#not really serious but not really a joke either

[oakyadair]

so many people are wondering the context for the last two so here's me trying to find it;

some people already know this but grian originally made his youtube account under the name "xelqua". A popular theory why he made this account was to pose as a minecraft fan and trash talk other mcyters (mainly keralis' builds 😭) but when he was asked about it he said that's not the reason. I think it's safe to say that either he commented when he was under the xelqua name or this is some sort of joke (due to him talking in the third person).

for valentines gay... tdlr; I don't know

most likely he had just done this randomly which is funny. as he is a massive zelda fan the best guess I can make is that he was making a joke based on the smosh legend of zelda rap battle (at 2:35 in the video). I also don't believe this one is him being very serious either, as he is a really big ally.

all in all HE'S JUST A SILLY GUY !! LET HIM BE SILLY !!!

my favorite type of grian posts are the ones he made years ago that only got dug up recently

[hannyoontify]

warnings | lots of marriage talk, utah mom/white christian fall girl aesthetic slander

[16:40] “i’m gonna marry the fuck out of you one day.”

jeonghan’s abrupt and out of pocket statement catches you off guard and you snort loudly. “okay, casanova. why don’t you actually try asking me out on a proper date first.”

your best friend stuffs his mouth with another spoonful of the lasagna you just made him.

“i’m being serious. if your cooking is this good every single day, i might have to marry you. how does a june wedding sound?”

you placed a finger on your chin, pretending to ponder the endless possibilities of seasonal weddings as you stood behind the kitchen counter. your apron was tied snugly around your waist and your cheeks were still warm from the heat of the stove you had just been using.

“i’ve always been a fall person rather than summer…” you saw jeonghan’s eyes shine with an indecipherable glint.

“no…. baby….. please don’t tell me you’re into the white utah mom aesthetic,” he paused, then continued after a small gasp. “or the white christian fall girl aesthetic? ohhh god, i’m marrying a fiend.”

you burst into laughter when jeonghan buried his head in his hands as if he had just received news that his favorite cranberry sprite was to be permanently discontinued.

“i never said yes, loser. wouldn’t my opinion matter concerning my own wedding?” you approached jeonghan, untying your apron as you went. he leaned against the island, pressing his empty spoon against his lips as his eyes intently watched you move across the room.

“okay, then what about a september wedding? too early?”

you swatted jeonghan’s side with the wadded up apron you had in hand as you walked past him. “you’re getting way too ahead of yourself, han.”

he shot you an offended look, his jaw dropping and his eyes blown wide, as if you had accused him of murdering baby kittens. “way ahead of myself? why, you don’t wanna marry me?”

“aren’t there a million things for you to do before even considering putting a ring on my finger?” your tone was light and you were speaking in a joking manner, but some part of you wished jeonghan seriously considered you as more than just a friend. you knew this was all just a joke to him. this was just his way of playing with you. “besides, how are you so sure of yourself?”

“hm? what do you mean?” jeonghan slipped his arm around your waist, strong enough to stop you in your tracks but gentle enough for you to push past him if you really wanted to.

you didn’t. so you stayed in place, trying your best to ignore the warmth of his arm against the thin fabric of his your shirt.

jeonghan gazed at you with a serious look in his eyes—a sight rarer than him not stealing your fries to see if ‘they tasted good enough for you.’

“i mean…” your tongue darted out to nervously lick your lips. “how are you so sure of yourself? what makes you think i’ll say yes?”

he shrugged. as he did, a piece of hair shifted and fell onto his forehead and your fingers itched to put it back to place. “i’m the only one you’ve got.”

your mouth dropped open in almost offense. “did you just call me bitchless?”

he quirked a brow at you. “if the boot fits.”

you could see that jeonghan was clearly enjoying himself with the way the corner of his lips danced and struggled to stay neutral as his eyes studied yours.

“you’re being mean…” you mumbled. jeonghan silently laughed as he watched you pout, his shoulders shaking. when he finally stopped, jeonghan looked at you with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“and you’re being clueless.”

“you’re being—! huh?” you paused mid-sentence, confused as to what your best friend meant by calling you clueless. “what do you mean clueless?”

jeonghan stepped forward, causing you to stagger backwards. one foot after another, this slow chasing movement continued until your back was pressed against the marble counter of the kitchen and his arms were caging you on either side of you.

