#if there is a fucking god out there give me the strength not to commit homicide

[oh-men-of-dark-and-dismal-fate]

There are two things in life that will instantly tear a relationship apart. Playing monopoly and working on a commission together.

[phas3d]

Hello love<33 i saw ur requests were open if it hasn't been done before can i request a Potter! Reader x Slytherin boys like the reader is Harry's twin sister?

Absolutely inlove with your writing btw🫶🫶

Potter!Reader || Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: abuse mention (tom, mattheo)

contains :: draco, tom, mattheo, theodore, lorenzo

notes :: i love this idea so much, i didn't think it would be this fun to write for - also i know neville technically killed voldemort BUT, just go along with me when i say harry killed voldemort

DRACO MALFOY

Getting a crush on someone was already hard enough for Draco to do

To be able to look past someone's flaws and finally see the beauty inside of someone

But all of that was quickly ruined once he found out you weren't just Harry Potter's sibling but his TWIN?

He genuinely gets so upset and angry not only at you but himself

He's not sure how to handle this information

But at the end, he decides that he can't stand the idea of dating Harry Potter's twin and possibly growing to be Harry Potter's brother-in-law

So he tries to avoid you at all times

But he can't, his body just won't allow him

And also, you're really good at finding him

In the end, he learns to accept it but Harry and Draco still bicker and fight

Even when you guys are 20+ years old, they still fight like siblings - which is actually perfect since they're brothers in law now

TOM RIDDLE

After Harry defeated his father, aka Voldemort, and brought "peace" to the world - he's hated his guts

Because although Voldemort was a mass murder, genocide supporter, blood racist, classist, backstabbing, asshole... That was still Tom's dad

But even then, Voldemort wasn't a great father. He was actually the worst father to ever live. For all of Tom's childhood, he was brain washed and tortured to believe his father was amazing, and sadly it worked on him

So finding out that his s/o, which was already an EXTREMELY rare sight since he can't tolerate anyone, was Harry Potter's twin....

Oh, he goes fucking insane and runs away to the forbidden forrest to "process" all of his emotions (he kills almost every animal in there out of pure strength)

Falling for the person who's related to your father's killer is not easy to handle

So,,, honestly I think Tom would break up with you and never give you a shot again

But, he still owns you - he just can't be with you duhhh

If you ever try to move on or get a new boyfriend, he simply make them "disappear"

It makes you isolate yourself from the dating world - but thank god Tom is there to offer to be fwb!

(this was his plan all along. he will never stop loving you but he doesn't have the guts to fully commit to a relationship anyways but he still wants you - so fwb is the easiest solution for him to avoid the guilt of actually dating you whilst still getting to own you in some way)

MATTHEO RIDDLE

He's the exact opposite of Tom, he actually really respects and likes Harry

After Harry killed Voldemort, he felt so free. It was like Harry got rid of the shackle that was keeping him down for so long

Unlike Tom, Mattheo always knew that what their father was doing was wrong and cruel - but he was forced to go along with the family's plans because he'd be punished if he didn't

Not only that, Mattheo and Harry both play Quidditch and are good rivals - he loves the competition

So he actually gets along fine with Harry

When he finds out you two are actually TWINS he's so shocked like omg

He wonders what would have happened if you ate Harry while in the womb or smth

And he also wonders why you and Harry aren't exactly identical (you are identical... mattheo just doesn't understand why harry has glasses and you don't....)

Doesn't mind bringing Harry on a couple of dates - But when Harry does come... it's basically like you're third wheeling

Your cute dates are ruined because these two dumbass men decide to do stupid stuff

Like for example, a cute date of mini golfing got ruined because Harry and Mattheo decided to see who could chuck their golf ball the farthest

They ended up breaking multiple windows...

Or when Mattheo took you out to go ice skating but it got ruined because fucking Harry surprised Mattheo with hockey gear

The two ended up playing hockey,,,, just a 1v1,,,, and crashed into so many bystanders that they just shut down the rink

They are now brothers for life... you must deal with this

THEODORE NOTT

When he finds out you're twins, he takes such a big sigh of relief

"Oh my gosh, that why you guys always hang out... I thought you might have been dating."

Instantly, you want to vomit in your mouth

Theo has little to no history with Harry, besides bullying Harry during their first few years at Hogwarts

But Theo was never a good bully... especially when he was younger

Because he was still learning English and had the THICKEST Italian accent that you barely understood him

One time in their 2nd year, Theo came up to Harry and insulted his nerdy glasses

But Harry simply tilted his head, "Sorry, no espanol."

From that day, it's a strong inside joke between all the Slytherin boys and Theo can never escape it

Harry's unintentional roast made Theo study English 10x times harder than he ever did before

So he's kinda grateful to him in a way but he does wanna get back at him

He's super chill around Harry and the two get along fine and dandy but nothing too special

They both respect each other a lot actually and don't cross any boundaries with each other

Since they're kinda similar actually: quidditch players, pull tons of bitches, decently smart, and "foreign" in some way

Basically: coolest in laws ever

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Oh my fucking god these two suck each other dicks

The amount of glazing they do for each other is CRAZYYY

When Enzo finds out you're twins with Harry - he's so happy because Harry and Enzo are actually really cool with each other

They both play quidditch together sometimes, play the same games, and they love the same shows

You basically lose your boyfriend... to your brother

Everywhere you two go,,, Harry is invited against your will

Going to watch a movie? Harry and Enzo are gonna share a blanket and leave you in the cold

Going to an arcade? Harry and Enzo will play every single game against each other and even take selfies of their wins

Fuck, even going shopping, the two banter and chat while you try on clothes

One time they got bored of waiting for you to try stuff on so they LEFT YOU and went to go get MATCHING T-SHIRTS???!?!??!?!?!???

Of course,,, you and Enzo do get alone time - some times

But you honestly love seeing how strong Enzo and Harry's bond is because it makes you happy that you picked the perfect boyfriend for your family

It's even better when Harry get his yearly girlfriend (that he will eventually leave heart broken)

So now you can go on double dates!!!

And hopefully the girl that Harry is with is cool, so that way you can also share a strong bond just like Enzo and Harry

But you can't get too attached.... your brother is a man-whore after all... 😞

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’ve never had a particularly strong desire to get high. Altered mind states have always been somewhat unappealing to me. The only drug I’ve ever enjoyed taking was a prescription strength muscle relaxant that loosened all my knots at once and sent me into the boneless slumber of jello. Top marks.

But I have dabbled with pot. As I’m wildly sensitive to smoke my only recourse was to try edibles and anyone could’ve predicted this was a recipe for disaster. So here’s the story of the first time I got high.

Brendan was a major stoner. He was a high energy guy who loved hiking, had his shit together, and absolutely loved getting high and relaxing. One day he decided to make pot brownies. Brendan was an amazing cook in his own right but he came into my life at a time when I was eating mayonnaise sandwiches and started giving me real food so I viewed him as a paragon of cookery. He made amazing desserts. And he didn’t make a batch of no pot brownies.

I’d never had one of Brendan’s brownies, before, but dear god I wanted one when they came out of the oven in a waft of rich chocolatey smells. They were fudgey and perfect and all that I wanted in the world was to eat one. I watched him take a bite, burning with envy and desire.

Being high seemed like a small price to pay if only I could sink my teeth into the warm splendor of brownie. I came up to where he was sitting on the couch, slightly behind his left shoulder. “Hey. I want to try a bite,” I told him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” I was sure as fuck that I wanted that brownie in my mouth.

Brendan was sat facing the tv and held up his hand without looking so I could take a bite. I am not a creature of modest bites. And I wanted that brownie. I took a huge bite, carving into the interior of the brownie, leaving Brendan with a only a rim.

He pulled his hand back and saw the brownie crime I had committed and gave a resigned chuckle. “Well this is going to be fun.”

On one other occasion in my life I’ve tried an edible and there was a brief relaxed period before things went horribly wrong that made me think, this is probably where most people stop and enjoy themselves.

But on this occasion, the massive bite of brownie didn’t drift me slowly up through layers of being high. It skyrocketed me into high space with great prejudice. I have no memory of a middle point, I wasn’t high and then I was suddenly so high I couldn’t function.

I’ve heard people talk about paranoia. I didn’t have that. Some people mention nervousness, no, none of that for me. My mind was simply gone. A thought would blip to life on one side of my brain and fail to travel through the fog to find its conclusion. I couldn’t think. I wasn’t really experiencing sensation. I was nothing in the void.

When Brendan realized I’d been staring wall eyed at nothing for too long he said, “How are you doing?”

It took a long time to process the words and even longer to slur out, “I can see everything.”

I don’t remember him getting up and leaving, or waiting, or anything really. Thoughts flickered and died in my mindscape, meaningless and alone.

Then Brendan put headphones on me.

I was unable to conceive of anything as wonderful as music surrounding me, and thus began the only nice part of the trip. I might have experienced ego death but at least I had the ethereal sounds of Pure Reason Revolution to wrap myself in.

I’m not sure how long the nice phase lasted. But eventually something started going wrong in my mouth. My throat became uncomfortable enough to pierce the haze I was in. It was almost numb, and impossibly dry. I drank water to no avail. Finally I conceived of the solution. “Ice cream!” I demanded of Brendan.

He went to grab some and I was dismayed that when I took a bite the sensation in my throat intensified. “It made it worse,” I complained.

“Made what worse?” Brendan asked, because of course I hadn’t actually told him why I’d wanted ice cream.

When I told him what was happening he said, “Oh, of course ice cream is going to make cotton mouth worse.”

“Well then why did you give it to me!” I complained. He smiled fondly at my irrational grumping and got me more water.

Finally I’d had enough. Music couldn’t erase my discomfort, I was getting frustrated I couldn’t think but I was still high as balls and I wanted the night to be over. Brendan suggested I go to bed so I climbed up into my bed and lay there, uncomfortably high.

I couldn’t sleep. My throat was so cottony, a side effect I hadn’t known existed and I thoroughly loathed.

Then I thought: I could masturbate! Brendan had talked about enjoying that while high. I’d give it a shot. My body however was wiser than my head and was having none of this plan. It refused to respond, stubbornly insisting that now was not the time.

I doubled down, refusing to give up on this horrible idea and in a bitter struggle, and against my body’s own wishes, I produced an orgasm that rated a 0 on the pleasure scale. Something happened but it was like a resentful flex of muscles that stopped immediately.

Furious with the overall experience of being high I buried my head in pillows and finally slept. I told Brendan the next day about my attempt and he facepalmed so hard. “Why didn’t you just go to sleep! You were way too high to enjoy that.”

I grumbled and agreed that it was very stupid. I tried to weigh the single bite of brownie I had with the absolutely wretched hours of discomfort and while it didn’t quite balance it was still pretty close. It was a really good brownie.

