels like ancient history.

I am more than happy to do a NSFW Alphabet for Simon!

Word Count: 1.1k

NSFW Alphabet Template

A = Aftercare

Aftercare all depends on the relationship. If it’s a quick fuck or a casual thing, Ghost isn’t really all that interested in providing aftercare. He might allow a brief cuddle, or some stiff conversation, but he’s more interested in getting his dick wet. But if Ghost is in a steady, serious relationship, then aftercare is important to him. Not that he knows what he’s doing. Aftercare is not his jam, but if he cares about you, he will make sure you have it.

B = Body part

Ghost loves his hands. He loves that he can kill with them yet bring pleasure as well.

C = Cum

Ghost has a terrible breeding kink. Watching his cum ooze out of his partner makes him fucking feral. Not only does the sight of it turn him on, but he’ll verbalize how good his cum looks dripping out of you.

D = Dirty secret

During his final year of secondary school, Simon got into some serious trouble, and nearly ended up expelled. It wasn’t his fault though, and he felt scorned. So, to retaliate, he fucked the principal’s daughter (a classmate of Simon’s) on the man’s desk. Took her virginity while the principal was in a meeting and the two of them should have been in class.

E = Experience

Ghost is experienced with sex but not experienced with love. He can fuck you all goddamn day and turn your limbs to jelly. But the intimacy part is difficult for him.

F = Favorite position

Face down, ass up. Not him, of course, but his partner. For Ghost, it’s dominating and rough and fulfills every primal urge he has.

G = Goofy

More serious than goofy in the moment. Doesn’t mean that Ghost lacks a sense of humor. The guy can crack a joke, but if he is a bit silly in bed, the humor is dry and might go over your head. Ghost prefers to be completely invested in the moment, and his level of silliness isn’t something he’s thinking about. Now, if something happens during the act that’s actually funny, he will laugh and won’t shame himself or you for it.

H = Hair

Doesn’t care about hair but hygiene. Body hair doesn’t scare him nor does a decent bush. Didn’t shave your legs/armpit/bikini line/face/etc.? Ghost could give a shit. If you’re willing and consenting, and he’s willing and consenting, body hair doesn’t even factor into it.

I = Intimacy

Ghost is terrible at intimacy. Sorry y’all, but he is. Doesn’t matter if it’s a quick fuck or a committed relationship. This man will literally approach you and be like “you want to fuck?” and expect a very clear yes or no answer to the question. But hey, at least he’s clear when it comes to communication.

J = Jack off

Ghost is a rigorous masturbator. The every day kind of masturbator. While he prefers his privacy, nothing is sexier to him than when you’ve been a bad boy/girl/one and Ghost decides what you need is a bit of punishment. He’ll restrain you and make you watch as he jerks off, giving himself pleasure while giving you nothing. Not until you’re a begging, whimpering mess.

K = Kink

Breeding, primal, semi-public, CNC, breath play, BDSM

L = Location

Cramped, enclosed spaces. In the car, against a wall, on the sofa, in the shower. Basically, anywhere where Ghost can feel big. He enjoys having a sense of largeness about him, that he’s trapping you under him. That you cannot escape him when he’s fucking you.

M = Motivation

This man is constantly down to fuck. Sure, talking dirty is fun, but what he really wants is clear communication first. Tell him you want to fuck him, and tell him plainly, and then the two of you can do whatever. A clear, “fuck me, Simon” sets him OFF.

N = No

Simon leans heavy on consent. His hard “no” is no clear “yes.” If you cannot communicate that you clearly want him, he’s immediately turned off. That also includes how he sets up a CNC with you.

O = Oral

Gives and receives equally. He doesn’t necessarily prefer one over the other. But when he does receive, he is vocal. Ghost wants you to know that he appreciates you going down on him, but also how much he enjoys it. When it comes to giving, Ghost is sloppy…but in a good way.

P = Pace

Ghost mixes it up depending on position. If he’s looking to draw it out, he’s going to go slow just because he wants to watch you squirm and wiggle. But otherwise, he’s all rough edges, wants to hold you down and fuck you until you’re both senseless and dazed. Even in his roughness, he won’t hurt you, but he might leave some marks behind.

Q = Quickie

Loves a good quickie. Just say the word and Ghost will bend you over or put you on top of the nearest surface and go for it.

R = Risk

As long as Ghost has your enthusiastic consent, he’s down for anything. If there is anything new you want to try, he’s open to do it, but is also good about setting boundaries especially if this new thing might possibly harm you or himself. A risk taker, but understands that the risks might outweigh the benefits.

S = Stamina

This man has the stamina of a fucking horse. He can go for miles if he paces himself. Ghost isn’t the kind of guy to tap out after one round. Sure, he might need a few minutes to breathe, but he’ll be ready to go against shortly after.

T = Toys

While he doesn’t personally own a plethora of toys, Ghost isn’t afraid of using them. His favorite ones are the kinds that vibrate…especially if he can use them on you and have complete authority over the controls. Expect to be edged and have your orgasm denied constantly.

U = Unfair

Ghost isn’t a tease unless he thinks you’ve earned it as a punishment.

V = Volume

Ghost is vocal but he’s not loud about it. If he’s going to drop praises, he’s going to say it like he’s passing on a secret. You don’t find this man yelling his pleasure to the ceiling. He’s all soft grunts and groans. But you? You can be as vocal and loud as you need to be.

W = Wild card

Ghost is a visual creature. He enjoys simply watching you. Watching you get dressed and undressed. Watching you shower. Watching you get ready for bed or ready for the day. He loves looking at you wearing something sexy or nothing at all. He stares.

X = X-ray

Under those clothes, Ghost has a decent bush. Keeps it lightly trimmed but a bit wild. Absolutely a good mix of length and girth. Just above average size. He fits…snuggly.

Y = Yearning

When it comes to a committed relationship, Ghost yearns for you all the time. He is always ready, and always eager if you are. He thinks about you constantly.

Z = Zzz

If it’s just casual sex, Ghost is falling asleep immediately. The man is a rock. Lights out. But if this is a committed relationship, Ghost will stay awake long enough to get you the aftercare you deserve before promptly passing the fuck out. Sorry, but he snores.

main masterlist

[j2archives]

(LOVER)BOY

summary sam has held a crush on you ever since he’d first saw you down stanford hallways, but once you got partnered up for a school project, sam understands why he’s always felt that attraction towards you. and now you as a sorority girl, have the same one.

pairings stanford!sam x popular!fem!reader

content warnings sam is a cutie, mentions of reader being a sorority girl, valentine’s day!!, sam watches a rom-com for reader, reader catches him staring at her lips, sam cannot stop falling in love with her, SMUT!!, unprotected sex, p!v, kissing, sub!sam, soft dom!reader, praise, dirty talk, creampie (if you squint), really needy, sam begging and whimpering, mentions of sam’s… size, short but cute ending, short and sweet honestly (go stream short ‘n sweet deluxe!!), and more.

notes definitely for my two babies @immodestly-marina AND @h8aaz . . . 1k+ and proofread, kinda rushed (i’ve been sitting for 3 days stuck on the sub!sam part because IM IN LOVE w/ this puppy dog eyed boy

Your dorm room is silent, but not an uncomfortable silence. it was comforting, a contrast to the usual music blasting in your ear around this time. most of your saturdays were spent like that, either being a designated driver for the drunk sorority girls or being the one in the backseat shitfaced straight to hell. but not today.

it was valentine’s day, and you weren’t at a party. you weren’t getting shitfaced. you were spending it with him.

on tuesday, you were assigned a project, your professor decided on pairing you up randomly instead of letting everyone choose a partner. you got paired with sam, the boy who sat two rows behind you.

he knew who you were, sam had been harboring a crush on you for a while now, and thanks to the professor, he got to speak to you instead of just offering you a pen like he would any other day. he kept to himself most of the time, so sam knew you probably didn’t know who he was. but to his surprise, you did. and the project was finished quicker than you both would’ve expected.

you and sam got along well, you shared a few interests and he was the first guy that didn’t start hitting on you with a pickup line during the first conversation. he was careful, always making sure that it was okay if he asked a question, even if he needed to borrow a pencil, he would ask so sweetly.

your friends didn’t understand why you hadn’t shown up to the party since you usually were always there, and your phone had rang for a good 30 minutes before you turned it off and placed it in your bag. sam was still a bit confused on why you decided to stay with him, he assumed that after the project was done you would’ve gone back to your friend group. but you didn’t, you stayed with him.

now, you were both in your dorm room. sam agreed when you asked him if he would watch a movie with you — maybe he agreed too fast. but here you were, it was a random rom-com. usually sam didn’t watch these type of movies, but he learned that you actually enjoyed laughing at the cheesy moments. and that was enough to convince him. he wished he could mentally record your laughter, store it away in his head somewhere. and your smile, he wanted to take a photo of it and tattoo it in his brain forever.

he couldn’t stop looking at you, admiring every detail on your face.

your voice cut through his thoughts, “what’s going on in there, lawboy?” sam blinked, your words starting to register. his face felt hot, and he was sure there was an obvious blush on his face.

“‘s nothing, just… thinking.” he nearly stumbled over his words, it was hard enough to try and not stutter in any way. but you knew there was more than that. he was sometimes a good liar, but you also could read him like a book. it was one of your talents.

“so… staring at my lips helps you think?” sam hadn’t realized that his eyes had lingered on them for so long, his eyes widened for a brief second as he tried to get an answer out. but you cut him off with your lips before he could.

he froze for a split second, but he melted into it. you could feel his lips moving back against yours, and you swore he seemed eager. your fingers went up to curl in his soft locks, tugging at them. sam let out a soft moan, his lips parted just enough for you to slip your tongue past. you explored every corner and crevice of his mouth, wanting to taste him. and he let you.

when you moved to straddle his lap, sam’s hands lifted to rest on your hips. his thumbs stroked the skin underneath the hem of your tank, your lips never disconnecting once. reluctantly, he pulled away, trailing open-mouthed kisses down starting from your jaw. his lips grazed over your pulse point, starting to suck and nibble at the sensitive skin, earning a gasp from you.

“fuck,” your curse spurred him on further, his fingers making their way up to the thin straps of your top. he tugged at it, looking up at you for permission.

“can i?” why did he have to sound so sweet?

with your nod, he tugged the straps down. he didn’t think anything could drive him more crazy but, you wearing no bra underneath did. sam’s thumbs traced over your nipples, feeling them harden beneath his touch. your hips rolled down against his, experimenting. this time, both of you let out a moan. you could feel his hardness pressing firmly against your core and you couldn’t help but to keep grinding down against it, craving the friction again.

—

he lifted his hips to help you undo his slacks, watching you undo his belt and pull down his jeans past his knees. you were both bare besides the thin barrier of his boxers and your panties were the only thing that separated you two. sam sounded breathless, “i need to feel you… please, baby.” he sounded so pretty when he begged, and you took note. keeping that in mind for next time.

once you started to lift yourself up, both hands flew to your hips to hold you steady. god, it was better than he imagined. your hands teased the hem of his briefs before tugging the fabric off. he was aching for this, the tip of him flushed a pretty red tint.

and he was leaking like a girl. all for you. everything was for you. it always had been.

“is that okay?” he sounded nervous, and his manners just fueled your arousal even more. he was putting your pleasure before his, wanting to make sure you were comfortable.

“you’re perfect, sam.” a nervous smile curled up on sam’s lips at your praise. the pink hue that was more evident on his cheeks was beautiful. he really was, and the way he was looking at you…

sam thought you were one of the most gorgeous, smartest, amazing women on campus, he always had. every time you walked down the hallways or on the sidewalks next to the building, he had his eyes on you. the way your hair flowed, the way your eyes darted to pay attention to who was speaking… when you first did that with him, he thought he would simply pass away. now he was going to have sex with you? now you were praising him? of all people? he’s never been harder in his life.

the hands on your hips guided you to align with his cock. once you hovered over him, sam let one hand slip down to your panties. he could feel the heat radiating from your core, “you’re so beautiful.” and he means it. he really does.

you were soaked, a damp patch apparent where your covered slit was. his eyes widened when he realized. sam winchester, the prelaw student, had you, the popular girl, wet because of him. fuck, he was gonna have good dreams tonight.

sam felt your hand over his, guiding him to pull your panties aside. revealing your most intimate part, he took in a sharp intake of breath.

“do you want me to do this with you, sam? is that okay?” you wanted to make sure this was what he wanted, even though the answer was obvious. he really was a sight to behold. he was perfect, thick and long… and much larger than anyone you’ve ever taken. but especially much softer, more gentle with you. he wasn’t trying to rush you, he was letting you take the lead.

“yes. please.” he begged, his puppy-dog eyes looking up at you with a loving expression.

he grasped his length in his hand, his free one on your hip. guiding his tip to your entrance, sam leaned forward. He captured your lips in a gentle, but passionate kiss. Soothing your nerves as he helped you lower down onto his cock.

you gasped against his mouth, the stretch burned a bit at first. and it took you a while to adjust to the intrusion, sam was still — he knew he was big, not in an egotistical way, but he knew it was a lot for you. His thumb stroked the skin of your hip, and now his other hand stroked the inside of your thigh. Once you were fully seated, he pulled away an inch. in a soft voice, “are you okay? we can stop if you want.” always a gentleman.

“no, no it’s okay, baby. jus’ give me a few minutes.” sam’s heart fluttered at the pet name, and he nodded. he never stopped the gentle caress on your sides, now pressing kisses to your jaw in attempts of calming you. and he was damn good at it.

with a deep breath, you nodded.

the first time you moved, you both groaned. he filled you deliciously, all in the right places. you didn’t want to stop, and you started a steady pace. he latched onto your nipple, sucking and biting at the pebble. your fingers went to his hair, tugging and stroking through the brown strands. sam whimpered against your breast.

he fucking whimpered because you pulled his hair. his hips bucked, earning a loud, wanton cry from you. the way you were bouncing on his cock, looking so blissed out because of him… it drew out a string of curses and moans from him. the sound of skin meeting skin, the obscene sound of your pussy being filled with every inch of his dick made his eyes roll back.

“y-you’re so tight, mph-“ your eyes rolled back, feeling sam twitch inside of you. you kissed him hard, pulling harder at his locks. mumbling against his lips, you managed out: “you’re so big in me, sam… fuck, is this what you imagined? you feel so good, baby.” the last sentence was a drawn out moan. you were so close, and he was barely hanging on. the way you tightened and pulsed around him made his balls draw up tight.

he whined this time, “i need to cum, please. please let me cum inside you- inside your pussy, fuck!” his voice was breaking. he wanted you, he needed you. you took pleasure in this, from him. it was driving you over the edge just by how pathetic he sounded right now.