“what do you think it means?” when you didn’t respond, jeonghan pressed you further. there was a teasing lilt in his voice that told you he was enjoying this. “what do you think it could possibly mean, [name], hm?”

your eyes drifted to jeonghan’s lips for a split second. it wasn’t your fault! he was standing inches away from you and it was like his lips were screaming for your attention. you swore it was for a split of a split second, but jeonghan, that little shit, somehow caught that. he smiled and stepped a little closer.

“my lips are flattered by the attention, but they’re starting to feel a bit objectified. care to apologize?”

a wave of heat crept up your neck, painting your ears red at the notion of getting caught staring. “s-“

“mm. too late,” jeonghan pressed his finger against your lips, as if to shush you. “they’ll only settle if you give them one thing. or else you’re going to be contacted by their lawyer.”

“oh, really? what could the settlement be?” crossing your arms over your chest, you watched jeonghan as he playfully rubbed his chin with his fingers in consideration.

“i think you already know,” jeonghan shot you a knowing look. “don’t make me bring patricia and have her say it.”

patricia was the hand puppet he invented back in high school when he wanted to convince you to do something stupid with him, like skipping class. or jumping over the school wall and spraining his ankle.

“lord, have mercy.” you muttered breathlessly.

jeonghan barked out a short laugh before grabbing you by the waist, tugging you closer. his eyes never left yours. “you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this.”

as your lips finally met jeonghan’s, after years and years of pining, it was everything you imagined and more. your fingers gripped your best friend—now lover’s shirt tightly when he pulled away with a bright smile on his face. jeonghan’s forehead rested on yours and he pressed a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

“i’m going to marry the fuck out of you one day.”

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

[sturnswrites]

terms and conditions - pt.2

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

⤳ you move in with the triplets after losing your apartment prompting a "roommate agreement". after having a tricky relationship with matt, some of the rules begin to blur.

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

The first few days of moving in were... an adjustment. Sharing a house with three brothers was like stepping into a live sitcom, complete with chaotic energy, random outbursts, and an alarming amount of inside jokes I didn’t understand yet.

“Y/N! You left your shoes by the door again!” Nick shouted from the living room.

You poked my head out from your room. “And?”

“And I almost broke my neck tripping over them! You trying to kill me?”

Chris’s laughter echoed from the kitchen. “Yeah, Y/N, if you want to take Nick out, at least make it look like an accident.”

You rolled your eyes and grumbled something about dramatics, heading downstairs to retrieve the offending sneakers. Nick was sprawled on the couch, singing some ridiculous pop song at the top of his lungs.

“Is it always like this?” you asked, pointing toward him.

Matt, who was quietly scrolling on his phone in the armchair, glanced up. “Worse, sometimes.” His voice was flat, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

Chris leaned over from the kitchen. “This is actually him on a calm day.”

- 

One evening, after a particularly long day, you trudged into the kitchen in search of a snack. The house was quiet for once, which was rare.

“Hey, Matt, do we have any—” you stopped mid-sentence, your brain stuttering to a halt.

Matt stood by the counter, shirtless, a glass of water in hand. The dim light from above highlighted the definition of his shoulders and the lean muscles of his torso. His hair was messy, looking like he had just woken up from a nap, and there was a quiet confidence about him that made the room feel smaller.

He turned, brow furrowed. “What?”

“Nothing. I—uh, I was just—” you gestured vaguely at the pantry, suddenly hyper-aware of how small the kitchen felt.

“Looking for something?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes as if he knew exactly why you were flustered.

“Yeah. A snack. But it’s fine. I’ll... I’ll just grab it later.” you turned to leave, but your sock caught on the edge of the rug, and you stumbled.

Matt’s hand shot out, steadying you with a firm grip on your arm.

The brief contact sent a jolt through you, and when you looked up, his face was closer than you expected. His light eyes held yours for a beat too long, and your breath hitched.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice low.

The air between you two shifted, heavy with something unspoken.

Before either of you could say a word, Chris’s voice rang out from the living room. “Matt! Are you still hogging the kitchen?”

Matt let go of your arm, clearing his throat. “Get some sleep, Y/N.”

“Yeah. Sure,” you mumbled, practically running out of the room.

Later that night, long after the others had gone to bed, you found yourself lying in your room, staring at the ceiling. The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards as someone shifted in their sleep.

You weren’t tired. Not really.

Your mind kept drifting back to earlier in the kitchen—the way Matt had looked at you, his brow furrowed in that way that made him seem more serious than he actually was. Or how the light had cast a faint glow over his skin, every muscle in his torso so defined it could’ve been sculpted.

You groaned, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. Get a grip, Y/N.

