#no but the stream was so fun to watch!! i know it’s meant to be abridged but it was still enjoyable seeing all the silly british gags and-

[joudama]

And that’s that for Veilguard. Got all the achievements and got the four main possible endings (didn’t bother with the bad ending where you do none of the side quests, everyone dies, and you end up trapped in the Fade forever with Solas).

My four Rooks:

Female Shadow Dragon elf mage - saved Minrathous - romanced Harding - punched Solas in the face

Female Antivan Crow human rogue - saved Treviso - romanced Lucanis - tricked Solas into using the fake dagger

Male Grey Warden dwarf warrior (this was originally going be a Qunari, but I couldn’t get over the yassified look of all the qunari I tried to make and I gave up) - saved Treviso - romanced Davrin (meant to romance Bellara and lol welp, that didn’t happen) - big softie who sent Solas into the Fade with the Inquisitor

Male Mourn Watch elf mage - saved Minrathous - romanced Emmrich (meant to romance Bellara or Neve and lol welp, that didn’t happen) - told the Inquisitor she could do better and made Solas go off into the Fade alone.

My Mourn Watch one is probably going to be my “canon” run, since I liked it the best (that’s not saying much) of my runs. I went with a life leeching run for him, including using the unique items that made health potions/companion heals not work, and beefed up leeching. Literally the only time I died was when my controller ran out of juice in the middle of a dragon fight. The Elgar’nan fight was over so fast I was like, “Wait, is that it?” It was like the curb stomp fight in Inquisition with Corypheus before they let you have enemies scale up with you.

And now for my thoughts. And oh boy, do I have a lot of them. Hoo.

I have…so many issues with this game. It is a very good…whatever the gaming equivalent of a popcorn flick is. It’s great if you go in with your brain turned off and enjoy all the shiny. But that’s not what I want in a Dragon Age game. I’ve been replaying DA2 - the game that DATV is basically trying to channel - while playing these, and the difference in writing quality and intricacy of plot and world building could not be more sharp. The first time I played DATV, I thought it was fine. Almost aggressively fine. I had fun with streaming the game and seeing where it went. I loved the reveals with the wolf statues. I had some major issues with the writing being as subtle as a brick to the face at times (more on my thoughts about the dialogue LATER, because oh boy), but it was serviceable. And I genuinely thought Veilguard had been robbed by not being nominated for Art Direction at the Game Awards, because say what you will, the areas are fucking gorgeous. But, even then, I was like, “Yeah, this would not have deserved a GOTY nomination had it gotten one,” and placed it at a 7 or 8 out of 10. A good enough, enjoyable game that ran well, but was not by any means GOTY material.

Then I made the mistake of playing it again, and the cracks began to show. By the time I hit the middle of Act 2 of my third run, I was just so done. I hated every time certain companions had anything to say at all. I hated that you couldn’t call people out for being a jerk but had to be the supportive nursery school teacher at all times to them. And for the first time playing any BioWare game at all, I found myself wishing I could either not recruit certain people or kick them out of camp. The cracks were beyond showing at that point, and I no longer thought the writing was even “serviceable.” Things that hadn’t seemed so bad on that first popcorn flick run suddenly became a problem - not being able to actually talk to your companions to get to know them went from “it feels more natural to have them saying this stuff while out in the field” to “what is even the point of going around the Lighthouse if all it gets me is a line spoken at me or overhearing bits of them having ACTUAL conversations?” It legitimately hurt replayability. I missed being able to actually talk to my companions, and I realized I cared more about Manfred and Assan than most of my companions because Manfred and Assan actually seemed to like interacting with me. I will take Manfred’s rock-paper-scissors game over a “hey Rook” and dead-eyed stare.

By the time I hit late act 2, I couldn’t wait for it to be over so I could delete the damn game off my hard drive…only for the last achievement I had yet to get to NOT pop when I finished the game. I looked it up and discovered it wasn’t set by triggering a certain end state, but was tied to picking some flowers in Act 2, and wanted to cry. I don’t usually 100% games, especially if I feel like some of the achievements are bullshit I don’t want to do (‘sup, MELE needing you to do some Armax Arena Spectre-level fight - I would sooner chew off my own arm than do that, as anyone who watched me stream Veilguard would have guessed watching me kvetching the whole time I was doing that Hall of Valor shit), but that was just frustrating. I decided to try to get it on a fresh run as a Mourn Watcher, since I’d heard that was one of the surprisingly good faction backgrounds, and that was a good choice. Mourn Watch became my favorite faction, when it had been Shadow Dragons until then. It added so much to a lot more conversations than I would have thought, and made it so I actually enjoyed the sadly few times you get to actually have conversations instead of eavesdropping/being talked at. I’m glad I decided to slog through one more time for that achievement, because if I’d ended it on that third run, I know I would have never played it again. It turned back into a popcorn movie again, aided by me knowing when to put on a YouTube video and watch or scroll through Bluesky instead of listening to a certain character be the fucking worst. If I ever play again, it’ll be a Mourn Watcher (I already know the Veil Jumpers and Lords of Fortune are considered, shall we say, lackluster background factions.)

Which brings me to some of the big, fundamental problems this game had.

This is not a CRPG. It’s just not. It’s an action RPG now, with the focus on “action” not “RPG.” It’s part of the whole Mass Effect-ification of Dragon Age. And I say this as a huge Mass Effect fan:

Dragon Age should not be like Mass Effect. And vice versa.

When Andromeda came out, they decided to ditch the Paragon/Renegade system, and instead went for DAI-style emotion-based options. Which seems great! More speech choices to make a more nuanced Ryder instead of picking up or down! Great! Only no! A lot of people hated it because it didn’t feel like Mass Effect. They had taken away something that had seemed like a major part of how you roll played in the series, and replaced it something very different. It was the first time they took a mechanic from one game and ported it into another, and it didn’t really go over well with a lot of ME fans because it didn’t feel like a Mass Effect mechanic.

And now with Veilguard, they basically made a Mass Effect game with a Dragon Age skin on it. And it just doesn’t work.

Combat: They copied the combat wheel from Mass Effect, but did it kind of badly. I honestly hated it because I tried to play like I do in Mass Effect - pull it up, use it to look around and get a handle on my environment, then pick an enemy or a safe space to bolt to - and the camera snapping the enemies meant I couldn’t. It drove me crazy because it was like the Mass Effect wheel but fundamentally not, and the camera drove me mad because I’d pull it up trying to find where the nearest blight boil was, and it would snap on enemies instead of just letting me look. It’s like they wanted to get rid of every little bit of tactical game play and replace with smashy smashy bang bang instead. Don’t think, don’t plan, just attack…which fits in with the popcorn flick-ness of DATV. Don’t think, just do. Turn your brain off and look at the particle effects.

Another Mass Effect-ification with regards to combat is dropping from taking 3 companions to 2. Which you need to do to have that Mass Effect style combat wheel, and the Mass Effect 3/Andromeda style primer/detonation style interaction of companion powers. It was very satisfying, but not very Dragon Age-y, and requires throwing out some of that DA lore to make it work, because now everyone uses magic-based abilities even if they aren’t mages. Assan attacks deal fire damage. You can spec a warrior who calls up a giant lightning hammer to twirl around, and…how? That’s not enchantment, that’s plain ol’ magic, and how?! Warriors didn’t deal magic-based attacks uncles their weapons where enchanted before, but now, everyone is just tossing magic attacks at everything. That’s not how the world of Thedas has worked until now, but you can’t have those flashy explosions or particle effects otherwise, so shhh, turn off your brain and don’t think, shhh. Look at the screen light up and the pretty lights. It worked in Mass Effect because they had already set up tech and biotic attacks, but there’s no way to make hitting something hard with a sword cause it to blow up and damage all the other baddies around them, so now everyone has magic. OK.

As an aside, it was also a really bad idea of get rid of how aggro worked. Dragon Age had always worked by warriors drawing aggro because they had the heavier armor (or could use taunt on enemies targeting squishy mages or rogues). Rogues had lower aggro because they had lighter armor, and could sneak. Mages had even lower aggro because they had the lightest armor and were distance fighters. DATV threw that out the window, and Rook draws all aggro because they are the only ones with a health bar. Your squad is immortal in fights, which means there’s no reason for enemies to ever target them. Which means god help you early game when mages and rogues have no real skills yet. Enjoy dodging while your companions hit the enemies with what seems like attacks as powerful as spitballs. It also means that there are times what the game tells you and the fight you just seem are completely at odds. Remember that fight with the Wrath of the Stone in Harding’s companion quest? That thing is on your ass the entire time, but then at the end of it, Rook says something along the lines of “It really hates Harding,” and…are you gaslighting me, game? That thing ignored Harding the whole damn time in favor of trying to stomp me like a cockroach. Harding did not exist to it during my fight. It had a hate boner for Rook and Rook alone, no matter what the game tried to insist on after.

Now, imagine how that would have felt if Harding actually could have been killed/knocked out during the fight, and it was only going after her? What if you couldn’t damage it if it took her down, so you had to make sure she stayed alive? Imagine how different that fight would have hit then? But no, that would mean the devs have to think about how to rez characters and how healing would work, and would mean players have to be tactical, and shh, no, no more of that, no thinking, just dodge and hit things and look at the particle effects. Shh. Have some more popcorn.

Story: DATV wants so badly to be ME2. It wants to recall the big suicide mission where you have to have everyone ready or you’ll all die. But you can’t copy what you did before and get the same flowers and results. You just can’t. You can try, and all you’ll get is diminishing returns. They tried to do the big cosmic horror of ME1, complete with a Virmire choice, then have the big final stakes of ME2, and no. You can’t follow a template and get the same greatness. That’s not how it works.

And speaking of following templates…

Romances: The romances in Veilguard are just dismal. And I think it’s because they decided to follow the Mass Effect pacing formula instead of the Dragon Age one.

Dragon Age: You start flirting in Act 1. You usually flirt with everyone because hey, why not? Some time in Act 2, things start getting serious, and you have to settle on who you want to go for. Things start to get serious, you get together, and then you get happy fun adult time with your new LI. You get the option to break it off or commit to them fully. By Act 3, you’re in a committed relationship. People comment about it. You can go to them and spend time with them - nothing major, maybe just a kiss. There might also be a special scene that’s just with them and unique to the romance. And by the end, after the lengthy amount of time that’s passed, you are Together.

Mass Effect: You start flirting in Act 1. You usually flirt with everyone because hey, why not? In Act 2, you keep on flirting with everyone. By the end, you might have to make a choice if you’re flirting too hard with everyone and the two LI options tell you to pick someone already, but you’re just picking who you’re interested in. Early in Act 3, there might be an almost kiss, but it’s mostly just the occasional anticipation of eventually boning and nothing really happens until right before the final big fight, when your LI shows up to your cabin for “oh shit, we might die in a few hours, so let’s go out with a high note” happy fun adult time. The only time you get that “committed relationship” vibes is in ME3 if you’re romanced the same character for at least one other game, and you choose to continue the relationship.

The Mass Effect pacing works in the Mass Effect trilogy because each game is only 20-40 hours long. Veilguard is a good 80 hours long. That means using that same amount of romance you use in ME is going to mean you’ve got too little butter to spread over too much bread. It’s why you have a good start for the romances in Act 1, then act 2 is a such a desert of nothing after you commit that I genuinely wondered if I’d hit the wrong option at said no at several points during the very long third act. There’s not just enough content for that long of an Act 2. Near the end everyone starts commenting on you being with them, but it’s not actually happening in the game. There’s no flirting, there are no extra scenes, and even the scene when you commit to them is based on a scene that happens with everyone, just with a romance option tacked on. The only person (of the ones I romanced, so I can’t speak to the others) who really get unique scenes was Emmerich. He actually takes you out on a unique date. It helped a lot to make Emmerich’s romance feel more fleshed out than the others. And Davrin had so many little jaunts out in the woods that those turned into romantic trips out, which added a lot to his. But Lucanis’ and Hardings? With both of them, like I said before, I genuinely wondered if I had accidentally opted out. Their romances most used the Mass Effect format, and it just doesn’t work for a game this long. BioWare knew that once, long ago, because Andromeda did not use the ME trilogy format for romances and was closer to one they used in DA. But DATV is trying to be ME2, so they used ME2’s very thin romances as a guide.

And we can all see how well that turned out.

The Executors: Fuck me, they feel like Cerberus reskinned, and I absolutely hated when Mass Effect shifted from sci-fi/Lovecraftian horror to space opera with Cerberus as the main bad guys you have to fight with the Reapers functionally falling to the background. The Executors are a secret, shadowy organization pulling strings from behind the scenes like the Shadow Broker codexes in ME2 retconned Cerberus into having been doing in ME. Ugh.

The Andromeda-ification of dialogue: Remember Peebee? Remember how she talked? Give her long hair and pointy ears, and she’s Bellara. Down even to the techno-babble. It’s like they’re trying to change magic to just “sufficiently advanced technology.” Everyone speaks in that modern, quippy style that was annoying in a game set hundreds of years in the future because it felt dated by the time the game came out (Ryder makes a Frozen joke, y’all). And it feels completely out of place in a game set in an early modern setting (I don’t think DA is medieval, honestly - it’s more a pre-industrialization/early scientific revoltution setting, so more 1500-1700s, and I’m gonna stop now). It was jarring. You can only let one quirky character break the rules about how people talk (Alistair in DAO, Varric in DA2, Cole in DAI) but when everyone does, it’s jarring. You can be anachronistic, but you have to know what you’re doing and how to do it when you do, and I’m sorry, but the current crop of BioWare writers don’t. They wrote the dialogue like it was a modern day YA novel, not a Dragon Age game. It would have been fine for a modern day urban fantasy game. It was not fine for a DA game set in the same time period as people using the four humours for “modern” medicine (remember the surgeon in DAI? Talked about the four humours? Yeah.)

OK, I did not intend to go on for this long, and I haven’t even gotten to what the game did to how religion is handled or the sociopolitical aspects of Thedas, and how they threw out so much that made Dragon Age unique in their urge to do a soft reboot, so I’m just going to end it here. I wanted to love this game, and I can only do that if I turn my brain off, and that’s not what Dragon Age should be.

[ectoplasmer]

did I tell you guys earlier that i might’ve almost cried when I saw littlekuriboh was streaming ryou playing phasmo. i’m so Unwell

[neildylandy]

maybe in 2023 i’ll finally just take the plunge and get really into kingdom hearts. maybe that’ll be my new years resolution

[todayisafridaynight]

I DON'T HAVE THE ENERGY TO SAY ANYTHING OF SUBSTANCE BUT PLEASE ENJOY MOVIE <333

IT WAS DEFINITELY A MOVIE

[hypnagogics]

THE WAY YOU WRITE IS JUST SO YUMMM so yeah🧍🏻‍♀️can you write something about streamer ellie <33

☆: IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. definitelyyyy hasn't been...months...anyway. positive this is one of the worse things i've written, but didn't wanna leave you hanging forever! ngl it's pretty filthy..heh.

◇: 18+ pretend those twitch guideline things don't exist. remote control vibrator use, orgasm denial, sub-ish!ellie?? plot twist at the end bc i think im so funny. 1.6k wc. don't mind the layout of this idk what else to do...

You watch your girlfriend stream her game from your fluffy and comfortable spot on your shared bed—you observe how focused she was on her screen, how her skilled fingers were flying across the keyboard and mouse. It would certainly be a shame to disturb her in such a high tension moment but you think it over, running your finger over the small buttons of the sleek little remote in your hand.

"Yeah, yeah, got 'em! Look at that guys, I fuckin’ aced that!" Ellie rejoices in her victory, and gleefully boasts to her viewers, adjusting her microphone closer and leaning back in her chair.

You're glad you were far off camera, her fans didn't even know she was in a relationship—Ellie made it clear she wanted you to be separate from her hobbies, not because she wanted to keep you a secret, but because she wanted to keep you safe. And you enjoyed watching her stream from the sidelines like this, you saw how her personality captivated viewers and how much fun she really was. But you also enjoyed messing with her on the occasion. Like today.

"Can I watch tonight's stream again?" You asked her eagerly. "Yeah, why not? I'll be doing some tournaments and stuff though, so no distractions." Oops. You bit back a laugh. Ellie immediately sussed out the mischievous look on your face and she sighed, expecting the worst.