“yes, you can. yeah, sammy… you can cum. fuck, push me over the edge, i know you can.” your forehead was pressed to his, your hips moving faster. his hand was shaky as he took two fingers to your clit, rubbing the pearl in continuous circles. sam barely could contain his cries as he came, painting your inner walls pure white. he felt your cunt spasm around him, and his body went limp beneath you.

sam let you ride out your orgasm on him, using his body for your pleasure. the sight was fucking stunning… there was a stirring in his groin again. he didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop.

“I um, I meant to say. Happy Valentine’s day.” a smile curved up on your lips, looking up at his still pink face. god he was adorable, “Happy Valentine’s day, Loverboy.”

[ultravi0lence14]

RILING ME UP

COLLEGE!DEAN WINCHESTER X GOODGIRL!READER

WARNINGS: alcohol/drug use, cursing, angst, cheating, suggestive content

SUMMARY: saddled to a party by your boyfriend, the last person you wanted to run into was dean.

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

huffing like a dog, mark slumped his body on top of yours, groaning loudly as his fingers stilled inside your body. you had mastered the art of fake coming sounds by now, so mark had absolutely no clue that his fingers did absolutely nothing to get you off.

really, you should feel bad for the guy. though in the end, he was nothing but a stuck up prick who thought he was god’s gift to the earth. he was also a complete dickhead, whining and complaining when you wouldn’t give up your virginity to him, to then go off and fuck camille like it was no big deal.

you were fucking miserable, and if it wasn’t for your parents breathing down your neck, you would’ve dumped his ass by now.

sitting up in your bed, you completely ignored mark as you moved to put your underwear back on. he was panting like he’d just run a marathon, and you had the urge to tell him that fumbling to find the clit for a good five minutes was not an olympic sport.

“there’s a party tonight babe, we should totally make an appearance.” mark’s words made you freeze, arms slowly fitting through the sleeves of your shirt. he always talked down to parties, saying that the people who went were junkie burnouts who had nothing better to do than drink and smoke their lives away.

there had to be a hidden motive, so with your brow raised, you turned around and gave him an expectant look.

sighing, mark ran a hand through his light blonde hair, biting on his lip in an awkward fashion. “camille told me about it. said this kid max from one of her classes was throwing it.”

and there it was. of course fucking camille was behind his recent change of direction, but you honestly couldn’t find it in yourself to care. standing up from the bed, you ignored mark as he rambled on about how he wasn’t going to drink and was just going for the company.

yeah, the company of camille’s thighs around his head.

“just give me a bit to get ready and then we can go.” you spoke out, cutting mark off from his incessant ramble off stuff you didn’t care about. when you thought such things like what just went through your head about mark, you knew you sounded like a right hand bitch. but mark was no saint either, and it wasn’t your fault that this relationship was built off of maintaining an image and not love.

walking into your bathroom, you closed the door behind you and leaned against the sink. looking at yourself in the mirror, you wondered what tonight would bring, and if saying yes to this party was a rather bad decision.

an hour had slowly ticked by, and you now found yourself standing in the middle of a packed student house. a lot of people were swarmed around you, and the music blaring through huge speakers didn’t help with the uneasy rattle in your bones.

mark had been in a piss mood all night, directing words such as ‘whore’ and ‘slut’ to the outfit you were wearing. it wasn’t even bad. a plain, denim mini skirt paired with a navy tank top was far from scandalous.

he just had a problem with anything you did, and if you weren’t dressed in a winter coat and snow pants, he’d have a problem either way.

funny thing was, you hadn’t even seen mark since you two got here. he’d run off somewhere, saying he had to meet up with someone and he’d be back. that was utter bullshit and you knew it even more now as you sat on the kitchen island, drink in hand as you watched people filter in and out.

stuck in a daydream, you didn’t even notice the cloud of smoke that flowed into the room when dean entered. he was all bad decisions and a little tipsy, but he knew what he was doing, and he knew that the pretty girl sitting lonely on the counter needed company.

“where’s mark?” you heard a familiar voice whisper in your ear. dean’s breath fanned the shell of your ear, and you shuddered at the feeling. when he circled around you at the counter, you had to bite back the blush that emerged on your cheeks.

yeah, dean winchester was a stoner asshole, but that didn’t make him ugly.

with a backwards cap on his head, you could see the tossled strands of his hair peaking out. his black t-shirt hugged his upper half exceptionally, and the jeans he donned fit his hips in a loose fashion, making him look more the bad type than you could ever imagine.

the smirk on his face was a testament to him knowing of your obvious ogling, but honestly, you couldn’t care.

shrugging when his question registered in your head, you took a tentative sip from your cup and tilted your head to the side. “no idea, ran off when we got here.” the look on dean’s face was thunderous for a quick second, but he masked it just as fast as it came.

“he’s a dick, ya know that right?” dean’s words came out with a sly grin on his lips, but his words came out gritted, like it was taking everything in him to get the words out.

dean hated mark. thought he was a pompous asshole who threw away the best girl he could ever get for someone else. you deserved so much more than that dick, and dean wanted to show you that.

he saw the rebellion and freedom that oozed out of your perfectly curated mask, and he wanted you to be allowed to show your real face.

he would just need to get rid of mark the asshole first.

though when dean watched you answer his question with a shrugging shoulder, eyes vacant of any emotion, he knew that whatever answer you had wasn’t going to be a good one. “yeah, i know that.”

and there it was.

dean’s heart breaking.

“why?” he asked, incredulous as he took another drag of his joint. “he treats you like shit, avidly cheats on you, and is possibly the biggest twat i’ve ever met.”

you laughed at his statement, hiding behind the rim of your cup as you looked up at him from your perch on the counter. “you wanna know why, winchester?” when dean nodded, you replied. “because i’m stuck. my parents paired us off, and if they found out i broke up with him, they’d be fucking pissed.”

“who cares what your parents think?” dean shot back, getting increasingly more angry at your situation. “it’s your life, not theirs. do whatever the fuck you want, princess.”

“that’s the thing,” a sad smile etched across your face, and dean watched as longing and devastation for a life you wish you could have crossed your face. “it is their life. i’m their perfect doll, one who could do no wrong. so if i have to deal with mark cheating on me behind closed doors, than that’s okay.”

it wasn’t okay, and you knew that. your parents made your self esteem so low that you felt mark cheating on you was okay. that it was something you could deal with.

you weren’t the perfect good girl because you wanted to be; you were trained. and as academically smart as you were, you were still your own person, and you wanted to live your life.

dean thought this was all bullshit, and weirdly, at this most perfect timing, he caught something from behind you in the living room that made his blood run cold.

“behind closed doors, you say?” dean asked with a menacing look on his face, and when you nodded, he got even angrier. “then why is mark currently shoving his tongue down camille’s throat right now?”

the heart in your rib cage stopped beating for a second, the feeling of it dropping to your stomach following after. with bated breath, you turned around to see where dean was looking, watching with horror as your boyfriend sloppily made out with another girl in front of a room of people.

there was no logical reason behind why mark doing something that usually made you feel nothing made you feel this devastated, but you had your suspicions.

he never cheated in public, never flaunted camille like he did with you. and maybe this was irrational, but mark doing this in front of a bunch of people was in no match to if he would do it in private.

it was a public humiliation, and you couldn’t stop the lone tear falling down your cheek at the realization of how naive and battered you were.

if your mom and dad were here, they’d tell you to get over it, that your image was most important. but you didn’t care, and you were starting to blame your parents more than mark.

but your parents weren’t here; dean was, and he was fucking livid.

as he watched tears drip down your cheeks at rapid succession, he felt the anger in his chest swell to in immense pain. he was never good with reeling in his emotions, always too hot headed for his own good, but it was usually manageable, something he could deal with.

but now, as he watched you cry over marks public humiliation of you, he saw fucking red.

taking one last aggressive hit of his joint, dean threw it somewhere beside him and mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like, ‘i’m going to fucking kill him,’ before tearing off towards the living room.

in long strides, dean pushed his way through the mass crowd of bodies before he got to where mark and camille were stood clinging to each other. aggressively, dean grabbed the back of mark’s shirt and pulled him off of camille, not giving him a second thought before driving his fist into his face.

“you’re fucking pathetic.” he sneered, fists in a dizzying flurry as he didn’t even let mark get one punch in. “disrespect your girl like that and act like it’s not a big deal? you’re fucking sick.”

pushing your way through the cheering and roaring crowd, you got to where you could see dean beating mark clear as day, with camille on the sidelines screaming like a banshee.

words were muffled over the roaring crowd, but the sound of mark sneering. “you junkie freak! getting riled up over that slut? it’s actually hilarious you care about her that much.”

mark’s words only fuelled dean’s fire more bright, and his fists started coming down even more, a sickening crack being heard when dean broke his nose.

you couldn’t be here anymore, and with frantic feet, you moved as far away from that house as possible, dean’s voice calling after you a whisper in your mind.

TAGS: @starzify @whisperingdaze @titsout4jackles @daylighted @deansbeer @bluemerakis @sunsbaby @beausling @deanswidow @deanangel @gibson-g1rl @haunteres @honeyryewhiskey @figthoughts @h8aaz @florchids @adrienneleclerc @dulcescorderitas @slyregg @therealboostergold @mochminnie @c0cksuck3rs4lif3 @therealabadoodle

NAT BABBLES: protective/stoner dean winchester please save me😋

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 10)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: Drinking

Word Count: 3517

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9)

Notes: Happy Valentine’s Day my loves 💙

_________________________________________

“Well…” Rhys trails off from over your shoulder. You don’t think your muscles could coil any tighter, didn’t think your cheeks could flare any hotter as you stared down at the returned quiz in your hands. Then Rhys appeared behind you after speaking with your professor. Not even the heat of his body nor the breath of his soft breathing can distract you from the paper. “It’s not an F.”

“It certainly isn’t an A,” you respond, glaring so hard at the red circle with the D+ scrawled in the middle. You’re focusing as much attention on making the paper burst into flames as you are trying to keep the prickling behind your eyes from turning into something more.

“I think aiming for an A was a bit ambitious to begin with,” Rhys says gently. It wouldn’t be hard for him to sense your utter disappointment, with your head hung low and the defeated slump to your shoulders. He has an urge to eat the space between you, wrap his arm around your shoulders and let you lean into him, to comfort you. He wants to see you smile, even glare at him, because anything is better than seeing you this downtrodden.

“Easy for you to say,” you mutter, shoving the paper into the fold of your binder before slamming it shut. The soft thud it makes does nothing to expel your annoyance, and you almost bare your teeth at the damn thing as you stuff it in your bag. “You’re like a dictionary for all things psychology.”

Rhys follows you from the hall. At least this was your last class before the weekend. You can shove any and all things psychology from your mind and focus on what’s much more important tonight, Gwyn’s birthday.

He holds the door to the lecture hall open and you dodge students entering for the class following yours. You catch the looks people shoot Rhys’ way. Apparently, he’s well-known. You see girls ogle him, guys nod in his direction as he passes like he’s some sort of celebrity or something. It’s almost laughable, how someone on a sports team could be so valued across a campus. And he’s not even on the football team, which you find even more impressive, since your school lives and breathes Bats football. Hockey is a close second, with women’s soccer a shocking close third for student events.

You suppose that any sporting event where people can get shit faced and scream nonsense in a large crowd would be appealing to most.

“Come on,” Rhys says. “You really didn’t do that bad.”

You shoot him a look.

“Rhys. Were we looking at the same quiz back there? Because all I saw was a big, fat D.”

He carefully folds his bottom lip between his teeth and amusement swimming to life in those heart-stopping violet eyes of his. He refrains from cracking a joke about how there could be another big, fat, D in your future, if you ask nicely. It takes superhuman effort to keep the comment to himself.

Still, you notice, and smack him playfully on the arm. “Gross.”

He holds up his hands in fake surrender. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t need to,” you reprimand. You turn your head away from him, acting like you’re searching for something across campus. If he catches the way your cheeks flush from whatever he may have been thinking, he politely refrains from pointing it out.

“I studied so hard, Rhys,” you complain, grasping the straps of your backpack tighter. “I’m actually doomed.”

“You’re not doomed,” Rhys refutes. His arm brushes against yours as you walk and every time you remind yourself that someone could see you, you shift an inch over. “We’re going to have to work harder, that’s all.” Rhys doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re trying to create space. It’s like there’s a magnetic field drawing him into you, and within a few feet, you’re walking on the edge of the sidewalk.

And the thing is, you are trying really hard. You don’t know how much more effort you have, and there’s only a month and a half until finals. By your calculations, you’ll have to get Bs on every assignment, quiz, and test until the end of the year if you want to pass.

That sounds impossible.

“How about Saturday night? You can come over to mine after the game and we can study together.”

You can’t, even though you kind of want to see what the hockey house is like when there aren’t a thousand people stuffed into the interior. You want to see what Rhys’ room looks like. If word makes its way back to Mor, you’ll be totally and completely fucked. She’s your best friend and you’d like to keep your relationship with her. You’d be a terrible friend if you didn’t.

At your apprehension, Rhys continues. “Mor won’t find out, and if she does, all you have to do is tell her the truth. That I’m your tutor.” Fake boyfriend goes unsaid, and that’s the part you’re worried about.

Worried about it because you think you’re starting to like being Rhys’ fake girlfriend. The soft touches when Amarantha around feel good, an arm around your shoulder, the warm looks he sends you from the ice, like he’s still thinking about you when he’s deep in a game. And that kiss…you’re starting to get why his reputation is the way it is. His lips are sinful.

“I’m hoping I’ll be curing a hangover with greasy pizza or a juicy burger.” It’s a poor excuse, an even worse attempt at deflection.

Rhys quirks a brow. “From your little wine night?”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as you turn down the block to your dorm. It’s now you realize that Rhys is taking the time to walk you home. He mustn’t have much to do for the party tonight, despite the extravaganza being hosted at his house. It must be nice to have teammates pulling their weight.

Gwyn doesn’t get out of her last class until six thirty, which gives you and Mor almost two hours to pull out all of the decorations you’ve been stockpiling in the back of your closet, and pick up the cake from the local bakery. You don’t have to worry about getting the drinks for later, Gwyn was so excited to finally turn twenty-one and wanted to purchase the alcohol now that she’s officially legal. You and Mor pitched in, sending her off this morning with a pancake breakfast and cash for the alcohol. You can’t wait to pop open a bottle after the long day you’ve had.