[babyjakes]

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event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | knotting

pairing | alpha!steve rogers x omega!reader

warnings | omegaverse elements: knotting, mating press, breeding (and me not knowing like anything about the omegaverse.) unprotected p in v. clit rubbing. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. crying kink. breeding kink (like fr he wants her pregnant lol.) he comes in her. some brief aftercare. alpha!steve is so hot and powerful it's ruining my life.

word count | 859

an | i've wanted to write something substantial for an omegaverse au for sooo long but i've just been so hesitant to bc i don't feel super well-versed in the genre. shoutout to @starksbabie, ao3, and my google images search for teaching me everything i know about knotting LOL. and @brandycranby for teaching me about the mating press lol. if i got anything wrong, please let me know!!

imagine being alpha!steve's prized omega and mate, being fucked and bred by him during your heat 🤤 (nomad!steve is what comes to mind first, but i've also had a soft spot for endgame look for the longest time, so i'll let you take your pick 😉)

steve's the kind of alpha that doesn't let you lift a single finger (in or out of heat); everything's always done for you because duh!! you're his baby!! this is especially true when it comes to sex during your heat. your only job is to be pleasured and bred. your alpha will do everything for you, no need to worry your pretty little head 💕

thinking about him spreading you out on your back, bringing your bottom up to the edge of the bed so he can stand over you and pound into you as you lay there and take it. he gets you nice and comfy, laying a blanket down beneath you and positioning a pillow under your head to make it easier for you to look up and keep eye contact. of course, he knows you'll spend much of the ordeal with your eyes closed or rolled back in bliss 😏

the number one thing you crave during your heat is the feeling of being filled up, and by now steve's fucked you enough to make you crave being filled by him specifically. he's massive, even for an alpha. long, thick, and unbelievably powerful. because of his overwhelming size and strength, he has to maintain a good balance of fucking you hard enough to satisfy you both, but not too hard to prevent injury

the look on his face as he's ramming into you is a mixture of such pure love and authority. he absolutely talks you through it 😔🙏 you're so overcome with pleasure, he understands it's hard for you to do much talking back

sliding in and out of you at a steady speed, watching as your face is washed over with relief as you finally get what you need. "there you go, honey," smiling as he sees your tummy trembling as it's filled up, "gonna keep fucking this pretty little pussy, just keep being my good girl and taking it. let me give you what you need, doll"

bringing his thumb up to swipe over your quivering clit, always a little eager and impatient with how much he loves to see you come. crooning as you whine and wriggle at the burning feeling he's creating, "i know, baby. i know- so sensitive there, aren't you? look at this pretty little clit. so needy for me"

"nng... n-nnn," he loves the soft, weak little noises you're making. and he loves it even more as they gradually grow louder and more desperate, signaling your building climax

he's working his thumb quicker over your slick button to help keep the pressure rising, "c'mon baby, almost there. you gonna come for me? let's see if we rub a little faster-... oh-" he gasps almost mockingly with a smug smile, praising you heavily as you clench down on his swollen length

and god he could never get tired of seeing you coming. watching as your little face scrunches, your toes curling up in delight, your tummy spasming helplessly as you stammer through a string of angelic, breathy whimpers

"goood, so good for me, baby. keep coming for me, that's it," he draws out his words as you're coming down from your first high. your big, watery eyes and soft little squeaks, paired with having just seen you come, and knowing how sensitive and overstimulated you feel now?? it all makes steve's eyes burn as the heat and primal urges within him rise

it doesn't take long for him to near the edge himself. his large hands come down to manhandle you into position, grabbing under your thighs to force them up, your feet splaying out in the air as he leans himself down over you, his speed and forcefulness bringing tears to your eyes

"gonna come, sweetheart. you want me to fill you up? wanna carry my pups in that pretty little tummy of yours? come on, baby-... shit, that's it-.. f-fuck-"

the feeling of his base rounding out inside you has you crying out weakly, your entire body bracing as you feel the pressure in your core reaching its limit. as the heavy band snaps, your poor, helpless form seizes and spasms beneath your alpha. steve's heavy load shoots into you, the tight mass bulging just inside your entrance locking him inside, forcing you to take what you're given

seconds feel like hours. eventually everything fades to soft tingles as the silence is filled by your and steve's heavy breathing. as soon as he's able, he's shifting so delicately hold you against him, his thick knot still pulsing inside you hard enough to let you feel his heartbeat. "shhh, shhh," he's wiping away the tears that escaped down your cheeks, letting you rest your face in the crook of his neck to breathe in his familiar scent. "i got you, doll. just rest now. close your eyes, i'll take care of you"

[shhhsecretsideblog]

you were a big shot attorney. You always won your cases and had the highest success rate in your firm. You thought now you could settle early and start a family. but you didn't realize that nine months later, you would be representing the defendant of the biggest case in the county.

Your firm suggested that you should take leave since you were so close to your due date, but you refused. You taken all the notes and documented all the evidence to prove your client's innocence.

As you arrived to the court house, you were feeling twinges in your hips and lower belly but you passed them as practice contractions. Soon as you sit down, you couldn't help but feeling restricted as you felt your belly lower than usual as it planted all over your lap. As the trial goes on, you breathe heavily when you sit but had to cover up the pain as you were questioning other witnesses.

The finishing statements come and you slowly get up, scrunching your face as you felt a small pop go in your pants. You look down at your seat and see your water just broke. Your client sees it too and looks panicked for your state. You give them a look saying you got this and was relieved that your pants were black.

"Your honor, members of the jury, my client has more than enough proof that-" You stopped mid sentence as the worst contraction hits you, making you lose your breath. You hold onto the table for stability, as everyone in the court had all their eyes on you.

"Five witnesses have a record of seeing my client 14 miles away from the crime scene and has no skill or experience of committing the charges against them. May the record show that - mmmmmmmmmm" You bit your lip as you widen your stance, feeling a force coming down your pelvis.

You couldn't notice the commotion around you as the blinding pain forced you to spread your legs as you felt the baby's feet pressing down your pants as you could not control your pushing.

I was winning the case but swiftly losing the battle against my body. Throughout the long drawn out day I’d tried to ignore the cramps, dismissing their rising strength and frequency. I paid no mind to the way my belly hung lower on my aching hips, or the weight that had dropped into my pelvis. It was the final day of the court hearing, the last day to make my case to the jury and implore my client's innocence.

My closing speech was suddenly lost to my uncontrollable groaning, the blinding pain all consuming, and I could distinctively feel something coming out of my body. “Ohhhh god…” I moaned, gripping the desk in front of me and bearing down with the rampant contraction.

I could feel something moving, my eyes widened in panic. It wasn’t coming from inside my womb, this movement was outside between my thighs. My heart jumped to my throat in fear, having seen one too many horror films, and irrationally worried what on earth I was giving birth to… One of my hands left the desk and drifted between my legs and I felt through the fabric a foot sticking out of my vagina. Breech. Oh fuck, my baby is breech.

I had no idea what was happening in the courtroom, where my client was, what the jury were thinking, all I could focus on was the unbearable pressure filling my pelvis. My body was crying out at me to push, to deliver the baby and stop all the pain. I growled, bearing down once more, and I felt myself stretch wider and wider beneath my clothes as the baby descended.

It was coming out… my baby was literally coming out of me right there in the middle of the courtroom and there was nothing I could do to stop it. My underwear was soon filling with the torso of my baby, pulling and stretching the fabric beyond recognition. I wanted to remove my clothing, to hold my baby as it slipped further and further out, but I couldn’t get my body to move. Wider… my hips had to be wider. I curled forward, leaning far over the table on my elbows and pushing my hips backward. “Mnghhhh…. My baby… it’s coming….” I grunted, pushing the shoulders past my sensitive lips, the head of the baby still to be born.

“Fuck…. Hurts… oh god, here comes another contraction…” My fingernails clawed at the wooden desk as I bore down against the large round mass of the head. I pushed and screamed and mooed and grunted… the head painfully slowly inching out. Then the pain stopped, my body sagging with relief as the head slipped out and my baby was completely born into my underwear.

[delopsia]

stalling | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 3,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, cunnilingus, hand jobs, a men's masturbation sleeve, PBR! Rhett, implied marriage. (But also, Rhett Abbott being needy.) Exhibitionism, if you wanna be technical about it. Brief Summary: You're going to be in so much trouble if someone walks in and finds out that the PBR's best cowboy is eating you out in a bathroom stall.

It's the obnoxious squelch of his drooling tongue gliding over your clit that's going to give him away. 

Wet little noises punctuate his every movement. So sharp that they bounce off the walls, running round and round the room and in your ears until it's all you can hear. Has your shivering fingers pulling harder on his hair, yanking him away just enough for one of those deep groans to escape, and oh god, it's only making things worse.

The last thing you need to do is give someone a reason to open the bathroom door. Walk in and catch sight of Rhett's knees against the concrete floor, between another pair of legs. Unzipped jeans pooling around his ass, one-of-a-kind rodeo buckle glinting in the light, right next to where his neglected cock rests in his lap, so heavy that it can no longer stand upright. 

Cheers roar outside. A buzzer sounds, chased by the muffled shout of an announcer you've already forgotten the name of—another eight-second ride. But it's not going to be enough to steal the number one slot. No, not with that shiny new record, not even thirty minutes old yet. 

"Thank you," he's panting, hardly able to draw himself back to speak, as if doing so will cause his whole world to crumble.  "Thank you for letting me eat your pussy."

His tongue is so hot. A wet flame that presses into you, lazily working in and out, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit, barely there touches that have your hips jolting. But as quickly as his tongue appeared, it's drifting away entirely. Bold enough to test the waters but too impatient to commit, already venturing up, up, up, back to the swollen little bud that he can't stop tormenting.

You're going to be in so much trouble if someone walks in and finds out that the PBR's best cowboy is eating you out in a bathroom stall.

"Y' taste so good," speaking directly into you, his voice rumbling up your belly and into your chest, jostling the cluster of butterflies that have been resting there. 

The heels of your palms press into his forehead, but it's not doing anything. You can't escape the frenzied twitch of his tongue, rolling back and forth, a feather-light contact that ought to send you through the roof. 

"Rhett, you're gonna..." The sound of your voice is meeting your ears, but you can't feel your mouth moving. "Oh fuck—Rhett, you're gonna get us caught." And there's more that you want to say, but you're being cut short by your own drawn-out squeal, fingers knotting in those deep brown locks.

Your heart hammers against your chest with all the strength and fury of those bulls he rides. Thighs shivering, nerves set alight as his lips wrap around your clit, sucking so harshly that the noise echoes all around the room. 

"'s my reward, ain't it?" He sounds almost innocent. As if his devilish tongue isn't hanging out of his mouth, the definition of sin itself. "They can't object to that."

You'd like to argue that they can, but fuck, those loose little circles are about to put you on the goddamn floor. Hips writhing, held in place by the big hands squeezing the fat of your ass, forcing you to remain upright until he's had his fill of you. 

"Rhett—"

Hinges squeal as the bathroom door swings open. 

Sparkling blue eyes dart up to your face, and you can't see it, but you can feel the grin working its way across his face. Boots thump across the floor, then fall silent. The sharp sound of a zipper sliding down kisses your ears. Whoever it is, they're only here for the urinal. 

But Rhett Abbott doesn't care what they're here to do. Opening his mouth to lick a long, fat stripe up your pussy, so content with himself that his eyes close midway. And there's not a damn thing that you can do about it. Hands flying up to clamp over your mouth, stifling a whimper that would surely give you away. 

That big, dumb idiot is pointing his tongue now. The soft tip of it delicately dancing across you, like too much pressure will cause the walls of this bathroom to come crumbling down. Diligently rolling your clit around like you're a piece of candy that he can just idly toy with. A cry squeaks out of you, hardly masked by the loud flush of the toilet.