Then you showed her the box you've been hiding, "Please let's try, I won't click it too much, I promise." She stared at you for a whole minute, maybe more, before sighing and reluctantly agreeing, rubbing her hands all over her face. "God, fine. Just 'cause I love you. Damn you're evil."

Fast forward to now—the device was snugly inserted inside her pretty pussy, tested out to prove it does in fact work, and works well at that.

So off Ellie went to play her game, getting so caught up in everything she seemingly forgot about the device entirely. In between games she was talking to the viewers, reading the chat and joking back and forth. You decided it was a good enough time to click it so you pressed the button, only for a miniscule zap.

She jerked in her seat, gasping, but quickly recovered with a strategic cough. "Phew sorry guys, something got caught in my throat." You saw a bright berry blush spread across her face, and the way she fought to turn and throw a glare at you. This was going to be fun.

"Alright, the next round’s gonna start, we gotta lock in! Hopefully nothing pops up and this goes smoothly. I can taste the win already.” She put a certain warning tone to her voice in the last part of her sentence, you knew it was meant for you, but were you going to listen? Absolutely not. "Oh yeah chat fun fact, this old area of the map was inspired by ancient ruins just of—ah!" As if her body had a mind of its own, she squirmed in her seat and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a moan when you hit it again, but this time you didn't turn it off right away. You kept it going for a few more seconds, to prolong the terribly delicious sensation.

She screwed her eyes shut tightly and held her breath until you turned it off, mumbling to her viewers about "having hiccups". "The game is starting now, so we really gotta get serious." Her voice had an unsteadiness to it only you could hear, she was keeping her composure rather well so far. But likely wouldn't be able to keep up the act for much longer. Even she has her limits.

As her match went on, she got quiet when she was focused, mashing the keys with a speed fast as sound. Of course, you hit it again, just a short one, causing a choked "guh" to escape from her lips and she twitched when you did so, her facade starting to crack. The effort to keep her voice stable was showing, she was huffing and struggling to get her words out clearly, they were laced with obvious irritation.

"Fuck missed the shot, dammit. Yeah I don't know, somethings up today, sorry guys...off my game." You decided to be nice to her until the game ended, not pressing it further or adjusting the intensity. She played for a little while longer before losing the match, leaning forward on the desk with her face in her hands. This was the perfect moment, so you cranked it up, increased the intensity to maximum, and held the button for the longest time yet, making her whine—a low, drawn out sound she couldn't stifle this time.

You could hear lots of messages being sent, pings in rapid succession, they were probably clipping that moment. Perverts, you thought. 

Her chest was noticeably heaving up and down, her legs spread as she rocks her front against the chair, and she kept her head lowered until you decreased the intensity but didn't turn it all the way off. Her hands were shaking, and her face was a vibrant cherry red, the screen even reflected the sparkle of a couple tears in her eyes.

“What? Oh, I'm just so sad about the loss guys, we were so close—hnn- so…so closeahh—I mean, we should've gotten that…” She trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip and tapping her fingers on the desk’s wooden surface. “Y’know what, I'll be right back.” She paused the stream, made triple sure her camera and microphone were turned off, then whipped around in her chair to face you, glaring silver daggers your way.

You just giggled innocently and turned the device off again. “What the fuck is wrong with you, this shit is not- not light on you at all.” Her voice was breaking, her pretty features contorted in a beautifully needy expression, eyebrows furrowed and eyes all watery. Nearly as wet as the mess in her pants. You feigned innocence and shrugged at her, “Well I didn't know it was that strong.” “You knew damn well.” She's fed up with your antics, but you have fun playing with her. She covers her face and leans back in the chair, the embarrassment in her voice the only thing you could hear, “Fuck you...turn it up again, wanna cum.”

You couldn't contain the laugh that burst forth from your chest, then said, “Only if you stream it.” The shock that flickered across her face was priceless, you wish you could have snapped a photo.

“What the fuck do you mean by that, nah forget it.”

“Hey, you gotta finish your stream either way, they're waiting. Would you wanna be so awful and deprive those darlings of your presence?”

You flash her a sugary smile, and she shoots you a murderous look again, before wordlessly scooting back to her setup, fanning herself briefly and readjusting her coppery hair.

Then she turns the stream back on. “Sorry guys, I had to get up for a second. Anyway, let's play one more game. I'm getting kinda tired today. Let's make this one count, lock in like never before.” She takes a deep breath, cracks her knuckles, and begins smacking away at the keyboard buttons. You're able to see the way she looks tense, on edge, anticipating your devilish interruption.

You debate whether you should torture her, but the answer quickly becomes clear. Click.

“Ah—fuck!” She sputters, and roughly slams her fist on the desk. The pleasure was hitting her with full force, she was in her own, lewd, world now. Her head is thrown back, back arched and hips stuttering, the release was about to sneak up on her.

You watch the scenario unfold, licking your lips and pressing your thighs together to deal with the pressure between them. Her unapologetic moans get louder, but for a second she snaps out of the trance to sit back upright, turn the stream off, before the peak hits her like a truck.

“Holy, fu—hah!!” With a squeal she cums, not caring about how fucking loud she was being, wanting to be selfishly absorbed in ecstasy.

She started to jolt around in her seat, the throes of overstimulation making her whimper like an animal in heat, it truly was a sight to behold. You wish you were in between her legs, lapping up her sweetness straight from the source, but in a way, just watching from the sidelines was satisfying enough. You'll clean her up afterward.

Finally you turned it off once and for all, and gazed at her, she was panting heavily, the post-orgasm glow making her rosy skin shimmer in the low light.

“Hmmm, thanks babe, that was so good…” She tried to talk, her head was in the clouds, but she looked at peace.

“You're a whore.” You chortled, and you two shared a laugh.

Although, a flurry of shrill sounds brought you both out of the fantasy. Ping, ping, ping.

Unfortunately she wasn't able to enjoy the aftermath of a mind-numbing session, because her eyes shot open and she began scrambling to find the source of the sound. Your stomach dropped as you watched her panic, her neuroticism infectious.

She looked at you, her eyes wider than saucers, nothing but fear in her voice, “I wasn't able to turn my mic off…”

What was she going to do now?

if you'd like to be tagged in my fics, click here! thank you for reading. asks, reblogs, and comments are appreciated more than you know. ♡

tags: @andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @r3starttt @littlefallenangel111 @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ine @anniee333 @pinkcwake @marsworlddd @caszzine @saturnsdrafts @ashaynep @mascdom @xysbree @liddysflyer @fortune777 @brunaedn @bunnitewsilly @mimasroom2 @deliriousrn @infiniteinquiries @thekill3randthefinalgirl @kissyslut @elliesapple

[littlemelaninfics]

Just One More

WARNING: Overstimulation, crying reader, language, fingering

“No, no, no, no!”

There you are, 4 orgasms in and writhing wildly in Bucky’s arms as he continues to rub circles around your clit. You're trembling with tears streaming down your face while you desperately try to get away from the torturous manipulation of his hands. All he could do was smile as he keeps the cold, heavy metal of his left arm tight around you middle.

He kept pulling you back into his chest when you couldn't help but buck your hips and gasps for breath, “Bucky… please… no more, I can’t-”. He puts two fingers in your abused opening,

“Yes, you can,” he says sternly, mouth pressed to your ear. The bass in his voice vibrates the wires in your brain. He's all you crave.

He lets out a deep breath when he slides a third finger into your hole. You were helpless and at his mercy. Your hands are trapped behind your back, between your torsos with a red Christmas ribbon he found. Your legs were trapped between his so when you tried to close them, he just had to spread his wider. There was absolutely nothing you could do to stop him from playing with your sensitive pussy.

“Ohhh, I’m not done yet, Baby. Not yet.” He pulled his fingers out and went back to the same speed on your clit.

“Oh my god, Sir… fuck, please, don’t stop,” you moan loudly, trashing in his grip when the tight coil in your abdomen comes undone. Wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you. You're full on sobbing in blissful agony before going tractable in his arms. All your body could do was tremble from head to toe when he pressed his nose into your slick neck and finally slips his fingers out of you. He loosens his hold on your torso, allowing your legs to close a bit to give you a well deserved moment. You go to close them more when he cups his hand possessively around your pussy. He’s still not done.

You start to cry again; the combination of the tears and your whining making you sound so pathetic and helpless. He just eats it up.

“Noooo… Bucky, please, no more… stop, I- I can’t… please, no…”

“Shhh. You're doing so well for me,” he says, pressing his lips against your temple. "What do you say to get me to stop?"

He laid a light tap to your swollen petals, "tell, y/n. Stay with me."

"Brooklyn," you said in the faintest whisper.

"Why?"

"It's where we met...FUCK!"

He doesn’t wait another moment before slipping two fingers back inside your sopping pussy, making you cry out when they graze your ultra sensitive walls.

“James-FUCKKK!,” You drag out as you sit your head up to watch his attack on you,

"You want me to stop? Say it and I'll stop." He knew you wouldn't and he reveled at the fact that he had complete control over you. The fact that he didn't reprimand you for using his legal name meant that he was having way too much fun in this torture session to even care.

“No! Please don't stop…” His fingers reached the spot that undoes it all and your eyes roll back as you place your head back on him, completely quiet.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Bucky watches, mesmerized that it's him who's making you cum like this.

You whimper in his arms, gulping in large breaths that pass right by his ear from where my head is resting on his shoulder. Your entire body is trembling. Your sweaty skin sliding along his own when you try to wiggle away from his touch.

You stay like that for a moment before he presses another kiss to your temple. By this time, your eyes are closed and you're starting to come down. Your breathing stables until you feel a heavy, icy sensation start to travel back to your overused cunt.

"You've been such a good girl for me. I know you can give me another, Baby.”

[rememberwren]

Ghoap x reader but it’s just Simon refusing to let Johnny smash reader at all, punishes him by just tying him up and making him sit there and watch reader have a good time (I’m sorry)

ghoap/fem!reader: bondage, gags, PIV, fingering, squirting, mentions of safewording.

-

The worst part is the gag. 

Johnny could take any other part of this and count it as a reward—he loves the ropes against his skin, he loves watching you be pleasured, he loves watching Ghost be in control, even if Johnny himself gets to play no part in the scene. But the gag reminds him that this isn’t a reward; it’s a punishment. It has Johnny clenching the bell (the one he’s meant to drop in place of a safeword) tightly in his fist out of impotence. He considers dropping it just for fun. 

Or out of spite. 

“It’s so quiet in here,” Ghost sighs. He looks down at you at the edge of the bed where you are speared open on his cock, your legs folded up and back, ankles bound to your wrists. He locks his thumb and presses it just above where you are joined, rubbing against that knot of throbbing nerves, and giving a dry grin at the sound you make. “Except for you. Noisy little thing—I didn’t say stop, love.” 

You groan like a good girl. The sound goes right to Johnny’s cock which lays thick and useless against his thigh, leaking. Johnny loves dragging those noises out of you. His arms jerk against the ropes as instinct has him craving to reach out to you, to be the one to play with your clit while Ghost breaks you open. It’s a futile effort; Ghost did the knots himself.  

“I could fuck you all day,” Ghost mutters under his breath, ignoring Johnny altogether. Johnny makes a piteous sound behind the gag—his own pained agreement. His eyes are riveted to the place where the two of you are joined, watching as Ghost’s length disappears inside you and reappears, slick with your arousal. “You could’ve fucked her too, Johnny, if you’d listened to me.” 

Johnny glares. He knows this. From behind his back, he flips Simon off with both hands (Ghost’s eyes narrow, and Jesus, Johnny wouldn’t put it past him to know). But it isn’t fair when Ghost turns that tone of voice on him, the one usually reserved for recruits, laced with just enough condescension to have his cock aching. 

“Ghost, ‘m close,” you whisper, the fragile, desperate tenor of your voice making Johnny’s head light.

“You know it’s not up to me,” Ghost lies. His eyes, dark and glittering with mirth, cut to Johnny. Sweat beads at his temples, plastering blond hairs to his forehead. Johnny doesn’t think he’s ever found Ghost more beautiful. “Go on and beg him.” 

Your eyes turn to Johnny, tears in the corners. Your words are stuttered by the force of Ghost’s thrusts, like his cock presses the air out of your lungs a little each time. “Johnny—please, can I cum?” 

Yes, Johnny says, words nonsensical thanks to the gag. He nods his head fervently as a last resort.

“What was that? Speak up, Johnny, I can barely hear you,” says Ghost, mouth twisting into a grin. Johnny groans, head lolling against his own shoulder. Ghost clicks his tongue and looks down to you. “Sorry, love. He’s givin’ mixed signals. Maybe next time.”

You crack, like a fragile china doll. You’re not weeping necessarily, but a steady stream of tears drip from the corner of your eyes, wet tracks down toward your ears, disappearing into your hairline. Hands, which have been clenched into fists for the last twenty minutes, loosen into lax fingers brushing against your own ankles. You don’t even beg anymore. You know Ghost’s will is law. 

Johnny knows how soft you get when you break, the wet clench of your cunt and the quiet sounds from your mouth. You get fucked so sweetly like this, when your inhibitions are gone, when this moment is all you can think about until there’s no room for anything else in your head. You’re just thinking of the next thrust, the next touch, the next orgasm.

Ghost decides that’s the perfect time to pull out. He grips your thighs and turns you the last few inches to give Johnny the perfect view of your cunt and then he dips his fingers into you, gathering wetness and stroking it deeply through your folds, smearing it up over your clit as you shiver and cry. 

Johnny is close enough to smell you, but he still can’t have you, and it hurts. He grips the bell tight in his palm, feels it cutting into the calloused skin, but knows that dropping it when he hasn’t reached his limit is a cop out. Ghost would stop without question—but Johnny would always know he’d been too soft to take his punishment. 

No one can call Johnny soft. 

In front of him, Ghost slips his fingers back inside you with purpose now, crooking them to find that tender swollen spot inside you. 

“Ghost,” you gasp wetly. 

He just hushes you softly. 

“Ghost I’ll cum,” you say with greater urgency. 

He hums, huge palm resting just above your cunt and pressing gently on your belly, pinning you in place. 

You tense all over, sounds cutting off. Ghost pulls his fingers from you at the first dribble of squirt, fingers strumming softly over your clit to prolong your orgasm as wetness gushes from between your trembling thighs in tandem with the choked gasps from your throat. Drops of it almost reach Johnny in his chair. Almost. 

“Fuck, that never gets old. Perfect. Thank you,” Ghost says, smoothing a hand over your thighs. He takes his wet hand and reaches out—for a blissful moment Johnny thinks he plans to remove the gag—but instead he smears your cum over Johnny’s parted lips and cheeks. Johnny strains against the ropes, causing Ghost give a dry laugh. 

“Pussy is for good boys, Johnny,” he says, dropping down to his knees. He grips the meat of your thighs and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, ready to make you dessert. “Don’t forget that.”

[flemingology]

bundled up, pout and all ─ leah williamson x reader

in which: leah complies to wear the silly hat she knew she was going to get stick for

warnings: none, just fluffy :)

wc: 1K

a/n: based on this look. too cute I couldn't resist to write a blurb :(

“Put this on, babe. I don’t want you to get cold. Please,” you tried once more, met by another eye roll and a pout from your girlfriend.

Arsenal played the second leg of their qualifying round against BK Häcken tonight. Leah was ruled out due to concussion protocol, but she was cleared by the medical team to go watch in the stands — so she was adamant.

You had to pass this time, though. As much as you wanted to join your girlfriend and sit in the stands with her, you had to finish up on some things for work. You’d promised her you would watch the stream on tv, making sure to cheer for the girls — just as she requested.

It was a rather chilly night, though. The rain had been coming down in buckets throughout most of the day and there was a really cold breeze swiping through the air, making it slightly uncomfortable to be outside.

You had already managed to get Leah to wear a pair of earplugs, shielding her from the probably loud Arsenal fans she will be surrounded by — she might’ve been cleared to go see the game, but there was no harm in being careful.

The challenge you were facing now, though, was slightly bigger. You wanted Leah to wear a hat, to protect her from the cold — because you knew how she would be if she got a cold now while she was already sidelined.