“I’ll have you know that wine drunk is way better than vodka drunk,” you wrinkle your nose, “And it’s much better than getting drunk off of Cassian’s skunk punch. Seriously, what the hell is even in that?” You shudder at the memory. “Why is it even called skunk punch?”

Rhys grimaces, especially when he remembers that there will be no escaping Cassian’s concoction of basically every alcohol he can find and afford that night. It’s somehow even worse than a bar mat shot. As part of the tradition, everyone on the team must take at least one skunk punch shot, and he’s not looking forward to it.

“Trust me, it’s better not to know the answer to either of those questions.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you agree.

You and Rhys stop just outside your building. He stares at you like he doesn’t want this moment to end, and neither do you. There’s a betraying thought in your mind that says you should roll up onto the tips of your toes and press your mouth against his, that he wouldn’t push you away. That his hands would wind around you to pull you even closer, that his fingers would thread through your hair like they did that night and guide your head like they might have if no one interrupted your kiss—

“Well, this is me,” you say, and curse yourself for being so awkward. Truthfully, you have no idea what to say, how to act when your heart is pounding in your chest with the way he’s looking at you.

His eyes flit to the building and back. “Are you sure you can’t want to make an appearance at my party tonight?” Rhys asks. “Just in case she shows up, of course.”

Right. In case Amarantha shows face.

He wants you to come even if his ex doesn’t show up. Hell, he’s praying that she doesn’t show up. Rhys just isn’t ready to say goodbye yet. The short amount of time he’s seen you today—walking you from your class to your dorm—hasn’t been enough.

You shake your head and he tries his best to mask the deflation of his shoulders. It’s not just any wine night; it’s your roommate’s birthday. If it wasn’t such an important event, or Gwyn didn’t despise hockey so much, you’d consider trying to convince her into going. “I really can’t tonight. It’s Gwyn’s birthday, remember?”

“Of course,” Rhys offers you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s polite. Awkward. “I’ll see you Saturday night at the game, right? And we’ll study after.”

“Sure you won’t have another party to attend after the big game, Mr. Hotshot?” you tease, and a true smile threatens to crack his face.

“There is one, but one of my other teammates is hosting,” he teases back. “We’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Your stomach flips at his words. All alone with Rhys? At his house?

To study, you reprimand yourself, though you can think of a million other things you’d like to be studying instead of psychology. Anatomy, for one.

“Yeah,” you swallow the butterflies trying to escape up your windpipe. You step away from him, needing the space before you do or say something you shouldn’t. You turn toward the door, continuing over your shoulder. “See you Saturday.”

“He even had a drawing!” Gwyn exclaims, and the three of you burst into another fit of the combination of the night: laughter and tears. Laughing so hard that you can’t help the droplets that squeeze from the corners of your eyes.

Her cheeks are almost as red as the wine in her glass. Or, was in her glass. How did she down her cup that fast? Your cup is still half-full. You glance at Mor, who’s in the middle of capturing a video of the drunk birthday girl who sloppily sticks her fork into the cake the three of you have been picking at all night. She ends up with frosting on her nose and the sight of your quietest roommate having the time of her life is so endearing that you’ve barely even thought about the party Rhys is at.

“No way,” Mor refutes, shutting her phone off and taking a big gulp of her wine. She’s in a maroon tank top and sleep shorts with her fuzzy platform slippers on her feet. They’re shaped like teddy bears, and one keeps staring at you where she taps her toes to the rhythm of the music pouring from the speaker on the kitchen counter.

Gwyn’s auburn hair pops against the white t-shirt she has on. There’s an emerald logo of the local bookstore on the front and a smear of blue icing beside it. A drop of wine down the center. It’s been a night for the birthday girl, and you’re having the time of your life.

“I swear! I know I’m a writer but I’m in no way that creative,” Gwyn insists, waving her fork around. A dot of icing goes flying toward the couch and lands on Mor’s cheek, causing another round of roaring laughter.

Gwyn had been telling a story about how someone in her creative writing class wrote the most ridiculous line she’s ever heard. Watery bowels. You can’t stop thinking about it, and every time you do, it causes another wave of cackles to sound.

Mor swipes the frosting from her face and licks it off her finger. You’re about to reach for your abandoned fork when your phone buzzes next to your socked foot.

You’re thankful for the alcohol warming your skin, because you’re full-on blushing and grinning so hard your cheeks hurt at the name that appears.

Rhys: Bored yet?

He’s been bothering you all night. This is the fourth time he’s asked you this. He wants you to try and convince your roommates to go over to their house and join in on the festivities, but you told him that you were having too much fun. He then tried to score an invite to your dorm, saying that it can’t be that much fun and to prove it if it was.

You replied with a video of you sending a picture of the mutilated cake, to which Rhys sent whining emojis in response.

You: Not quite.

Rhys: Is there still cake left? I’m famished.

You squint because the words are a little hazy with the amount of wine you’ve drank tonight. You almost jump out of your seat when the phone buzzes in your hand, lighting up with Rhys’ call.

You scramble to hide the screen, making sure that neither of your roommates saw. Thankfully, they’re both occupied with something on Mor’s phone, eyes wide as they try and comprehend what they’re looking at.

You want to answer, you do. You miss Rhys even though you’ve seen him a few hours ago. You wonder what he’s wearing, if those violet eyes are glossed with drink like yours are.

When you stand with the intention of slipping somewhere private to answer Rhys’ call, Mor takes notice.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom,” you answer almost too quickly, and stride for the door.

“Hello?” You answer, hitting the light switch with your elbow and flicking the lock shut behind you.

“Hi,” Rhys greets, and your smile breaks your face.

It’s loud at the house he’s at, but the background noise of partying students and loud music dims some as he finds somewhere quieter. Your heart flips in your chest at the thought of him abandoning a party to call you.

“What are you doing?” You whisper, leaning back against the door.

“Calling you,” he answers like an ass. Typical.

“Yeah, I got that. But why? You know Mor is in the room with me, right?”

“Is she in the room with you?” Rhys prompts.

You roll your eyes. “No.”

“Where are you hiding?”

“Bathroom,” you mumble, cheeks flaring. The ugly cream color matches the rest of the rooms in your on-campus apartment, the ceramic flooring perpetually cold beneath your socked feet. The only ounce of color is in the shower curtain you and your roommates picked out on sale when you moved in, a teal number with swirls of gold and mint. It’s the same pattern you swear was on your grandmother’s sofa when you were young. “You?”

“My room,” Rhys says, and you try not to think too much about that. “I’d say I have about ten minutes before Cassian finds me and forces me to do a skunk shot with him, so if you hear the sound of a bear mixed with a screaming eagle, that’s him.”

You snort a laugh. “That’s okay, I only have a few minutes, too.”

“Yeah, how’s that going? You three aren’t lonely yet?”

“No,” you roll your eyes even though he can’t see. “But clearly you are.”

Rhys hums noncommittally. “So what if I am?”

The fluorescent lights are burning your eyes and you blink blearily, wondering if you just heard what you think you did. You curse yourself for forgetting your glass in the spot you abandoned to eagerly answer his phone call, because your throat has suddenly dried up. You wonder how unladylike you’ll sound if you decided to stick your head under the faucet.

“I would tell you that there’s a million girls just downstairs to keep you company,” you say, but you don’t really mean it. In fact, the wine in your stomach sours when the words come up.

“Maybe,” Rhys says, and you can picture him shrugging those broad shoulders of his. The very ones you want to kick your legs over with his head between your thighs. Fuck, you can’t be thinking like this. “But none of them are my lucky charm.”

His lucky charm? You’re his lucky charm? You can’t say that you’re upset with the sentiment, even if it’s not true. He’s drinking, he’s just flirting, which is only going to make the hole you’re already slowly digging yourself even deeper, and you’re not all that sure you’d mind.

Mor’s laughter creeps under the door and you force yourself to change the subject. Focus.

“You know what? Maybe I need one of those good luck thingies,” you sit on the edge of the tub, reveling in the way the chilled porcelain cools your burning skin.

“Good luck thingies?” Rhys muses, and you wonder what he’s doing right now. Is he lying on his bed? Sitting at his desk? Pacing the room?

You startle back into yourself when Rhys calls your name. He sounds worried, and it’s flattering. You imagine the way he might be chewing his lip, that same hot, demanding mouth you want to feel on yours again.

The scalding heat in your cheeks reflects between your legs, your pussy pulsing with want. “You listening to me?”

“Huh?”

Beautiful laughter echoes through the line and steals your breath from your lungs.

“I asked ‘what good luck thingies?’”

Good luck thingies? You frown, racking your mind for the lost conversation. Oh! “You know, like…” you trail off, waving your hand flippantly as you grasp for answers. “Something that can help me ace the next test. Like how you claim I’m your good luck charm. I think James’ is listening to this one rap song from the nineties—”

Rhys grunts unhappily and you almost smile.

“Please don’t bring up Attor while we’re on the phone,” he all but groans. You stifle a giggle at his jealousy.

“Fine,” you roll your eyes. Outside the door, your roommates begin chanting your name from the couch, their voices muffled. They’re asking for the third bottle of wine you stashed in the fridge to cool. “What do you think my good luck thingie should be?”

Rhys hums thoughtfully and the sound rumbles to your core. You’re sure he doesn’t mean it to sound as arousing as it does. You clench your thighs together carefully.

“Don’t know,” he says. “Maybe you should come here and find out.”

Gods, does that sound perfect right now. You want to know exactly what he means by that, and when you open your mouth to respond, you’re cut off by a loud pounding on his side of the phone that makes you flinch. You wobble on your perch but manage to keep steady as you hear Cassian get into his room. Rhys curses about how he thought he locked the door.

“Bitch, why the fuck are you hiding?” Cassian bellows. “We need to take skunk shots, stat! The rest of the team is waiting!”

Rhys breathes your name over the line. “I have to go. Come over if you can, yeah?”

“I can’t promise anything,” you whisper back, and the line goes dead.

You take a second to compose yourself, and exit the bathroom. Your roommates cheer when you pull the wine from the fridge and wave it around like you just won gold at the wine-retrieving event. You make a fake speech as you pour, and slowly, the FOMO trickles away.

“Ugh,” Mor groans, locking her screen and tossing it to the foot of the couch. She takes a sip of her wine and sighs dramatically. “My cousin and Cassian will not stop texting me! They’re so annoying!”

“Texting you about what?” Gwyn asks, gulping down her wine. You think she might need to stop soon, but you don’t want to kill her birthday buzz.

“Their dumb party. They keep telling me we should come over. I already told them that we’re busy!”

You watch Gwyn hum. There’s an idea churning behind those bright eyes of hers, but you have no idea what. It’s no secret that she despises hockey and everything to do with it for some reason, but you don’t know the story. She doesn’t look like she’s ready to spill on that quite yet, but her eyes do light up with mischief.

“I hate hockey and I don’t want to go to their party, but wouldn’t it be fun to prank them?”

Prank them? Coming from the girl who would never break a rule, not even something as silly as jaywalking.

“Prank them how?” You ask, sharing a confused look with Mor, who sits up on the couch and leans closer to your roommate.

“I don’t know,” Gwyn hiccups, and she looks funny with the over-dramatic way she masks on her innocence. “What if we stole that trophy they love so much?”

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @judig92 @se7enteen--black-blog @thecraziestcrayon @cherry-cin @itsinherited @justafictionalnerd @bookishbroadwaybish @405rry @w0nderw0manly @bbykaixx @marina468 @taechvita @marigold-morelli @esahintzkanen @miakxn @ssmay123 @webvics

[nomie-11]

The General - Part 2

masterlist! | Right Wing - Part 1

synopsis: hockey had always been ellie’s first choice. yours? not so much (soulmate au)

pairing: ellie williams x reader (no use of y/n)

Ellie was nine when she was adopted by a fifty-one year old man named Joel Miller, who had lost his one and only daughter when he was thirty-four. They didn’t have much to talk about, much to bond over, except for Ellie’s love for comic books and dinosaurs, and his love for playing her favorite songs on his guitar. 

She didn’t know much about her birth family—didn’t know much about her mother or where she was from, all she knew was Joel, his house in Jackson, and her aunt Maria and uncle Tommy. That was her entire world, and she was content with her world to be that. 

Until one freezing December where a lake outside of Jackson froze over solid, and the boys from the high school cleared out a section for hockey, where Joel put her in a pair of Sarah’s old skates and a puck in her hand, and taught her to skate. 

Ellie was nine when she first stepped onto the ice. 

From then on, her world was that: hockey, Joel, Jackson, aunt Maria and uncle Tommy. 

Joel had been hesitant at first—Sarah had been more into soccer, and Ellie had the foot-eye coordination of a baby deer on a good day. But after weeks of watching the older boys play pickup games on the frozen lake, Ellie had begged to go out again. And Joel, who had already lost one child and was still figuring out how to love another, couldn’t find it in himself to say no. 

She had started with Sarah’s old figure skates, the leather stiff with age and the blades dulled from years in the attic. They were a size too big, and the first time she stood up, she fell flat on her ass. Joel had just laughed, crouching beside her with his own skates laced up tight. 

“Alright, kiddo,” he had said, offering her a hand. “First lesson: learn how to fall. Second lesson: learn how to get back up.” 

And that was how it started. 

Joel taught her how to find her balance, how to push off with just enough force to glide without toppling forward. At first, she wobbled like hell, arms flailing as she tried to keep herself upright. But every time she hit the ice, she got back up, scowling, determined. 

And then Joel gave her a pair of hockey skates and a stick. 

That was when something clocked. 

Ellie didn’t just like skating—she loved hockey. She loved the speed, the way the puck glided across the ice, the sharp scrape of her skates when she made a tight turn. She loved the way Joel’s face softened when she scored against him, how he called her kiddo with something like loving pride in his voice. 

She started playing with the older boys on the lake, bruises blooming on her arms and legs from rough checks and missed falls. They played hard, but Ellie played harder. She never backed down from a fight in the corners, never shied away from a body check, even when she was half the size of the guys coming at her. 

Joel saw it in her then—that aggression, that fire. 

She tried playing with the little girls’ league in Jackson for a season, but it didn’t last. Teh coaches kept telling her to be gentler, to play nice. She got called for roughing in every other game, even when she ‘barely touched anyone.’ When she checked a girl ‘too hard’ into the boards one time, her coach benched her, saying she needed to learn some self-control. 