There's no reason that this should be causing heat to pool in your lower belly, but it is. Winding tighter and tighter, a taut string pulled to its breaking point. So close to snapping that every step this stranger takes is too slow. Thunking closer and closer to the door, until finally...

It screeches open. Then, begins to close once more. 

You've never been so thankful for someone not washing their hands. Already reaching down to tangle your fingers in Rhett's hair and yanking. Forcing that sinful mouth of his away from your sex before—

"No, no, no," Rhett's babbling, whining, like his life depends on it. "Please, I want y' to cum on my tongue. Please, please, I want, I want..."

You can't even begin to argue with him. Because he's already wriggling himself loose, and his dripping tongue is back on you, and his stubble is scratching against you in the most mind-numbing fashion, and your whole world goes silent. 

Nothing but a faint ringing in your ears as your thighs clamp down around his skull, cumming without the slightest bit of warning. Head tilting back, thunking against the wall. A wildfire rushing across your skin in the form of a shiver. And Rhett just can't help himself, humming, licking you through it until the involuntary spasm of your pussy devolves into oversensitive, full-body jolts. 

"You..." sucking in a gasp, "have a problem." 

Understatement of the century. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was being paid. 

Rhett leans back onto his haunches, scruffy, unshaven chin glistening in the light. Dripping, even. "But I'm your problem." You don't know who taught him that, but they're going to get an earful when you catch them.

"That you are," weak, you pull on his hair, hardly enough to even sway his head. "Come up here, dummy."

There's hardly a bit of strength left in your body, and yet, somehow, your little motion is enough to get him moving, knees creaking and all, as he rises to his feet. Wet nose bumping into your cheek, nuzzling you in some odd, dog-like fashion that has you succumbing to the urge to slide your hand down and scratch him behind the ear. 

Eyelashes flutter. Pushing back into your hand. "You pettin' me?" 

"You gonna do something about it if I am?" Taunting, beneath your breath. 

His eyes roll, but he doesn't need to open his mouth for you to know what his answer is. Not when he's smiling like that, a lopsided grin and half-lidded eyes. So laid back and content that he hardly seems to realize that both of your hands are making their way down to his waist, grabbing hold of it and forcing him to spin around. 

Boots chirp against the floor. And you're reaching toward your purse with one hand, blindly feeling against the stall door until you can find where it's hanging. The other arm slips around his belly, cinching him to you. His back knocks into your chest, so close that his hair tickles your cheek. 

"Y' ain't gotta..." he starts, but whatever he's trying to tell you dies in his throat. Shut up by the clear object you're drawing out of your bag. The new stroker sleeve you've been saying you'll try out but have never had the patience to dig it out of the drawer. Inconspicuous at first glance, just a rubber cylinder, textured with little nubs on the inside. 

"Can you do something for me?" Ghosting your lips over the shell of his ear. 

It's impossible to miss the shiver that rattles down his spine. "Uhuh." Nodding dumbly. 

"Touch yourself." Comes out as more of an order than a request, but that doesn't matter because Rhett's already reaching for himself. Big hand wrapping around his neglected cock, sucking in an audible breath from that alone.

You can't dig the lube out fast enough, popping open the cap and blindly pouring it into the toy. So half-assed that some of it winds up spilling out the side, running over your fingers and dripping to the floor. But you don't care; a mess is worth the sight of Rhett stroking himself, twisting his wrist just how he likes it, hips greedily leaning up into his own touch.

Lazy, you drizzle some of the lube right onto his hand, uncaring of the mess you're making. Almost entranced as he spreads it over himself, shimmering in the dull bathroom light. 

But then he's reaching out, sticky hand impatiently curling around yours, trying to guide the toy toward himself. "I want..." his head shakes, searching for words. "Want..." 

If this were any other day, you like to imagine you'd play dumb. Force him to put into words exactly what he wants and how. But the rodeo crowd and the booming voice of the announcer are still out there, anticipating his celebratory return, and that new, sparkling record ought to warrant him a reward. 

He knows that he's getting what he wants, too. Hand sliding back to his base, holding himself still as you lower that dripping toy onto him.

His head tilts backward with a gasp, falling onto your shoulder.

All that and you've hardly slid the thing past his flushed tip, almost have to squeeze him to you in order to keep him still, working down him inch by devastating inch. 

"Oh my god," a little waver in his voice, hips involuntarily jerking up into the sleeve. Those knees buckle, knocking into each other. "Fuck."

A giggle rumbles out of him, and you don't need to look in the mirror to know that his cheeks have turned a nice shade of strawberry, set off by the sound of his own voice. One of these days, you'll get him to believe that he sounds pretty like this, but right now, you've got a different agenda on your plate.

"Tell me how it feels," you whisper, slowly drawing that toy back up, squeezing your fist past his cock head, then beginning to draw down again. 

"Feels..." but he's forgotten how to talk, mouth floundering without a sound. "'s tight...and—mmh!"

Maybe it's your fault for twisting back up so quickly, but you just can't help it. Not when his ass is squirming back into you, unsure if he wants to push into the toy or wriggle away, mouth hardly muffling that long, drawn-out groan. Even through the thick silicone, you can feel the way he twitches, jerking in your hand like a live wire. 

So, so sensitive after a couple days of no fun.

Your hand is already quickening. Too eager to hear those breathy little oh, oh, oh's, set off by the flick of your wrist when you pass over his head. Thighs squeeze together, one of his hands flying out to brace himself against the mirror. The one that you can't quit looking at. Downright obsessed with the sight of this clear silicone hugging tight around his cock. The way precum is already spilling out of him and dripping onto the floor below. 

"Feels—feels good," tripping over his own words, voice so high that you hardly recognize it. "Fuck." 

And just like that, your hand stops. Squeezing firm at his base as he involuntarily jolts forward. 

A whine echoes through the bathroom. Pitchy. Frustrated. "Why...why did you..." He tilts his head to meet your eye. "You stopped." Speaking dumbly.

"I know." Grinning. Your hand loosens just enough for him to move again. "Try and fuck it by yourself."

Almost automatically, he tries to jerk forward. Boots stumbling across the floor, forearm flying up to catch himself as his upper body falls forward. Forehead against the mirror, dark blue eyes locked on the sight of that sleeve wrapped around his cock. 

Weak, his hips begin to move. 

Hissing as he draws back, almost hesitant to move, like he's afraid to slip out of the toy entirely. And it's...fuck that's a sight you haven't seen before. The obscenity of Rhett fucking a cock sleeve, how his balls sway with the motion of his body, perfect for you to reach down and grab. Heavy in your palm, so full that you worry what may happen if you do anything more than run your thumb up and down them. 

"This ain't—I can't," Rhett croaks, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "This is hard." 

The hand around his dick tightens, sends him jumping. "You can do it." 

And he just can't help himself. Feet shifting the slightest bit, trying again. Quicker this time, the lube squelching so loudly that it bounces off the wall. His mouth falls open, fogging up the mirror, panting like a dog on a summer day. Soft noises tumbling out of him, unable to stop a single one of them. 

"There you go," you murmur directly into his ear. "That's a good boy."

Pearly white teeth sink into his bottom lip. Eyes squeezing shut. 

He's trying. 

He's trying so, so hard. But he just can't move quickly enough. Trapped in the crevices of this awkward position, fucking himself into your hand, arms braced over his head, legs too close together. So frustrating that you can hear it in his little grunts, bubbling out of him with every thrust.

"Please," he rasps, head thunking against the mirror. "Please, please, please." 

You've got a feeling you know what he's after. "What do you want?"

"I wanna cum!" He's blurting before you've even finished talking. "Please—please let me cum." 

The buzz of yet another eight-second ride sounds. Loud. Booming through the walls and into this little bathroom. But it's not enough to cover up Rhett's sob as your hand begins to move once more. Pumping him in tandem with his frantic hips. Drinking in those airy cries rolling off his tongue, hanging halfway out of his mouth.

"This what you were wanting?" Coy, your teeth find the lobe of his ear, tugging gently. 

"Mhm," is all you're getting out of him. And he's reaching down between his own legs, dragging your hand out from where it's still toying with his balls and squeezing it tight. Needs something to cling to. Anything that isn't this cold mirror in front of him. 

Those darkened eyes peel open, locking with yours through the reflection, and his mouth is shaping around what you think is your name, but not a syllable is escaping. Almost immediately, they flicker shut once more. Your wrist flicks once. 

Rhett cums with a strangled moan. Body jerking against yours. Feet stumbling. And your hand is moving so fast that the toy catches that first rope of cum before it can splatter on the mirror, then the second. Smearing it across his spasming cock, creates a dizzying mess with the lube, so much of it that he's dripping, little spots of it scattering on the floor and the toe of his left boot. 

"Fuck," his breath fogs the glass. "That was...oh."

Your hand freezes halfway down his length. Almost forgot it was moving to begin with. 

"No, no, no," lazily tilting his head to peer over his shoulder, "keep goin' for a second."

And so you do. 

Slow as you can possibly manage, dragging the mess of a toy up and down his cock. He's sensitive. You know he is because he's shifting his weight onto the tips of his toes, fist tightening until his knuckles whiten, but there's a shiver visibly running up his spine. Cum spills out of his swollen tip. Hardly enough to count, but it's something. 

"'s good," Rhett murmurs after a moment. You've hardly got to do anything; he's already pulling away on his own, drawing that softening cock of his out of the toy altogether. Falls limp against his thigh, that sickly mixture of cum and lube already beginning to stain his jeans. 

It's a mess that'll have to be dealt with in the privacy of your hotel room because he's already tucking himself away. Pulling up his zipper and fastening that gaudy championship buckle. One of a kind. 

A selfish part of you hopes that tonight's buckle is a little easier on the eyes. 

One of his knees buckles as he turns, a big hand flying out to catch himself against the wall. "Shit," he's giggling, peering at you through the hair that's fallen into his face, "y' got me all weak in the knees, doll."

"Don't tell me you need to be carried," you're saying as if you're not intrigued by the idea of giving it a shot. 

"Nah," shaking his head, smile so big that his teeth glint in the overhead light. "Might need a few kisses to get me through the night, though." 

Eyeroll. Your free hand darts out, grabbing hold of his shirt collar and hauling him in, meeting those pale, swollen lips for a sloppy smooch. The first one lands awkwardly on the corner of his mouth, both of you leaning in the wrong damn direction. But then Rhett's tilting his head, nose bumping into yours, and he's meeting you properly. One little chaste kiss after another. 

A muffled voice creeps through the walls. Distorted, but you can still hear those two little words all the same. 

"They're calling for you, Abbott," speaking against his lips, making no real effort to pull away. It'll be a few hours before you get to steal this many kisses again. 

He hums. "Which one?" Kiss. "There's two of us standin' here." Kiss.

Weak, your hand thunks against his chest. "The dumb one who climbs on dangerous animals for fun."

"That's both of us, sweetheart," he had to have been storing that. There's no way he could have come up with that so quickly on his own, grinning like a cat that's gotten the cream.

"You're not a wild animal," adjusting the hem of your shorts, blindly feeling about to make sure that they've fallen back into place. 

Nobody will know what you've been up to, so long as they don't see the bite mark on your inner thigh. 

"I can be," Rhett winks. 

That's an argument that you'll have to settle in the hotel room. Before you can even say another word, he's darting for the door, sliding open the latch, a melody of laughter trailing behind.

"Hurry!" He's barricading himself up against the entryway. Feet dug into the ground, hair sticking up every which way. "Before Archie comes lookin' and figures out 'm not actually sick." 