Admittedly, it wasn’t the sexiest piece of clothing either of you owned but it would keep her warm, it would do the job, and you and her both knew she would pull it off anyway. She could pull off right about anything, let alone a slightly silly-looking hat.

“Babe, this thing looks so silly,” she grumbled in response, throwing her head back. You stepped closer to her and took her face in your hands, rubbing her cheeks affectionately. “I know, Le. But it’s for your own good. I don’t want you to catch a cold, especially now that you’re already sidelined,” you leaned in close to her ear and whispered the next part in her ear, “you and I both know how insufferable you get when you’re sick.”

Leah huffs but reluctantly tugs the piece of clothing out of your hands and puts it on, which causes a proud smile to spread across your face. “You look adorable. Now go, don’t be late,” you pressed a sweet kiss against Leah’s lips, which you wanted nothing more than to linger, but you knew this game meant a lot to her. You pushed a strand of hair that had escaped back under the hat. “I won’t be late. I love you,” she accentuated with a last chaste kiss before she was out the door.

You settled down on the couch with your laptop, waiting for the game to start while you got to work on some deadlines.

Deep into the second half, the camera had found your girlfriend and a couple teammates in the stands. You hadn’t noticed at first but a double take later, your eyes were attentively watching the screen. Your heart warmed at the sight of her, bundled up in a warm Arsenal coat, chatting away to Victoria and Steph. Much to your delight, you saw that she was still wearing her hat. You chuckled slightly, admitting that it wasn’t a particularly flattering item to put on her head — but if anything, you knew she wouldn’t be cold right now.

Before you knew it the game ended, sending Arsenal through to the group stages of the Champions League after a convincing 4-0 win against their Swedish opponents. You were happy for them, happy for Leah — she was gutted when she found out she couldn’t play this game.

The camera had found your girlfriend a couple more times post-game, some teammates making fun of the hat that was proudly sitting on top of their head — you’d seen the memes online comparing her to Smurfette and in all honesty, you found it quite funny too.

Before long, the coverage ended and you resorted to some binge-watching of a new show you’d discovered. You had a chunk of time to kill before your girlfriend would be home, knowing she’d probably hang around a bit longer than she should.

2 hours later, you finally heard a set of keys jingling outside your front door — signalling your girlfriend was finally home. You got up from the couch and turned off the tv, assuming she would probably want to head to bed immediately. You walked over from the living room to the hallway in a few quick strides. A bright smile crept onto your face when you saw your girlfriend, cheeks and nose rosy from the cold evening breeze.

“Hi baby,” she mumbled against your skin when you pulled her in for a hug. “Congrats on the win, Le. I’m so happy for you all,” you felt her chuckle against you, not making any moves to leave the safety of your embrace yet. “I didn’t have a foot in any of that today, but thanks darling. It means a lot.”

She pulled away from your hug and looked at you, eyes slowly narrowing. “This, though,” she starts and points at the hat on her head, before taking it off. “Never again.”

You bit your lip to try and hide the smile that was inevitably going to form. "Don't laugh," Leah countered before you had a chance to even say anything. "You looked adorable, Le," you tried to quip back but she didn't want any of that. "I didn't! People were making fun of it too, it was horrible," you would've thought she was being serious and genuinely thought it was horrible if it wasn't for the way the corner of her lip tugged up into a slight smile.

"At least you weren't cold, hmm," you said in your defense before you pulled her back into you and pressed a firm kiss against her lips. Leah went to deepen it, slowly manoeuvring the both of you so your back was flush against the wall, her hands roaming across your front. But you had other ideas. You sneaked under the arm that she placed against the wall to trap you in and started making your way upstairs, causing her to almost bump her face into the wall.

"Oi, that's not fair!" "Catch me if you can, Smurfette!"

[gilverrwrites]

Best friends to lovers, but it's Dick Grayson.

≈1.3K words, CWs: F!Reader, cunnilingus, dirty talk. Pet-names: Princess, baby girl, pretty girl. Rating: 18+ MINOR DNI

Your best friend Dick Grayson has no boundaries.

He helps himself to your food, swapping and changing dumplings for noodles, carrots for celery, dips his fries in your milkshake, without even asking.  

He leaves his dirty clothes in your washing hamper, ‘borrows’ your lotions, and leaves his streaming services logged in on all your devices. In the winter he puts his cold hands under your shirt, stealing your warmth, and laughs when you flinch. “But you’re so hot!” He whines, hugging you tighter, “Let me hold you a while longer, please.”

In the summer he struts around your apartment, shirtless and sheening with sweat, eating your ice cream, pumping up the AC so he and Haley can chill out post-run. Not that you mind, it’s just that ‘oh, no, he’s my best friend’ is a hard sell when you bring dates home.

At random hours of the early morning, he wakes you up by crawling into bed with you, clings to the over-sized shirt you're sleeping in that is clearly his and makes fun of your tattered old underwear. “They’re comfy!” “They’re… something...” He trails off, all dreamy and quiet, refusing to expand before falling asleep, and is gone by the time you wake up.  

Your best friend Dick Grayson brings you gifts from all over the world. Chocolates from that one mom-and-pop you once mentioned in Keystone, jewellery, and perfume he probably paid way too much for from market vendors in cities like Paris and Istanbul, risqué pieces of underwear from Milan.

On late nights, he rests his head on your tummy, settled between your thighs as you watch your favourite film series for the nth time, smiling to himself as you babble on about your favourite scenes, about facts he already knows because you already told him, but he wants to hear you say it again anyway. When you start falling asleep on the couch, he lifts you, bridal style with ease, and carries you to the bedroom. “Come on then princess, let’s get you to bed.” “I can do it myself.” “You can’t even keep your eyes open, let me.”

He brushes stray pieces of hair out of your face when you’re too engrossed in something to do it yourself, when your hands are too full to reach, or when he wants to get a better look at you, just because he loves looking at your face.

“Um, what are you doing?” He nonchalantly hooks his finger into the waistband of your trousers, disappointed when he gets a not-too-subtle peek at neither your endearing threadbare usuals, nor the lacey Italian ones he’d bought for you.

Your best friend Dick Grayson flirts with you blatant and publicly;

“The red or the blue?” “Neither.” “I have to wear something!” “I’d love to see you wearing nothing.” “Wear the blue, always the blue.” Jason would never let it go otherwise.   “What do you want?” “You.” “I meant to eat.” “Same answer.” “I could never be you.” “What? Why?” “Must be tiring, being that cute.”

He texts you when you’re not together. “Good morning pretty girl” “saw this and thought of you.” “What are you wearing?”

One day you text back a picture, a mirror selfie from behind, your skirt hiked up, showing off the tiny navy-blue thong and he doesn’t text back. You worry that you’ve taken it too far, overstepped a line. 

Until your best friend Dick Grayson is waiting for you when you arrive home, sporting a nasty black eye and a smile the size of titan tower. In actuality, that image was exactly what he’d been hoping for every time he messaged. That image had been ingrained in his mind since you sent it, and it was one thousand times better than he’d imagined. That image was his hook, time to reel you in.

“Sorry I didn’t text back, I was speechless. No really, I got this” he points to the purple bruise forming around his eye “because I was distracted, thinking about you.”

“It’s cool, you didn’t have to say anything.” You lie. “Not like you haven’t seen it all before.” 

“Can I see it again?”

In the middle of your cramped kitchen, your best friend Dick Grayson lifts your skirt above your waist and drops to his knees, brazenly eying your folds. On request, you take the skirt from his hands, holding it up, exposing yourself as you do a little twirl for him, letting him see the full picture. 

When he lands a playful smack on your ass-cheek he grins, thrilled by the playfully petulant look you fire at him over your shoulder. When he runs a finger over your clothed slit, he’s even more delighted by the way your body shivers, by the hint of wetness he can feel seeping through the thin piece of fabric.   

You don’t stop him when he hooks a finger in the crotch, pulling the obstructing lace to the side, or when he runs his fingers through your now exposed lips. Deft fingers tease you, ghosting over your clit with no real fiction, making your pussy clench around nothing. 

“Want something?” The sight of him at your feet, watching you through defiant eyes has you weak.  

“Yes, touch me.” The sight of you, spread and writhing has him near feral, but he wants something more. 

“I’m already touching you, Princess.” He laughs, his warm breath against your slick tingles. If his breath is enough to make you quiver, he can’t wait to find out what his tongue will do to you. “Ask for something else. Nicely.”

You’re not sure exactly what he wants you to say, so you stammer the first words that come to mind; “Please Dick, stop teasing. Just do whatever you want to do, I want it too.” 

It’s enough. 

Your best friend Dick Grayson lifts you by your knees, setting you on the counter and securing your thighs over his shoulders as he descends on your folds. He’s messy and desperate, unable to get enough of your sweetness, darting his tongue in every direction until he finds the select few motions that have your fingers curling in his hair, have you panting his name between loose lips.

When you start to roll your hips, using his mouth for your own pleasure he can’t help but moan, the reverb sending further vibrations through your body that has your toes curling. He’s rock hard, itching to palm his cock, to grind it against the closest surface, but that’s an afterthought. He won’t get off until he’s lapped up your climax at least once. 

“Are you gonna cum for me?” His words are slurred, muffled between your legs, unwilling to pull away long enough to get his words out cohesively. “I want you to cum all over my face, okay baby girl?”

If he wasn’t already salivating against you, Dick’s mouth would water at the sight of you. Your body begins to jerk, your back arching, head thrown back as your orgasm hits you, his firm hands tighten around your legs, locking your lower body in place until all your tension is gone, and his face is soaked with your fluids. 

As you come down from your high, he savours the flavour, occasionally licking up stray droplets from your skin. He admires the way you look, head lolled to the side, eyes static under heavy lids, jaw slack, until it’s too much, until he needs to see you high on his doing once more. Without warning he lifts you. The collar of his shirt is damp, his cheeks are flushed, his hair a mess.

“Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable for round two.” Your best friend Dick Grayson says as he cradles your body in his arms. 

[daycourtofficial]

Save your tears

Summary: Eris finds his pregnant mate sobbing because of something Lucien did

Author’s note: this is short and fun and silly and goofy, inspired by this fic by @artethyst

Lucien Vanserra considered himself to be a male who was kind and who picked up on the emotional state of those around him.

Which is why he has no idea how you began crying or what to do about it.

Ever since you had written to him a few months ago asking if he could stay in Autumn more frequently during your pregnancy, he had obliged, stopping by to see you at least once a week.

Tears were streaming down your face, and he couldn’t make out a single coherent word from you due to your blubbering. He came to sit next to you, but you put your hands on your belly, scooting further away from him.

Eris strode into the room, taking in the scene before him. You trying to stay as far away from his brother as possible, and his brother trying to get closer to you to console you.

“Lucien, what could you have possibly done to reduce my mate to a sobbing mess?”

Lucien throws his hands around, gesturing wildly, “What I did? Perhaps she’s woken from whatever spell she was under and realized who she was mated to.”

Eris gives his brother a look as he comes to you, grabbing your face gently so you look into his eyes. He takes deep slow breaths, wanting you to do the same. After a moment of deep breathing, your sobs have quieted and he asks, in an incredibly delicate tone, “What’s wrong, fawn?”

“Lucien killed a spider,” you sob out.

Lucien’s eyes widen, “that’s why you’re upset? You asked me to kill it! You were upset over it being here!”

“Yes, and now the spider’s dead and she probably had a whole spider family that is going to starve because you’re a spider murderer,” you reply, having to stop every few words to breathe. “And,” you stress, “her corpse is over there, discarded like she meant nothing.”

Eris kept his lips pressed tightly to keep from laughing at the sheer absurdity of his pregnant mate and his brother as they continued debating the morality of Lucien killing the spider. He watches his brother go to pick up the spider’s body, unlatching a window, and tossing it out before closing the window again, before turning to you, his face asking are you happy now?

You squeak at his callousness and disregard for it, asking, “is that what you shall do with me when I perish?”

Lucien rolls his eyes, “gods I don’t think I’ll be around to witness your death because all of the spiders across the land will kill me in vengeance for their fallen queen.”

Eris sits next to you, pulling you in towards his body, sending waves of love and joy through the bond to soothe you. You curl into him, grasping his shirt to cling onto.

“How could Lucien do such a thing…”

Lucien huffs before stalking off, muttering to himself about how he spends his free time in Autumn for you just to be disrespected for doing what you wanted him to.

You cry in his arms for a while, your sobs turning into hiccups. Eris places a hand on your bump, smoothing his thumb over it, applying a light heat so your babe knows who’s there.

“I think I scared Lucien away,” you finally say, voice shaky.

“Lucien is not so easily shaken. I’ve been trying for centuries to make him hate me, but my attempts are always unsuccessful.”

You smile, your sniffles the only sound for a few moments.

“If you really want Lucien to hate you, have him convicted for the murder of a spider.”

Eris’s eyes crinkle in amusement, “he would have a lot to say about that, I’m sure.”

“There aren’t many topics that he doesn’t have a lot to say on,” you smirk.

Eris stands up, his vest before extending a hand to you. You accept it, and he helps pull you up.

“I think it’d be funny if we told him we’re naming the babe Lulu,” you say, curling underneath Eris’s arm.

“I think he’d be more crushed to find out we aren’t.”

“That’s what’s funny about it.”

“Wicked, wicked female you are,” he croons, leading the two of you through the hall of the Forest House.

[velarisdusk]

Thawing Boundaries

Hockey AU | Azriel x Reader x Rhysand

Series Masterlist Part 1 <- ✦.⁺.✦.⁺.✦ -> Part 3 - Melted Resolve

word count: 11.7k content: there's so much in this one i'm bound to miss a few [ explicit sexual content, PIV (protected, a shocker for me i know), rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), voyeuristic elements, dirty talk, degradation, biting/marking, choking, light slapping, public sex (locker room setting), threesome, dominance/submission, infidelity | forced proximity, emotional conflict, dub-con (but reader does want it i promise), injury mention, strong language, and (very light) emotional manipulation and guilt-tripping ] summary: After tension from a failed move at practice leads to a teammate's injury, you and Azriel unexpectedly meet in the locker room. As you share a heated moment, a surprise arrival heightens the stakes, leading to a steamy, forbidden encounter that leaves you questioning your choices and their consequences. author's note: AAAAAAAAA? tysm for all the love on Ice Cold Jealousy, this was so fun to write i hope yall like it >;) i might've gone too hard on the dirty talk depending on the type of person you are but idc it's hot OH and i PROMISE these wont all take place in the locker room lmfao, it's just where the plot took me. also, no dp dont get your hopes up.

On the ice, chaos reigns. The game unfolds at breakneck speed, the puck zipping from stick to stick, its path unpredictable. Players shift positions in the blink of an eye, changing possession in heartbeats. Their movements are a blur of speed and precision, leaving you struggling to keep up with the rapid-fire action. 

With 15 seconds left, the Golden Spring Griffins were up 3-2. There was no need to score again — they just had to keep possession. A bunch of show-offs…

And right there was the proof. 

A pass from one of their wingers to the other, cutting it mighty close to the Snowvale Sentinels’ defensive line. He rode it along the left side of the rink for about ten feet before an abrupt 180; clockwise, getting up close and personal with the defenseman who’d chased him down the whole play. The defenseman struck his stick down between the other player and the puck, expecting him to double back around. 

Everyone expected him to double back around.

But there he was — Tamlin, you believed was his name — skating backward for a second, letting the momentum carry him along his path. And he finished out his clockwise turn. Turn back down the ice? Not a chance. It was the perfect opportunity for a spin-o-rama. What a silly name for such a calculated move. What he did next had the arena and fans watching from everywhere on their feet. 

It was common practice to pass after a spin-o-rama, the maneuver simply meant to disorient any nearby opposition if a player was ever in a tough spot. Whoever he passed to would be expected to, as quickly as possible, either go for the shot or pass to someone who could. The downside was that this not only gave the opposing team time to figure out what was happening but to adjust accordingly as well. 

So Tamlin didn’t give them that chance. 

Immediately after coming out of his spin, he brought his stick back, and in a flash, thrust it forward. You could’ve sworn you heard the blade hit the ice just before the puck, and—

Red light. Goal.

Buzzer. That’s game.  