Joel hadn’t been angry—not with her, at least. He had just sighed, shaking his head.

“Think you need a different league, kiddo.” 

So Joel fought for a spot on the boys team, and she played with the boys instead. That was where she learned how to really play. 

They didn’t hold back, and neither did she. She fought for the puck like her life depended on it. She took hits that rattled her ribs and gave them right back. The boys stopped underestimating her. They stopped treating her like some little girl who couldn’t take a punch.

She wasn’t just good. She was vicious. 

And then the scouts came, and then the offers, and then the University of Vermont. 

Hockey was her whole word, and she was good at it. But then—

University of Vermont Women’s Hockey got destroyed by Boston University Women’s Hockey Team Ellie’s sophomore year of college, and she got into a few too many arguments after that loss. But after being kicked from the Vermont team, Joel didn’t let her quit, and Ellie went to open tryouts for the very team that wrecked her. 

And suddenly, she was here, stuck at Boston University, being forced to play on a team that had steam-rolled her. 

Ellie thought that the Boston University team was just… better. There was nothing more to that, they had stronger players, the individuals were just better. But then she met you—The General—and her army. 

Ellie hated you. 

She had hated you front the second you told her to pass the stupid puck like the tattoo imprinted on her wrist in a radiant gold. 

You were the perfect captain—the golden child of BU women’s hockey, the one every listened to, respected, her soulmate. You played like you had something to prove, like winning was the only thing that mattered. And worst of all, you were right. 

Ellie had spent years thinking she knew hockey better than anyone, that she didn’t need a cohesive team, that she could bulldoze her way through any defense if she just tried hard enough. 

But you—you had systems. Strategies. You saw the ice like a general plotting a war. You read plays before they happened, called shots before they were taken. And every time Ellie ignored you, every time she tried to do things her own way, you made sure she paid for it. 

By the fourth week of practice, Ellie had bruises in places she didn’t even know could bruise. 

She had learned fast—if she didn’t pass, Vi would crush her into the boards. If she didn’t keep her head up, Caitlyn would pickpocket her before she could blink. And if she let herself get distracted, even for a second, you would strip the puck right off her stick and leave her in the dust. 

She had never played hockey like this before. 

She had never played smart. 

And she hated that it was you teaching her. 

It was after one particularly brutal practice—after Vi had laid her out twice and Abby had chirped her so hard she nearly threw a punch—that Ellie found herself lingering by the locker room, still fuming. 

She had been careless. Sloppy. 

And worst of all, she had let you see it.

You walked past her, still in your gear, your helmet under your arm. You didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at her. 

That pissed her off even more. 

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Ellie blurted. 

You paused, glancing over your shoulder. “What?” 

Ellie scowled. “You act like you’re fucking invincible out there. Like you know everything.” 

Your eyes flickered, something sharp and unreadable behind them. “I know the game, Williams.” 

“Yeah? Well, guess what? So do I?” 

You exhaled sharply, turning to face her fully. “Do you?” 

Ellie clenched her jaw. “Yeah. I do.” 

You stepped closer, your expression unreadable. “Then prove it. Play with us, not against us.” 

Ellie scoffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t need a lecture, Captain Perfect.”

You held her gaze, unwavering.

And then, quietly—

“Why are you really here, Williams?” 

Ellie froze. 

She knew you weren’t asking why she was standing in the locker room. She was supposed to be at Vermont, not Boston, playing D1 on a team that had given her a full ride, not a team that had picked her up on a whim, making a name for herself. 

But she wasn’t. She was here. And she didn’t have an answer for that. So she just swallowed hard, set her jaw, and shoved past you. 

But as she walked away, her wrist burned. 

And she hated that, too. 

—————————————

Before hockey, there had been figure skating. 

Before Ellie Williams and her infuriating smirk, before the rough checks and brutal scrimmages, before you had built a fortresss of a team around yourself—there had been sequins, music, and the dream of gliding across the ice like you were weightless. 

You loved figure skating. More than anything. 

You had started young, barely old enough to tie your own skates, chasing after the older girls at your rink with wide eyes and boundless energy. The first time you had landed a jump, you thought you could fly. The ice had been a blank canvas, and you had painted it with your blades, carving out stories with every routine, every careful, practiced step. 

And for a while, it had been perfect. 

Until it wasn’t.

Until your coach started correcting things that had nothing to do with your footwork. 

“You skate like a boy.” 

“You’re too stiff.”

“You don’t have the grace for this sport.” 

You tried to fix it. Tried to make yourself softer, quieter. More delicate. You watched the other girls, their effortless elegance and beauty, the way they seemed to float rather than skate, and you tried to be more like them—be more normal. But it never looked right. Never felt right. 

And then, when you were thirteen, your coach found out you had a crush on one of the other girls in the club. 

The comments changed. 

“That explains it.”

“No wonder you skate like that.” 

“You’re too much of a man for this.” 

The whispers spread through the club like wildfire, turning warm smiles into cold shoulders. One by one, the girls you had spent years laughing with started avoiding you. They avoided the locker room when you were in there. Invitations to hang out after practice stopped. You were alone, locked out of the one place that had always felt like home. 

And suddenly, the ice didn’t feel safe anymore. 

You held on for as long as you could, forcing yourself through practice after practice, pretending it didn’t sting when your coach praised the other girls for their ‘feminine grace’ while you got sharper criticisms and even sharper glares. But eventually, it became unbearable. 

You quit. 

You quit, and for the first time in your life, you thought you might hate the ice. But the ice wasn’t done with you yet. 

Because while the figure skaters had turned their backs, the hockey girls had welcomed you with open arms. 

They didn’t care if you were graceful or not. They didn’t care if you were too sharp, too aggressive. In fact, they liked it. They wanted the power, the strength. When you skated, it wasn’t about looking delicate—it was about speed, control, and dominance. 

And you thrived. 

At first, hockey had just been an excuse to keep skating. A way to stay on the ice without the crushing weight of expectations you could never meet. But then, something shifted. The first time you laid someone out with a clean, brutal check, you felt something electric in your veins. The first time you won a puck battle, fought for it like your life depended on it, you felt it. The first time you scored? The roar of the crowd, the way your team tackled you in celebration, the rush of it all—that was when you realized. 

You didn’t just love hockey. You were made for it. 

So you fought. You trained. You climbed. You worked harder than anyone, outskated every single person on the ice until you had no choice but to become the best. Until you made it here—captaining the Boston University team, leading your girls into battle, proving to every single person who had ever doubted you that you didn’t need to be graceful. You didn’t need to be soft. 

You would carve your name into the ice with your skates, with your bruises, with your victories. 

You were Boston University’s General—fearless leader of the women who believed in every play you called, and you wore that title with pride.

And then Ellie Williams showed up. 

Ellie, who played like she had something to prove. Ellie, who fought against her own teammates instead of with them. Ellie, who burned with the same kind of rage you had buried deep in your bones. 

Ellie, who had your words etched onto her wrist. 

“Pass the stupid puck.” 

It made you sick. Because she didn’t listen. She never listened. 

And yet…

She had something. Something raw. Something untamed. Something you recognized because you had spent years trying to beat it out of yourself. 

You hated her. You hated her because you saw too much of yourself in her stubborn defiance, in her reckless style, in the way she played like she was trying to prove something. 

And you hated her because she saw right through you, too. 

You could feel her eyes on you every time you yanked your sleeves down, every time your fingers twitched toward your wrist. She hadn't figured it out yet, but she was curious. 

And curiosity was dangerous. 

So you did what you did best. 

You kept your distance. You shut her out. You reminded yourself that she was a liability, a problem to be fixed, not someone to be close to. 

But then, in a late-night practice, when the rink was empty except for the two of you—Ellie finally passed you the puck. 

And you thought, just for one second, that maybe you were both exactly where you were supposed to be. 

This is part two of a multipart series! Read part 1 here!

If you enjoyed this series, please make sure to check out my others!

taglist: @vahnilla , @sevyscoven , @taurtel

[mmkclarkey]

We have a spare room- Part 4

When all goes wrong, moving in with three guys will help?

6 months. Half a year living with Chris, Arthur and George.

According to Chris, it was a cause for celebration, one that just insisted that you had to have a party. That’s why your weekly trip to B&M had turned into a 2 hour trip, all three of them picking out party cups and plastic shot glasses and literally anything you can find for a party.

“Whats the colour theme?” Arthur asks with a large smile on his face, looking like a child in a sweet shop, Chris following not too far behind with the trolley.

“We don’t have one, why the fuck would we have one?” George replies, laughing at Arthur’s excitement, while Arthur pulled a face at George, making his way towards him to slap the smiling man around the back of the head.

George winced and began to chase Arthur down the aisle, making you and Chris giggle while rolling your eyes.

“God can you two get any more childish?” You said quietly as they caught back up to you minutes later trying to avoid people around you knowing that you lived with these morons.

~

You finished up shopping, and after a fight with Chris over who was going to pay, him winning, you got back to the flat. Flopping down on the sofa had become a regular thing for all of you, normally trying to see who could do it first, and for once, someone other than you won.

Not that you were happy about it, but Arthur’s smile as his head hit the soft cushions was too priceless to be annoyed, even with George and Chris shouting profanities at the brunette sprawled on the sofa, legs hanging over the top, shoes still on.

~

A few hours later, you were lay on your bed after getting ready, lay carefully as not to flatten your curls at the back, or allow the short (too short) dress you were wearing to flash any of your roommates when they come into the room, which would not be the best idea if you were honest.

You hear a knock, faint on the door, making you question whether you actually heard it, but then it comes louder as you jump, saying a monotone “come in”.

Arthur comes in and dramatically flops down on your bed, making you giggle as you question why the man was in your room, not that it wasn’t a common occurrence, it’s just normally all of them together not just one roommate.

“I need your help” he chokes out, grabbing one of your pillows and screaming into it, making you chuckle, fully aware of the dramatics that came with your brunette roommate.

“Whats up? You seem cheery” you laugh sarcastically as he shoots you a glare, making it so that you fly your hands up in self defence, a shit-eating grin still on your face.

“There’s this girl yeah, and she’s coming to the party, because she got a random invite, but I might have a little crush on her, like on social media and stuff” he rambles out, looking as if he’s about to cry from whatever pickle he’d gotten himself into.

“Oh my god!” You laugh out, clapping your hands in excitement. “You are 100% taking your chance tonight I swear arthur!”

“I can’t, she won’t like me like that”

“You’re a stupidly oblivious man Arthur Hill, do you know that?”

“Fuck off”

~

The party was in full swing, people funnelling into the flat every 10 minutes or so, you greeted everyone as they came in, naturally gravitating towards the girls of the friend group, as Sabina, Chip’s fiancée reminded you of how good you look, and how half the guys there are staring.

You look across the room and spot arthur talking to a blonde girl, blushing harder than you have seen him do. Ever. The girl was smiling, laughing along with all his jokes, it was refreshing to see two people so completely enamoured by eachother; almost seeming as if there was no one else around them.

There was a clearing of a throat next to you as you turn your head to the side, George standing next to you looking at arthur and the girl. He spoke up after taking a sip of his beer.

“He looks like he’s in love”

“I know”

You both spoke at the same time.

“It’s cute” you spoke.

“It’s sickening” George laughed.

For a moment you looked at eachother, taking in your opposing views on the situation unfolding in front of you. And then you look back to arthur, letting out a little chuckle.

“You know, one day you’ll find a girl who will make you think love isn’t weird George, and that day will make every girl in the UK cry”

George looks at you, his expression unreadable as he lets out a little hum, walking away from you to go talk to Isaac, avoiding his eyes meeting yours as you shake the feeling off.

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

A/N- oh I’m so sorry for how long this took! I love you all I swear, and hope you like this one, might have a cheeky couple more coming tonight x (what do we think about hill and his mystery girl, hint: mystery girl is Caitlin, cos she’s amazing x)

Taglist- @loveheart-123 @ooostarwarsfandom501st @rougetv @le-le-lea @onlinesuzie @44-ilton @pretendyoucantseeme @theresglittleronthefloor @raekensluver @viagracex @neivivenaj @authortelevision @kneelforloki @m3l0vesu @deepestlovefromspace @hiatus-xix

[pupyuj]

imagine dom!g!p!liz x sub!reader overstim , liz using reader for her pleasure :(( poor reader starts crying but liz still doesn't stop :(( pls do this I will cry

THANK GOD i dug deep into my inbox bcs if i didn’t see this i would have thought that you guys don’t want to see nothing but yujin and wonyoung from me 😭😭😭 that being said I NEED MORE JIWON, GAEUL, AND REI ASKS THROWN MY WAY 😞😞💔

[cw: dubcon, g!p liz, blowjob, unhealthy power dynamic.]

sexually frustrated nervous wreck of a senior jiwonie x blissfully unaware moony-eyed trainee reader, my beloveds 🫠🫠

having jiwon as your #1 idol of all time bcs you thought she was just like you!! so shy and adorably clumsy, but was born with a boatload of talent for performing and singing!! hell, wony and yuj might be the reason you chose starship out of all the companies that attempted to recruit you but jiwon is really the girl that made you stay and commit your hardwork and efforts to the company! 🥺 and ofc jiwon was quick to acknowledge and express her gratitude for your support, verbally too!

jiwon didn’t know it then but your starstruck eyes that you couldn’t keep off of her really unlocked something inside her… 😵‍💫

but getting closer and closer until the two of you were the best of friends… hanging out outside of the company building, having places and things you can call as your guys’ places and things, taking silly pictures of each other in your respective phones and cameras, helping each other through the hardest hurdles of your lives 🥰🥰 seems all fine and dandy, right?? but you didn’t know that one day you would be helping jiwon with so much more than you can handle! 🫣

why, one day you were feeding each other ice cream while watching a classic chick flick when you noticed that jiwon seemed to be so down, something about stupid hurtful comments online affecting her self-esteem :(( she apologized for being such a mood killer but she really didn't need to! and she doesn't have to be anymore bcs you told her you'd do anything to cheer her up and make her smile again, such a pure girl you are! 🥺

unfortunately for you, you really didn't expect that sucking her dick with your little inexperienced mouth would be the one thing that would comfort her! :(( the cuddling was fine, even the kisses were okay... but grabbing your hair and putting your face against her crotch and forcing her dick down your throat?? that was a bit much... but if it meant making your jiwon-unnie happy? ofc you'd do it as best as you could! 🤭🤭

you didn't even have to worry about not knowing how to do any of this! jiwonie will guide you herself! 😍 nails attached to your scalp, controlling your pace, holding you down when it feels too good, telling you all about how good you were making her feel and all the different things you could do to make it all better for her 😍😍 she wouldn't even care that you're choking on her cum :(( she'll barely even give you a break before invading your mouth again, completely forgetting that not only were you her precious junior but also her friend <//3 you're just a pretty toy for her to use and play with now :((

definitely abuses your cunt when she gets the chance too, are you kidding 😭😭 jiwonie never wanted to admit but she has always looked at you inappropriately but just never wanted to give in to her desires until now and it was partly your fault bcs you were so nice and kind… how could jiwon not take advantage of that? ☹️ and you’re laying face down on her bed with your ass up feeling so torn bcs it really, really hurt when jiwonie’s just mindlessly ramming her cock inside you but your knuckles are turning white gripping the sheets out of pure pleasure, and you’re screaming her name so beautifully so you obviously want more, right??

and it’s weird bcs yeah the things she’s doing to you are wrong but she’s still so sweet to you?? she apologizes multiple times while using you to get off and cares for you so well afterwards that you don’t want to resist or say anything when she starts touching you again 🫠

[jooyeonsvape]

— pretty girl

genre; smut, some fluff

pairings; nonidol!taehyun, fratboy!taehyun, female!reader

w/c; 2.5k

synopsis; “guys usually think of me as ‘one of the guys’ so i guess i never had the opportunity.” you explain and he hums, then shakes his head. “that’s a shame.”

warnings; dirty talk, female receiving oral, fingering, cursing, alcohol, virgin fingering, guided masturbation

[ masterlist ]

a/n; i started writing this at 3 am, i got bags on my bags yall wtf. i had no inspiration to write but then i thought about this concept and kinda wrote a plot around it lmao. i hope u enjoy <3

soobin, yeonjun, beomgyu, taehyun, and hueningkai made up the most popular frat house in the college you all attended.

when they’re around, it’s more partying than studying and considering you were their best friend, you were included in that.