You can't get to the sink quickly enough. 

And if anyone notices that Rhett is a little looser than usual when he climbs that stage to accept his award, nobody says a word. Too focused on the hoopla of a brand new record, the glimmer of a brand new belt buckle, tacky as all hell and a lifetime worse than the one that sits sideways against his belly. 

...but they might notice when he turns his head and flashes a ruby red bruise lurking just below his ear. 

Sure wonder where that came from.

[holylulusworld]

SHG for killers (2) – You (the reader)

Summary: 6 men meet up to talk about their problems. They soon realize they need someone to help them solve their problems. This person is you. Whether you like it or not.

Pairing: Steve Kemp x fem!Reader, Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader, Robert Pronge (Mr. Freezy) x fem!Reader, Andy Barber x fem!Reader, God, the bounty hunter x fem!Reader, Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, hostage situation, language, kidnapping, plot twist, world building

A/N: Please consider Steve Kemp is not a cannibal in my story. This is an AU. All men are serial killers, killers, or hitmen.

SHG for killers (1) - The first meeting

Self-help group for killers masterlist

You’re fuming. No, it’s even worse. You are ready to commit murder and would regret splitting their skull with an ax.

One day. You only wanted one day off, but that’s too much to ask for. They all take days off without asking if you can cover their shift all the damn time.

“Never heard of work-life balance,” you snap at your boss. You huff as she doesn’t reply. “Yeah, you let me work overtime and didn’t pay me. But God forbid I take a day off because I’m having a terrible headache!”

“Ms. Y/L/N, you took the day off because you suffered from a hangover, not a headache. And it wasn’t the first time you stayed at home without giving us a call.”

You huff at her bitchy comment. “I wasn’t drunk or hungover.” You narrow your eyes when your colleague walks past you and your boss. She ratted you out, you know it. One drunk escapade, and you’re in trouble. “I was sick and had to stay home. It won’t happen again!”

“That’s right,” she huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “It won’t happen again. You’re fired!”

“Fired?” You gasp loudly. “You can’t fire me! I quit, you uptight and stupid bitch!” You’re too angry to care that you just fucked your career over. Usually, you try to negotiate or talk things out, but your boss takes one step too far.

You twirl around and make your way toward your office, glaring at your colleagues on your way. None of them came to your aid. You covered for them more than once—to hell with all of them.

Walking toward your car, you sigh deeply. All that’s left of your career fits in a box. Great timing. You were about to move into a bigger apartment and buy a new car. Now that your regular income has turned to dust, you’re back to square one.

“Miss, can I help you?” You gasp when, out of nowhere, a man stands in front of you. He looks you up and down and runs his index finger and thumb over his mustache. “This looks heavy, sunshine. Let me help you.”

Out of instinct, you take a step back. This man means trouble; you just know it. There’s something in his blue eyes telling you to run.

“No, thanks,” you try to sound confident as you look around the underground car park. You can’t see other people but hear chatter coming from the other side of the underground car park. “My colleague will be here in a minute to help me, Sir.”

“Sir,” he hums. “I like it when you call me that.” He steps even closer to snatch the box out of your hands. “Why don’t we stop with this nonsense?”

He drops the box and reaches for you to grab you, but you sidestep him. The man huffs and lunges forward, but you dodge his attack.

“HELP!” You scream, but the two people you heard talk earlier ignore your screams for help. “HELP!”

“FIRE!” Now that they look your way, you wave at them, but instead of helping you, they run off, leaving you alone with the man.

“Aw, princess,” this time, he tackles you to the ground and pins you to the cold concrete. “Stop fighting me, or this will hurt you more than me.” He tries to cover your mouth with one hand and restrain your wrist with a pair of handcuffs.

No, you won’t go down easily. You use the last strength left in you and knee him in the groin. He whines for a second and bites his lower lip. The man breathes through the pain while angrily staring at you.

Even if you can’t defeat him, you fight back. You smirk behind the hand covering your mouth and glare at him.

“I love me a good romp, princess,” he purrs in your ear. “Let’s make things a little easier for me. I’d like to transport you in the backseat, not the trunk.”

Your eyes widen as he gets a syringe out. Wiggling underneath him, you shake your head. The fucker is heavy, and it feels like his body is corded in muscles. Fuck, he will bring you to a second location, and this can’t be good.

You bite the hand covering your mouth, earning a slap to your thigh. The sting distracts you long enough for the man to ram the needle into your thigh. “Easy there, princess. We can get kinky later.”

Wrapped like a package and gagged, you sit in the middle of what looks like a chair circle. The man who kidnapped you sits on one of the chairs. You don’t recognize the others, though.

“Gentlemen, here’s the solution for all of our problems. Mr. Andrew Barber’s sweet secret. I got her for us. Oh, and I grabbed some of her shit and burned down her place to make her disappearance believable—or rather her death.”

One of them cocks his head to look at you. He looks rather bored than interested. “We don’t need another member,” he says, and goes back to checking on his phone.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport, God,” the guy kidnapping you says and elbows the man in the ribs. “She’s fun. Little Miss Sunshine tried to knee me in the groin. Can you believe this? She’s a firecracker. No wonder, Barber is head over heels for her.”

“She’s not too bad to look at,” one of the others says. You glare at your kidnapper and narrow your eyes, daring him to get close to you. “Good job, Hansen. So, what do we do with her?”

“What do we do—?” Hansen, your kidnapper, says. “Kemp, I thought you were a lil’ smartass. What do we do with a pretty ripe cupcake?” He smirks at you. “We eat it.”

“What’s going on here?” A familiar voice fills your ears. You jerk your head toward the new arrival and huff. Of course, it was him. The creep snapping pictures of you at the practice. Andy Barber. “Who is…”

“I got her for you… I mean us... Lloyd proudly states and points at you sitting in the middle of their chair circle.

“What the fuck! Hansen!” Andy barks. “What did you do? You’ll get us all in trouble!”

“What?” Lloyd shrugs. “You talked so much about her and whined. I did you a favor and grabbed her. Now we have a good doctor in the house.”

“Hey!” Kemp grunts. “I’m a doctor. She’s just…” He gets up to look down at you. “…a bitch talking my patient out of surgery. Hmm…she looks different in that light, though.”

“Who cares about the light?” Robert grunts. “Can she help us or not?”

“Oh, she will help us,” Lloyd crouches down next to you to cup your chin. “Right, baby cakes. You’ll sing for me when I eat that muffin.”

“Lloyd!” Andy yells to get Hansen’s attention.

“What? I’m busy here!” Lloyd yells back.

“That’s not my therapist,” Andy says while running one hand down his face. “You fucking idiot! You kidnapped the wrong woman!”

Tags in reblog.

[tongjaitongjai]

CrypticGod!Merlin and Worshipper aka fanboy Mordred CRACK AU - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Merlin learns that being a god in semi-mortal form is very difficult when having a strong follower like Mordred.

Mordred, like many who pray to their god as some kind of anchor, will often pray something along the lines of ‘Emrys, give me strength and courage’ or ‘Emrys, please be with me through this difficult time’ unconsciously.

Except, unlike the normies, his commitment and belief are EXTREMELY STRONG, so when he prays strong enough, HIS GOD ACTUALLY SHOWS UP:

Arthur, charging him during sparring: Come on, Mordred! You can do better than this!!

Mordred: (anxiously praying) Emrys helps me

Merlin, suddenly appears between Arthur and Mordred, with Arthur about to smash him with the sword: THE FUCK—

Obviously, he is banned from praying during sparring, but occasionally Merlin will still pop up out of nowhere when he is anxious, and the knights eventually have to get used to it:

Arthur: Today, the neighbouring kingdom’s knights will join us for the practice, and there will be some competitions. I hope all of you are ready to protect and uphold the honour of Camelot’s knights. Any defeat is unacc—-

Arthur:

Arthur: any defeat is understandable, for one must lose before learning true victory, so please don’t get too stressed, especially you, Mordred.

Mordred: How do you know I am stressed?

Gwaine, carrying Merlin, who pop up above his head the moment Arthur said ‘defeat’, on his neck : Yeah, I wonder how

As their relationship improves, the power of Mordred’s prayer gets stronger. Not only can Merlin feels his emotions and more in-depth thoughts through the prayer, it also affects Merlin’s power, in both endearing and also straight-up ridiculous ways.

Lancelot, whispers: You are very upset because of that Lord Asshole’s shitty comment toward the Druids, aren’t you.

Mordred, calm and composed: No, I am a knight of Camelot and a grown man, I will not be bothered by something so trivial. I am not upset at all.

Lancelot: You aren’t praying to Merlin now are you.

Mordred: How is that relevant?

Merlin: *BARGING INTO THE MEETING* *SHOOTING FIRE BEAMS FROM HIS EYE, DESTROYING THE PATH AS HE WALKS* *GRABBING LORD ASSHOLE BY A COLLAR THEN PROCEEDS TO GERMAN SUPLEX HIM ON THE TABLE*

Arthur, watching this happens for the third time this week:

Arthur: Mordred, we talked about this, you have to express your thoughts and feelings verbally, not by praying to Merlin

Merlin: Don’t force him Arthur! He will talk when he is ready!

Arthur: STOP SPOILING HIM YOU ARE JUST HAPPY YOU GET TO PUNCH NOBLES

Also, when he is extremely happy, he prays to Merlin as well, like ‘Thanks Emrys for all the good fortunes that happen to me today’

Elyan: Arthur complimented Mordred at training today didn’t he? Maybe saying something like ‘you are going to be one of Camelot finest knights soon’

Percival: How do you know??? you were not there today????

Elyan, watching Merlin’s skin glows, not even in an oh so beautiful ethereal way but like a radioactive sun way: It’s .. hard to miss…

The first time Mordred wins a tournament, Merlin radiates for three days straight. His voice also sounds godly with all the weirdly smooth echoes and harp melody complimenting his every word. Mordred is exhilarated. Arthur is going insane. Merlin finally officially bans Mordred from praying to him.

[ai-megurine]

HOTD S2 episode 2 "Rhaenyra the Cruel" reaction

• This OST! Djamin Rawadi is a god

• Can we appreciate Aegon's friends? Staying with him despite the state of madness he's in and closing the door to make sure he has some privacy

• oh so that shot of Aemond was him realising that he was the target!!!!

• I'm sorry I'm not that sympathetic to Alicent's tears? I just wish we could see more of Helaena grieving. I love the dress though

• ALICENT B&C IS NOT ABOUT YOU

• Otto shut up.

• Get Tom an Emmy, an Oscar and every single award in the world. His "what?" of disbelief to Otto stuck with me, dunno why

• In love with Larys' entrance. No one notices him until he speaks, he's in the background. Perfectly suits him

• "Bitch Queen of bastards" lmfao

• Love that the Council is shutting up and just letting Aegon rant. They're all scared of him in a way

• Who knew I'd ever be happy to see Larys?

• "I'll kill him myself" feed him to Sunfyre pls. Or Shrykos

• Aegon losing it every time Otto speaks is such a mood

• Jasper Wylde has a lign! Who knew.

• "We know our enemy!" with the little hand thingy was funny, I'm sorry

• Tyland!!

• "you're already seen as weak" oh fuck you Otto

• Why would anyone think that Rhaenys committing mass murder means Rhaenyra should be Queen???