A spin-o-rama, a risky maneuver as is, followed by a slapshot, one of the strongest but least accurate shots, as you’d heard Cassian remind his team countless times over the years.

It was all so fast.

You focus on his footwork throughout the turn, absorbing every detail.

Again, you watch, slower this time, and notice the precise angle of the blade.

Looking up, you see Tarquin attempting the very same move, Cassian standing in as an opposing player. You tap your phone screen, pausing the ESPN stream of last night’s game. You’d gotten your fill of it last night. Lifting the soup spoon from the pot to your lips, you’d very nearly burnt yourself after how badly you’d jumped at Cassian’s exaggerated gasp at the television. For what had to have been at least an hour following, you were subject to the full-volume gushes and shouts of every last one of the Vipers during their group FaceTime. They were playing the Griffins in a couple of weeks. Though they didn’t have a particularly bitter history, their rivalry always had a bit of an edge to it.

It made sense that during practice today, Cassian was on their asses more than usual. The priority for the next couple of days was to teach Tarquin and Rhysand the maneuver (while trying to master it himself), to then teach the others how to counter it. 

Practice ended over half an hour ago, but they still had some time on the ice before Phil the Zamboni Guy came out to resurface it. He was cool, if a bit grouchy-looking.

“Fuck!” 

He was fine regarding the first half of the move, but coming out of the spin, none of his slapshots made it into the net. Hell — none of them made it past Cassian. 

“Again,” he said, firmly but coolly. In response, Tarquin wordlessly skated back to his starting position down ice, head lazily flopped back and arms loose by his sides. 

“Where’s Rhys? Isn’t he supposed to be here too?” Tarquin groaned, shifting back into proper stance. 

“Rhysie’s got a little date tonight,” you could hear the smirk in your boyfriend’s voice, followed by a sound of exaggerated, definitely insincere, enthusiasm from Tarquin. 

Your phone buzzes, a text from Mor.

Karaoke tn?

Truly, you had plans. Plans to stay home and watch bad TLC shows with a large bottle of chilled wine. But really, how bad would it be? You’d be drinking either way. Karaoke is not a sober activity.

uhh

where at?

After a few moments, another buzz, a text with an address, followed by a “Pleaseeeee (y/n), it’s so fun when you come :( I need someone to debrief and shit talk with after.” You roll your eyes with a small snort. Tapping on the address link, the map opens to show you it’s a nice little spot downtown, hopefully better than the sketchy karaoke place you’d followed her to last time.

sure why n-

Your screen goes black. You sigh, realizing you’ve drained your battery watching replays and scrolling through socials during the long practice session. 

Bringing your gaze back up, you notice the palpable frustration radiating from both men. You’ve never seen Tarquin so angry during practice; things usually came quite easily to him. When his next slapshot makes it past Cassian but bounces off the crossbar, you’re stunned. Even more shocking is the feral growl that echoes throughout the arena. You watch, astonished, as he violently hurls his helmet onto the ice. He skates off, fuming, before storming off down the hall. To cool down, you presume. 

Cassian skates over to you, and you meet him at the players’ bench to avoid talking through the glass.

“That move is gonna give us all hell,” Cassian sighs, removing his helmet and running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

You nod sympathetically. “It looked tricky. Tarquin seemed pretty frustrated,” you say, stating the obvious. You both share a knowing smile. 

“Yeah… But we’ll get it down,” he says, determination creeping into his voice. “Can’t take as long as the backhand saucer pass with Eris. Remember how many times he nearly took Az’s head off before he got it right?”

You chuckle a bit at the memory. He’d gotten the pass down fairly quickly. The issue was applying it. They’d spend about a week of practice setting up different game situations for him to practice the move. 

Azriel got hit with the puck several times. 

“You look good out there,” you told him with a coy smile. 

“When do I not?”

“When you’re being a narcissist,” you scoff. A blatant lie; he knew you liked your men cocky.

Cassian leans closer, a roguish grin spreading across his face. “Narcissist? Please. It’s not narcissism if it’s true.” He winks, then adds in a lower voice, “Besides, I seem to recall you enjoying my… confidence quite thoroughly last night.”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress a smile. “And here I thought your ego couldn’t get any bigger. Guess I’ll have to find a way to take you down a peg or two later.”

Cassian leans against the boards, his grin widening. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease, mirroring his posture.

He relents, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You’re something else, babe, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” you reply with a wink. “Though usually by guys who can’t keep up.”

“Oh, I think I manage just fine,” Cassian counters, a glint in his eye.

You’re about to respond when his stomach lets out an audible growl. He looks down, slightly embarrassed, and you both chuckle, the moment lightening.

Cassian says, rubbing the back of his neck, “What are you thinking for dinner tonight?”

“Oh, actually,” you start, “I’m going to karaoke with Mor. And some of her friends, I think? I’ll grab something while I’m out.”

Cassian nods, “Sounds fun. Tell Mor I said hi.”

“My phone died while I was texting her. Mind if I use yours to let her know?”

“Sure thing,” Cassian replies, reaching over the wall for his duffel.

Suddenly, the sharp sounds of blades scraping ice cuts through the air. You both turn to see Tarquin charging full speed with the puck toward center ice. His helmet’s off, hair windswept, determination etched on his features. You can’t help but admire the raw athleticism on display as he turns his back to the goal, his footwork mirroring Tamlin’s from the video. 

You inhale sharply. As he initiates the spin, his blade catches the edge of the puck instead of gliding past it. In a split second, his ankle twists at a sickening angle. His body, still carrying the momentum of the spin, topples sideways. You watch in horror as Tarquin crashes onto the ice, a cry of pain echoing through the arena.

Tarquin clutches his ankle, his features twisted in distress. Cassian immediately rushes towards him. You follow, carefully stepping onto the ice, your shoes sliding slightly as you try to keep your balance.  As you near, you hear Rhysand’s voice from the direction of the locker room. “What happened?” he shouts, running towards the scene. 

Rhysand, more sure-footed, reaches you first. As you slip slightly on the ice, his hand finds your lower back, the other on your shoulder, steadying you as he moves swiftly by. He slides to his knees the last few feet, joining Cassian at Tarquin’s side. You follow, more cautiously, moments later. 

“You gotta let me get a look at it bro,” Cassian tells him, face grim as he gently probes at Tarquin’s ankle. He moves his hand, and Cassian carefully unlaces Tarquin’s skate. The process is slow, each tug causing him to wince. His eyes, usually so bright, are now clouded with pain, making your heart ache a little at the sight. When Cassian finally eases the skate off, you all grimace. It’s silent save for the breath you suck in through your teeth. The two men kneeling over Tarquin shoot you a look, and you mouth a small “sorry”. How were you supposed to know they were trying to keep calm? It’s not like Tarquin was some fragile rookie who couldn’t handle it. 

“I don’t think it’s broken,” Tarquin tells them, jaw clenching and nostrils flaring a bit in pain when Cassian tries to move his ankle. “Probably just a sprain, right?”

His ankle is already swelling, an angry red color blooming across the skin. The area around the bone looks puffy and distorted. 

“Yeah… Yeah, probably—help me get him to my truck,” Cassian says to Rhysand, his voice tense with worry. With Cassian supporting his legs and Rhysand at his shoulders, Tarquin cradles his ankle as they lift him. It’s a bit awkward with only one of them in skates but they manage. 

As they carry him towards the exit, Tarquin calls out to you, his voice strained with pain. “(Y/N)! Can you grab my phone from my locker? 1418, combination’s 19-21-13.”

“Got it,” you reply assertively, already turned away. You call back to Cassian, “Just go, I’ll meet you there!”

You hurry down the hallway, your mind racing faster than your feet. The image of Tarquin’s swollen ankle flashes in your mind, making you cringe. How bad was it really? A sprain could mean a few weeks of recovery, but if it was fractured or worse…

As you near the locker room, you force yourself to focus. 1418, 19-21-13. You repeat the numbers in your head, determined not to forget them in your rush. 

The quiet empty corridor feels eerie after the chaos on the ice. You find yourself wondering how Tarquin is holding up, if he’s in much pain. A pang of sympathy hits you — you’ve seen how passionate he is about the game, how hard he pushes himself. Memories of his intense focus during practices, the way his muscles flex as he glides across the ice, his infectious smile, the droplets of water trailing down his chest after a shower…

You quickly push those thoughts aside, feeling a mix of guilt and a confusing thrill at the unbidden images. 

Reaching the locker room door, you push it open without hesitation, your eyes already scanning for locker 1418. 

You spot it quickly enough, your fingers flying over the combination lock. 19-21-13. The locker swings open with a metallic creak. You rummage through the contents, pushing aside gym clothes and equipment until your hand closes around the familiar shape of a phone. 

As you’re about to shut the locker and race back to your car, something catches your eye. Pinned to the inside of the door is a Polaroid — one you took at the team’s annual log cabin retreat last year. The guys are shirtless, grinning at the camera, their arms slung around each other’s shoulders. Cassian stands in the middle, all flexed biceps and confidence, Rhysand to his right and Tarquin on his left with matching, easygoing smiles that you’ve internally swooned at more than once. Azriel, always a bit more reserved than the others, stands slightly behind them, his eyes soft with a rare moment of unguarded joy. Helion and Eris flank the group, their expressions reflecting a mix of mischief and amusement. That was moments before they’d picked Cassian up and thrown him into the lake. You can’t help but smile, remembering the weekend’s camaraderie and the close quarters, the obstacle course that left you all covered in mud and laughing, the impromptu swimming races in the lake, and the countless moments of playful teasing. The cabin’s single bathroom had led to more than a few flustered encounters. You’d lost count of how many times you’d rounded the corner, only to collide with one of the guys fresh from the shower, hair dripping, towel barely clinging to their hips. Each of them had caught you off guard at least once over the years, leaving you to save face and will yourself not to stare.

Your reminiscing is abruptly cut short by a strained sound echoing through the room. You freeze, suddenly aware of the steady hiss of running water. How long have the showers been on? You were so focused on finding the phone, you hadn’t even noticed… Another noise like the last, this one a bit louder. 

Concern creeps in as you wonder if someone else has gotten hurt. First Tarquin, now this? What is it with today? Cautiously, you move towards the showers, ears straining for any more sounds. The rush of water grows louder as you approach. Only the stall at the far end, against the back wall, is running. You notice a small gap between the curtain and the wall, and before you can stop yourself, your eyes are drawn to it. 

Through the narrow space, you catch a glimpse of Azriel. His back is turned, muscles tense, shoulders slightly hunched, his head bowed. There’s a rhythmic quality to his movements that takes you a moment to comprehend. When realization dawns, you feel heat rush to your face.

You know you should leave, give him privacy, but you find yourself frozen in place. The steam seems to thicken the air around you, making it harder to breathe. Suddenly you’re acutely aware of your quickening pulse and the warmth spreading through your body.

Azriel’s back muscles ripple with each movement, the water cascading down his tanned skin, highlighting every ridge and contour. His left hand is splayed flat against the wall for support, fingers flexing slightly every now and then. The muscles in his arm contract and release, contract and release. His right hand, lower and out of view, works in a steady, practiced motion.

You can’t tear your eyes away from the interplay of muscles across his shoulders and back. His wet hair clings to his neck, droplets trailing down to join the rivulets streaming along his spine. Your gaze travels further downward, following the water’s path over the powerful curve of his glutes, the firm muscles clenching with each movement. His legs, strong and slightly apart for balance, show every shift in weight and tension, every flex and release. 

The sight is intoxicating. A flush creeps up your neck, a reaction that’s as involuntary as it is intense. Azriel lets out a low, throaty sound of pleasure, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You’re rooted to the spot, every sense heightened. The steam swirls around you, seemingly thickening the air, making it harder to breathe. The sound of water rushing fills your ears, drowning out rational thought. You can almost feel the heat radiating from his body, the sheer presence of him a magnet pulling you closer.

Suddenly, Azriel’s movements still, and you notice the subtle tension in his muscles. He turns his head slightly, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his profile. For a moment, you hope he hasn’t seen you, but then his eyes lock onto yours through the small gap. His gaze is intense, piercing, and you can see the realization dawning in his expression.

You feel your heart stop, your breath hitching in your throat. The room seems to shrink around you, the air heavy all of a sudden. Azriel’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smile, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Didn’t expect company,” he says, voice low and husky, cutting through the sound of the shower like a knife.

You stumble back a step, heat flooding your face. “I— Fuck, I’m sorry,” you push out, unable to tear your eyes away from him. From those eyes. He doesn’t move, just continues to watch you, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. 

You finally force yourself to move, turning quickly and beelining for the door. “I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t trying to—” you stammer over your shoulder, your heart racing. You reach for the door handle and tug, but it doesn’t budge. Panic flares as you yank harder, but it’s stuck. You slide Tarquin’s phone into your jacket pocket to use both hands.

“Seriously?” you mutter under your breath, trying not to think about what Azriel must be thinking of you right now. 

You hear the sound of footsteps approaching. Your pulse quickens as you keep tugging on the door handle. “You don’t have to pretend it’s locked if you wanna stay in here with me, y’know,” Azriel’s voice comes from behind you, closer now.

You glance back to see him walking towards you, a towel in hand, drying his forearms and hands. The towel barely preserves his modesty, exposing everything from his muscular thighs to the sharp cut of his hip bones and a tantalizing glimpse of his V-line. He’s casual, almost nonchalant, but his eyes never leave yours, dark with amusement and something more.

“I was—” you start, but he cuts you off, raising a brow.

“Enjoying the show?” he asks, voice smooth and teasing.

You manage to arch a brow as well, trying to maintain some of your dignity as you respond, “Didn’t realize you were putting on a performance.”

Azriel chuckles, a deep, rich sound. “For you, (y/n)? I’d put on a private performance anytime.”

You feel your face start to heat up again, but you keep your composure. “How generous of you.”

He grins, finally wrapping the towel around his waist, the movement slow and deliberate. It takes everything in you to keep your gaze from traveling downward. “I aim to please,” he says.

You gesture to the door with your arm. “Since you’re so helpful, how about getting this door open?”

Azriel steps closer, lightly brushing his fingers against your arm as he moves you gently aside. “Let’s see what we have here,” he murmurs, his touch making its way to your waist and lingering a moment longer than necessary.

He gives the handle a firm tug. It doesn’t budge for him either. After a few more tries, he furrows his brows at it, as if it’ll give him an answer. “You weren’t kidding…”

“Shocking, I know,” you reply, rolling your eyes.

As he continues trying the door, you can’t help but be captivated by the muscles rippling in his arms, each sinew flexing with effort. Your eyes wander to the brutal scars crisscrossing his hands, remnants of a fateful game well before your time with the team. But you can’t help but imagine how those roughened fingers would feel inside you. The thought has you biting your lip to keep from sighing.

Azriel’s movements falter, and he glances back at you, a smirk playing on his lips. You quickly divert your eyes, feeling the intensity of his gaze. His smirk widens as he steps closer, his presence overwhelming. He places a hand on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing the side of your neck gently before his grip tightens, almost possessively. “Catch your attention?” His voice drops to a whisper, the rasp sending jolts of arousal through you. 

“Come on, Az…” you murmur weakly, turning your head away from him. His hand moves from your shoulder to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?” he asks, head cocked as he leans in to whisper in your ear. “You can never keep your eyes off of me for long, you make it so obvious.”

Your breath hitches as his fingers trail down your arm, sending a chill through your body. He leans in even closer, his lips almost grazing your skin. “Are you imagining what I could do for you that he can’t? Because I think about it more than I care to admit,” he continues, his voice a low rumble. 

Cass.

Your mind screams his name, but your body is rooted to the spot. Cassian is waiting for you, the urgency of the situation pulling at you like a lifeline. Yet here you stand, trapped in Azriel’s intoxicating presence, the steam in the air persistent. 

“You look tense, (y/n)” Azriel pulls back, his voice low and smooth, a dark melody that raises goosebumps across your skin. His hand moves to your waist, fingers tracing the curve of your hip over your skirt. “Is it because of Cass?”

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. “Azriel. I need to go. He’s waiting for me.”

Azriel’s lips curl into a knowing smile as his hand slides lower, toying with the hem of your skirt. “Is he?” he asks, his tone teasing.