“[Y/N], your turn to babysit beomgyu if he gets too drunk tonight.” soobin calls out from his room and you pout, looking at the lightweight boy who is already starting to take shots.

“my nanny for the night.” beomgyu yells loudly and opens his arms wide for you to hug him from the couch he sat at.

you shake your head at his advance and instead take a shot for yourself. “that’s all i’m drinking tonight, watching beomgyu is a full time job, he likes to run around outside naked when he’s drunk.”

“i thought you supported free the nipple.” yeonjun teases and you raise an eyebrow. “i do support free the nipple, but i don’t support free the penis and traumatize the old lady down the street.” you shoot back and everyone laughs at the memory.

beomgyu raises his hands in defense, “it was kai’s shift but he obviously failed.” you nod in agreement and flop on the couch next to soobin who just finished getting dressed for the party.

“well, i was having the best sex of my life that night, so it was worth it.” you scrunch your face at him continuing in detail about the best blow job ever and technique she used on him.

after a minute you plug your ears with your fingers and rest your head on soobin’s shoulder until they were done.

“why are you so grossed out by sex talk [Y/N]? have you even seen a penis?” beomgyu tries to make fun of you but you just raise an eyebrow. “yes, yours, remember? i was the one who caught you, and it wasn’t impressive so i wouldn’t be talking.”

you always talked bluntly and hard-toned around them, which you think helped made them not see you as woman, but more of a sister.

as they all laughed, beomgyu was fake crying and you lean over to give him a hug. “i’m sorry my gyu, i was joking, you have the biggest pp in the world.” you giggle, rocking him back and forth.

“let’s get her boys.” he simply says, wiping his fake tear and the others start tickling you all over until you start kicking.

— —

an hour into the party you look everywhere for beomgyu but finally spot him on the couch making out with someone random. you nod to yourself because now you know he’s safe and inside, then go to soobin’s room.

you were quite anti-social tonight and alcohol usually helps that but since you can’t drink you decided to just watch movies in soobin’s room until the party is over.

you press play on the movie and set a timer for 30 minutes so you know when to check on beomgyu again.

“it’s unlocked,” you yell out, not feeling like standing up again and taehyun walks in with his bright smile that lights up any room.

“i thought you might’ve needed this.” he chuckles and hands you one of his blended alcohol mixtures. “i didn’t put a lot of tequila in it, don’t worry, you won’t get drunk.”

you take a sip and hum, “yummy, thank you. how is the party?” you ask and he sits at the end of the bed. “it’s the same as always, drunk people everywhere.”

you nod and take another sip of the drink before setting it aside. “why are you in here? there’s dudes out there asking about you.”

“i’m good, they’re probably drunk and expect me to put out just because i’m friends with 5 guys.” you giggle and shake your head at the thought of letting them touch you.

“it’s college though, this is our prime.” you just shrug your shoulders gently, “i’m not looking for a fuck and dump.”

he hums and the room randomly got awkward which usually wasn’t the case with taehyun. “why are you being nosey tonight?” you finally speak and he chuckles, “i just didn’t want you to miss out i guess, may i join you in here?”

you scoot over on the bed to make room for taehyun and take the drink he made down in one gulp.

he admires you taking the whole thing at once and laughs at the face you made. even though you weren’t drunk, his laughing makes you join him and soon the both of you were laughing at nothing but each others noises.

“are you sure you aren’t a lightweight [Y/N]?” taehyun questions with a soft chuckle when the two of you settle down. “no, i think your energy just makes me drunk.”

he nods and looks at the tv, wrapping his arm behind you so the two of you were cuddling, it didn’t feel uncomfortable but it was definitely new for you.

“i have another question.” taehyun speaks up 10 minutes later and you look up at him. “yes?” he bites the inside of his cheek as he tries to find a proper way to ask it. “are you a virgin?”

you blush at the sudden curiosity of your friend and hide your face in his shoulder. “yes, guys usually think of me as ‘one of the guys’ so i guess i never had the opportunity.” you explain and he hums, then shakes his head. “that’s a shame.”

“no i’m okay with it, i don’t know what i’m missing, so i don’t really try to find it.” taehyun clicks his tongue and looks down at you. “you’re not one of the guys, you’re just [Y/N].”

you purse your lips at the sound of him talking and look up at him again. “was that a compliment?” taehyun chuckles and hums, eyes still on the tv as he rubs your exposed belly, due to the crop top you’re wearing, with his thumb.

your eyes go down to his movements and he notices, “is that bothering you?” you shake your head and smile.

taehyun traces his finger tip around your hip and plays with the waistband of your shorts, “will you tell me when i start making you uncomfortable?” he asks softly and you take a deep breath before nodding.

he slowly slides his fingers under your shorts and quickly finds your clit through your panties, giving it a soft rub.

“have you ever masturbated?” he asks in your ear with a low voice you weren’t used to. “yes.” he lets out a chuckle and continues to rub.

“do you like my hand better?”

your breath hitched before you nod fast, “y-yes.”

taehyun smirks and lifts up your panties, putting pressure on your bare clit with his finger to see how sensitive you were.

you gasp at the feeling and buck your hips softly in his hand. “has anyone ever licked your pussy?” he questioned, sliding one of his fingers up and down your folds to get your clit wet.

you shake your head with a whine at his fingers and he nods in return. “may i be the first?”

the thought of losing your virginity tonight made you nervous but also excited so you nod hesitantly. “are you sure? use your words.”

you bite your lip and squeeze your thighs together which made him chuckle. “you can eat my pussy.” taehyun smirks and sits up, taking the blanket off of you so he could kiss your belly.

“i’ll stop when you want me to pretty girl.” he reassures and you nod, looking down at him so close to something only you have ever touched.

he takes off your shorts and panties together, then looks up at you with smirk. “it should be criminal to keep something so beautiful hidden.” taehyun laughs, admiring your glistening pussy while you blush.

he leans in and gives your clit a few kisses to see your reaction. each kiss made your body jolt a little with sensitivity and he smiles, finding it cute.

“spread your legs wider.” he says in a comforting voice and you comply, spreading further with a shy blush.

taehyun licks his tongue up and down to lap up your juices with a hum, “sweet.” you giggle at him and hide your face.

your hips involuntary jerk when he takes your clit in his mouth and sucks, then moving his tongue in swirling movements. “fuck.” you moan out, tilting your head back in pleasure.

taehyun was very skillful with his mouth, he knew how to make a woman feel good. while his tongue was busy flicking your clit over and over, his finger hovered your hole.

“have you ever fingered yourself?” he asks when he pulls away from your clit and smirks, rubbing the hole slowly. “yes.” he hums, not satisfied with the answer. “tell me how it felt pretty girl.”

you blush at the name and look down to meet his eyes. “it was amazing, i put two fingers in and was shaking from how good it felt.”

taehyun swiftly goes up to your face and kisses your lips deeply before adding a finger inside your pussy with no warning which made you moan in the kiss.

“i think you’ve been secretly waiting for someone to fuck you with the way you talk.” he growls in your ear while he pumps his finger hard inside of you and adds a second one.

you gasp at the second finger, feeling your walls stretch with each thrust until it was used to the size. “i make myself cum just fine.” you smirk breathlessly and spread your legs wider.

“i’m sure you do pretty girl, but when i’m done with you, you’ll be wanting more than fingers.” you hated to admit he was right, all you wanted now was to feel his dick inside of you.

you kiss his lips again and moan so the party goers didn’t hear you yelling his name, which you wanted to do.

taehyun curls his fingers inside of you so he hit your spot each time and you whimper at the feeling. “rub your clit baby, just like you do when you’re alone.”

you blush and do as he says, starting to sweat at the feeling of being close. he watches when you lick your fingers then rub your nub as fast as you can and he smirks. “are you about to cum?”you nod and throw your head back so you could let out a strained moan.

when he heard you were close, he goes back down and moves your hand so he could take your clit in his mouth again.

with the pressure of his fingers pounding into you and his tongue flicking your clit fast, you finally let out a loud moan then cum hard on his slender fingers. he smirks against you and pulls out with his tongue still swirling around your clit until you were twitching from sensitivity.

he wipes his mouth after licking all your juices up and lays next to you again, satisfied with his work. “that was the best feeling i’ve ever had.” you giggle and wipe your forehead of sweat and try to steady your breathing.

taehyun chuckles and kisses your forehead gently, “good, i’m glad i could help.” you were still naked on the bottom half of your body when soobin opens the door.

you shuffle to find the blanket and he makes a frowned face. “on my bed? taehyun, your room is literally right next door. the party is almost over and beomgyu is no where to be seen, have you been checking on him [Y/N]?”

you press your lips together and notice your phone alarm has been ringing for the past 20 minutes but the pleasure took over all your other senses.

“i’ll find him, get cleaned up [Y/N] and go to your room taehyun.” he shakes his head and you try not to laugh.

“yes dad.” you both say in unison and laugh with each other.

soobin sighs and mutters words you couldn’t hear, “let’s go pretty girl, tonight you’re sleeping in my room, i think we’ll have some more fun.”

[eclipixels]

Payback

Sylus x reader

Content: You don't like Sylus allowing other girls to flirt with him, so you take matters into your own hands to get back at him

A/N: pt.1 pt.2

[2,911 words]

      You sat with Sylus at the bar, your head resting against his shoulder, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the air around you. The two of you had arrived earlier than most, and now, as you watched the slow trickle of people filtering in, you couldn’t help but think that maybe Sylus had been right, you should have waited a little longer before coming.

      With a soft sigh, you sat up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I’m gonna go use the bathroom, okay?" you murmured, your fingers lightly squeezing his arm before you slipped away toward the restroom.

      The momentary break was meant to be nothing, just a quick trip before returning to his side. But when you emerged, your heart nearly stopped.

      A woman stood dangerously close to him, tilting her head in that familiar, flirtatious way as she batted her lashes. The dim lighting of the bar only made the moment more intimate, more insufferable. Then, as if to twist the knife deeper, she leaned in, her lips close to his ear as she whispered something you weren’t meant to hear, something that sent a searing pang of jealousy straight through you.

      Did you really believe him when he told you that you were the only woman he wanted? That he never entertained temptation? That he never strayed, even when countless women threw themselves at him?

      You wanted to believe him. You truly did. But watching this unfold, watching him stand there and allow her to linger, to bask in his presence without a single sign of dismissal—it gnawed at you. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t flirting back or even paying her much attention. The fact that he didn’t push her away, that he allowed these moments to exist at all, was what truly got under your skin.

      And who could blame her for being drawn to him? Sylus looked effortlessly breathtaking in his tailored black Versace suit, the sleek fabric clinging to him in all the right ways. He exuded confidence, mystery, an untouchable charm that made heads turn the moment he stepped into a room. If you were in her position, wouldn’t you want a man like him to look at you the way you wished he only looked at you?

      But why? Why couldn’t he make it clear that he was unavailable, that there was no room for anyone else in his orbit? The questions burned in your mind, threatening to spill over into words you weren’t sure you were ready to say aloud.

      Because no matter how much you trusted him, doubt had a way of creeping in like a shadow in the night. And right now, standing there, watching her linger in his space… that shadow felt all-consuming.

      "You okay?" a voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned to find yourself looking at some guy. Tall, effortlessly good-looking, with a broody, mysterious air that made him stand out.

      "I'm completely awesome. Just having the time of my life," you replied with a smirk, the sarcasm practically dripping from your words. "I mean, you agree, right? I am awesome. You know what? Don't even answer that."

      He gave you a small smile, the kind that was just barely there but still managed to be annoyingly charming. "As much as I’ve heard about you, you're more than just awesome."

      Your drunken mind barely registered the comment or who exactly had been talking about you. But if he had heard things, well, hopefully, they were good things. He had this whole mysterious, darkly intriguing vibe, and if you weren’t so hopelessly in love with Sylus, maybe—just maybe—something could have happened.

      "Do you wanna dance?" you asked impulsively, tilting your head at him.

      His eyes widened slightly, as if the question had caught him off guard. "I don't think that would be appropriate," he said, his voice polite yet firm.

      Seriously, what was it with men not wanting to dance with you today? You were an amazing dancer.

      "And why exactly wouldn't it be appropriate?" you teased, grabbing his arm before he could protest and pulling him toward the dance floor. Not that you were trying to make Sylus jealous or anything. But, you know, if it happened organically, you wouldn’t be opposed.