• Aegon "my little son's body" broke me.

• Alicent calling Aegon "my darling" was sweeter than I thought.

• oh so Helaena can be a spectacle but not you??

• HELAENA MY LOVE

• LET ME HUG YOU

• DAEMON WHEN I CATCH YOU

• BALERION HIMSELF COULDN'T PROTECT YOU

• Oh my lord she's holding Jaehaerys' clothes 😭😭😭

• She's grief personified I can't breathe

• Phia is an angel

• THE TEAR ON HER CHEEK

• AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH the "I don't want them closer I don't know them" breaks me. She's my angel, I will fight the world for you

• ALICENT WHO CARES YOU'RE BANGING COLE. IT HASN'T BEEN 24 HOURS SINCE JAEHAERYS DIED

• "This is for my boy" AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

• The toy horse 😭😭😭😭

• The music is so good

• (when did they have the time to make all the uniforms and banners??? Sewing ladies have been doing overtime)

• Blood IMMEDIATELY giving up all the information was low-key funny but it really showcases who he is. A big bully who uses his strength to hurt people weaker than hip (women and children) but the second he's caught? He folds like a coward.

• Lmfao Larys' face. Even he was like "damn dude I didn't even start"

• Who the fuck is the herald? I thought Otto would be the one doing this

• OH MY GOD THEY SEWED THE HEAD BACK?????

• ANGEL, BABY, I LOVE YOU

• DAEMON I WILL KILL YOU MYSELF

• The little circlet on his bead 😭😭😭😭

• why barn owls on the shroud? I mean it's Helaena and she's flawless so I like it anyway

• So the death of Jaehaerys has FINALLY been acknowledged as kinslaying as well

• Blood's face when he understands that Aegon is coming and that it's going to be painful

• Noooooo, I wanted more pain for Blood

• Oh no my girl being so overwhelmed. She's in pain 😭😭😭

• Oh Rhaenyra's reaction to B&C

• I mean why wouldn't they accuse you? Like? Bestie? Who would it profit to kill Aegon's heir?

• Is Daemon actually smirking???? This man istg

• Rhaenys immediately knew, this woman is too good for these people

• Rhaenyra's realisation

• "Killing it"??? IT???? WOMAN.

• DON'T YOU FUCKING LAUGH. If you felt any ounce of remorse, you would be screaming in rage about it

• "you have wounded me" BESTIE A CHILD DIED WE DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR STANDING

• JFC the way she reacted when he broke that glass!!! She's obviously scared, it's definitely not the first time.

• Emma the actor that you are. Rhaenyra looks ready to rip Daemon's head with her bare teeth (which she should do, it would be iconic)

• You are a monster dude

• Oooh that silence

• "because of your virtue" hshshsjsj

• Bestie Viserys named Rhaenyra heir out of grief and guilt

• "You're pathetic" is so iconic, love it

• Baela exists! That coat is atrocious though

• So no risking Jace but Baela is fair game huh? Bitch (and I don't even like Baela). Good scene though

• Behold, Daemon runs away from his family

• HELAENA STILL DOESN'T HAVE A GUARD???? WHAT???? AEGON HAS TWO HE COULD SPARE ONE

• Oh god her and Aegon. Grieving, broken, but unable to connect. I feel like she wanted to reach out in the stairs, but he runs away because he's on the verge of breaking down and be can't have that in public.

• The nodding???

• NOOO THE BED

• I mean, I know it's better but

• Oh god the mattress covered in blood

• The juxtaposition with Rhaenyra being with her son is heartbreaking. The way she realises that this is what Helaena lost, that Jaehaerys was that age

• ALICENT STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU BANGING COLE NO ONE CARES

• Also Cole should be guarding Helaena and Jaehaera

• The religious trauma of consensual sex

• I wished the Alicole storyline would take less screen though, I mean good for them but that mess of a relationship shouldn't overshadow Helaegon's doomism and greek tragedy right now

• Cole needs to stop beefing with the rest of the world, Arryk isn't responsible for it

• Love Arryk for calling out Cole

• LMFAO THE OTHER KINGSUARDS NOPPING OUT. Valid ngl

• YOU'RE MAD SER. Love him

• Cole's hypocrisy is a delight. He's a terrible person, but he's so interesting

• Why don't they use poison though

• Laenor being mentioned? Neat. Him teaching the boys about fishing and Sea Shanty is pretty fun

• Damn that scene is actually good!! A shame I couldn't care less about Baela and Rhaena

• Oh so that's the famous brothel scene?

• Aemond's mummy issues on fill display 🙏🏻

• I love the relationship between him and the madame ngl. Like I know he pays her for it but her gentleness with him seems to be at least partially genuine. Her facial expression when he doesn't look at her are pretty telling

• Hugh Hammer the return! Fuck if I care but hey, I'm not against them developing the Dragonseeds. I wish Nettles was around too. I guess Hugh will join TB after his family's death? Or he'll be a spy for TG? Dunno

• So we know Baela ends up with Alyn, and he looks so much bigger and older than her 😭 Like it makes sense but DAMN

• I genuinely cannot begin to care about Corlys to save my life

• WAIT RHAENYRA DIDN'T KNOW WHO MYSARIA WAS???? THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY

• Mysaria being a good character wasn't on my bingo card but I don't dislike it

• Seasmoke following Addam around like a lost puppy is so funny to me. Also his sounds are so cute. I guess Laenor died off screen?

• The focus on the smallfolk is great. It reminds me of Varys' quote about the smallfolk always being the one to suffers.

• Cheese didn't suffer enough and I wish that dog a very nice "find a better owner"

• "Oh, I had them hanged" is so fucking funny.

• Otto is right, though. Like, this was a terrible idea.

• Ooooh mentioning Jaehaerys was a dumb move. You should Aegon isn't going to be rational about it

• Aegon, you can show strength by, you know, USING YOUR DRAGON. Honestly a public execution of Blood would have been better

• Otto's "wtf" face is so funny. I love him. Tom and Rhys are carrying this entire episode. Phia too, but she's less present

• Otto, do you REALLY think Aegon gives a single fuck about Viserys???

• Otto being fired for upteenth time is so funny. This man files for unemployment every three weeks

• Otto's last act of defiance was great

• Yeah, Mysaria isn't exiting the show

• Oh, that's how she'll stay

• Elinda Massey exists!

• I'm glad they didn't make Rhaenyra fight Arryk like some believed. It makes much more sense for her to be genuinely scared for her life. Like, Arryk is a grown ass man in armour and literally one of the best knights of his time

• They deserved better

• Otto unknowingly dissing his daughter's bf right in front of her was peak irony.

• "Petty revenge"? A FOUR YEAR OLD CHILD WAS DECAPITATED

• FUCK YOU ALICENT. Your son isn't "valuable", he's YOUR SON

• DAERON MENTION!!!!!!!! VICTORY!!!!!!!!

• The generational trauma of zero communication 🙏🏻

• Aegon sobbing and breaking down

• Nooooooooooo

• My love

• Let me hug you

• He's so beautiful

• A fallen angel

• CRISTON LEGIT SITTING ON HER BED WAS SO FUNNY LIKE WHAT

• HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN WAITING

• ALSO WHO IS GUARDING HELAENA

Conclusion :

Tom is a god, Phia is an angel, I will start a cult for Ramin Djawadi. The acting in general was top notch, but Tom and Phia have ascended to god-like.

Helaegon's doomism and Greek tragedy will be my death, I love them your honour.

The focus on the smallfolk was very good, and I hope they do it for both sides.

[helaelaemond]

Who Else Is Gonna Put Up With Me This Way? - Billy Washington x reader

Pairing: Billy Washington x female reader

Summary: You’re in an unstable relationship with Billy Washington - you've broken up with him countless times, and he's found himself back between your thighs again. This time, though, it's for real. But you're the one thing worth fighting for.

Dark!Billy, dub-con, possessive Billy, fingering, penetrative sex (f receiving), rough treatment, degradation.

Warnings: mentions of rape (none committed), mentions of domestic abuse (none committed by Billy, reader slaps him), discussions of Islamophobia,

Rating: E

Word count: 2.9k

Based on the results from this poll. Doing it for the girls gays and theys!

tagging those who showed interest: @tssf-imagines / @slytherincursebreaker / @humanpurposes / @arcielee / @elizarbell / @heimtathurs / @ewanmitchellcrumbs / @targaryenrealnessdarling / @valeskafics

"What are y'doing?"

You shove past him and storm into the bedroom, grabbing a bag from the wardrobe and dropping it onto the bed. "I'm done. I'm fucking done."

"Are you serious?" Billy stands in the doorway with a red face and thin lips, watching you with wide eyes.

You spit the answer back at him. "Does it look like I'm joking?" You grab whatever you can from the draws next to your side of the bed and shove them into your bag without looking.

"Over this?"

"This? This? You've lost your fucking mind! I don't recognise you anymore!"

"Oh, c'mon, I was drunk, and no one got hurt-!"

"Those people woke up to find they've been victims of your stupidity, all because you believe bullshit you've read-"

"Give me a fucking break!" He slams his hand on the door frame, and his eyes blaze.

"You hitting that because you want to hit me?"

Billy slinks over to you and rips the bag from your hand. "Don't act like I'd ever lay a hand on you; you know I wouldn't."

"I don't know what you'd do anymore," you answer defiantly. "I didn't think you'd ever smash up a Muslim butchers, yet here we are!"

"For fuck's sake! Who cares? No one got hurt!"

You wrench the bag from his hands and throw in a couple of tops and trousers, before pushing past him to the bathroom. He dogs your steps.

"They're real people; you know that, right?"

"I'm sure they're insured. Everyone knows those people are tight with their money. Got their own banks with special rules and everything."

"Those people? Your brain's been rotted by those fucking pigs you call friends! I don't even recognise you half the time!" After grabbing your toiletries, you're back in the bedroom packing up phone chargers, your earring box, your hairbrush. Whatever you need for a few nights, before you come back to get the rest of your stuff.

He keeps close to you. Threatening you. Shadowing you. He's so tall. You hate him. You fucking love him. That's why this is so hard.

"I'm still me," he says lowly.

"Oh yeah? Prove it."

"How?"

"Get rid of those cunts rewiring your brain, and start giving a fuck about people again."

His lip twitches and he catches your arm, pulling you close to him. "I care about you."

With more strength than you realise you have, you press your hands against his chest and escape his clutches. "Not enough."

He follows you when you go into the living room. It's messy, covered in beer cans and food containers and papers and cables, and you let out a shout of frustration. "I hate it here! I fucking hate it!"

"If you hate it so much, why do you keep coming back?" he thunders.

You open your mouth to reply, but no words come. You know why. He knows why. It's pathetic, really. But you can't quit him. He poisons your life, and God, you love the way it tastes.

Fury flashes in his pretty eyes, the eyes that capture you every time. He smirks, but there's no humour in it. "That's what I thought. Can't stay away, can you? You know you're mine."

"Don't play that game," you warn.

"S'not a game."

Billy steps closer to you again, and something akin to dread rushes through you. "No, it's not. So fuck off."

"D'you hate me?"

You glare up at him. There's fire in you now, fire in your belly, in your eyes. "Yeah, I do."

"Liar."

You suddenly slap him, and he grunts as his head is knocked to the side. God, it feels good to do that. Even when he turns to look at you in shock, in disgust, it feels good. "I hate you."