Your breath catches as his fingers dip beneath the hem, just enough to tease, “Az, please,” you murmur, though the conviction in your voice is waning.

“Please what?” Azriel’s hand moves with slow, deliberate intent, his touch both tender and possessive. “Please stop? Or please don’t stop?”

Your mind is a whirlwind as his touch makes your pulse race. “Cassian,” you whisper, almost a plea. 

“Cassian doesn’t have to know,” Azriel whispers, his voice dripping with reassurance, each word a gentle caress against your skin. “It’ll be our little secret. I promise.”

You should resist, should want to resist, to pull away and run to Cassian. But his hand slips up, under your skirt, fingers brushing over the thin fabric of your tights. Your body betrays you, squeezing your thighs together, a barely perceptible, breathy whine escaping you.

“We can’t,” you breathe out with a barely visible shake of your head, but you don’t push him away. 

“And why not, hm?” He sounds like he’s hardly there, enraptured by the trail of his fingers when they find the waistline of your tights, slipping just beneath the hem to caress your skin directly. 

You grab his wrist to stop him, and it’s only then that you tear your eyes away from his to look at the sight. His hand is under your skirt, the fabric draped over his wrist. The fabric is lifted just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your underwear if he were to lower his gaze. 

Your heart pounds as you struggle to maintain your resolve. “This isn’t right,” you whisper, your voice betraying the war raging within you. 

Azriel’s fingers pause. “Isn’t it?” he asks softly, his voice a soothing murmur. “It feels right, doesn’t it?”

His tone is gentle, almost coaxing. “We’re just sharing a moment,” he continues, his breath warm against your skin. “No one has to know.”

Your grip on his wrist weakens, the conflict within you intensifying with each second. His words, his touch — they’re all weaving a spell around you, pulling you closer. 

Azriel senses your hesitation and presses his advantage, his hand resuming its slow, deliberate movements. “Just let go,” he whispers, his voice a dark promise. “Let me make you feel good.” 

Your resolve crumbles as his touch becomes more insistent, his fingers tracing patterns of fire on your skin. The forbidden thrill of his touch, the intoxicating promise of pleasure — it’s too much to resist.

With a soft gasp, you finally give in, your back arching as your chest presses into him. “Azriel,” you breathe, but it’s different than before. This time, his name tumbles from your lips as both a surrender and a plea. 

Azriel’s smile is triumphant as he captures your lips in a searing kiss, his hands roaming freely now, exploring every inch of you. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in this heated, forbidden moment.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. Part of your mind screams at you to stop, to push him away, but the way his hands move, the way his lips taste… It’s intoxicating. The guilt gnaws at you, but the desire is overwhelming, drowning out any sense of right or wrong when his hand slips further into the waistband of your tights, his fingers brushing against your panties. He rubs you through the fabric, and as a soft moan escapes your lips, a groan leaves his. The sensation is electric, a pleasure and forbidden thrill that makes your knees weak. You clutch at his shoulders, torn between the need to push him away and the desire to pull him closer.

You gasp, his name a breathless whisper on your lips. He responds with a low, satisfied hum, his fingers working, pushing you further into your haze. His touch is both gentle and demanding, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. You feel his warm breath against your neck as his lips trail down, leaving a blazing path in their wake. Your body craves more, hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm against his hand. He doesn’t stop, each stroke deliberate and intoxicating. Your breaths come faster, and you tangle your fingers into his still-dripping hair, pulling him back up for a frenzied kiss.

Desperation takes over as you both rush to tear off your clothes. Your jacket falls to the floor with a distant thud, Tarquin’s phone still in the pocket. The sound barely registers in your mind, consumed as you are by the urgent need to feel Azriel’s skin on yours. His hands move with practiced ease, pulling your shirt up and off, your lips hardly separating. His fingers work deftly at the clasp of your bra, and with a single motion, it comes undone, falling away to reveal your bare skin. 

As you kick off your shoes, his lips are already back on your neck, biting, licking, aching for a taste. You step backward, the backs of your thighs brushing against the wall as he tugs down your skirt and tights in one forceful, fluid motion, the urgency in his actions mirrored by your own racing heartbeat. Each step backward leaves a piece of clothing discarded. He pauses, his eyes dark with desire as he takes you in, then his fingers resume their exploration, sliding beneath your panties to rub you directly. You gasp, arching further into his touch, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same intensity as his fingers. He pulls back his hand, peeling away and discarding the last bit of cloth. He lifts you then, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. As you both step towards the shower, you hear the soft thud of Azriel’s towel hitting the floor. He guides you closer, the anticipation building with each step. The spray of water hits your skin, and for a moment you're confused.

Azriel’s voice, low and reassuring, cuts through the hiss of the water. “Some privacy,” he murmurs against your lips, a sly smile playing on his face. “In case we get rescued.”

The water cascades over you both. You cling to him, lost in the sensation, the guilt and doubt taking a backseat. His hands roam freely, caressing every inch of your body with a possessive tenderness. His lips trail down your neck, your collarbone, your chest. His fingers find your clit again, circling in slowly, teasingly. You moan into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his kiss.

“You feel so good around my fingers,” Azriel growls against your lips. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your breaths are nothing more than shallow gasps, each one punctuated by the delicious friction of his fingers. “Az,” you moan, trying to keep your voice low. “I need more.”

He smirks, his lips brushing against your ear. “Oh, are you going to beg for it?” A deep hum. “I want to hear those sweet little moans louder, baby, can you do that for me?”

You can’t help but comply, your moans finally growing from whispered gasps as his fingers move faster, curl harder. “Fuck— Yes, Azriel, right there,” you choke out, the last remnant of common sense in you still minding your volume. 

“That’s it,” he purrs. “You’re so fucking perfect like this, falling apart on my hand.” His thumb steadily circles your throbbing clit. 

Your hands grasp at his shoulders for something to anchor yourself with as the pleasure builds. “Please Az,” you whimper, your voice trembling with need. “I’m so close,” you tell him, a hint of disbelief in your tone.

“Come for me, angel,” he commands, a glint in his eyes. “Show me how good I make you feel.”

Your body tenses, the pleasure cresting, and you let out a strangled cry, a hand over your mouth stifling it. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, and his name spills from your lips, a breathless chant, as he continues to touch you, prolonging the pleasure.

“That was… wow…” you pant as you come down from your high.

“Good,” he says, his fingers slowing but not stopping. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you can respond, he moves his hand from your breast to your mouth, holding his fingers up to your lips. “Suck,” is all he says. And you do. You take his fingers in, swirling your tongue around them, coating them in your saliva. “You look so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, looking down at you with slightly parted lips. “So perfect.”

He pulls out of you, but just as you’re about to whine around his fingers at the loss, you see him bring them to his own mouth, and you whine at that instead. He groans and his eyes roll back when he tastes you, and the sight sends a rush of need to your core. “Azriel,” you mumble around his fingers, the word muffled. 

“Shh, angel,” he soothes, his voice a low rumble. “Just let me take care of you.” His fingers leave your mouth, trailing down your body. Both of his hands come to rest on your hips, squeezing the flesh there. He turns you suddenly, pulling your back flush against his front, and his arms wrap around you. One hand slides between your legs, resuming its torment, while the other moves to cover your mouth.

“Quiet now,” he whispers. “Wouldn’t want anyone walking by outside to hear us, right?”

You nod, hardly processing what he’d said. Your concentration is set on the feel of his toned abdominal muscles pressed against your back. 

“You said Cass was waiting for you, right?” he whispers in your ear, the sensation without being able to see him being all the more delicious, but your eyes widen at his words. You let out a frustrated groan, much louder than the noises you made before, though it’s muffled by his hand. “Doesn’t seem like you care too much anymore… What if he comes looking for you? Hm? What then? Gotta keep quiet for me, okay?” You can practically hear the smile in his voice. “For all we know, he could be right outside the door, worried sick about his sweet little (y/n).”

Your heart races at his words, fear and excitement coursing through you. Azriel’s fingers move faster, his hand stifling your moans. “Imagine the look on his face if he found you like this,” he continues. “So needy, so desperate for my touch.”

You shiver, his words igniting a forbidden thrill within you, far surpassing the teasing and casual touches Cassian permitted them all. “Please…” It’s so muffled behind his hand, but he hears you perfectly.

“Please what?” he murmurs, his fingers continuing to thrust in and out of you. “Please make you come again? Or please stop before Cassian catches us?”

Your mind is a whirlwind, the thought of Cassian finding you like this both terrifying and exhilarating. Azriel loosens his hand long enough to hear your response. “Make me come,” you finally whisper, your voice trembling with need. “Please, Azriel.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, his fingers moving with relentless precision. “I want to feel you come for me again.”

You’re teetering on the edge of another orgasm, every nerve ending alight with sensation. The only sounds in the room are the running water, your ragged breaths, and the wet, slick sounds of his fingers working in and out of you at a punishing speed. Just as you’re about to reach the peak, you hear it — a faint squeak of a sneaker on the tiled floor.

Your eyes snap open, panic mingling with the pleasure. Azriel falters for a beat, barely half a second, but doesn’t stop, his hand tightening over your mouth. “Shh,” he whispers right into your ear, his voice dark and heavy with authority. “Don’t make a sound.”

You’re caught in a delicious torment, the fear of being seen only heightening your arousal. The footsteps grow louder, and closer, and then, abruptly, the curtain is yanked open.

Rhysand stands there, eyes wide with shock, then with something else as his eyes rake over your body. His eyes meet yours, then shift to Azriel behind you, his hand still buried between your legs, still moving in and out. A smile creeps onto Rhysand’s face and he crosses his arms, leaning against the wall with a short breath of a laugh. 

“Does Cass know you’ve got her here like this?” He juts his chin at you.

Azriel smirks, his fingers still working inside you. “What do you think?”

Rhysand chuckles, his eyes roaming over your body with a detached curiosity. “You think he’ll have you skate lines for this?” he muses. His gaze travels up and down your form, lingering on the places where Azriel’s hands are touching you, but his face remains a mask of calm. Yet you notice his knuckles turning white where he’s squeezing his hands into tight fists. 

“Probably. And you’d probably be right there next to me just for seeing her like this,” Azriel replies nonchalantly, only a hint of the raspiness he spoke to you with before remains. “But I think it’s worth it.”

Rhysand nods, his eyes darkening with a predatory gleam. “She’s quite the sight isn’t she?” he says, as if you weren’t even there, as if you were nothing more than a piece of art to be admired and discussed. His gaze meets yours, and you see the raw hunger lurking beneath his cool exterior. It excites you, makes your muscles clench around Azriel’s fingers. 

Azriel hums in agreement, fingers curling inside you, drawing a muffled moan from your lips. “Cass is lucky to have her.”

Rhysand's eyes remain fixed on you, a predatory gleam in their depths. He doesn't say anything more, just watches intently as Azriel continues his ministrations. You cling to Azriel's arms, your nails digging into his skin, the need to come overwhelming you.

"That's it, angel," Azriel murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "Get yours, go ahead."

You can see Rhysand hardening in his pants, his cool demeanor betraying nothing but his body telling a different story. The sight only heightens your arousal, pushing you closer to the edge. 

With a final, desperate cry, you shatter around Azriel's fingers, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. He holds you through it, his fingers never stopping until you're trembling and spent.

As you come down from your high, Rhysand steps closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "Mind if I join?" he asks, but his question is directed at you, not Azriel.

You hesitate, the conflict clear in your eyes. Azriel tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. "It's okay," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "You want this, don't you?"

You swallow hard, then nod slowly. Rhysand's eyes darken with satisfaction as he begins to strip, his movements unhurried.

Azriel’s fingers finally slip out of you, and he gently guides you to lean back against the shower wall and he kneels before you, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder. The warm water cascades over you both, heightening the intimacy. Between your thighs, eyes locked on yours, he starts to kiss a trail up your inner thigh. “You’ve been such a good girl for me,” he murmurs against your skin. “You ready to be good for Rhys too?”

Rhysand, now fully undressed, steps into the stall with a lazy confident stride. He lowers himself beside Azriel, his eyes devouring the sight of you. You can’t help but look away from the sight of both of them admiring your most intimate parts. “Look at you ,” Rhysand says, his voice dripping with approval, and you whine in embarrassment as he spreads your sex. “So beautiful.”

Azriel’s mouth replaces his fingers, his tongue flicking out to taste you, and you gasp, your hands tangling in his hair. Rhysand stands, his hands cupping your breasts with a thumb circling your nipple, eliciting a soft moan from you. “So fucking good,” he murmurs, leaning in to capture your lips in a searing kiss. 

His lips are even softer than you imagined, his hands both tender and firm, exactly as you’d fantasized. Azriel’s tongue works with expert precision, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. Rhysand’s hand trails down your body, his fingers joining Azriel’s mouth between your legs, and the combination of their touches drives you wild. 

“Does that feel good, angel?” Azriel asks, his voice vibrating against your core. 

You nod, unable to say anything more than a quiet ‘uh-huh’.  Rhysand’s lips travel to your neck, sucking gently on the sensitive skin there. Your heart shoots up into your throat, hoping they thought about leaving you free of any marks. “You look so perfect like this,” he whispers, his breath hot against your neck. “Tell us what you need, darling,” Rhysand says softly, gently. 

“Both of you,” you manage to gasp out, your voice trembling. “I need both of you.”

Azriel’s laugh is low and wicked as he pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with amusement, chin slick with your wetness. “Hear that, Rhys? She can’t get enough — she’s fuckin’ begging for it.”

Rhysand’s fingers trail slowly over your skin, away from your most sensitive, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I know, so needy,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Poor Cassian. Does he know what a slut you are for us? How you’re dripping and ready the second we touch you?”

Azriel’s hands move to your hips, gripping them firmly. “I bet he’s pacing right now, worried sick about his sweet little (y/n),” he taunts, his breath fanning over your pulsing cunt. “And here you are, begging for us to fuck you. Does that make you wet, (y/n)? Knowing he’s waiting?”

You whimper, the heat of their words igniting your shame. “I don’t— It— No,” your eyes turn glassy with tears. You should leave, should somehow get through that door and run to Cassian and confess everything, beg for his forgiveness, and pray he doesn’t leave you for betraying his trust. But the need, the raw desire coursing through you, Azriel’s face between your legs, keeps you rooted to the spot. Before you can wonder how Rhysand even got in, he speaks up, his voice dripping with amusement. “Look at you, stuttering and trembling. You can’t even admit it to yourself, can you? That being a good, filthy little slut behind his back turns you on.”

Azriel chuckles against your core, the vibrations sending shivers through you. “He’s right, isn’t he, angel? Answer him,” he commands, tongue and fingers working in tandem. Then Rhysand’s lips suck and bite at your breast, his hand squeezing at the other. It all pushes you to the brink of your sanity. You can’t deny it anymore. The very thought of betraying Cassian while being worshipped by his two best friends, their words and touch stripping away your hesitance, is intoxicating. The way their voices tease and command, the way their hands and mouths worship your body — every sensation, every whisper, is a direct line to your deepest desires. 

With a moan, you finally give in, your voice barely more than a breathless murmur as a single tear falls from your eye. “Yes… God, yes, it turns me on so much…” Your admission hangs heavy in the air for a few moments. Azriel’s eyes gleam with a dark satisfaction, and Rhysand’s smirk widens as if he’s just won some grand prize. The air around you crackles with their shared triumph, and they each seem to revel in having been able to extract the confession from you. 

Rhysand’s fingers continue to slide over your skin, his touch commanding and sure, and Azriel shrugs your leg off his shoulder as he stands and steps aside. “Want to feel her, Rhys? She’s perfect.” He doesn’t hesitate for a moment, pushing his middle and ring fingers into you, a groan escaping him at the feel of you.

“Damn… I can’t wait to stuff you full, (y/n). Do you want that? Want us both to fuck you so good, don’t you?”

You must have whined out your boyfriend’s name, because Azriel’s voice adds, “You know we won’t tell if you don’t. Cassian doesn’t need to know about this, right?” His hand comes up to move a wet strand of hair from your face and stays on the back of your neck, thumb rubbing your skin soothingly. 

Rhysand’s fingers pump into you deeply now. Their faces are both so close to yours and it takes everything in you to continue to listen to what they’re saying. “That’s right, darling. It’s our little secret, just the three of us.”