It wasn’t just how he looked, though. It was the way he had steadied you, his grip firm yet gentle, like he wasn’t quite sure whether to let go. And then there was the tone of his voice, low and calm, like he had some kind of unintentional pull over the air around him.

You turned onto your side, burying your face in the pillow. It was nothing. Just an awkward moment between roommates.

Except... it wasn’t nothing, was it?

You’d known Matt for a while now, long enough to recognize that he didn’t let people in easily. He kept most of the world at arm’s length, guarded and cool. But in that moment, when his hand lingered on your arm, it felt different. Like he was letting you in, just for a second.

It was ridiculous to overthink it. You’d agreed—sworn—to keep things platonic. And yet, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had felt it too, that unspoken charge in the air between you two.

You let out a frustrated sigh and rolled onto your back again. “You’re being ridiculous,” you whispered to yourself.

Still, sleep didn’t come easily. And when it finally did, it was filled with flashes of dark eyes, quiet smirks, and the ghost of a touch that lingered far too long.

-

The next day, while you were out shopping with Alyssa, Matt and Chris were hanging out in the living room, Nick upstairs editing.

“So...” Chris started, his tone dripping with amusement.

Matt didn’t look up from his phone. “What?”

“Y/N,” Chris said, dragging out the name.

Matt’s head snapped up. “What about her?”

Chris grinned, leaning back on the couch. “Oh, nothing. Just... there’s some tension there, don’t you think?”

“There’s no tension,” Matt said flatly, but his shoulders were stiff.

“Right,” Chris said, nodding exaggeratedly. “Totally normal for you to go all stoic every time she’s around.”

“Chris,” Matt warned.

“Relax, dude. I’m just saying,” Chris continued, his grin widening. “You’re usually Mr. Cool and Collected, but with her? It’s like you don’t know where to put your hands.”

Matt glared at him. “Drop it.”

“Fine, fine,” Chris said, holding up his hands in surrender. But the glint in his eyes said he wasn’t done stirring the pot.

-

The first time all four of you ended up in the living room late at night, it wasn’t planned. You had gone down to the kitchen for a glass of water, only to find Nick already sprawled across the couch with his laptop balanced on his knees. He was wearing headphones and mouthing the words to a song you couldn’t hear, completely lost in whatever he was editing.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Nick startled slightly, yanking off his headphones. “Oh, hey! Nah, just finishing this edit. It’s way quieter at night, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” you replied, smiling as you grabbed your glass.

You hadn’t planned on staying, but before you knew it, Chris came up from downstairs, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito. He plopped onto the couch next to Nick, his hair a mess.

“What’s this, an impromptu sibling meeting without me?” he joked, yawning loudly.

“More like an insomniacs’ club,” you said, sitting on the floor next to the coffee table.

Minutes later, Matt emerged from his room, looking far more composed than the rest of you despite the late hour. His eyes scanned the room briefly before he wordlessly sat in the armchair, his quiet presence rounding out the group.

It started simple—Nick rambling about the video he was editing, asking for input that none of you were awake enough to give. Chris chimed in with random anecdotes from his day, weaving exaggerated stories that had us all cracking up, despite how absurd they were.

And then there was Matt, who sat quietly for most of it, his smirks and soft chuckles a steady undercurrent to the lively conversation. He only jumped in when he had something particularly clever or sarcastic to say, and when he did, it always left Nick groaning, Chris clutching his stomach with laughter, and you shaking your head, trying not to laugh but failing miserably.

At one point, the conversation shifted to childhood memories, and the brothers began trading stories about growing up together.

“Matt used to eat dirt when he was, like, five,” Chris said, grinning devilishly.

“I did not eat dirt,” Matt shot back, rolling his eyes but unable to hide his faint smile.

“You absolutely did,” Nick chimed in. “You said it was ‘flavorful.’”

You burst out laughing, and Matt groaned, leaning back in the chair. “This is why I don’t talk during these things.”

“Oh, come on, you love us,” Chris teased, throwing a pillow at Matt, who caught it effortlessly.

The mood was light, easy, and for the first time since moving in, you felt like you were really starting to fit into their dynamic.

At one point, Nick started playing music from his laptop, singing along dramatically to every word. Chris joined in, his voice completely off-key, and soon enough, we were all belting out the chorus to some early 2000s pop song, the kind of music that only sounds good when you’re singing it at the top of your lungs with friends.

Matt, to your surprise, even sang a little, though it was more of a quiet hum under his breath. It was rare to see him this relaxed, and it caught you off guard how much you liked it.