When he grabs you by the waist and shoves you against the wall, it's not a surprise. That doesn't make it any less of a thrill. He runs his nose up your neck and inhales deeply. "So if I shove my hand against your pussy, I'll find you dry?"

"Don't fucking touch me!" You hit his chest to try to get him away from you, but he's stronger. He doesn't go to the gym anymore, but he's stronger. You grab his hair and pull, but he's stronger.

"This is what you want, huh?" His large hands push up your shirt and grasp without care at your breasts. It hurts. It's good. "To pretend you hate me and pretend you don't want this?"

"I don't want it!" A half lie. You shouldn't want it. You know you shouldn't.

"Oh yeah?" he grunts. One hand wraps around your throat, finger and thumb pressing against the edge of your jaw, and the other slips under your waistband. You clench your legs together in response - but he's stronger. The heat between them betrays you, and he wedges his fingers between your folds to find slickness gathering there. "Sure feels like you want it."

"That's got fuck all to do with you."

His eyebrows are raised as he looks down at you, towering tall. Sandy hair flops messily over his eyes, unkempt and greasy. He's disgusting. But you chase his hand.

"I think you like me like this." Dropping his voice, he runs his finger around your clit, as if you're in any way ready for that.

"Like what?" you hiss. "A fucking rapist?"

"No one's getting raped, baby. You want this. You want me to force you to stay."

"No, I don't!" But you grab his wrist to hold it in place. For a moment, it seems like he's taking your words to heart and so his fingers still, but you hold him fast to make sure they stay where they are.

Looking into your face, he grins coldly. "You're such a slut, aren't you? You gonna come on my fingers?"

"You wish! You couldn't make me come now if you tried."

The fingers on your throat tighten slightly, and they apply pressure to the thick veins under your skin. He will be able to feel how quick your pulse is getting. Billy leans his close facer to yours. "You think anyone will be able to make you feel like I do?"

You shake your head slightly. "No. That's the point."

"Hmm." His lip twitches in anger. And then his fingers are pressing against your soft folds, digging it, dragging nails down them, and your stifled groan makes his eyes glint. "You love being used however I want."

"No, I don't. I'm not your thing to play with."

Then, his hands are gone, and he presses the length of his body against yours, and you're trapped tight between him and the wall, and it feels crushing, it's overwhelming, it's stifling-

Billy bites your ear and blows into it. It makes your nipples hard. "Yes, you are. Always have been." He rolls his hips against you, and it presses his half-hard cock against your stomach. As you clench around nothing, a shiver runs through your body. Of course, he notices, and he grins. "See? You want me to use you like the whore you are."

"I'm not a whore," you rasp. "You never fucking paid me."

"Maybe I should have done. You suck my cock like a porn star. All needy and whimpering like you can't live without it."

"Get off me!"

But you grasp the back of his shirt and claw at the skin at the base of his spine. It's so soft there, the gentle peach fuzz comforting under your fingertips. He's still Billy, somewhere underneath it all. Maybe. He presses harder. It's difficult to breathe.

Messily, he licks against your ear and groans. The obscene sound makes your eyes roll back."You leave this flat, you're never coming back."

"Then let me go."

"Never."

You drag your nails over his skin. Red welts are left in the wake. "You're a monster."

"What does that make you, then?" Billy asks with a dry chuckle.

"Stop trying to turn this into a game."

He pulls back to look at you with hooded eyes, lips parted. "I already told you, this in't a game."

"Even if it was, you'd lose." Something comes over you, and you spit in his face. "Fucking loser. Freak."

It makes him snarl. It makes him rough. With all his strength, he turns you to face the wall and shoves down your trousers, your underwear. You can barely spread your legs before he slaps between them, a hard hand grasping your cunt from behind. He squeezes and you yelp in pain. A strong arm is pinned across the back of your shoulders to keep you in place.

Then he squeezes your clit. At this angle, it's caught between two fingers while his thumb shoves against your entrance. It stings, the pressure, but it's worse when he takes his touch away. "If I'm a freak, you're the pathetic slut who wants to get fucked. God, you can't help it, can you? Getting this wet for me?" You can hear him inhale deeply, and the wet noises of him licking your taste off his fingers. You struggle slightly against his firm hold, but it's half-hearted. More than anything, you just want him to touch you again. "God, you taste so good. You ready to take me like the little fuck toy you are?"

"No," you lie, again and again. "Billy, don't you dare-!"

With knees bent, he pushes down his grey joggers and pulls his cock free, and slides between your thighs from behind. "No one's gonna treat you like this."

"You're a fucking monster!" Leaning forward, you press your forehead against the wall. You clamp your legs shut and trap his cock between them, and he responds by shoving you harder against the wall.

"And you're a cunt. My cunt, every dripping inch of it. Spread your legs."

"Make me."

Billy twists the arm on your back to grab your hair instead. The pull on it hurts, makes your spine arch uncomfortably, and a needy whimper escapes you. Fuck. He doesn't need to know how good he's making you feel.

"That's all you ever want, isn't it?" he whispers against your ear. "Me to take away every last bit of your control until you're nothing but a fuck toy for me."

Having your head pulled back this far makes it hard to speak. Between your thighs, his cock can't move, and you can tell how irritated it's making him. "I don't want anything from you."

"Open your mouth."

Your lip curls. Even with your hair wrapped around his hand, you manage to shake your head. Insolence isn't kindly received, and so rough hands suddenly straighten you up and flip you so your back is against the wall again. His hand goes back to your face and he presses against your cheeks until it hurts so bad you can't do anything but open your jaw. Without hesistating, Billy spits into it, heavy eyes watching your mouth. It makes your knees fucking weak.

You want to whimper. You want to swallow. Every part of him is sacred, and you want to consume him whole. At any other time, you would.

His voice is a murmur. "Swallow."

To let you do it, he lets go of your jaw, but his touch does not stray far. It finds its place on your throat, hoping to feel you obey him. Instead, you spit his taste out onto the floor. He doesn't like that.

"You stupid bitch." Suddenly, his fingers are buried back against your cunt and he rubs cruel and wide circles around your clit, fingers digging into soft and swollen flesh.

So, you grab his flushed balls and squeeze and he yelps in surprise, in pain. The hand at your throat shoves your head against the wall. The other leaves your heated core and shoves down your trouers and underwear until theyre at your ankles. Whether you would allow him or not, he takes them off completely, and as he bends down to do so, you wonder if he'll kiss your cunt.

Billy looks at it with longing in his eyes, but then he glances up at your face and the softness is gone. "Don't even need me to spit on you here, do you? You're so wet already."

"Nothing to do with you," you lie again.

"You need me."

"I'd rather die."

With more strength than seems possible, he looms over you and hooks his arm under one thigh. It makes you reach up onto your toe desperately, and then his blunt head is pressing against you. He holds it there for a moment, a threat, a promise. "Say you need me."

You squrim away from him half-heartedly. It makes you sick to your stomach that he's right. "I hate you!"

"Say it!"

One hand grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks. The other claws at the small of his back in an attempt to pull him closer. And then he does. The intrusion hurts in the best way. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, your throat refusing to let the noise escape.

And then he moves.

Billy is relentless in his pace, slamming into you over and over again. He doesn't give you time to adjust, time to relax, he just takes and takes and takes.

"Mine," he grunts, voice shaking.

"No," you choke.

"Yes."

"Fucking bastard!"

Billy kisses your mouth messily before you have a chance to turn away. It's sloppy, wet, desperate. His tongue presses roughly past your teeth and it makes your stomach tighten. But still, you turn your face away to deny him, so he covers your cheek and neck in hot kisses instead.

"Mine," he grunts again against your ear.

"Not anymore."

He returns his hand to your cunt again and as he keeps a steady and fast pace that makes sweat break out on his brow, he rubs you fiercely. It makes your hands clench into fists.

"I'll keep you forever," he promises. His words are punctuated with rough thrusts. "I own you."

Words are so beyond you now. He's rough, he's possessive, and he's fucking right. You fling an arm around the back of his neck and hold him close as he fucks you like it's the first time, the last time. His pace gets faster, more erratic, and then the tell-tale gasps begin to come.

"Don't you dare!" you cry out.

"With me," he answers breathlessly.

"Make me!"

You feel him nod as you hold him close. He licks your ear, making your heart rush in your cunt, and he moans for you just as you like. It drives you higher along with his hand, and then there it is, that pressure in your stomach, the tension between your thighs that pushes you higher.

"Shit, shit, Billy, yes, yes-!"

"With me," he begs. "Cum with me, baby."

"No!" Yes. Yes, cum with him, please, please, please-

"That's it, ah-! Fuck, like that, baby, keep-! Fuck, I'm-!"

Billy's hips stutter and he shoves them against yours as his thights tremble. His orgasm forces him to his toes, and his hand shakes against your clit. It washes over him again and again, and as the last of his seed spurts inside you, you follow him into oblivion. This time, your scream is not silent.

Against the wall, he holds you safely. Your heartbeats are matched as your chests press together, only thin layers of cotton separating your skin there. Your breathing is in time with his, too. In, out. In, out.

He kisses your neck. It makes you squirm. "Let me go."

Carefully, he pulls out of you and sets your leg down. Smiling softly at you, he kisses your forehead. Already you can feel his seed trickling out of you, and it turns your stomach. You can't be here a second longer. It's fine, you can shower later, get his stench of you.

You'll never be free of it.

"I need you," he murmurs as you pull your underwear and trousers back on. Now, his touches are soft and searching, petting your hair. You slap his hand away. He frowns. "I'll never leave you, you know?"

"I know." You might escape his presence, but he has taken root in your heart, for good or evil. "But it's done."

His trousers are back over his hips, and as he ties the string, he looks up at you with wide eyes. "What?"

"I'm done with you, Billy. I know you love me, every inch of my soul, but it's not enough anymore."

Large hands grasp yours. He winds his fingers through yours, and you let him. "You're my one true love. You can't go."

"You can't stop me."

And then his face darkens. Your lips part, and slowly, his eyes open, he kisses you on your open mouth. Pulling away, he smiles slightly and it doesn't spread kindly across his face. "I can."

"What're you gonna do, Billy? Tie me to the fucking bed?"

His hands return to the laces of his trousers, and as if he's not even thinking about it, he undoes them and begins pulling them through the waistband. Your stomach drops. And he takes your wrist, and kisses it. "If that's what it takes. I'll keep you forever. I own you."

[zhounauts]

the countess doesn't give a shit ; l.heeseung x f!reader // y.jungwon x f!reader

a/n the long awaited part two that i promised like months ago…it’s finally here !! going to disappear again after this , but i gotta work on my other stories. ..

warnings: cursing, not proof read

part one

HEESEUNG SCOFFS, AND THEN HE BURSTS OUT LAUGHING “you don’t care? i find that out to believe y/n. were you not the one who was most openly and actively against sora? were you not the one constantly refusing all her invitations before? why the change of heart now?” unfortunately for heeseung you had stopped listening ten words ago, and you were now snacking on fruit gummies your overworked chef had made you.

“pardon me, your highness could you repeat that?” you ask, the gummy dissolving in your mouth. you hear rina stumble into faye in the background. heeseung narrows his eyes as you chew on another gummy.

“what exactly are you plotting now, y/n?” he seethes.

“what i’m going to eat for dinner?” you respond with full seriousness. heeseung gives you an incredulous look.