“You’re doing so well, angel,” Azriel praises. “Just let Rhys take care of you. We’re here for you.”

“Cassian doesn’t need to know. It’s just us.”

“No one else needs to be involved. It’s our little secret.”

Their voices are thick with charm. It’s meant to soothe, to let you know this is a safe space where your desires are understood and indulged. You find yourself lost in their promises, in their intoxicating reassurance. It all creates a heady mix of emotions, drawing you deeper into the experience and further away from any thoughts of right or wrong.

Suddenly, Rhysand lifts your leg, hooking your knee into the crook of his arm. You gasp in surprise, hands grasping for any point of contact with them to keep yourself from falling. One grabs Rhysand’s bicep, the other lands on Azriel’s shoulder. His voice grows more urgent as he teases your slit with the head of his cock, his breath hot and demanding. “Remember, this is all for you. It’s just us making sure you get everything you want. Okay?”

It’s silent save for the spray of water around you all, and their eyes bore into yours expectantly. They were waiting. If you really didn’t want to do this, this was the moment to give the word. But the intensity of their gaze, the heated promises in their voices, and the way their bodies are pressed so close to yours make it nearly impossible to think clearly. The urgency in Rhysand’s voice and the steady reassurance from Azriel leave you trembling in anticipation. The pressure of their touches, the pleasure, the guilt, the need.

A soft, trembling “Yes” escapes your lips, barely audible, but it’s enough. Rhysand’s eyes light up with satisfaction, and he immediately begins to position himself more firmly, his movements confident and assured. 

Azriel’s hand continues to soothe your neck, his thumb stroking gently as he leans in closer. “That’s it,” he sighs absently.

But you reach out and grab Rhysand by the wrist, stopping him. Their expressions shift to confusion; surprise and concern evident on their faces. You pause, a note of urgency in your voice. “Condom,” you manage to say, clearly and firmly. 

Their features seem to relax a bit at that. They exchange a glance, and Azriel nods slightly before stepping away to fetch condoms from his locker.

Rhysand takes the opportunity to lean in closer, a genuine softness in his eyes as he looks at you. He gently places a hand on your cheek, his expression turning serious. “(Y/n), if you’re having any second thoughts, you can tell us. We can stop right here if you’re not completely sure, if you’re not comfortable.”

He pauses, giving you a moment to respond, his gaze unwavering and sincere. “We want you to feel good and to be sure about what you’re doing. If you want us to stop, we’ll stop. No questions asked.”

You distantly hear Azriel throw a locker shut. “Rhys… If I didn’t want this, you wouldn’t still have my leg over your arm.”

Rhysand gives a soft smile. “Alright, then.” He leans in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. It felt more intimate than the situation warranted. “Just making sure.”

Azriel returns holding a string of condom wrappers, and steps back into the shower, pulling the curtain shut behind him. Rhysand takes a foil square from him, opening it slowly. Azriel’s hands roam your body, his touch both grounding and electrifying. “We’re going to take our time with you,” he whispers, his breath against your ear. “Make sure you feel every second.”

You look down, watching Rhysand line himself back up, and your breath hitches. He’s big, the thickness of him daunting. The sight sends a thrill of anticipation through you, albeit with a touch of apprehension. He digs his fingers into your hips, the tip of his cock pushing up against your entrance. “Just relax, it’s alright,” he soothes you as he begins to push in, stretching you in ways that leave you breathless. The initial sensation is intense, pleasure and a slight burn as your body adjusts to his size. Every inch that presses into you feels like pure ecstasy. Your fingers tighten on each of them, your eyes wide and not once leaving Rhysand’s.

Azriel’s hand slides from your waist to your lower back, his touch featherlight but reassuring. As Rhysand pushes deeper, Azriel’s fingers trace the sensitive curve of your spine. He leans in, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. “You’re doing so well,” he murmurs. “He’s big, isn’t he?” His other hand cups your breast, rolling and pinching your nipple. The dual sensation of Rhysand slowly filling you and Azriel’s gentle, yet firm, touch on your body makes your head spin. Azriel’s lips find the curve of your neck once again, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. The tenderness has you throwing your head back with a sigh. 

“Mhm,” you moan slightly with a soft nod. Azriel, still toying with your nipple, gently grabs your chin and guides you to look back at Rhysand. 

“Tell him, angel. Tell him how you love being split open by his cock, he wants to hear it.” 

You whine, timid, as you look him in the eyes again, the violet deep enough to drown in. “You feel so good,” you manage to whisper, voice trembling. “I love how big you are, how you stretch me.”

But Azriel’s grip on your chin tightened. “Is that what I said?” His tone was domineering. 

You swallow a gasp as Rhysand settles all the way in. “I love… being split open by your cock, Rhys,” your breathing coming in pants. “So good…”

You watch his lips curl into a smug grin. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, pulling out until only the tip was in, then gently pushing himself back into you. But Azriel isn’t done. 

“Now tell him you need more, beg him for it.” You can tell he’s got a devilish grin on his face by the sound of his voice. 

“Please, Rhys, I need more,” you keen. “I need you to fuck me harder.”

Rhysand’s eyes darken with lust, his nails digging into your hips. “That’s it, beg for it,” he growls, beginning to pick up speed. His thrusts become more powerful, sending waves of pleasure through you. 

“Harder, Rhys,” you plead, your voice quivering. “I need you to fuck me harder, please don’t hold back, I need it so, so bad—Fuck!” Your brows knit together in pleasure. 

Azriel moves behind you, his strong hands sliding under your thighs. With a swift motion, he hoists you up, your legs hooked over his arms, the hold forcing your legs as far apart as they’ll go. Rhysand takes the opportunity to explore your body with his hands, one wrapping loosely around your throat and the other gently tangling in your hair. 

“You feel so fucking good around me,” Rhysand grunts, his breath puffing against your lips. “So tight, so perfect.”

Azriel’s grip on your thighs is firm, his fingers digging into your flesh as he supports your weight. “Doing so well for us, angel,” he whispers, along with other soothing words of affirmation. 

Rhysand’s pace quickens, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. His hand around your throat tightens just enough to make you gasp, his eyes locked onto yours. “You fucking like this, don’t you?” he growls. “Being used by us, being our perfect little slut.”

“Yes, God,” you moan, your voice breathless and full of need. “I love it, Rhys, you fuck me so good.” You feel Azriel’s grip tighten and Rhysand’s hips stutter at your words.

“He fucks you good, angel?” Azriel breathes out. When you nod, Rhysand sees him whisper into your ear, the relentless stream of water muffles his words, rendering them inaudible to him. 

You shake your head adamantly, the glazed-over look clearing from your eyes. “No, Cassian’s the best,” your voice is steady despite the pleasure coursing through your core with every pump in and out. “No one fucks me like he does.”

Rhysand's thrusts slow but grow more deliberate, hitting deeper with every motion. He moves his hand from around your neck only to roughly grab your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Is that so?” he murmurs, brows raised slightly. He thrusts harder, his eyes never leaving yours, determined to make you doubt your own words.

Azriel readjusts his grip on your thighs, and you can feel his hard length pressing against your ass. “Does Cassian treat you like you deserve? Like the whore you are?” Azriel asks, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “Does he know how to make you tremble like this?”

Your eyes water, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. “He… he knows me better than anyone,” you manage to say, though your conviction wavers with each thrust and touch.

Rhysand smirks, his grip tightening on your hips as he increases his pace. “We’ll see,” he growls, leaning in to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue dominating yours.

Azriel’s mouth trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp. “We’re going to make you feel so good, angel,” he whispers for both of you to hear. “So good that you’ll forget all about him.”

Rhysand’s fingers dig into your flesh, his thrusts becoming more intense. “Tell us how it feels,” he demands, his breath hot against your lips. “Tell us who’s making you feel this way.”

Your mind is a whirlwind of sensations, the relentless pleasure making it hard to think. “It… it feels…” you gasp, unable to form coherent thoughts as Azriel’s lips and Rhysand’s thrusts overwhelm your senses.

 “Tell us,” Rhysand growls, jackhammering into you, a thumb playing with your clit. “Who makes you feel this way?”

Azriel’s breath is hot against your ear, his voice a seductive murmur. “Just admit it to yourself, (y/n).”

You’re teetering on the brink, the overwhelming sensations pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “You… you’re…” you stammer, the words caught in your throat.

“Say it,” Rhysand commands, his voice rough with need.

Azriel’s lips find the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing your skin. 

Finally, your orgasm breaks, and you cry out, your body convulsing with the force of it. “Cassian!” you scream, the name ripped from your lips as pleasure crashes over you in waves. Tears stream from your eyes now, whether from the contrition or the sheer bliss, you didn’t know. 

Rhysand's eyes flare with anger. His thrusts become more erratic and forceful, his jaw clenched in frustration. The force of his thrusts now left the previous ones forgotten. “Cassian?” he growls, voice low and dangerous. “Was Cassian the one to make you come just now?” Without a word, he grabs you from Azriel. You wrap your legs around him. Without missing a beat, he pulls out almost entirely, leaving you gasping for breath. He slams back into you with a renewed, relentless force. The raw intensity of his thrusts makes you whimper, your body trembling from the overstimulation. His eyes lock onto yours, filled with a fierce determination to make you forget everything but him.

“I don’t want you saying his name while I’m inside you, while I’m the one fucking you dumb,” Rhysand demands, his voice rough and commanding. “Look at you… A crying mess.” He pulls you down onto him with every upward thrust. “Say my name,” he demands, his tone both seductive and demanding. “I don’t care if it isn’t true, while I’m fucking you, you make me believe I’m the only one you want.”

You gasp and moan as his words cut through your tears. “Rhysand… Rhysand, you’re the one,” you whimper, barely able to form coherent thoughts. “I need you… so much.”

Behind you, Azriel’s eyes gleam with a predatory interest as he watches the intense scene unfold. His hand drifts down his body, fingers brushing against his neglected cock. He strokes himself slowly, savoring the sight of you being claimed by Rhysand, the way your body responds so eagerly to every thrust.

“Prove that I’m fucking you so stupid that all you can think about is my name. Can you do that for me? Can you forget about Cassian and make me the only one who matters?”

You nod fervently, your voice breaking. You shout a mantra of “Yes’s,” your body arching in response to his powerful thrusts. “Want you to come…”

Rhysand’s lips curl into a dark, satisfied grin as he listens to your desperate pleas. “Good girl,” he murmurs, movements growing more urgent, breathing growing heavier. “Scream my name while I come inside you,” he commands, his voice strained.

Your body is trembling from the intensity, every nerve alight with overstimulation. “Rhysand! Rhysand!” you cry out, each plea mingled with breathless moans and cries of ecstasy. “Please, don’t stop! I need more, need you to come!”

With a low, guttural sound, Rhysand finally reaches his climax. His thrusts become sharp and erratic, each one punctuated by a shudder as he fills you completely. His grip on your hips is relentless, his body convulsing with the force of his release. “That’s it,” he growls, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re perfect. So good for me…”

As he pulls back, panting heavily, Azriel steps forward with a smirk of his own. His gaze is unwavering, and his presence feels almost predatory. He takes you by the waist, guiding you down gently. Your legs feel like jelly, barely able to support your weight, and you stumble slightly as you catch yourself against the cold tiles of the wall.

“Wait, just a sec…” you manage to murmur, still trying to catch your breath. But Azriel isn’t having any of it. His hands are firm and decisive as he presses you against the wall chest-first, pulling your hips back, and pushing your back into an arch.

“No,” Azriel’s voice is a low, fierce growl, his eyes burning with unrestrained hunger. He steps closer, his movements assertive and commanding, an almost primal need radiating from him. As he presses you against the cold tiles, your legs buckle slightly under the weight of his presence. His hands grip your waist with unyielding strength, holding you firmly in place. “No more waiting,” he murmurs, his voice rough and laced with desire. “I found you first. I’ve been waiting my turn, watching, and now I get my time with you. You’re not getting a moment’s rest.”

Your mind is a hazy whirl of pleasure and confusion, struggling to focus on anything. The remnants of your coherence slipped away at some point while you were in Rhysand’s arms — those strong arms — leaving you a trembling mess against the cold wall. You can barely think.

 “(Y/n),” he says sharply, getting your attention, or what was left of it. “I’m going to take you, right here, hard and deep, and make sure that every time this pussy gets fucked, you wish it was me doing it. Do you understand?”

Your head nods instinctively, but your voice comes out as a breathy murmur, “Y-yes… want it… need you…” Your words barely form.

Rhysand, still catching his breath, watches with a smirk. “She’s completely lost in it, Az,” he teases, stepping up next to you to run a hand over your wet hair. “I fucked you so good. That’s what you said, right?” He chuckles lowly. 

Azriel’s eyes darken as he cuts him a look, jealous when he sees Rhysand running his hand through your hair. “You did. And now you’re done,” Azriel growls, pushing his hand off of you. You whine, missing the comforting touch. He grips your hips firmly and thrusts all the way into you, eliciting a loud shriek from your lips. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to his considerable size before he sets a powerful, unrelenting rhythm, each motion drawing a helpless gasp from your lips. Your legs shake and threaten to give out, but Azriel’s strong hold keeps you steady. 

“So fucked out you can’t even think, hm, darling?” Rhysand says in mock sympathy.

“Good,” Azriel mutters into your ear. “Brainless and begging for my cock.”

Without warning, Rhysand drops to his knees between you and the wall, his tongue tracing a line from your thigh to where Azriel is pounding into you. He wraps his arms around you, hands squeezing your thighs and ass, the sensation makes you gasp, your body jolting as Rhysand’s mouth latches onto your clit, his tongue swirling with expert precision. Azriel's grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts merciless. “Do you think about us when you're with him? Do you wish it was our hands on you, our cocks filling you up?”

Your answer is a high-pitched moan, your mind too foggy to form words. Azriel’s hand slides up to your throat, gripping firmly but not cutting off your air. “Don’t just moan like a dumb fucking whore,” he growls, the other hand slapping your cheek lightly a few times to get your attention. He doesn’t stop plowing into you for a moment. “Answer me.”

“Yes! Yes, I think about you,” you gasp out, your voice trembling. “I want you… both of you… so bad.”

Rhysand chuckles against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips, his tongue flicking your clit mercilessly. “Y’know, Cass’s probably gonna be a fuckin’ mess if he finds out what you’ve been up to, especially since he’s just sitting around waiting for you at the hospital,” he whispers, his voice laced with playful menace. “Just imagine how he’d react…”

Your response is a pitiful whine, tears mixing with sweat as you weakly call out, “Cassian… Cassian… I love him…” Your voice breaks with each syllable, the raw emotion evident in your cries.

You feel Rhysand’s smirk widen against you as he looks up and meets Azriel’s eyes. “Yeah, you love him so much that you’re here with us, right, darling?”

Azriel’s thrusts don’t falter as he grabs you by the shoulders for leverage. “We know you love him, baby. Now take this fucking cock.” And he slams into you with a force that pulls sob after sob out of you. His grip on your shoulders tightens, then shifts. One arm slides up, wrapping a firm, massive bicep around your neck, pulling you back into a headlock, his control over you absolute. Each thrust of his massive cock seems to reach even deeper into you at this angle. “You love being used by us, don’t you? Just a little slut for our cocks.”

“Yes… I love it…” you manage to gasp out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel’s hand comes down sharply on your ass, the sting making you cry out. “That’s right. Scream for me. Let Cassian hear how much you love this.”

He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look back at him. “Look at you, a dumb little whore, taking it so well. You like being fucked like this? Like a toy?”

“Yes… like a toy… your toy…” you whimper, your body trembling.

“Tell me how much you love it, angel. Beg for more. Beg for my cock,” he commands, his voice dripping with dominance.

“Please… Azriel… more… I need more…” you plead, tears streaming down your face.

“I bet Cassian couldn’t fuck you like this. Even when he thinks he’s being rough, he’s too gentle, isn’t he? A pretty little cocksleeve like you needs it rough, huh? Need to be reminded you’re just a hole for us to use,” Azriel growls.

“You’re nothing but a cock-hungry slut, aren’t you? Just a little plaything for us,” he continues, his words sending waves of shame and arousal through you.