      "Just relax. It's just a dance," you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him a little closer. You giggled as he let out a small breath, clearly debating whether to just go with it or keep resisting.

      Then, as if the universe had a twisted sense of humor, the music shifted into something slow and romantic, one of those songs you'd never heard before but could already tell was meant for lovers lost in each other’s arms.

      Perfect. Just perfect.

      You didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see if that woman was still talking to Sylus.

      "You know," your dance partner said after a moment, "I learned how to waltz once. It’s been a few years, though."

      You chuckled, tilting your head at him. "Oh yeah? Think you still got it?"

      He smirked slightly. "Guess we’re about to find out."

      For a fleeting second, you felt Sylus’s gaze burning into you from across the room. You could almost hear the unspoken words in his stare. But you ignored it. To hell with him.

      The two of you danced so flawlessly, so effortlessly, that the energy in the room shifted. People took notice. Whispers spread, eyes turned. But you didn’t care. For the first time tonight, you were simply having fun.

      Then, with a fluid motion, he twirled you around, sending a rush of exhilaration through your veins before pulling you back into his arms. And finally, the grand finish—a dip, deep and dramatic. The moment lingered as you locked eyes with him, your breath slightly ragged from the movement.

      A slow smile spread across your face as you straightened up. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” you admitted, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

      "I'm glad I could make that happen," he replied, his own smile warm and genuine.

      Before you could say anything else, the sound of clapping caught your attention. You turned to see Wanda and Tara grinning at you, their faces full of approval and amusement.

      “You were amazing!” Tara cheered, her excitement practically radiating off her.

      Your dance partner chuckled, then took a small step back. “You should go join your friends,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Besides, I wouldn’t want any trouble for you.”

      And just like that, he turned to leave.

      A frown crept onto your face. His words confused you. What kind of trouble? He was fun to be around, easy to talk to. You had a feeling that if nothing else, the two of you could have been good friends. But he was gone before you could ask.

      The thrill of dancing, the lightness of the moment—it all started to fade as the weight of reality crashed back down. For a little while, the music, the movement, the laughter had made you forget. Forget about Sylus. Forget about the ache in your chest.

      But now? Now, it all came rushing back.

      You forced a smile as you said goodnight to Tara and your other hunter friends. They wanted you to stay, to shake off the sadness, but you were drained. Completely and utterly exhausted.

      All you wanted was to be alone. To cry in peace.

      And you didn’t care how you got home.

      Stepping outside, the cool night air did little to soothe the fire burning inside you. But as if the universe hadn’t tormented you enough tonight, there he was—Sylus, leaning against his motorcycle, waiting.

      The last person you wanted to see right now.

      At least he wasn’t with her.

      "What are you doing here?" you asked, voice sharper than intended.

      At the sound of your voice, he turned his head, his expression unreadable—until his eyes met yours. Then, just like that, his gaze hardened.

      "The real question is, what the hell were you doing in there? With that guy?" His tone was sharp, laced with something that almost sounded like jealousy.

      God. The sheer audacity.

      You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "It's called dancing, Sylus. You know, that thing people do when they're having fun?" You crossed your arms, eyes narrowing. "And honestly? The hypocrisy is commendable. Really."

      His brows furrowed. "The hypocrisy? What’s gotten into you, Y/N?"

      Maybe it was the drinks. Maybe it was the adrenaline crashing. Maybe it was the way your heart still ached from watching him with her. But something inside you cracked.

      "You know what? You’re right. I knew what I was getting into with you," you admitted, voice shaking, "but I can’t do it anymore."

      His expression faltered for the first time, but you didn’t let him speak.

      "Is this even a relationship to you, Sylus? Or am I just someone you’re fooling around with until you get bored?" The words came out harsher than you expected, but you didn’t care.

      For a moment, silence hung between you like a storm waiting to break.

      Then, something in his face changed. The sharpness faded, replaced with something else, something you couldn’t quite place.

      Hurt?

      "Is that what you really think of me?" he asked, voice quieter now, almost disbelieving. "Of us?"

      You swallowed hard, but he didn’t stop.

      "Is that what you think I’m doing?" He took a step forward, his usual cocky demeanor nowhere to be seen. "Just stringing you along until I get bored?"

      The way he said it made your chest tighten, but you wouldn’t let him turn this around on you.

      You stepped back, refusing to let your resolve waver.

      "That’s how you made me feel today, Sylus," you snapped, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you had held in. "You made me feel used. You made me feel small—like I was nothing compared to her. Like she mattered to you, and I didn’t."

      Your lips quivered as you tried to hold back the lump forming in your throat, but the words wouldn’t stop now.

      "You can’t let the most gorgeous woman in the room flirt with you, throw it in my face, and then expect me to just stand there and not care," you choked out, barely recognizing your own voice—raw, broken, angry.

      Sylus exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t trying to hurt you. You knew that. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. And maybe he hadn’t been ready for this confrontation, but neither were you—you hadn’t asked for this heartbreak.

      "She means nothing to me, Y/N," he said, his voice quieter now. "And she wasn’t the most gorgeous woman in the room."

      You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah? That’s funny, considering how easily you let her hang all over you."

      His jaw tightened. "Don’t use that tone with me, Y/N."

      And that—that—set you off completely.

      "Fuck off, Sylus," you spat, stepping back, fire burning behind your eyes. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to act jealous then get mad when I get the same way."

      As soon as the words left your mouth, Sylus closed the distance between you in an instant, crashing his lips against yours in a kiss that was rough, desperate, and possessive. He had heard enough. He couldn’t lose you like this. He wouldn’t let it happen.

      You wanted to fight back, wanted to push him away, wanted to scream at him for how much he had hurt you tonight—but you didn’t. Instead, you gave in. You kissed him back with just as much fire, all the jealousy, anger, and pain pouring into the way your lips moved against his. You wanted to rip his hair out, but at the same time, you wanted to fuck him senseless.

      His hands gripped your waist as he lifted you effortlessly, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around him. He walked forward until your back hit the wall, trapping you between the cool surface and the warmth of his body. A sharp gasp left your lips as he tangled his fingers in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, exposing your neck to him. His mouth was on you in an instant, lips and teeth marking you, sucking deep enough to leave bruises. His marks.

      He wasn’t the only jealous one tonight.

      Watching you dance, hearing you laugh so freely with that guy—it had made something primal snap inside him. He wanted to be the one spinning you around, holding you in his arms, making you smile like that. He wanted to be the man who made you happy.

      His hands slid under your dress, gripping your ass roughly as he pressed his hips forward, grinding against you. You gasped at the friction, a moan slipping from your lips as you felt how hard he was through his jeans. You wrapped your legs around him tighter, rolling your hips against his, desperate for something to ease the ache between your legs. You were frustrated, upset, and so fucking turned on all at once.

      Then, before you could stop it, a single tear slipped down your cheek.

      Sylus stilled.

      He heard the soft, broken sob escape your lips, and his chest tightened. His hands, which had been gripping you so possessively just moments ago, suddenly softened their hold. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as his breathing evened out.

      His thumb brushed the tear from your cheek before he pressed a tender kiss there, his lips lingering. And then, slowly, he set you back down onto your feet.

      The loss of contact made you shiver, but you weren’t ready for this moment to end—not like this.

      “I'm so absolutely sorry for how I made you feel tonight.”

      “I just wish you would push those women away, why don’t you do that?” Your lips quivered. His heart broke, how could he make you feel this way? He was mad at himself.

      “I didn’t think it mattered. I thought you already knew I loved you.” He admits, feeling stupid for not realizing sooner how much it hurt you.

      “Still, it hurts seeing them flirt with you and you do nothing.”

      “I am sincerely sorry my love, I promise, I won’t let it happen anymore.” He closes the distance between you two. He wraps his arms around you tightly "you're my weakness y/n, I never wanted to have one but then you came along.”

      “You’re mine, okay?” You say firmly.

      "I am yours. So beautiful you are, the prettiest. I love the dress princess" he kisses your forehead

      "Thank you love, I got it in your color" you smile.

      "I know but It would look better on the floor” He grins wickedly. Oh my god, you really are stuck with him now.

      “Don’t think I’m forgiving you that easily, though,” you said, your voice firm, your expression stern.

      Sylus paused, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, but he masked it quickly. “What do I have to do?”

      You took a step closer to him, a sly smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Beg.”

      His brows furrowed, and he blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What? You can’t be serious.”

      You leaned in, your gaze locking with his, a challenge in your eyes. “You heard me. On your knees. Beg me to forgive you.”

      His lips parted, but he didn’t immediately comply. “Y/n–”

      Before he could say anything else, you shoved him gently but firmly, guiding him to the ground. The sudden action had his breath hitching, but he quickly found his footing, settling on his knees in front of you. He looked up at you, his gaze filled with something between defiance and desperation.

      His thighs flexed as he kneaded his jaw, eyes narrowing in thought. Then, he finally spoke, his voice low and sincere. “Please forgive me, darling. I am so fucking sorry.”

      You raised an eyebrow, not satisfied with the apology.

      Sylus let out a soft groan, his hands resting on his thighs, looking up at you with a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. “I’m so, so sorry.” His voice dropped an octave, heavy with regret.

      And still, something in you wanted more.

      The sincerity in his eyes pulled at something deep inside you, but you weren’t ready to let him off that easy. "I want to hear you say it. I want to hear how much I mean to you. I want to know that you won't let this happen again."

      His breath hitched as his hands moved to the floor for support, his body leaning slightly toward you as if instinctively reaching for you, aching for you. “I won’t let it happen again, I swear to you. I won’t make the same mistake. Please, Y/n, forgive me. I can’t lose you. You mean everything to me.”

      You could see the desperation in his eyes now, the plea for you to believe him.

      "That’s better," you said, nodding slowly. "But words are just that. Show me."

      He lowered his gaze for a moment, then looked back up at you, his posture shifting as if he was preparing to give you all of him. And he did just that, all night long. You drained the life out of him, not stopping until you were satisfied.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

i need a fic where whiny whimpery sensitive slash gets off and thats it. no reader. just slash jerking off. please.

Warnings: smut, Slash jerking off, use of toys, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

The tour ended and Slash was left home alone. It was weird after the tour, it felt too quiet, too calm.

He didn’t have a girl with him, his guitar was still with his luggage just by the door. His body was tired and sore as he sat on the couch, his shorts undone as he spread out, leaning back into the cushions.

He reached for the remote and turned on the TV, unintentionally finding porn. He smiled to himself, dick slipping out of his open fly as it hardened.

Slash adjusted in his seat and started stroking himself, at first matching the pace of the people in the videos but at some point he sped up and just couldn’t slow down.

His mind was mush from the tour, his dick had been used and abused for months, his hand wasn’t nearly as good as any of the chicks he’d been with which only made it worse.

He was happy there was no one to hear him, he could be as loud as he wanted. He wasn’t usually loud but right now he couldn’t stop the whines he let out, those filthy moans.

“Mommy! Mommy, please, fuck! I-I can’t.” He babbled out, speaking to no one in particular.

His head rolled back, thighs pressing together. A thin layer of sweat coated him, strand of dark, curly hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks. He was louder than the girl on the TV, whinier and crying more even though she had a group of guys around her, fucking her mouth and holes, using toys on her…

That’s what Slash needed, toys.

He got up from the couch and made his way to his room, unable to fully take his hand off his leaky cock the whole way, making his knees buckle and he tripped up the stairs, spurts of cum shooting out onto the wood.

He wasn’t done, though, and kept on his way to his room, stumbling on his feet as he went.

Finally he made it and dug through his drawer to find a massage gun, it wasn’t quite what what he was looking for but it was close enough. It was long and had a high setting.

Sure enough it worked just fine and he was left trembling on the floor, holding it to himself, drawing out more lewd noises.

He managed to get out of his clothes, now laying on his stomach on the floor and thrusting against the wood tiles of his bedroom, holding the wand under his.

Then he got an idea, a disgusting one.

He turned the toy off for a second, crying more at the lack of stimulation. His eyes screwed shut, face tucked into his arm as he pushed the head of the toy into his ass.

He let out a heavy sigh, clenching around it. He was pathetic, crying and moaning on the ground. He could’ve just called someone over to help but instead he was fucking himself with a fucking massage wand.

He turned it back on and knew immediately that it was a good idea. He wrapped a hand around himself again, letting the vibrations make his hips buck into his hand, it was perfect and he was so close, more strings of cum spilling out onto the floor, adding to the puddle already formed under him.

He reached back to turn the toy off but couldn’t find the button, instead turning it up. It hurt and he couldn’t fix it, the pleasure mixing with the pain and he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t do anything but whine more.

[llamabois]

TO LOVE AND HATE, ENDLESSLY

Synopsis: You and your twin sister (MC) have been spending time with your parents. They decide it would be fun for you guys to play dress up and guess who is who. Caleb ends up joining in to your dismay.

No warnings are needed other than a bit of swearing, lol.

Side note: tried to use some pilot terms, but I might've failed lmao.

Taglist: @justpassingdontworry @macaronnya @itsmekalou @caramelizedpopcirn @xiaorixx

You are your own worst enemy. Not that you'd ever have expected that. It's been two weeks since your mirror reflection has come back into your family's life, and while you're happy for your parents, a part of you wishes you ate her in the womb.

Her eyes crinkle in the same way yours does, a smile a little lopsided. When she gets nervous, she plays with her fingers as if doing so will make a spell to banish away her fear. Just like you.

The first fear you've ever faced was your own reflection, so now you've learned to put two fists up to face your inner demons. You try bonding with her. Asking her about her childhood.

She tells you about how she grew up with her amazing childhood friend Caleb. Told you how he was almost like a brother to her. Almost, but not quite. Her eyes stir with a muted desire that matches your own when you look into his beautiful purple irises. She doesn't acknowledge this. Neither do you.

Shadowboxing is not an art you are unfamiliar with. For you were your first enemy. And you will be your last. Until you break bread with the parts of you that your heart has never understood; You will break bones and wreak havoc on your own psyched up psyche till nothing but the two of you are left breathless yet still attached.

Yet you still choose not to face him. Not until you're forced to.

Your parents have decided to take some time to do all the things they've always wanted to do with both of you but never could. And this time, you two were playing dress up.

Due to the fact that your hair was long (even though you've been thinking of cutting it recently,) you both sported the same bun with a pretty extravagant dress. How your parents got them, you'll never know.

"My goodness, you two are identical!"

Your sister laughs at this comment and turns towards you. "I've always felt like there was a part of me missing. At least I know it wasn't because my heart went dumb."