By the time the night wound down, you all were all half-asleep. Chris had completely passed out on the couch, Nick was still typing something on his laptop but moving slower than before, and Matt remained in the armchair, his gaze flicking between you as if making sure you were all okay before calling it a night.

You caught his eye for a brief moment, and he gave you the faintest smile, one that felt softer, more genuine than the others he’d given throughout the night.

“Goodnight,” you murmured, standing and stretching.

“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

As you climbed the stairs to your room, you felt a strange sense of belonging settle over you. This house, chaotic and unpredictable as it was, was starting to feel like home.

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

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: so excited to share my fic for the eras tour fic challenge, so creatively and wonderfully put together by @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy 🥰 my song was ‘the last time’ so i definitely leaned into the angst here (with an extremely healthy dose of smut). it’s not necessarily a toxic relationship, but i think there are undertones of toxicity there. anyway! enjoy and let me know your thoughts!! ❤️‍🔥

word count: 3.9k

tw: on and off relationship with some minor toxicity, oral (f receiving), fingering (f recieving),

summary: william’s at your door again and you keep letting him in even though you shouldn’t

“No.”

Your tone is flat and you cross your arms over your chest, a protective measure as much as it is a display of your feelings towards the man standing in front of you. Your lips flatten into a straight line and you can feel your shoulders tense up.

“Sötnos,” William murmurs the Swedish term of endearment and braces his hand on the doorjamb.

“No,” you repeat yourself, just as firmly. “How did you get up here?”

It’s a stupid question. Your doorman, Gus, loves William - thinks the sun shines out of his ass, especially after William had dropped comp tickets off at his desk a few times during the season. Of course Gus is going to let him upstairs, not that you’d actually told Gus to ban him. You should’ve told Gus to ban him.

“Don’t answer that,” you snap, before he can open his mouth. “Just leave.”

He looks rough, dark circles under his eyes and a downward curve to his lips that seems deeper than superficial. The Leafs had been eliminated two nights ago, bounced by the Bruins in seven games after William had been the only one to score a goal in that final game. A sharp, uncomfortable pang of sympathy for your ex settles in your chest and you wish it didn’t.

“Sötnos, c’mon. Let me in,” he’s borderline close to a plea. The term of endearment falls too easily from his lips, your second name during the time you were dating.

“I’m serious, William,” you sigh, suddenly exhausted down to your bones. “I’m not doing this. I can’t do this.”

His blue eyes sharpen and his jaw sets. “Do you have someone over?” The question is sharp and uncalled for, jealously practically dripping from his pores. At any other time you’d love his reaction, but it’s too little, too late and just annoys you more.

“Even if I did,” you hiss, “it’s none of your fucking business since you dumped me, remember?”

You’ve been on and off for more than a year, both of you too stuck in your ways to really commit. It was simple at first, to be at each other’s place when you were both in town, to say you were dating - boyfriend and girlfriend had been easy labels - but for all of William’s easygoing Swedish ways, he can be difficult and stubborn.

Not that you’re perfect either, happy to have your free time and flirt at bars with handsome men after a few drinks with your girls. But somewhere along the line, you’d made the stupid mistake of wanting more from him. Sure, you’d gotten a drawer in his dresser and your stuff occasionally cluttered his condo, but you’d also spent four of the last six months broken up when William decided that he needed to focus on hockey.

He’d come around your place after his eight-game goalless streak was broken and you’d gotten back together just as the Leafs were clinching a playoff spot. You’d spent the night with his head between your legs, him wearing your thighs as earmuffs and eating you out until his beard was soaked and your legs couldn’t stop shaking.

You’d thought that time was different, all the sweet words he’d spoken into your skin, alternated with pure filth.

There’s an 88 blue satin bomber jacket in your closet, unworn, that you thought was a sign that things were different. A jacket that William had apparently approved when the other girls had asked him about including you.

Joke’s on you.

Dumped two days before the playoffs started, by a William who was stressed and anxious and, as you found out later, suffering from migraines that would keep him off the ice for three games.

The sympathy settles again, like a rock in your stomach.

“I remember,” he says now, shoving a hand through his hair. “Let me in, please. I just want to talk.”

“The last time we talked,” you air quote the word, “you fucked me so hard I nearly forgot my own name and then dumped me three weeks later. So, forgive me if I’m not feeling chatty.”

Subconsciously though, you’ve stepped back into your apartment and William’s stepped inside. The door is still open, his body blocking you from being able to close it, until he moves to the side and closes it himself, leaning his back against the wood.