“MY LADY!”

“i know you’re plotting something. you’re going to this party to humiliate sora am i right? and right now you’re going to act all innocent and uninterested so i will start to—”

“wow you’re a really big overthinker, anyone ever told you that?” you ask, “you’re really mistake your highness. i’m not plotting anything and don’t care about you and sora. you guys can go make out and get married for all i care,”

“i can’t deal with you any longer,” heeseung mutters, “if i hear one word about you acting up at the tea party i will not be afraid to punish you,”

“m’kay,” you answer, turning around, “rina, faye lets finished getting ready,”

“right away m’lady!” faye exclaims, as heeseung makes his way out of your room. you can’t help the anger that boils through you before you take one last glance.

“countess! i’m so glad that you are here,” sora says, bowing. you give her a polite smile and nod.

“thank you for your invite saintess,”

“of course!” she exclaims happily, “i hope the tea and snacks are all to your liking, i planned everything carefully when i caught notice your attendance. i was scared what i originally planned would not be to your delicate taste. please enjoy the party,”

“yes of course,” you answer, smiling and eye twitching. you didn’t have any energy to deal with her passive, fake niceness.

as soon as she turns around your face goes blank with boredom. you quite literally STILL did not know all the nefarious, devious acts the original countess had committed, but by the way everyone avoided you it was pretty obvious that what you did was. . .well nefarious and devious?

“god, i wish i could just impale myself and go back home already. . .” you mutter underneath your breath.

“i’ll impale you right now then, don’t worry,” an ominous voice hisses.

“what the f-”

“you thought you got rid of me?!”

“who are you?,” you ask, before you pause and sigh, “oh, crazy writer bitch,”

“what did you just call me!? i’ll eliminate you! eliminate!” she screeches.

“yeah okay do that,” you answer, rolling your eyes.

“while you had fun dilly dallying around ruining MY story” she starts, “hey where the fuck are you going?!”

“to get food,” you answer, walking away from the author and towards the table of pastries.

“get back here!” the author huffs angrily, hurriedly following after you.

“will you leave already? i’ll call the guards,”

“you think you can boss me around!? this is my story”

“GUARDS!” you scream, “oh no! i’m uhm. . .being harassed! nooooooooo boohoo,” you watch as the knights from the door run towards you, quickly grabbing the author.

“YOU BITCH! YOU CAN’T TAKE ME AWAY AGAIN! UNHAND ME YOU UNIMPORTANT SIDE NPC CHARACTERS!” you can only watch in amusement as the author screams. your amusement is VERY much cut short however when she for some reason has a burst of ungodly strength and tackles you.

“HOLY—”

“ruin the story i dare you! just you wait, there will be consequences!” she hisses, a flash of craziness in her eyes “the story has to be completed or else—”

“get her off the countess!” a guard calls, and with that the author’s easily hauled off you, as you stare at her in confusion.

“wait! wait! finish your—” but it’s too late, as the guards drag her away from the party and guards surround you, asking you questions. you don’t listen to anything they say, as you furrow your brows, trying to decipher the author’s message.

after the rabid authors attack, you had excused yourself from the party and headed to the courtyard to collect your thoughts. you thought the author was just crazy and obsessive about the story being completed the way she wrote it, but with her outburst you could tell there was something deeper.

“but what. . .?” you mutter. you sigh, burying your face into your arms. even though in this life you were rich and had privileges you used to wish for, it didn’t take away from the fact that you missed your family, your friends, and heck even your math teacher. it was lonely in this world, especially with the vendetta everyone had against you because of sora and heeseung. heeseung. the name ignites a rage that you had been supressing and you can’t help but rip up a patch of grass and yeet it.

“that stupid prince! who the hell does he think he is? bursting into my room accusing me of so much shit even though its been months since i’ve done anything! i hope he falls off his fucking stupid ass horse and onto his—” your tirade’s cut off by a laugh and you whip your head around at an ungodly speed. “who’s there?”

“no, no, keep going! this is really funny to listen to,” the voice answers, “I don’t think i’ve ever heard anyone who hated his royal highness, handsome and kind prince heeseung,”

“kind?” you scoff, “he can’t seem to leave me alone,”

“you are countess y/n, no?”

“that’s me, who are you?”

“let’s not worry about that,” the person answers.

“what are you, a wanted criminal?”

“. . .”

“you are!?” you ask excited.

“what??? no! of course not i was just joking!” the voice hastily answers before muttering, “why would you even be excited about that. . .” theres comfortable silence between the two of you as you rebury yourself in your arms. “the prince treats you badly?”

“yes!” you start, “no, well i don’t— yeah. i guess so. i get it, i did stuff back then to sora his little babe or whatever but the past five months, i’ve been leaving him alone! i know that still won’t make up for everything, but he can’t even just. . .treat me atleast slightly politely? it’s frustrating, i have no one to talk to except for my maids and chef mingyu, and i just want to go home,”

“where is home?” the voice asks.

“. . .i don’t know,” you answer truthfully. home was your room back in your own house, with your dad bothering you to practice piano, your mom hovering around your room while you study, and your brother randomly appearing every two hours to remind you of his existence. home was with your friends in school, giggling obnoxiously, changing routes to chase guys, and meeting up at set times in the bathrooms. home certainly wasn’t countess yue’s parents, and it definitely was not this castle.

“well people build their own homes all the time,” the voice says, “if they can you can to,”. you laugh.

“are you some wise old man?”

“uh- excuse me!? i’m 19!” you laugh again.

“no, really, who are you?” the voice hesitates.

“. . . yang jungwon,”

“thanks jungwon,” you hum, “when can i see you again?”

“i’d get my ass beat, i’m not supposed to be here” he answers, “i’m a mage at the research tower,”

“i didn’t ask that,” you reply teasingly.

“well. . .i guess i could shoot you a message orb. . .” he grumbles. you giggle, truly happy for the first time in awhile.

“i’ll be waiting,"

taglist: @k-films , @soobincantswim

[eashn]

kuroo tetsurō | College AU hcs

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ 𓈈 🀢

summary: a comprehensive list of the CollegeAU!Kuroo headcanons that have been plaguing me for years. 

warnings: allusions to alcohol, some sexual content, swearing, kuroo’s abs.

general

he’s double-majoring in business and chemistry—does hella good in both. 

academic weapon

fairly active in the party scene, but won’t admit he secretly hates it sometimes. prefers the quieter, more refined bustle of the science library or the local cafés. 

didn’t want to commit to the professional level, but still plays club volleyball. never quite finds another team that fits him like Nekoma did. 

on the outside

those dark locks are unruly as ever. 

he’s always been huge but reaaaaally buffed up after high school: broad shoulders and massive, sculpted lats. chiseled abs and the V-line of a fucking god.

he’s worked hard for that body (more on that under Habits), so he shows it off with what he chooses to wear

fitted tees

those sleek athletic compression shirts

prioritizes comfort—his wardrobe is definitely hoodies- and sweatpants-heavy. see images above for a visual 

owns like, nine pairs of gray sweats. the cheeky bastard. 

habits

hits the gym like it’s a religion. his routine is immaculate: strength training couple times a week, a run/jog outside nearly every day. he kickboxes sometimes. plays volleyball of course. 

doesn’t take enough rest days

and forgets to stretch afterward. his shoulders are always tight because of it. 

has a fairly decent sleep schedule

but. he’s a caffeine addict. pulls all-nighters at least once a month, flipping through his textbooks while sipping hot, black coffee.

takes his tea without sugar

and his whiskey neat

doesn’t drink much, though. especially at parties, he likes being able to talk intelligently—to nail first impressions with biting wit and laid-back charm. there’s a certain level of self-possession he cultivates in order to achieve that, though, and alcohol tends to mess with it.

always drives his friends home when they’ve had too much.

academics

he’s good. 

really good. 

aced Organic Chemistry his freshman year while everyone else was shitting their pants

chats with his Business professors during their office hours for fun

his notes are disgusting. loose leaf sheets stuffed into his books, chicken-scratch handwriting littering their margins. 

can’t draw good Lewis Diagrams for shit. his Chemistry TAs give him hell for it.

still, he somehow manages to earn the highest test scores in the class.

competitive. silently simmers when he catches someone earn even a slightly higher grade. he always needs to be the best; he’s greedy for success and recognition. 

total workaholic. grinds himself to the bone.

but also, he really, really loves what he does. the little things thrill him: an Acid-Base titration gone perfectly right, or a really good conversation about Keynesian economic theory. 

he’s such a dork. he’ll never admit to it though

after hours

he’s not a fuckboy. he’s not.

he just…has a certain effect on women. and boy, does he know it.

as mentioned above, he parties fairly frequently—he’s a hot, outgoing twenty-something, so naturally he’s getting invited to a lot. but again, he doesn’t always enjoy the crowds and the noise, and he really doesn’t like getting wasted. 

but if there’s one thing kuroo loves? 

it’s attention. 

though he lingers at the quieter edges of crowds, pretty girls still seek him out, striking up flirty conversation over the din of party music. 

he’ll admit the talk itself is never actually interesting. none of those women are quite smart enough to keep up with him

but all the same, he goes home with them—because they all want him so much. and god, does that stroke some animalistic part of his ego. 

the truth is, kuroo kinda needs to feel wanted. he’s a man that spends all his time competing—beating himself into shape to achieve his various goals. so, when people make him feel like he’s good enough as is, it’s worth a lot. 

his hidden insecurities are part of the reason he won’t approach any truly intelligent women, the ones he notices in his lecture halls and classes. deep down, he’s a little scared of women that can dominate him academically.

but, secretly? he’s also really fucking attracted to that.

desperately wants to meet someone he can actually talk to, a person that’ll share in his ambition and can keep up with his wit.

but for now, settles just for fucking to relieve stress. wakes up more often than not to an empty bed, with no reminder left behind of the girl that was in it the night before. 

A/N - thank you for reading! these were wayyyy too fun to write so this might be the prelude to a bunch more collegeAU!kuroo stuff i do in the future. send me an ask or a message if you’d like to be added to a taglist for that! 

requests for haikyuu headcannons/drabbles are WIDE OPEN!!! send in an idea, and follow @eashn​ for more :)

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

Rayllum Month 2024! (9/13)

what a mesmerizing, paralyzing, messed-up little thrill

July 17th - A Prince and His Princess

Hey! Nine (9) days left to season 6 and nine (9) prompts into Rayllum Month (9 is my favorite number 😁). This one was somewhat inspired by the amazing @zuppizup / zuppi on ao3 and their fic, Rumour Has It. You by no means have to read it to understand this, but I totally recommend it; it's a perfect balance of hysterical and introspective and explorative and I crack up every time!

They hadn’t even made it a day back in Katolis before Opeli was pulling Callum and Rayla aside, into her office and closing the door at an ungodly hour of the morning.

“Why are we here?” Rayla groaned, rubbing her eyes and slumping into the chair Callum pulled out for her, keeping his hand on the small of her back as he seated himself in the one beside her.

Opeli slowly, meaningfully, drew open a desk drawer and dropped the paper she pulled out in front of them, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You two…” She paced with her hands behind her back and muttering something, likely a prayer for strength so she wouldn’t commit high treason. “Would you like to tell me why there is a newspaper from several weeks ago about the two of you sharing a room in Xadia? Unaccompanied?”