You want to feel warmth in your chest. You want to feel sorry for your dear twin who suffers from a heart condition after you lost her. You want to love her. Yet your fists are still up, and your heart is hidden on your sleeve.

And to think you're feeling this way all because of a damn man.

There's a ring at the doorbell, the two of you had changed again to match into some more casual clothes. Your mom excitedly goes to open the door. You pay no mind as you look at your sister and smooth out her hair that looked a little frazzled.

She looks at you intently, shocked by the sheer awe of looking at yourself outside of your body yet still within yourself.

She knows you're not all too happy to see her. And she has a feeling she knows why.

"Girls," your mom calls excitedly. "Guess who's here!"

You both look to the entrance of the living room, and your stomach does flip when you see who is standing there. His frame large against the small door. His eyes, some what in awe.

Not for you, of course, never for you.

"Caleb, dear, would you like to play a little game with us?" Your mom asks with a clap of excitement.

"Guess who is who between the two of them."

"We've got 3 out of the 6 times, right? Not bad, huh?" Your dad chimes in, proud.

As if not being able to tell which daughter you've held in your arms and taken care of the past 23 years of your life is something to be proud of. You digress.

You were identical.

"Sure," Caleb says as he takes a seat on the couch. Casually, he leans into the crook of the chair away from your parents. Manspreading like he owned half of the chair with just his presence. Purple eyes watched you both intently as you both switched positions a few times.

You tried to keep your expression neutral. But you knew that Caleb would probably be able to tell right away who his beloved Pipsqueak was and who was just a Bandit.

You both continue to circle each other. As you look at her, you look at yourself. A yin yang behavior. To circle each other endlessly till parts of you bled into who you've hated to be. To both be exactly alike, yet nothing at all the same.

To be yourself is to love and hate endlessly.

"And stop." Your dad says, clapping once.

You both look toward Caleb, who gazes intently at you. His eyes are heavy on your body. You want to look away, but everything within you wants to fight for a stupid victory. So you don't.

"This is pipsqueak, and this is my angel." He says, pointing at your sister and then you.

"Angel?" You question. "How did you come to this conclusion, Colonel."

"Well first," he smiles. "Pipsqueak doesn't call me Colonel. So you just proved my point, my dear mechanic."

Dammit.

"Okay, what else."

Caleb gets up from his spot on the couch and makes his way towards you, as if she wasn't there. As if no one else was around.

"Well...my dear angel often as a really defiant gaze when she looks at people. Especially me. Sometimes it borders on hatred I think." He smiles. "Unless it was something else." He whispers.

You look away.

You choose to run from his words rather than listen to them. How could he know that you wanted to jump into his skin, and carve a piece of yourself into him permanently? That you wanted the weight of his body on top of yours. The warmth of his chest, the desire in his eyes, the whirling of the mechanical arm that was never going to be a part of him yet still held a part of you every time that you tinkered with it in your workshop.

How you wanted the sound of that robotic arm to lullaby you to sleep as he wrapped himself around you brought his real arm to your stomach and caressed it gently.

He truly knew nothing.

Son of a bitch.

"True," you chuckle with a dark gaze. "But it doesn't border on hatred. It is."

"Oh, you know that isn't true."

"What i know is that there are somethings you don't come back from, and if you don't step out of my fucking face, I'll make sure that you face a death you don't came back from." You fake a gasp, "Oh damn, I should say, again. Shouldn't I."

Your sister watches your back and forth. At first, with amusement, but then also a sense of wrongness.

Like she wasn't supposed to be here.

She could tell there was something between you two. Something that was more than hate. It was desire. A language is so often hidden between the lines but felt so easily.

She had no place between that. After all, she was just Caleb's childhood friend, right?

Maybe she did feel something for him, a sense of belonging like no other. To have someone take care of you and treat you as a precious jewel when the world was determined to crush you. Caleb did that. He treated her as if she were a jewel. A diamond.

She shakes her head. She would be fine without him. Afterall, when this bastard blew the fuck up, she had to do everything on her own. And she'll continue to do so.

Or at least... she has her family still there with her.

"Oh angel, you wound me deeply." Caleb jokes sarcastically. But you're not having any of it.

"Would you like another fatal wound? I think we can make that happen."

At this point, your mom and dad left, and your sister also took her leave. Something about going to go change.

Caleb chuckles as he deepens the space between you two. His warm hand caressing your face. You want to throw something at him. Whether it's a chair or yourself, you can't decide.

"How did you know it was me." You asked again.

He comes closer, enough to feel his breath hot on your face. Enough for your eyes to linger at his lips a bit too long to be just friendly.

"Because," he whispered. "I'd know your little eyebrow quirk anywhere."

His hand traced your leg.

"The way you favor your right leg over your left when you stand, because of a classroom mishap you had when you were still studying at the DAA."

"The way you quirk your head to the left when you've been waiting for too long." His hand traced the nape of your neck. Then, he cupped your face and tilted your head towards him.

"The way your lips quiver with unspoken words. Your eyes, hungry."

How could he not know. It was the same look he gave you.

Not because you looked like her.

But because you were just you. Beautiful, utterly brilliant, bright-eyed, and amazing you.

He presses his lips to yours. The dryness of them, ticklish against your moist ones. His hands in your hair, as he breathes you in like you're the last bit oxygen he has left in deepspace.

You throw your arms around him. Your body flush against his, this moment, a dream. An endless yearning fulfilled like you've finally caught the sun after riding into the sunset.

Was this desire? Was it love? You don't know.

But you wanted to explore what it felt like to be loved.

Like a word lost in translation.

"Ay! I know yall are lovey dovey but no pda in my living room!" Your dad calls from the other room.

"Sorry, dad!"

He didn't want you to be her. He wanted you to be yourself.

And to be yourself is to love and hate endlessly.

[little-forest-goblin]

The Art of Valentine

❤️ Valentines day special ❤️

Synopsis: Five had you as a coworker at the CIA. You guys could be described as work wife and work husband by other coworkers and also because everybody can feel the unspoken desire, wanting, love and care. Eventually this all boils over.

Note: this story is in season 4 but there is no forbidden relationship (AKA five and lila) and the universe did not reset. The cleanse was just a cult of crazies.

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Five had a crush that he completely thought qas hopeless. HOPELESS. He kept telling himself to stop dreaming of her when you know that it wont happen! Sadly his ass was not cooperating with his logical albeit twisted logic. Either way he liked you.

You and he were described as a work wife and husband to everyone. If I went up to them and asked about the two of you it would be that exact description. Some coworkers found it annoying while others found it kind of adorable and were betting on the two of you ending up together

God five was hoping the same thing and little did he know you did too.

It was a normal office day. Five going through files on the newest case. After finding out that the director was a part of the cleanse cult they obviously replaced him and just so happened to replace him with five.

They found that five were more than qualified for the job of CIA director. He did appreciate it because he got quite a hit of money and it was quite an achievement.

You came into the office with a new file for the case they were working on. “Well hello handsome. I have the file you asked for”

he looked up and sipped his coffee and smiled setting it down “You keep talking like that and you might get yourself in trouble”

you chuckled and walked over to the desk setting the file down “Maybe i want to be in trouble”

he smirked and leaned forward towards you. Your breaths mingled and his body even though you didn't touch yet was warm. “Don't make me spank you, honey.”

you blushed and moved back “w-well than i guess i should behave” you turned and moved to walk out.

he swallowed and his eyes trailed down your body. His heart was pounding. Once you left he was in a panic. He let out a strangled breath his hands on his desk and his heart pounding he was sure he was dying

“I'm dead this is it. Her beauty has killed me. Her wit has killed me. A MURDER!!!”

Meanwhile, outside the office a few coworkers heard him yell after you left. One of the coworkers that had a mug of coffee was talking to one leaning against the wall “You think he has a photo of her in his wallet she doesn't know about?”

the coworker leaning against the wall nodded “Probably”

Meanwhile five was having a heart attack induced by you. Good god save him now. He took a shaky sip of coffee.

“God save me now”

Soon after he needed more coffee and sadly he didn't have a coffee machine in his office which meant he had to go outside and possibly interact.

He left his office making his way to the break room as quickly as possible without distractions or unnecessary conversation. He got into the breakroom and sighed where there were only a few girls talking in the corner on their breaktime.

He headed to the machine and was pouring himself a cup and maybe he was eavesdropping…a little.

“Oh my god i didn't even catch that it was february! I am not looking forward to this.” one of the girls said with a annoyed sigh as she sipped whatever was in her mug

Another girl who had her hair done up in a messy bun and looked far too tired to be working nodded “I agree. What's the point of valentines if you dont got one” the other girl agreed

Another girl who was enjoying a complimentary bag of chips that were usually in a little wicker basket on the counter looked at them like they were crazy “What? you guys don't like valentines? That's crazy.”

the same girl who started the conversation about february playfully rolled her eyes “Well cassie not everyone has a girlfriend like you to share the month with”

the girl who was supposedly named cassie blushed “Hey! don't go yelling that! What if the wrong person hears I keep my life private you know!”

They chuckled and headed out of the break room once it was up. Five was left there with a pit in his stomach. Its february which means valentines day.

He rushed to the office and checked his calendar. Oh fuck…

He hated Valentine's Day but it still made him so nervous. He hated it because he would get a valentine from people he didn't want and never from the person he did but his hopes were always up that maybe he would get one. His heart would hurt every single year you’d think he would forget.

he didn't care much for valentines after the first apocalypse but once he got back and experienced holidays like valentines all over again he was smitten with a lot except for valentines day.

his family tried to encourage him to meet people and actually find love or a valentine. He sat in his office chair thinking. Maybe he should try this year.

And so he set a plan. Multiple plans actually. Plan A’s and B’s just in case one didn't work.

~Timeskip~

None of them worked. He failed. He got cold feet. He knew he shouldn't have. He used to be an assassin but you brought out that side of him. You made him nervous. All the flirting and your genuine care and the fact that you would listen to him and engage in deep thought it was…nerve wracking.

He thought all hope was lost. He would be destined to be alone because he can't crawl out of the shell that he perfectly built and well…perfected.

He walked down the hall just needing a minute away from his work and stuffy office and from the file. He must’ve not been paying attention because he bumped into somebody that he learned was you.

“Oh shit!” you yelled as you fell right onto your ass

he turned around, his eyes widening. He was mentally cursing himself and his entire biological bloodline. “Oh god, y/n I'm so sorry. I was not paying attention.”

you stood dusting yourself off “No no it's alright it seems you're out of it.”

he chuckled nervously pink dusting his cheeks. If he wasn't so nervous maybe he would notice your own pinkened cheeks. His mouth began running faster than he could think and before he could think of the possible consequences he blurted out:

“Would you be willing to go on a date with me?!” his eyes widened along with yours.

He just asked you out right? That wasn't you just dreaming right? before you could talk he blinked away. he was gone within a flash. You were left speechless. You looked down each end of the hall hoping to see if you could catch him but sadly he couldn't.

you sighed and leaned back against the wall. Your head hit the back of the wall and you sighed. Once you were ready after a quick debrief in your head you saw a wallet on the floor left where he was. Your eyebrows furrowed ans picked it up. Surely it wasnt fives right?

You opened it and saw his Id and license in the pouch. You were gonna close it till a paper fell out. You quickly picked it up. Now you knew you shouldn't snoop through his things but you couldn’t help it. You flipped it over and saw it was a photo of you.

your eyes widened a blush forming. You…he had a photo of you. You thought he wouldn't like you like that. A really long time of pining over him and he…he liked you back. He sounded so nervous.

You opened your phone and saw the date. February 13th. Perfect.

>Next day<

five got to his office feeling miserable. No valentines for him once again and he blew it. He opened his office and set down his briefcase on a side table by the door. He flipped on the lights.

What he saw made his eyes widen. On the desk was a bouquet of flowers. A beautiful bunch of roses with dark green ferns in it. It was gorgeous.

Inside he saw a card. He picked it up and opened the card. Inside read

“To Five hargreeves.

You left your wallet in the hallway when you blinked away. I returned it to you. It is in your front desk drawer. Also about that date, id love to go. How does at 8 tonight sound? See you then lover boy.

Love, y/n l/n”

His eyes widened and his heart pounded. The card was from you. He held the flowers close until he sat down and set it down on the desk. He opened the front drawer and there his wallet was.

He picked it up and opened it. He saw a new piece of paper that he had never seen before. On it had writing it read

“I saw the photo of me in your wallet. I decided to give you a better one. A personal favorite of mine”

he flipped it over and saw it was a photo, obviously. A more precious one. One of you and him laughing at a table together over an inside joke you two made.

As he sat back in his desk looking at the photo of you two laughing at the joke and your legs under the table were slightly intertwined, you and him were close and intimate but far enough that distance didn't seem so little anymore.

That's what made it all the more special.

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Hi guys! I know some of you might be looking for a valentines smut story but i decided not to do that but i can create another if you want just give me some time! I love you guys please be safe out there ❤️

[rafeyssugar]

We all know that Rafe is the "touch her and I'll kill you" type but what about Reader who matches energy? Rafe at a party chilling while Reader goes and gets a drink and he gets approached and he warns her "touch me and she'll kill you" but the girl thinks he's joking until Reader comes back and shit gets started

matching energy

the party was a blur of loud music, flashing lights, and the smell of alcohol in the air. rafe was leaning against the porch, his eyes scanning the crowd, his usual smirk in place.

then she showed up.

a girl, clearly too bold for her own good, stepped up to rafe, hand brushing against his chest. he barely looked at her, already over the attention she thought she could grab from him.

“hey, rafe,” she said in a flirty tone, eyes glinting with mischief. “what’s a guy like you doing all alone?”

he didn’t even glance down at her, his expression cool. “can i help you?”

the girl smiled, moving closer, her fingers trailing down his chest, taking a liberty that made rafe tense slightly.

“just thought we could have some fun,” she purred, her hand lingering for a moment too long.

his patience snapped.

without even looking, rafe muttered, “touch me, and she’ll kill you.”

the girl laughed, not taking him seriously at all. “really? you think she’ll kill me?” she scoffed, not getting the gravity of his words.

you had just stepped out from inside, drink in hand, when you spotted the girl hanging onto rafe, her hand still on him. you didn’t need to hear her words, but you could see the way she was getting too close, too comfortable.

you moved toward them without hesitation, your eyes narrowing. you could see the situation for what it was.

the girl didn’t seem to notice you at first, but when she looked up and saw the look on your face, she raised an eyebrow. “what? you think you can tell me what to do?”