“Then let me talk,” he says. “You just listen.”

You’re mad that you even brought up the sex, but you’re surprised that William didn’t latch onto that with a sly comment and a smirk.

“I don’t want to listen,” you sound petulant. “I’m tired of letting you in, thinking things are different, only to find out that I don’t matter to you.”

William’s eyebrows fly up his forehead and his eyes go wide. “What?” He nearly shouts, suddenly fired up. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I don’t matter to you,” you repeat, slower, emphasizing each word. It feels like a knife in your chest, to voice the feeling you’ve had for weeks. “We’ve been doing this dance, you come to me when you’re on an upswing, drop me when you’re not. It’s pretty obvious, William, where I land on the list of things you care about.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not obvious to me,” he says, stepping away from the door. “Explain to me where you think you fall.”

“I’m not doing that,” you snap. To your horror, tears well up in your eyes. “If you don’t know what I am to you, I’m not explaining shit.”

“Of course I care about you, of course you’re important to me,” he says, reaching for your hand. “It’s hard, with hockey, to balance…”

You can’t help it, a scoff slips past your lips, the derisive sound stopping William in his tracks. “You’re not balancing anything,” you mutter. Ticking them off on your fingers, you list out the last three breakups, “you dumped me when the season was staring, when you’d gone on the goalless streak, and now, when playoffs were starting. Clearly, I am not as important to you as hockey is. So, I’m done. This is the last time I let you in, go play hockey, William.”

His entire face pulls down in an unhappy expression, eyebrows scrunching together over his nose. “I fucked up, okay? Is that what you want me to say? I’m not used to having to take someone else’s feelings into consideration, but I’m trying,” he reaches out for your hands and you don’t stop him, against your better judgment.

William’s hands are warm and dry and you hate the little spark of desire that flickers low in your stomach when he rubs the pads of his thumbs over your knuckles.

“It’s too late,” you shake your head, your hands still in his. “I don’t want to do this anymore, I don’t want to let you keep stomping on my heart.”

“Let me make it up to you,” his tone is sweet, cajoling. His hands move up your arms, thumbs tracing over the veins on the inside of your wrists. You shiver and he smiles. “Let me prove how much I care about you.”

Your lips twitch at the corners and you fight the smile that threatens. William’s hands trail up your arms, cupping your elbows briefly to pull you closer and you go, stumbling slightly on the step into him. His fingers tighten around your elbows and you pout at him, your resolve weakening with William’s proximity, the woodsy cedar scent of his cologne filling your senses and making your head fuzzy.

You’re good at this, the both of you. Being fun, flirty with each other. The sex is unbelievable, it’s so easy to fall back into his arms when he looks at you with those icy blue eyes all liquid heat and desire.

“Are you going to let me show you how much I care, sötnos?” William’s voice is a low rumble that makes goosebumps rise on your arms, the memory of that voice speaking filth into your hair as he fucked you like his life depended on it.

“This is the last time,” you swear, rocking forward on the balls of your feet. William grins and meets you halfway, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His hands are cupping your cheek, the back of your head to position you at an angle for him to deepen the kiss.

You moan into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body against the length of his. You can feel the ridge of his erection against your stomach, hot through the layers of clothes. William’s fingers tangle in your hair, tugging until there’s a sharp prick of pain in your scalp and you gasp, arching against him.

“Make the best sounds,” he mumbles against your lips, pulling back slightly, grinding his hips against yours. “Missed those sounds.”

He feels so good, solid against you and you’ve missed him even though it’s only been a few weeks.

“Will…” you whine his name, gasping when he bites and sucks at your pulse point, a flood of arousal between your legs. You roll your hips mindlessly, desperate for more. You’re unbearably wet for him, your body intimately acquainted with his talents and ready for more after being deprived.

His beard scratches your skin and you feel his lips curl into a smile against your neck, the edges of his teeth pressing against your skin. “I know,” he mumbles, biting gently. “I’m gonna give you everything you want, promise. I’m gonna make it so good for you, you’ll forget your own name.”

You’re being moved, walked backwards to your couch, with William’s lips all over your neck and collarbone. His hands are on your hips, holding you flush against his cock, and you wiggle in his grip, whines falling from your mouth around pleas for anything, everything.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of the couch and you’re falling, wrapped in William’s arms to cushion the impact. He braces himself, still landing on you with a little exhale and a laugh, making you giggle too. Sex has always been fun with him, laughter filling any room you’re in, and this is no different. He peppers your face with kisses, making you laugh even harder, until you’re pushing at his chest and gasping for him to stop so you can catch your breath.