Sometimes, you could swear you felt Rhysand’s tongue reach further as if he was tasting you on Azriel’s cock. The sensation is mind-blowing, pushing you deeper, if possible, into submission. Rhysand's tongue continues its relentless torment, occasionally delving deeper, tasting every thrust Azriel gives you. It's overwhelming, the combination of Azriel's cock and Rhysand's tongue driving you to the brink of insanity.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Azriel grunts, his arm tightening around your neck, making you gasp for air. “I can feel you clenching around me. You love this, don’t you? Love being filled up, love being our dirty little secret.”

“Yes… Fuck yes, Az,” you whimper, your voice raw and desperate. “I love it… love our secret.” 

Rhysand chuckles darkly, his hot breath teasing your sensitive skin. “Desperate, dripping, and fucked out of your mind for us. What would they all say…?”

Azriel's hand slides from your jaw to your breasts, roughly squeezing and pinching your nipples, adding to the exquisite mix of pain and pleasure. “I want to hear you beg for it, angel. Beg for me to fuck you harder.”

“Please… Az… fuck me harder… use me,” you plead, each word broken by gasps and moans.

He holds you up effortlessly, his strength and dominance undeniable. “I want you to scream my name,” he commands, his voice low and rough. “Scream it so loud that Cassian hears it in his fucking dreams.”

“Azriel! Azriel!” you scream, your body trembling uncontrollably as he drives you closer to the edge.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good. Show me how much this tight fucking hole loves when I fuck it,” Azriel growls.

“I’m just your — fuck — your worthless slut… your cum dump, both of you…” you whimper, the words spilling from your lips without thought. “I’ll take everything you want to give me…”

Azriel’s and Rhysand’s eyes widen in shock, both momentarily stunned by your shameless, complete submission. The brief pause is charged with a dark thrill, their expressions those of surprise and deepened desire. 

Rhysand recovers first, a dark smile stretching across his face as he leans over to look up at Azriel. “You hear that, Az? You hear what she’s calling herself?” His voice is dripping with mockery and appreciation. “Tell us again, darling, I love hearing it. How much do you like being used like this?” He leans back into you, his tongue flicking over your clit with renewed intensity. 

“Love it so much…! Just want to be filled and used… Want to make you feel good…”

Azriel let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper. “Making me feel so good, angel, you’re perfect… Gonna use you up, nothing else matters but you taking what we give you, do you understand?”

You cry out a string of “yes’s!” the muscles in your body begin to shake uncontrollably. Your ears ring, the sound melding with the pounding of your heart.

Azriel’s hands slide back down to your hips, and he pulls you closer with each powerful thrust, altering the angle to hit deeper. The shift sends a jolt of intense pleasure through you, causing your body to spasm with every stroke. You gasp, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock with heightened sensitivity.

Rhysand pauses his relentless flicking of your clit, his mouth hovering just above your sensitive skin. He takes a moment to savor the sight of you trembling and gasping, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “That’s all us,” he murmurs, his voice a low purr. 

Azriel’s breathing grows ragged. “Just let go and take it all. Your body’s ours to use however we want right now, huh?” The depth of Azriel’s movements, coupled with Rhysand’s teasing touch, pushes you to the edge yet again. You cry out, all desperate moans and incoherent babble. Rhysand’s tongue returns to its torment, tasting you come undone on his tongue, leaving you gasping and clinging to whatever coherence you have left. The ringing in your ears doesn’t subside until they finally relent. 

Azriel’s breaths come in heavy, ragged gasps as he slows his thrusts, satisfaction in his eyes. “You took us so well,” he murmurs, and he sounds almost as spent as you did. You both collapse against the cool tiles, bodies still intertwined, the sound of the water cascading around you. You reach out and turn the water off, the sudden silence only broken by the soft pants of breath.

Rhysand steps out for a moment and returns with a couple of towels from his locker. He hands one to Azriel, who begins to dry you off with a tender, almost reverent touch. Rhysand grins, wrapping his towel around his waist. "You kept up pretty well," he quips, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You smirk, taking the towel Azriel offers you. "I think you two just like to show off," you tease, patting yourself dry. "Always trying to one-up each other and forgetting about everyone else."

Azriel chuckles, shaking his head as he dries his hair. "Can you blame us?" he replies. "We have a reputation to maintain."

Rhysand steps closer, his eyes darkening with a mix of amusement and desire. "And what about you?" he murmurs, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face. "You’re quite the little fox yourself."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at your lips. "Takes one to know one," you retort, enjoying the way their eyes light up at your sass.

Suddenly, you look at him with curiosity. “Wait, Rhys, what are you even doing here? How did you get in?”

Rhysand smirks, a little sheepishly. "I left my wallet and came back to get it."

Azriel chuckles. "Through the door? We were stuck in here."

Rhysand shrugs. "Oh, that door has been acting up ever since Eris jammed it last month." A look of understanding dawns on Azriel’s face.

Just then, the phone abandoned in your jacket pocket rings, jolting you all. 

Fuck.

You rush over to grab it. Your heart races as you see Cassian's name on Tarquin's phone. You answer the call, trying to steady your breath. "Cassian?”

"Hey, babe, what's taking so long? Are you on your way?"

You hesitate, then reply, "We got stuck in the locker room."

"...We...?"

"Yeah, Rhys and Az are here too."

You can hear the suspicion and jealousy creeping into Cassian's voice. "How long have you been in there? Why didn’t you call?”

“My phone is dead, remember? And I don’t know Tarquin’s password to make a call,” you explain quickly.

There’s a pause before Cassian speaks again, his tone tight. “I'll send Mor to help you out.”

You sigh, relief and anxiety mingling. "Thanks, Cass. Love you."

"Love you, too."

As you end the call, you glance back at Rhysand and Azriel, who are both watching you with a mix of concern and amusement. "Looks like Mor is on her way to rescue us," you say, trying to lighten the mood, though you can’t help but worry about your hair still being wet. She’d notice that right away.

"Better get dressed then," Azriel smirks. "Wouldn't want her to catch us like this." Rhysand chuckles, shaking his head, and you smile, the tension easing a bit.

"Definitely not..."

[mcytblrconfessions]

I am currently a teacher (Grade 7); back when I was a student teacher, my practicum was a Grade 8 zoom classroom in 2020. One day, I saw the student spamming POG 2020 and SWAG 2020, and since I was fairly certain it was not about the american election, I asked them what it was about.

As teaching candidates, we were encouraged to get to know students interests (in order to foster a better connection), so I researched the DSMP and voted for SWAG 2020 (bc from the only stream I watched (the debate), I thought Quackity was funny and had good points).

The day after the election, my icebreaker question for them was about who they voted for and what they thought about the result. While I did get some boos for saying I voted SWAG 2020, I got lots of pogs and poggers directed at me (which at the time I didn’t know what it meant, so I was uncertain if it was a good thing or not haha).

After the class I had a couple of students message me thanking me for being so respectful of their interests (which they thought was cringe) and I told them not to worry about whatever their interests were cringe or not, just that they were having fun (and that they were not harassing people about opinions).

Over the course of the practicum, I made sure to keep up with the DSMP lore summaries and made a separate class chat forum for the DSMP (bc the zoom chat had to be mainly for schoolwork), and to this day it has been one of my favourite/most wholesome teaching moments in terms of engaging with students about their interests!

I am currently using the QSMP (my students’ new SMP obsession) for icebreaker questions (such as how they celebrated different cultural holidays, favourite egg, etc), and I’ve gotten a lot of student engagement from it!

TLDR: Thank you to Quackity for keeping me engaged in the DSMP and QSMP on a surface level for long enough for me to positively connect, relate and engage with my students to our lessons!

One of my students told me about this account and I wanted to share this story because it has been an unexpected positive memory from something I previously was a complete outsider to!

[littlemelanintales]

Just One More

WARNING: Overstimulation, crying reader, language, fingering

“No, no, no, no!”

There you are, 4 orgasms in and writhing wildly in Bucky’s arms as he continues to rub circles around your clit. You’re trembling with tears streaming down your face while you desperately try to get away from the torturous manipulation of his hands. All he could do was smile as he keeps the cold, heavy metal of his left arm tight around you middle.

He kept pulling you back into his chest when you couldn’t help but buck your hips and gasps for breath, “Bucky… please… no more, I can’t-”. He puts two fingers in your abused opening,

“Yes, you can,” he says sternly, mouth pressed to your ear. The bass in his voice vibrates the wires in your brain. He’s all you crave.

He lets out a deep breath when he slides a third finger into your hole. You were helpless and at his mercy. Your hands are trapped behind your back, between your torsos with a red Christmas ribbon he found. Your legs were trapped between his so when you tried to close them, he just had to spread his wider. There was absolutely nothing you could do to stop him from playing with your sensitive pussy.

“Ohhh, I’m not done yet, Baby. Not yet.” He pulled his fingers out and went back to the same speed on your clit.

“Oh my god, Sir… fuck, please, don’t stop,” you moan loudly, trashing in his grip when the tight coil in your abdomen comes undone. Wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you. You’re full on sobbing in blissful agony before going tractable in his arms. All your body could do was tremble from head to toe when he pressed his nose into your slick neck and finally slips his fingers out of you. He loosens his hold on your torso, allowing your legs to close a bit to give you a well deserved moment. You go to close them more when he cups his hand possessively around your pussy. He’s still not done.

You start to cry again; the combination of the tears and your whining making you sound so pathetic and helpless. He just eats it up.

“Noooo… Bucky, please, no more… stop, I- I can’t… please, no…”

“Shhh. You’re doing so well for me,” he says, pressing his lips against your temple. “What do you say to get me to stop?”

He laid a light tap to your swollen petals, “tell, y/n. Stay with me.”

“Brooklyn,” you said in the faintest whisper.

“Why?”

“It’s where we met…FUCK!”

He doesn’t wait another moment before slipping two fingers back inside your sopping pussy, making you cry out when they graze your ultra sensitive walls.

“James-FUCKKK!,” You drag out as you sit your head up to watch his attack on you,

“You want me to stop? Say it and I’ll stop.” He knew you wouldn’t and he reveled at the fact that he had complete control over you. The fact that he didn’t reprimand you for using his legal name meant that he was having way too much fun in this torture session to even care.

“No! Please don’t stop…” His fingers reached the spot that undoes it all and your eyes roll back as you place your head back on him, completely quiet.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky watches, mesmerized that it’s him who’s making you cum like this.

You whimper in his arms, gulping in large breaths that pass right by his ear from where my head is resting on his shoulder. Your entire body is trembling. Your sweaty skin sliding along his own when you try to wiggle away from his touch.

You stay like that for a moment before he presses another kiss to your temple. By this time, your eyes are closed and you’re starting to come down. Your breathing stables until you feel a heavy, icy sensation start to travel back to your overused cunt.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me. I know you can give me another, Baby.”

seen this before? tumblr deleted my other account so i have to rebuild :/

[wils-brother-tommy]

all hidden messages in Tommy's new music video "The Internet's Getting Worse"

"If you find a corner of this world wide web that has any substance at all, then please stick to it. The hundreds of millions of people that now place absolutely no value on their time, their precious time, and spend it watching souless content designed to hold their attention is depressing. This all depressed me. There is so little substance in this mess of a world wide web, so little heart or soul or love. If you find any substance, stick to it."

"They want you to be angry-

Stop being angry."

"When I was a boy, alone, this meant everything to me. I found my people. My place. All along the way I was a part of something that really meant something. That is the only good bit of this. Whatever I did that meant something, that is the only good bit."

"A Tribute To Minecraft.

The Great Potato War.

The Original Ace's Q&A's.

Ludwig's 2020 streams.

SMPLive Talent Show.

This was everything to me."

"Status is irrational & nature is cynical"

"It's attention porn. 

Don't get addicted to it.

It's nothing. 

It means nothing."

"They are more insecure than you. But what the fuck do I know?"

"I can't watch back my old videos because everyone in them wasn't who they said they were. Do you know how sad this makes me feel. Do you know how sad I have felt all year."

"How could anyone possibly find out who they are when you are all immersed in this needless, self indulgent spiral of instant gratification and distraction. This is not good for you."

"the poor 12 year old watching this sad ass video when he subscribed for funny minecraft videos. poor guy lmao."

"I don't think I trust anyone here. I don't think anyone trusts anyone here."

"Yeah, I know it's too much like bo burnham. it won't be in a year though. In a year it will be like Tom Simons. Just let me figure out what that means, OK?"

"I used to feel like I was doing everything wrong. That I just wasn't smart or good like any of my friends. I realise now I was the only one doing the right thing. I just wanted to have fun. What I'd do to get that back, my god. What I'd do. To have things be simple again."

"I just don't want to slip back to who I was. A year ago I needed you. A year ago most of my self esteem and worth came from you. A year ago I wasn't happy unless you were. I don't think I can ever do that again. That was really wrong. How did I possibly end up there?"

[7brownsuga7]

Can you write a fanfic of yandere jk or taehyung with reader as their daughter in law whose husband can't get her pregnant because he is suffering from Azoospermia (low sperm count) but their family is really strict about continuing their family line, as he is their only son so jk or tae decided to take matter into their own hand. Please consider this!! I am really looking forward to it.

Hey!! Omg I found writing this so fun, I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it! I couldn’t decide on Jk or Tae lol I’m indecisive as fuck.

Tae|JK

Word count: 2k +

Genre + warnings: smut drabble- minors DNI. Smut, angst, unprotected sex, breeding, daddy kink, yandere, infidelity, taboo, forceful, dominance, praise kink, he kind of takes advantage of her??? But consensual

Updated: pt.2 here

“Shhh, you’re doing good sweetheart”

You would have never thought you’d hear those words come out of your father-in-laws mouth, matter of fact you never thought he’d be fucking you in the same room you share with your husband.

When your husband told you about his situation, you couldn’t help but to feel overwhelmed with so many emotions. You sat on your bed crying your eyes out at the situation you and your husband were in. Although it was a personal situation between you and your husband, it also meant that his family line had a low chance of continuing, and you knew how strict his parents were about that. You was currently somewhat home alone, your husband having stormed out and wanting some alone time and his mother out for a dinner with her friends. His father was probably somewhere in his office like he is most of the time.

You muffle your cry with your hand, tears staining your burgundy night dress as you lay back and let your cries sing you to sleep.

During the night after a long and stressful phone call with his son does your father-in-law walk into your room to see you asleep in your dress, bare thighs exposed for his wondering eyes to see. His cock hardens just from the sight of your ass peaking out from under your dress.

You look so innocent and sad. Hurt and lonely. If only you knew of the things he could provide for you. He’d never let you lay here alone, tears staining your cheeks.

He was already furious with his son, yes the situation not being his son’s fault at all, but now he had to take things into his own hands for the sake of continuing his family line. He would never admit it was also a reason to fuck you. Something he’s been longing for since his son brought you to their home. He had an infatuation with you. He’d touch himself just thinking about your pussy wrapped around his cock. The fact that you was so innocent and oblivious to his intentions made him all the more crazed. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to fuck you, it was a miracle waiting to happen.

He reaches the bed, your below him unaware of his cock that hardens in his black slacks. His large hand caresses your leg, feeling the goosebumps that appear instantly. He smiles when your eyes flutter open, his hand coming up to your cheek to softly stroke it.

“I’m here” he coos, sitting down next to you on the bed.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do” you admit. Your eyes watering again just from the mention of the situation. You stare up at him with your wet eyelashes, and all he can think about is how you would look watching him as he shoves his cock down your throat. He knew he’s being insensitive towards the situation, but he can’t help himself to think these thoughts when he’s around you.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ll sort it out” you sniff at his reassuring words. It’s as if you’re talking to your husband right now. The resemblance is so uncanny. The tears that stream down your face are wiped away by his fingers, his suggestive words of, “I know, I know” and “come here” calm you down a bit.

You scoot closer to him, unaware of his intentions as his hands creep up your dress towards your bare pussy. You sniff, holding back a moan as his fingers brush against your wet folds.

“Let me make everything better” his lips brush against your neck. You nod, biting your lip as his finger enters you.

So tight and wet, just as he expected.