“We don’t need a chaperone,” Rayla scoffed. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Lady Rayla, I understand and respect that Moonshadow hierarchies are not like ours, but it shouldn’t take a comprehensive knowledge of politics to understand why this is, in fact, a big deal,” Opeli sighed, slowly seating herself across from them. She didn’t say anything else, instead folding her hands in front of her expectantly.

“Maybe I just don’t care,” Rayla muttered, and jerked her head over to Callum. “Maybe he doesn’t care. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but you have to admit that the amount people care about it is a little crazy.”

Callum took the newspaper as an out so he wouldn’t have to be in the middle of the two bullheaded women. “What the hell is this? ‘Prince Callum of Katolis and…’ Excuse me, ‘an elf consort spotted escaping into Xadia for some alone time?’ What the actual fuck?”

“Language, Prince Callum,” she chided, almost mindlessly.

Rayla raised an eyebrow, and she was just a little too cocky, playing a little too much into the “I don’t give a fuck” attitude for her to actually not give even a little, itty-bitty fuck. “Ooh, do you hear that, Callum? We’re consorting. Forbidden and fancy. Absolutely scandalous.”

“It is a scandal,” Opeli snapped. “That we have to deal with. Just… Gods, please, if I have any new little members of the royal family to worry about, tell me now. I will handle it.”

Read more on AO3!

[archdevilsupreme]

Fellow arsonists and dearest onlookers,

THIS is the reminder you needed to maybe, just maybe, remember some idiot dragging along Cazador's corpse all around Baldur's Gate (for like most of Act 3, as I kinda ran into this palace at level 9 like a fucking idiot not knowing where tf I am until I thought, oh just fuck it and go through with it now (I did die a lot...)

I would like to present the "Bag Of Death- Shenanigans" to you!

These determined adventurers swore themselves to be as fucking ✨dramatic✨ as possible.

So they started putting every corpse of their enemies in a backpack. Which they then put into their camp chest. While they do often fight about who is a worse influence on the other, they can agree on being insufferable as a team thus I need you to imagine Mazikeen (my Tav) arranging this pile of corpses while Lord Fangs is just standing by complimenting her on the creative display and giving signature sass. He's not helping. Of course he's not. Why should he, his job is to make this shit burn. He's also 15 points behind on strength compared to her. I love the thought of her moving and carrying stuff for his majesty, Lord Fangs.

But anyway.... I'm straying...

Their teammates hate them & their bullshittery, all these two wanna do is commit arson all the fucking time. You thought Karlach is starting fires? Nuh uh, it's this hellfire duo, they're just little devils, all mischief, all mayhem- all the time. I love them for this. (Tbh we all know it's just me, I'm Fãerun's most pathetic revenge seeking arsonist.)

Also Astarion very much deserved to igni the fuck out of this pile (what a weird way to spell Cazador).

Thank you for your attention, here's to having fun with fire!

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Quarterfinals, Match 4

expand to see all propaganda received! (enormous wall of text warning)

Tracy Chapman:

"I can’t think of anything clever to say because I’m too busy sighing dreamily"

"GUYS ITS FUCKING TRACY CHAPMAN VOTE FOR HER OR ELSE ILL EAT PLAYDOUGH"

"Tracy Chapman made the best song of all time (fast car)"

"ik im the hope sandoval guy but if hope doesn't make it tracy has to she made me realize i was a lesbian i just thought i was bi then i listened to her and now im a lesbian she is powerful she is strength if you looked at her and looked at my art you would see 20 years of inspiration from one single woman"

"she's too good to commit atrocities to me but im the gore guy and you aren't for that. i would let her take out my vocal chords and use them as floss. i would have her saw down my bones to make a vinyl of her music. i would go on all fours and let her slaughter me like a pig. i want to be her cat"

"The most powerful written and performed voice of the 90s. Everyone, of any nationality or belief system, could feel the words Tracy Chapman sang. She gets her dues but deserves even more."

Eddie Vedder:

"He's just a lil' guy. I want to pick him up and put him in my pocket and take him with me everywhere."

"Men peaked in 1992 when Eddie Vedder was on MTV Unplugged and just looked as pretty as can be. No one will ever top that."

"facial structure sculpted by the gods"

"that scene in singles where he’s just staring straight into the camera when they’re watching that bee documentary or whatever GOD"

"He's fun-sized and therefore easy to yeet into his natural environment of The Rafters. His height-to-hair-length ratio makes him the Cousin Itt of the final four: the party doesn't really kick off until he shows up. No amount of unhinged propaganda can be more unhinged than the little gremlin himself but by God it's worth a try."

"I want Eddie Vedder to spit in my mouth"

"I have no idea what the fuck he's saying literally ever and that's kinda hot I think"

"holy FUCK i want to i want to claw his eyes out and put them in a blender until they’re the consistency of mochi that’s been left out for like 10-15 minutes"

"icon of wet kittens you take home in a box everywhere. imagine scooping him up and carrying him away."

"listen to daughter by pearl jam like uh wow"

"Just a beautiful little guy. I love how expressive, emotive, intense, and passionate he is. The way he can make me weep or give me the chills with just his voice and a guitar. And how he (and the rest of Pearl Jam) has always been so outspoken and hands-on about numerous social and environmental issues and just generally being a force for positivity and progress. This man stage-climbed right into my heart <3"

"He has a really cute butt, like the peach emoji"

[good-beanswrites]

I’m thinking about the angst of the restraints headcanon again. There’s the two with the least physically violent crimes, and they rank relatively low in strength. There’s the child who was violent but had to be really crafty about it; she’s the weakest of all of them. And the most dangerous of the guilty prisoners cannot be restrained.

This makes me so emotional!!! All three are the smallest of their circles. Two of them are extremely ordinary people who have never experienced/expressed physical violence before. One hadn't even fathomed the idea of someone dying until they actually did. And yet, they're subjected to the type of restraints you'd expect to see on someone who is uncontrollably violent. The fact that prisoners who committed very gruesome murders can walk free (including Mikoto) just adds insult to injury. I still couldn't everything into words, but here's a Mahiru-centric drabble featuring the same thoughts. It takes place after T1 closes but before the attacks.

“Where are our rights?”

Fuuta’s shout caused Mahiru to wince. She perched on her bedding, watching the two prisoners she’d invited to her cell. It hadn’t been the fun kind of invitation, though. Back in school, she always wanted to have parties and dates back at her place. Moving to the city, she imagined what it would be like to make university friends and take them back home with her to talk, eat, and have fun. 

Sitting in her dim gray cell with Fuuta and Amane, all of them held fast by complex sets of restraints, was not what she’d had in mind.

Amane knelt in the corner. Her arms were crossed, as if pouting, though the opposite was true. A moment ago her eyes had lowered in prayer, but it was difficult to find any peace of mind now. Fuuta snapped and shouted as he paced the length of the cell bars. They were unlocked, but like the others, he didn’t feel like being out in front of everyone. He’d give his uniform a violent jerk every now and then, but it didn’t do any good. Between his strides and growls, he made Mahiru think of those poor wild animals they keep at the circus.

“Take it easy, Fuuta.” She mustered up a smile. “Come rest with us.”

“I can’t believe you two. You’re just gonna sit here and take it? I didn’t do a fucking thing! They’re acting like I’m some big danger to society,” he yanked his arms again, to no avail. “All I did was type some things onto a screen. I’m not gonna go around stabbing anyone or anything. And you, you didn’t hurt anyone either!”

He nodded his head to Mahiru. If her arms weren’t already folded over her chest, she would have hugged herself anyway. 

“Well… I did hurt him in the end… I broke his heart badly enough that… I mean, he…”

Fuuta made a disgusted sound. “That’s all stupid romance stuff. I’m saying, you never stabbed him. Never strangled him. Never poisoned his food, or –”

“Oh god, no! How horrible…”

“Exactly! From what we’ve heard, it sounds like Haruka killed someone with his bare hands. I think Muu had a knife or something. Shidou had a whole arsenal of grisly doctor tools. Kotoko has openly talked about how she beat that guy to death. Why are they allowed to walk free while we’re tied down like wild animals?”

Mahiru was glad she hadn’t mentioned the circus.

“And Amane! It’s not like she did anything violent, and here she is!”

“That is not true.”

Both paused as Amane spoke up for the first time. 

“Eh?”

“While I disagree with my verdict, the restraints make sense.” The others still stared blankly. As matter-of-fact as always, she continued. “I killed with my own hands. I used the amount of force I was instructed to. Just as the sinner fears the wrath of heaven, I can understand how the godless warden would fear my justice.”

Fuuta’s passion wavered, but Mahiru could feel her heart ache for the girl. “Oh Amane… I had no idea. To be pushed to the point of violence at your age…”

“I am not to be pitied. As I said, I am dangerous, and proud to be. I am doing god’s work. All heroes must be dangerous.”

Fuuta grunted, but said nothing. Mahiru gave her a gentle smile. “It’s not pity. Even if you were dangerous, it’s horrible to restrain someone like you. You’ve already had to brave so much, as the smallest of the bunch.”

She looked between the two. A sad laugh escaped her. “Now that I think of it, I guess we’re all the smallest here, hm? Aside from maybe Muu, we don’t have much height or strength on the others…”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Fuuta cried. “The fuck do they think we’re going to do?” Mahiru was just glad he’d focused on that rather than the fact she’d just called him weak. 

Voices raised in conversation down the hallway. Mikoto’s laugh echoed faintly into the cell.  

It warmed Mahiru to hear. Things had been so hard on him here. Though it had been frightening to hear him shouting at the restraints til his voice was raw – well, it wasn’t him shouting – it had been a relief when he appeared free and relaxed the following day. He seemed sheepish that he wasn’t able to help the others, having no memory of his escape. Mahiru just kept telling him how happy she was for him.

Fuuta didn’t share in the sentiment. “Meanwhile, Mikoto gets to stroll around free, and he beat the shit out of Es! He could snap and kill any one of us here, and they don’t even give a damn. But ooohhh, god forbid the guy who’s never been violent a day in his life is allowed to use his own two hands!”

The harshness of his voice wasn’t doing his argument many favors. Still, his words were beginning to get through to Mahiru. 

She’d worked so hard to be a model citizen. She was supposed to have a perfect life. She could cook, clean, sew, and take care of children. She did herself up every day; she was never a slob or a slut. She was generous to everyone she met. She showered the world around her in love. Wasn’t it unfair that her hands were tied like some common criminal? What was all that effort for – being patient when people upset her, being kind even when she disagreed with someone, all of that – if she was going to end up in the same place as someone who had stabbed another out of sheer malice?

Amane didn’t seem to be whirling with the same doubts. She closed her eyes once more. “It is simply a trial from heaven. We may be small, but all of us have an internal strength that will carry us through the ordeal.”

“I don’t think it’s any sort of religious thing, but you’re right,” Fuuta puffed his chest out. “Trials like this only make people stronger!” 

“Do you think so?” Mahiru wasn’t sure if she was asking either of them or just musing to herself. It was a nice thought. This was all part of destiny, something meant to be that would make her stronger in the end. 

But she wasn’t so sure she believed in destiny anymore. It hadn’t quite worked out the first time. 

“Hell yeah!” Fuuta must have assumed she was in fact asking him. He gave a wide, toothy grin. “It’s not like we can get any weaker, right? The warden better watch out next trial – they’ve got a big storm coming!”