“No, no,” he grins wickedly, “I’m not stopping, I’ve missed you.” His hand slides over your hip and up the hem of your shorts, two fingers teasing at the damp fabric of your panties. You buck your hips into his touch. “Feels like she missed me too.”

Heat flushes your chest and you turn your face away from him, embarrassed at how wet you are from just kissing. You mumble something, incomprehensible to both you and William, and he laughs again, teasing at your clit through the fabric. Your legs twitch to wrap around his waist, but he’s got you pinned in place with his thighs on the outside of yours.

“Don’t hide that pretty face,” he leans down to kiss you, adding more pressure to your clit so you moan into his mouth. “Had to think about you and this perfect pussy every day to get some relief. My dick’s never been harder than when I’m remembering it buried in you.”

To emphasise the point, William slots his hips between yours, pressing the thick bulge of his cock against your cunt, thrusting his hips lightly to work you up even more. Your breath hiccups in your chest and pleasure builds in your stomach, desperate for relief.

“Don’t tease,” you whine, digging your nails into his back muscles, dragging them down to leave marks. Neither of you have ever shied away from marking the other and William’s the first one to tell you to mark him up. “This isn’t happening again, do it right this time.”

“We’ll see,” William grunts, shifting so he can kneel between your legs and hook one of your thighs around his hip. You’re still completely clothed, but with your legs spread open, you feel bare to him. “We’re good at this, sötnos, we can be good at everything.”

It’s not true, you think hazily, because you weren’t good at keeping the relationship going when an outside issue popped up, but the thought is gone just as fast as William’s pulling aside the elastic of your panties and plunging two thick fingers into your cunt with an embarrassingly loud, wet sound.

“Oh! Fuuuck,” you gasp, dragging the curse out on a moan. His fingers pump in and out of you relentlessly, dragging along your front wall and pushing you closer to the edge of your orgasm. You chant his name, heels scrabbling at the couch cushions.

“Come on,” he encourages you, holding your hip in place with his free hand. “Come for me, I can feel how close you are. So tight and wet, going to cream on my fingers, sötnos?”

“Yes, yes, oh my god,” you wail, William’s thumb pressed firmly on your clit, making you see stars. It doesn’t take too much longer for you to gush around his fingers, soaking his hand and dripping down the curve of your ass. You can barely process the force of your orgasm and the shit-eating grin on William’s face before he and his hand are gone.

Your cunt clenches around nothing, suddenly empty, and your voice is slurred even to your own ears when you mumble, “what- Will…”

His voice drifts up from the floor, where he’s kneeling and pulling at your knees. “Told you I was going to show you how much I care,” he kisses the inside of your knee, rubbing his cheek against your skin like a house cat. “Going to worship you on my knees.”

You’re yanked forward on the couch, a yelp escaping your lips. William’s got your shorts and panties on the floor and your legs tossed over his shoulders before you can blink and his mouth is on your cunt in the next heartbeat, his tongue flat against your sensitive cunt. It’s hard to suck in a breath with the way he eats you out. He traces your clit with the tip of his tongue, teasing at your entrance with one blunt finger while the other hand has a vice-like grip on your thigh.

He hums against you, face buried between your legs to the point where you wonder briefly if he can even breathe. His nose presses against your clit next and all thoughts are gone, blue-screened as he laps at your arousal, the scruff of his playoff beard rubbing painfully against your sensitive, soaked skin.

William grunts when you kick his back, unable to control your legs as pressure builds again. Your hands find their way to his hair, twisting your fingers in the blond strands and pulling, holding his face in place so your hips can move, grinding over his nose.

You’re barely recovered from your first orgasm and everything is still sensitive. William’s tongue is stiff as it fucks in and out of your entrance, two fingers pressed inside your cunt, keeping you feeling full. You clench around his fingers and he groans into you, nudging the tip of his nose harder against your clit.

“Oh my god, there, right there,” you babble, digging your heel into his shoulder blade, rolling your hips over his face. It’s not enough and you wail his name, desperate for more.

William nips at your inner thigh and then dives back in, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, hard. You scream his name, back arching, and fingers tightening around his hair. The bastard laughs against your clit, the vibration sending an electric shock up your spine and snapping the tight coil of pleasure in your lower stomach.

You come again, eyes pinched shut, and moaning loudly, wantonly. It feels too good, too overwhelming and you’d be embarrassed by the force of your orgasm if it were anyone but William between your legs.