His finger works its way in and out of you, his eyes on you as you continue to breathe heavily at the use of his fingers. As much as he wants to continue this, his main goal is to fuck you. To breed you matter of fact. He can’t wait to fill you up, to feel your bare pussy wrapped around his cock as he fucks you. He was pissed that his son had gotten to you first. But he’d be the actual one to breed you and that was more than he can ask for.

“Lay back for me love” he urges, too eager to stretch you out with his cock.

You comply, dress bunched up as you scoot back on the bed. His tall frame leaning over you as he watches you in awe. Your bare pussy open for him to see. It glistening under the dim bedroom lights from your wetness. What he would do to taste you, but he knows he has priorities. Hopefully another day.

His hand moves your legs apart, properly exposing you for his hungry eyes to see. He eagerly unbuckles his belt and allows his cock to breathe from the tight space it was in in his slacks.

He strokes his cock along your folds, collecting your juices before he lets his tip enter your tight pussy. It’s like the air is sucked out of you when the rest of his big, hard cock enters you. Stretching you out just like he wanted. It pushes into you and you lay there wondering how much more of him is left, you can barely take what is left inside you.

Tight.

So tight.

Every inch that pushes into you, stretches you out so gracefully you’re a whimpering mess. He grabs your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed. His strokes becoming more hard and fast as you adjust to his size.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long” he coos.

He can’t believe how good you feel. Your walls closing around him with every stroke. Your tight walls gripping around him has him ready to risk it all. He never knew just how addicting you could be. He’s so eager to fuck you. As each whimper leaves your lips, his hips move at a more forceful speed. He’s unable to hold himself back and he’s not even ashamed of it. He’s not sure if this is the only time he’ll get to fuck you so he wants to make the most out of it before this night comes to an end.

“Shhh, you’re doing good sweetheart”

Your breasts fight to spill out of your dress as his thrusts cause your body to jolt.

You cry.

You cry because of the sting you feel caused by his cock stretching you out. The pleasure you feel making it almost unbearable for you to take any more. His strokes so precise and officiant that your moans turn into cries all together.

You cry because you feel guilty, but it’s too good to stop now.

He sees you cry and wonders why. He’s aware that he’s taken advantage of your weakness, you being fragile has allowed him to take advantage of this situation, and he’s happy that he did. His dreams and fantasies coming true.

“It’s okay, daddy’s got you”

His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away your tears before he leans down and grabs your thighs, lifting you up with his cock still inside you.

“Please ugh” you choke out as his hands grip onto your ass, lowering you down his long hard length. You try to lift yourself up, unable to take him, but he just lowers you back down at a quicker speed.

“P-please I can’t” his cock continues to penetrate you which leaves you gasping for air, tears still running down your cheeks as he completely takes over.

Your pussy is soaking, running down your thigh and onto his pelvis. The slushing sounds you create prove that.

“Look at how you take my cock so well” his neck bends down slightly to capture your breast in his mouth as he sucks on it. You let out a moan, your pussy clenching around him causing his moves to falter.

“Fuck you’re so tight” he nips at your nipple which causes you to yelp in surprise, especially when he slaps your ass.

He throws you back on the bed. Your dress barely covering your body anymore as your breast spill out from it, the dress bunched up around your waist exposing your lower half to him. You’re a panting mess, not knowing what he’s going to do next as he slowly walks over to the bed, dark eyes watching you like you’re his prey.

“Lay on your stomach and arch your back for me princess”

If only he could have you in every position known to man, he would in a heartbeat. He wants to fuck you in every position his son has had you in. However, time is of the essence.

But when you lay before him, face down ass up, your head resting on your silk bed cover and hands placed helplessly in front of you as he enters you from behind, does he battle with himself to risk everything. Your bare pussy and ass exposed for him to see, and oh was it a sight. He’d only imagined what you’d look like bent over for him, but now he has the honor of having you for the night. His strokes are slow and precise. He’s managing to hit every spot so gracefully it already has your knees ready to give out. His large hands rest on each side of your ass, guiding your ass towards his hard length.

You whimper when he enters you again and again with more force. The way his fingers dance along your bare back have your toes curling and you wonder if you’ll be able to recover from tonight. He readjusts your dress so that it slightly covers your ass, but it only slides back down your back with every move he makes. The way you feel wrapped so tightly around him has him ready to risk it all, your juices coating his cock with every stroke while you grip around him.

“You’re such a good girl, hmm?” He bites his bottom lip as he watches his cock go in and out of you, your pussy gripping onto him in ways that make his head spin. His cock can’t even go all the way in, he chuckles to himself at the thought of you whimpering when he hasn’t even got all of him in you. Your moans and whimpers are like music to his ears, encouraging him to fuck you recklessly.

“Such a good girl letting daddy fuck you like this”.

Your arms stretch out in front of you grasping onto your covers in a somewhat pathetic attempt to relieve yourself from his thrusts. You try to escape, moving your hips forward but with his firm grip on your hips, you’re not going anywhere.

“Don’t run, show me that you can take it”

You’re sensitive and overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you’re receiving, with the added force it’s a whole new experience for you. You’ve never been fucked like this, even by your husband. You’re unsure if you should even be thinking about him right now with his father fucking you as recklessly as this.

Your moans are muffled by the bed covers , your grip on them tightening as you can feel him in your stomach. Your orgasm is quickly approaching with each thrust. It’s when he grunts and slaps your ass that has you weak, but when he rubs your puckered hole with his thumb, that’s when you lose what’s left of your composure. You start mumbling your words, edging further and further up the bed as you try to escape his cock that continuously rams into you. Pussy clenching as your orgasm subsides, you yelp out when you become overly sensitive.

“Please please please, i”

He pushes you down by your back, forcing you to lay on your stomach, his hand grabs your hips adjusting them so your ass is slightly up. You’re silent as he slowers his pace, providing you with slow strokes that have you lost for words. You’re sure you’re going to cum again. He watches as his cock disappears in you. He can watch you take him all day.

“You’re so wet sweetheart, look at you” you feel his hands grabbing your wrists and holding them in place as he is positioned on top of you, him sliding into you from behind. You’re so fucked out you can’t utter a full sentence, just mumbles and whimpers. He’s so big and he’s stretching you out completely. You’re tired and are surprised that you’re able to take him let alone take him for this long. You collapse on the bed, knees giving out causing you to be laid flat out on the bed. He holds his cock, guiding it in and out of you, watching as your juices mix with your cream coating the base of his cock.

“Fuck y/n” he looks up at the ceiling trying to prolong his orgasm that he knows is approaching. He doesn’t want this to end just yet, but the way you lay in-front of him, your sensitive pussy stretching around him, he knows he’s close.

You both continue in that position, his grunts continuing as he uses both arms to keep himself up. A slap to your ass is delivered before he tells you to turn around. You comply chest rising as you watch him guide his cock along with your entrance. He watches you with low eyes, as you watch him back. Your breaths in sync as you wait for him to slide it back in. And he does, so slowly it’s almost agonising. You both watch as he enters you, you can’t believe how big he is. He stops when he’s mostly inside of you, his hand holding the rest of his length as he guides it in and out. He closes his eyes for a moment, unable to watch your eyes and your lips and the way your face is still stained in tears. You’re intoxicating.

He lifts your legs up so they are both in the air, allowing him more excess to your pussy. What a sight it is, the way it’s swollen and glistens before him. The way it wraps around him so perfectly he’s sure your pussy was made just for him.

He watches you with so much intensity that your eyes flutter closed. “Open them for me, I want you to watch” you nod watching him before you look down and watch each thrust.

You know he’s close when his thrust become more intense, he shoves his cock deep inside you not caring about your sensitivity. His skin collides with yours, creating no room for you to escape his thick length. You can’t believe that your orgasm is approaching again, you don’t know how much more you can take, you’re already fucked out.

His eyes never leave yours, the intensity and lust behind them, and the way he’s buried deep inside you causes shivers to run down your spine as your legs shake. “Good girl, let it out, let it out” he coos as he strokes your cheek.

It all becomes too much for you, your words and breath stuck in your throat. You feel everything so intensely.

“Shh, you got it. Im almost there”

And with a few more strokes, he is because you feel his cock twitch and a warm liquid engulf you. “Fuuuck”. He continues for a moment, riding out his orgasm. Eventually he pulls out, and you both watch as his load drips out from inside of you. He hold his dick in his hand and allows his red sensitive tip to rub against your hole, his cum coating his tip. “Look at that” he smirks.

“I told you I’d make everything better”

[kiwi-on-ice]

Saw your most recent tiktok🤭

Could you do something for Lucio when you get the chance? Please and thank you

First date headcannons with Lucio, Cole Cassidy, Mauga, Lifeweaver, and Genji with gn!reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Fluff, a little suggestive but not too much.

Notes: The ask probably meant NSFW but wanted to write something light while i work on an anon request for Cole Cassidy. Prefer girls? check here

Lucio:

I always think of his valentines day voiceline bless him, he'd be quite nervous to ask you out. If you don't do it for him, he'll most likely want to be traditional and get you flowers before stuttering out an invitation.

Once you've actually said yes, he'll relax a little bit.

Most likely your first date is going to be music related. He won't take you to his own concert, but if there's a concert playing music he knows you'll like he'll take you there.

Alternatively, might take you dancing to show off a little. When he's around music, he feels much more confident so he'll be able to be himself and even be a little flirty.

You might have to put up with people coming up to him for his autograph though. But it'll give him a rush when everyone realises he's on a date with you.

After dancing the night away, he'll probably take you to try some street food. He'll insist on paying, he's a celebrity after all! But he ends up not needing to when the vendors recognise him as the hero who stood up to Vishkar and insist on giving you both what you want free of charge.

Given that the weather is nice, he'll do his best to be respectful and not look at your body too much. However if you're wearing shorts...lord have mercy, they're his weakness.

When you guys part ways, he might cheekily ask for a goodnight kiss but he's happy with anything. Considering how much fun you both had, he's confident you two will go out again sometime.

Feeling the beat of the music, Lucio moves like it's second nature to him. You both laughing and joking as he starts to dance with you, his hands respectful in their placement before he spins you around, making you both laugh again.

"Not bad babe, maybe you should be a backing dancer at my shows." he teases playfully, trying not to let his eyes look down at how your legs look in your shorts. Although with the way you start to move, he isn't sure he can resist the temptation.

Cole Cassidy:

Will ask you out pretty smoothly in conversation, hardly giving you time to process that you've been asked on a date before the cowboy starts to think about his ideas.

Invites you on a hiking trail, giving you both plenty of time to talk and get to know each-other.

He'll do the stereotypical action of taking his hat off when he sees you and gives you a small bow, flustering you a little.

As you walk, he won't initiate physical contact for a while, waiting until you guys cross some sort of stream or rough terrain; he use the opportunity to hold out his hand to help you over, before interlocking his fingers with yours.

Quite easy to talk to, and flirtatious comments seem to roll off his tongue without him meaning to. He'll compliment your outfit and hairstyle, before making comments about how the sun reflects so lovely off your eyes.

Prefers asking you questions and listening to you, he's working on being more emotionally vulnerable and open especially about his past, but it's still difficult for him.

Afterwards, you both will have worked up an appetite, so he'll take you to a diner for a bite to eat. Sitting in a booth, he might teasingly play footsie with you under the table to watch you laugh.

He'll have to get coffee, since he hasn't had his cigar for hours. He didn't want to smoke while on the date, a little concerned you'll find it rude. But towards the end he'll get a little twitchy.

Will offer to pay, southern values and all that.

Will also offer to walk you home, and will definitely come in if you invite him.

Approaching a stream, the running water providing a soothing ambiance as Cole steps forward. He hops over the stream before holding out his hand for you, causing you to giggle.

"What? A cowboy can't be a gentleman?" he teases, as you take his hand and he helps you across, "There you go pumpkin."

Smoothly, he interlocks your fingers, holding your hand tight and gently rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand as you both resume the walk. Looking to his left, he makes some remark about the surroundings to distract himself from the warm feeling in his chest as he feels the heat of your palm against his.

Mauga:

This man is CONFIDENT, he asks you out with his cocky grin almost like he knows you'll say yes.

Wants a relaxing date, so will ask you for drinks at one of his favourite bars.

Once you meet him there, he's nothing if not charming. He lays the compliments on pretty thick, with a cheeky smile that gets wider the more you feel flustered.

He's also hilarious, finding it so rewarding to make you laugh and giggle at his jokes. Isn't afraid to play the part of the fool if it means you'll be entertained.

Is hyper aware of his large size, and while he loves feeling bigger and stronger in the bedroom, in this context don't be surprised if he hunches himself over a bit to make you feel more at ease.

Also don't be surprised if he grips his glass too tight to make it smash, pretending to be hurt worse so you'll dote on him, he likes the attention more than he should.

He has to really restrain himself from getting too handsy with you, he doesn't want to scare you off. But he'll brush his hand against your hair or arm as he speaks.

Most likely will just get up and leave without paying lmao.

And will most certainly invite you to go home with him.

"And someone as pretty as you with a guy like me? People will think i'm payin' ya." he says with a laugh, causing your cheeks to burn as you giggle alongside him. Taking a sip of his drink, his eyes won't leave yours. "Someone as small as you as well, though it ain't hard for someone to be smaller than me."

You can't help but agree with his statement as he hunches over the bar with you, his thigh brushing against yours. He notices, and subtly presses his thigh more into yours, almost manspreading on the bar-stool.

Lifeweaver:

oh my god, the ROMANCE.

Listen I've said before he's the type of nerd to read romance novels and take notes, best believe he's planning the most romantic date he can, especially if he's caught feelings for you.

He'll show up, dressed to the nines with a bouquet of red roses with gold string attaching a little love note and hand them to you. He'll kiss your hand and open the car door for you and drive you to a lovely restaurant.

Most likely booked ahead to score the best table, and told the waiters to make it as romantic as they could.

But despite everything, he's secretly nervous. He planned it all so meticulously in his head, what if it goes wrong?

Not that you'd know his internal panicked monologue with how he treats you, he'd be so complimentary without overdoing it. Charming you with speech about your clothes, hair, everything. Will also start to drop in petnames like 'darling' and 'petal' to see how you react.

Is a little scared to hold your hand cause his hand is a little sweaty from the nerves, so he'll gently trace your fingers with his metal hand instead.

He's paying for the meal, you''ll have probably have guessed that already.

Will take you home and kiss your cheek, but will most likely leave it there. He doesn't want you to think he only wants you physically, so he'll be as respectful as possible.

"Well i assure you, you're the most radiant person in here." Niran says with a soft smile, his eyes tracing up and down your body and face as you sit down. His hair half up, he places his metal hand on the table, gently nudging your hand as if to ask permission.

"But please, order anything you'd like. My treat." he says, almost stuttering when you hold his hand, the cool metal refreshing against your touch. When you thank him and look down at the menu, he releases a breath he didn't realise he was holding. It's going well so far, he thinks, even if he's blown away by how you look all dressed up.

Genji:

bless him, he's also kinda nervous. He used to be a playboy, he never once used to be bothered with asking people out. But after his accident, now that his body is mostly metal, a lot of his confidence has been knocked.

But he'll try to hide it as he suggests an aquarium date. He finds the colours and the marine life quite therapeutic and calming, and hopes you'll feel that way too.

Prefers to stay away from the crowds, standing by the less popular exhibits to talk to you.

Will love to ask about your job, especially if it's more 'mundane' than his. He'll want almost a taste of the normality, something he's never really had in his life.

Will offer to take your picture against the backdrop of the fish tanks, his chest feeling fuzzy as he sees how gorgeous you look.

As you two explore, he'll gently go to hold your hand. When you reciprocate, he won't let go, clinging to your hand like a lifeline.

When you go into the gift shop, he'll surprise you by buying a soft plush toy of a fish or shark behind your back.

Most likely will ask if you want to go back to his, not realising how it sounds until after he's said it, to which he'll quickly reassure you he doesn't expect anything to happen.

"Oh look at those." you say excitedly, tugging him over to the jellyfish exhibit. He of course follows wherever you lead him, his hand firmly gripping yours.

"Here, let me take a picture." he offers, taking your phone and stepping back to get a good angle. You pose, and he swears he stops breathing when he sees your through the phone camera. He has to look at you above the device, mesmerised by how the blue hues reflect on your face.

"Genji? Have you taken the picture?"