“yeah,” you shot back coldly, “i do.”

you didn’t waste any time. without another word, you shoved the girl’s hand off rafe’s chest, making her stumble back a few steps.

she stood up straighter, clearly pissed now, and lunged at you. “you think you can touch me and get away with it?” she snarled.

you didn’t flinch.

before she could make another move, you grabbed her wrist, twisting it behind her back with a sharp motion, pulling her toward the ground.

the crowd around you started to take notice, but you were too focused on the girl’s struggle to care. she tried to fight you off, kicking at your legs, but you weren’t having it.

you forced her to the ground, her face slamming into the dirt as you stood over her, breathing heavily from the quick adrenaline of the fight. she was still trying to crawl away, but you didn’t let her.

grabbing her by the back of her shirt, you yanked her up again, shoving her into a nearby trash can, your voice dangerously low. “don’t ever touch him again.”

she froze, clearly realizing the seriousness of the situation. but her pride wouldn’t let her back down, and she tried to lunge at you once more.

big mistake.

this time, you didn’t hesitate. you moved faster than her, grabbing her by the throat, slamming her against the wall. the air was thick with tension, and you could hear the shock in the crowd’s whispers.

she gasped, eyes wide, struggling to breath, but before she could make another sound, you tightened your grip, your glare cold as ice. “i warned you.”

her body dropped like a fish.

you turned to rafe, who was still leaning against the porch, his arms crossed, watching you with a mix of awe and something else you couldn’t quite read.

he didn’t even seem surprised when you stood there, your posture steady, your breath evening out.

“not bad,” rafe said, his voice quiet, like he was still processing what had just happened.

you met his eyes, your own still cold, but you couldn’t help the faint smirk that tugged at your lips. “i’m just getting started.”

you walked back to him, the crowd still in a buzz, but you didn’t care. you’d just proven a point.

and from the look in rafe’s eyes, he didn’t plan on forgetting it anytime soon.

[fandom-susceptible]

TDP Rewatch: S1 E3, "Moonrise"

It's interesting that they zoomed on Soren's face as the procession crossed the courtyard, not Harrow's - and that he didn't look nervous, just determined. He was right, too.

God, Harrow cuddling with his bird is the cutest thing. That bird adores him. Also, (who gives the best birdie kisses) "Pip Does." was said so fiercely and then the face he made after, I just. Ah, that hit me in the chest.

How is "hard-headed" more acceptable in your vernacular than "stubborn", Viren? Or are you just the only one you want to be insulting Harrow in public?

It's interesting how Viren's smiling in the coronation portrait, but Harrow isn't. Viren says Harrow insisted on doing the portrait together, but I . . . have my doubts, now.

Yeah honestly Claudia we're on the same page about the persimmon jelly.

Something about how Ezran doesn't hesitate to trust Rayla, and when she kneels in front of the egg she looks at him so softly even though ten minutes ago she was convinced he had to die - and then Claudia, whom Ezran has known his entire life, threatens violence immediately and just keeps spouting threats while trying to get him to cooperate with her. They showed us who these girls were from the very beginning; Claudia acts sweet but in the moment of truth will turn cruel, and Rayla projects coldness but in the moment of truth will offer love instead. It's a neat mirror. And I love the way Rayla smiles at Ezran when he looks to her for reassurance in that very first moment in Viren's dungeon. That moment of yes, I'm with you.

They really sell being teenagers in this first season, and I love it. "NOT THAT WAY!" "WHY?" *runs into wall* "Is this a guessing game? Just do it!" "I'M A MAGE!" *shushes him* "Nobody likes a loud mage."

Also, can we talk about how the first time Rayla actually touched Callum was to shush him in that moment? And how she was the first person to call him a mage? And how she then proceeded to tell him something she's clearly said before, which when I first watched I assumed was just a common saying/joke in Xadia, but after finding out Ethari is a mage might be a family in-joke? Yeah I've got Rayllum feelings why

"What's in the basket? A bigger moth?" omg Soren is SUCH a sarcastic little shit around Viren and I love that for him????

Also, "When all of your swords have failed." is such a clear attempt to undermine Soren's personal confidence, and the worst part is I bet Viren didn't even do it consciously. He's just so used to tearing Soren down that he doesn't have to think about it anymore, it's become automatic. It's a really common trait of abusive parents and I hate him so much for it. (obligatory acknowledgement that I actually love it as a writing choice, it's great. He is a bad guy! I am supposed to dislike him! They did a good job!) But also, Soren responding to it with a spiteful defense of his soldiers was a good moment for him.

"We go way back! Like that one time, ten minutes ago, when you chased me through the castle trying to stab me!" Bless Jack De Sena for Callum's voice acting and also bless whoever animated his and Rayla's expressions in that exchange because I am fucking wheezing

Can we talk about how Harrow's tone was coldly neutral until Viren walked in and sat in Harrow's marriage bed, uninvited, and then the next thing he said - "Your friend?" sounded venomous? Or that fucking single eyebrow raised when Viren said "brother". Harrow is WELL aware that his best friend has a weird gay thing about him, and he regrets not nipping that in the bud before it became this unhealthy obsession.

Yeah that whole "On. Your. Knees." does not get less gay with subsequent rewatches. Like bruh. They showed this to kids. Harrow. I stg. But also, Harrow sees Viren's weird gay obsession and meets his freak by putting him down about it, in a way that they both know he wouldn't if he actually returned it with any kind of affection. Oh, I think all Harrow's dialogue about Viren's arrogance and self-importance was very much also what he meant, I don't think he was talking around anything, but yeah, that was. Wow.

Also ngl Harrow can tell me to do anything he goddamn wants if he talks in that tone, jesus

Interesting. Okay so Runaan does say that humans are liars - he doesn't say there's nothing worth sparing, as Rayla seemed to imply. He's been tricked before. That said, for all he talks a big game about his ruthlessness, he doesn't just shoot Callum outright. He warns him that he's made a mistake and he very much takes his time nocking that arrow. He doesn't want to kill this kid if he doesn't have to.

I also love that one moment where his eyes go wide after Rayla tells him again he needs to call off the mission, in the middle of "You know it doesn't work that way." He glances down at his own bindings and he looks panicked for half a second before covering it in this sudden anger that doesn't quite fit with how he reacted to the egg's appearance. He's scared. He knows she's right, but he's much older, more set in his ways, and doesn't see a way out. He's fucked up. So he just tries to fall back on what he's Supposed to do - just finish the mission, worry about the egg later, because those are the rules.

And then Rayla sends the boys away and forces him to confront those values instead of just falling back on them. Now he doesn't get to separate himself and his feelings from reality. And I don't think she actually believes he'll kill her here, even though he threatens to and she smirks and says "Probably" - if he was willing to do that, he would have done it already, and they both know it. She's just forcing him to confront the conflict between his moral values and his cultural ones.

oh, god, I forgot that Ezran brought up Callum calling him Dad in the very first episode.

I think it's interesting how Runaan accuses Rayla of being "Better than this" while very obviously holding back. He keeps pausing. Rayla's constantly in motion in this fight, whether attacking or defending or just trying to catch her breath, but he attacks once and then waits for her to recover, defends once and freezes up. He can't do this. Now he's the one hesitating and he can't stop doing it. Rayla has to know this too - that's why she sasses him when he realizes she's just stalling, because she knows she's gotten into his head. She knows he can't stop her because he can't bring himself to hurt her. So if she can just call on the fatherly part of him a little more, maybe she can get him on her side. It just doesn't quite work, because he's too set in his ways and his teenage daughter's wild idea is not enough to convince him that turning the entire world upside down is possible.

Do you think Viren had a moment of abject panic when Callum said "I know what you did!" after he came out of Harrow's chambers after switching the king's soul out with Pip's? Like HOW THE FUCK DOES THE KID KNOW, I LITERALLY JUST DID - "You stole the egg of the Dragon Pricne!" oh nvm. wait, what. why does he know that, who - what the fuck is happening right now?

Soren insisting Callum is the prince and refusing to arrest him is another good moment for him. Bless that young man for trying so hard. But also, Viren taking Callum's voice was awful on so many levels, and Soren's lack of surprise makes that one hurt??? Because. Viren had that spell just right there in his sleeve. He constantly undermines and dismisses Soren. Now he's using it so casually on the prince. Has he done this to Soren before? Is that why Soren's face just went so stony and he refused to say anything else after that? Viren is just such a fundamentally awful person and I love to hate him.

Knowing more about the assassins has me watching this scene with so much interest now. It's Runaan's arrow that hits Soren first, but Skor's the first through the door - two blades and brute strength. Ram hits the ground next, going low with no visible weapons, with Callisto and Andromeda flanking him with Callisto's glaive and Andromeda's sickles. Runaan brings up the rear with a bow, and honestly? He's walking in with his horns already at heights Ram and Andromeda leaped to get to, moving the slowest of any of them, not curling in or dodging or anything. He's just strode in leaving himself wide open because fuck you, I guess, what does this bitch have to worry about? That's terrifying.

The fucking "DA!" He does does undercut the intimidation as a viewer tho now I'm just laughing at him because his actor clearly was not out of breath or stressed when delivering that.

I've never noticed before that the elves reacted to Viren's spell releasing Callum's voice. Or that Soren moved between Viren and recovering control of the spell. Skor stepped back from a fight and glanced towards the spell, got distracted by it. Callisto ducked as if he thought it was coming towards him. Ram and Andromeda didn't twitch but Runaan bridled at it too.

Callisto was the first to reach the door but couldn't break it open and Soren went for him. The assassins converge on the door and Soren manages to hold off Callisto, Ram, and Andromeda all at once for a moment before Skor and Runaan step in. Runaan just wholly grabs a guard by the face and throws them to the ground with his bare hands (well, gloved, but weaponless). As in like. Picks them up off the floor and slams them back down one-handed by the face. I know he's an antagonist right now and like we like the guards in Katolis they're fine but also the sheer ability to do that is hot I'm so sorry.

When the elves press the door again after Callum calls for "Dad!" it's Skor to the left, Runaan, and Callisto to the right, and Runaan has zeroed in on Soren as the greatest obstacle to their goals. He's bigger than Soren, has an advantage in height, weight, strength, and experience, and he's bearing down on him but losing time, and Ram ends up lunging in to try and take Soren out while Runaan has him distracted. And it doesn't work, Soren manages to block them both at once. He's genuinely very good at his fucking job and I hate that Viren tore him down so much he doesn't see it.

Oh, fuck. Andromeda was the first elf to fall. We don't see her after the first clash at the door breaks free. Ram disappears briefly but returns at Runaan's side, everyone's converging on the door again, but she's gone.

Rayla's so quickly ride or die for these boys and this mission, and I love her so much for it. "Say the word, and I'll go back into that tower with ye." And she meant it. But she'll also guard them on their way out, when that's what they choose to do instead.

Can we also address that Soren's losing guards left and right to the clash in this tower, and Viren is RIGHT THERE, able to do random magic like stealing the voice from a kid, but he doesn't do a thing to assist in the actual battle? Absolutely nothing to help his son in their alleged shared goal of defending the king?

Runaan stumbles through clutching his side, and given the wounds we see later, I'm guessing Soren kicked him in the ribs to get out of one of their sword locks and broke them. He also can't breathe right. There's a bruise on his jaw and we saw from how Soren fought with Ram (and how he fights later) that he's willing to just punch people with his other hand while he's got them distracted with his sword. I'm betting most of his injuries are from Soren, including the broken horn. We don't see that part happen. I'm actually gonna, once this episode is over, skip ahead to the season 7 finale briefly to see Runaan's retelling of this scene, because I'm curious about those moments between that we missed here.

the binding also doesn't fall off until he reaches the balcony. Pip/Harrow wasn't killed instantly; he just succumbed quickly to what I'm betting was the poison on Runaan's arrow.

The face he gives after releasing the arrow hits, though, because he's reporting a failure. I'm also very interested in like, what he thought would happen for Rayla here. I would have guessed initially that his "Your justice will come later." was meant as him realizing if she stops them, if they fail, she'll suffer becoming a Ghost, but he's surprised by the news in season 7. Did he just assume there wouldn't be a unanimous vote to ghost her? It would sort of make sense; there's a certain amount of arrogance he clearly has regarding his own place in the Silvergrove, and a lot of it's justified by how the community treats him and Ethari. It wouldn't be unreasonable for him to guess that as his daughter and a clearly talented and relatively respectable warrior in her own right, there would be at least a few voices who were reluctant to abandon her entirely, even if she'd have to live with the same of losing her hand to her failure. That's a thing I don't think we give enough credit to, either, is the fact that Ghosting has to be a unanimous decision and therefore, not everyone in Rayla's position ends up ghosted. That's why the bindings are there. She'd have had to sacrifice her hand, but if she was respected enough to begin with to escape a ghosting, that would have been it. She'd pay her price and still get to go home.

Claudia appearing just to insist "we can find more practical uses for this one" gives me the creeps. Like "she sees Runaan and sees spell parts, not a person" kind of creeps.

I'm so very fond of this credits sketch, because it shows just how long Runaan has been in her life. Rayla was 8 when she moved in with him and Ethari - she's clearly younger than that here, and he's already there teaching her things, so clearly fond of her.

It also shows how her facial markings have changed over time; in this sketch we can see that the slash mark used to go both above her brow and below her eye, presumably unbroken (Lain's across the eye markings also cover his eyelids, so stands to reason hers would too). The curve below her eye is also different, where Runaan's remains consistent in this sketch to the show.

I could comment on her reaction to losing Harrow's binding but honestly like. That's been analyzed to death for six years straight. I don't really feel the need to go over something that's been addressed repeatedly in the show already.

Addition after checking the story in Season 7, so don't read further if you haven't seen that yet:

Runaan's horn was not broken yet when he broke into the room. Skor was the only one who made it in after him. So the other assassins may never have seen Harrow at all, and the fighting after the poisoned arrow hit Pip could have lasted for a while, justifying Runaan's ability to vault into the room initially but also barely being able to stumble out onto the balcony in the end.

So Andromeda died before they even got the door open. Skor followed Runaan through the door, but we don't see Callisto or Ram after that point, so they may or may not have made it that far. I would guess that Runaan's grievous injuries were likely due to fighting virtually on his own for an extended period of time, and the brief time he got to send off the shadowhawk was Skor's last sacrifice, keeping them busy for long enough to do that.