William’s face pops up between your legs, your thighs trembling on his shoulders. His hair is flopped over his forehead, messy from your abuse. He’s got a massive grin on his face and his beard is soaked with your arousal. Your hands fall from his hair and land on the couch cushions, as limp as the rest of your body. You manage a shaky grin back, breathing heavily.

“Next time,” he quips cheekily, wiping a hand over the lower half of his face, “I’m bringing a snorkel so I don’t drown in that sweet, wet pussy of yours.”

Somehow, you still have the facilities to remind him, “no, there’s no next time. This is the last time, no more,” in a slurred, faint voice. You’re still dripping for him, his fingers lazily playing at your entrance, smearing slick all over the place. Your thighs tremble and twitch and he turns his head to kiss the soft skin of your inner thigh, nipping gently and licking at the spot.

He hums and you try and wiggle away from his touch, gentle as it is on your clit, you’re bordering on overstimulated. “How can I convince you that this time is different?” He asks, making eye contract from between your legs. His blue eyes are serious, pupils still blown with arousal. William’s fingers are distracting between your legs, slowly stroking you to another orgasm. Fire builds low in your stomach, stoked by his continued chatter. “Another orgasm on my fingers? You’re always so sweet after I make you come, content to curl up like a cat. Maybe I need to fuck you hard and fast, get you strangling my cock so your thoughts that you don’t matter to me are gone.”

You whine, clenching around his fingers, rolling your hips over his hand. “William,” his name is a gasp punched from your lungs as his fingers find your g-spot and bully it until you’re coming, squirting down his arm and all over the couch. Your clit throbs painfully and you sob from the overwhelming strength of your third orgasm.

William’s other hand is between his own legs, stroking his cock - you can see his shoulder moving, hear the little grunts he’s trying to muffle - and you pant, trying to catch your breath. It’s impossible and when William finally removes his hand from between your legs, sucking his fingers clean, you sob from the relief. And something else, clicking in your chest, a feeling you don’t want to feel.

He leans up higher on his knees, concern etched in the lines on his forehead. “Sötnos,” he murmurs, sliding his hands over your hips and splaying them over your stomach, stroking gentle circles, “I’m sorry, that last one was too much. Talk to me, are you okay?”

You shake your head, hiccuping and gasping. Your hand snakes out on the couch and reaches for a throw pillow to throw over your face, everything is too exposed, your legs are in the air still draped over William’s shoulders. With a wiggle, you swing your legs off of him, fighting to curl up on the couch.

“What happened?” William asks, hands on your waist, you can feel his body heat when he leans in to pluck the pillow from your face. “Talk to me, please. You’re freaking me out.”

“I…this wasn’t supposed…” you gasp out, wiping at your face with the heels of your palms. Your chest feels tight. “I don’t want to keep doing this! I don’t want to keep falling into bed and loving you and getting my heart broken, William! Orgasms aren’t going to help, it doesn’t…I can’t be in love with you and only have…”

You cut yourself off, miserable that you admitted to loving him, still fuzzy and shaky and wet from the orgasms.

William clicks his tongue and lets out a little sigh of your name, affection and amusement laced in the syllables. He manhandles you easily, slipping your shorts back up your legs and dragging you onto his lap, your knees on either side of his hips, his cock hard and hot under your ass. “Sorry,” he laughs, kissing your cheek quickly.

You drop your face to his neck, curling close even though you just want to run and hide. “Stop being nice to me,” you wail. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Sötnos,” William peppers your cheek and neck with light kisses, hands splayed over your back. “Don’t be. I didn’t realize, I’ve been in my head too much.”

He hasn’t said it back, you can’t help but notice, your heart hammering in your chest. You want him to say it back, but only if he means it. You can’t handle any other option.

“I can hear you thinking,” he murmurs, mouth right next to your ear. “I don’t want to say it when you’re sad like this. I want it to be a happy memory for you.”

Your heart lurches in your chest and your tears taper off, the shoulder of William’s shirt damp. “I hate feeling like this,” you sigh, pulling back a little to look him in the eyes. “I need you to promise me that this is the last time I have to do this.”

William grips your chin between his index finger and thumb. “I promise,” he says seriously. “I’ll be better. We’ll be better.”

He pauses and his eyes twinkle before he says, “come with me this summer, back home. To Stockholm. I’ll show you a Swedish summer and we can figure it out.”

You find yourself nodding, encouraged by the excitement in William’s voice and the smile that transforms his face. “Okay,” you agree in a quiet voice, nodding as you talk. “Okay. What does a Swedish summer entail?”

You’re picturing long walks with the dogs, holding hands and falling deeper in love. Your heart squeezes, fragile hope and delusion at war with each other.

“Hm, chocolate definitely,” William grins and you relax on his lap. “Meatballs,” he continues on a laugh, his hands ghosting down your sides and coming to rest on your ass. He squeezes and kneads your skin, fingers digging into your muscles, “massages.”

“I like the sound of that,” you say, tracing your fingers over the seams that run from the collar to the sleeves on his shirt. William’s hands trace up your sides, under your shirt, and cup your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples, teasing them to stiff, painful points and you arch into his touch, a little whimper slipping out of your mouth.

He’s hardening under you, cock twitching against your inner thigh, and you grind down a little on him.

“Let’s go to your bedroom and get the summer started,” William kisses you soundly, lips and teeth and tongue working together to make you dizzy. As if you haven’t already lost all your senses to three orgasms in quick succession. As if you’re not already in too deep.

You barely have a chance to answer before he’s locking his hands under your ass and standing up, carrying you into your bedroom. His mouth finds every inch of exposed skin and trails heat down your neck and over your chest, teeth scraping at your collarbone.

You whine a little and William promises to be good for you, to make it good for you.

You can only hope he’s a man of his word.

You don’t know how many last times you have in you.

[the-offside-rule]

Paul Aron (Hitech) - that way

Requested: no, just an idea

Prompt: that way - Tate Mcrae

Warnings: its acc kinda sad

It was a tough weekend. The kind that leaves you drained, questioning your choices, and yearning for something, or someone, to make it better. Y/n sat on the edge of the Aston Martin hospitality lounge, watching the paddock lights flicker as the sun set. The 2024 season was supposed to be her breakout year. After a stellar karting career, climbing through Prema, and now sitting in an F1 seat, she had every reason to feel on top of the world. But today, a botched qualifying session had stolen her momentum.

Her phone buzzed, lighting up with messages from people telling her to shake it off, but she only clicked on one contact.

Y/n Dinner? Your treat.

Paul Feeling better already?

Y/n Not even close. So?

Paul Fine. Where?

Y/n Surprise me.

Paul was as much a part of her journey as her love for racing. They had been teammates, rivals, and now, something more complicated. Ever since their karting days, Y/n had felt a connection with him that went beyond friendly competition. They’d practically grown up together, racing side by side, but the unspoken feelings between them lingered like a storm cloud. Y/n wasn’t subtle, either. She’d dropped hint after hint over the years, teasing him, nudging him toward the obvious. But Paul was stubborn; or oblivious. Maybe both.

By the time Paul picked her up, her mood had slightly improved. He’d chosen a quiet Italian restaurant away from the paddock chaos. They ordered pasta and wine, settling into a comfortable rhythm of conversation. "I still can’t believe you pulled pole today." Y/n said, raising her glass. "You’re making me look bad." Paul grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Not my fault you drive a slower car."

"Oh, don’t start. I could’ve beaten you in that Hitech any day." She shot back, smirking. They joked like this for most of the evening, the stress of the day slowly melting away. Y/n found herself laughing more than she had in weeks, the tension between them forgotten. For a while, it felt like they were just two old friends catching up. But as the night went on, the familiar warmth in her chest grew stronger. The way Paul leaned in when she spoke, the way he laughed at her jokes, the way his gaze lingered on her just a second too long; it was maddening.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. "Paul?" She said softly, setting her glass down. He looked up, his eyes lingering on her for longer than usual. "Yes?" He asked, his voice suddenly cautious. She took a breath in, hoping this wine would be her liquid courage to finally tell him. And then she blurted it out.

"I like you."

The words hung in the air between them, heavier than anything they’d ever said before. Paul blinked, clearly startled. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if he were choosing his next words carefully. "I... I like you too." Relief washed over Y/n, a smile tugging at her lips as she let out her shakened breath. "Thank God. I thought I was imagining things-"

"But-" Paul interrupted quickly. "I mean, as a friend. My best friend. You’re... you’re my best friend." Her smile faltered, replaced by an incredulous scoff. "Friend? Are you serious right now?" Paul avoided her gaze, suddenly very interested in his empty glass. "I mean, that’s what we are, right?" She put her glass down and leaned closer,not wanting to have too much attention put on them. "Paul-" She said, her voice sharper now. "Everyone in the paddock can see it. Ollie, Franco, your teammate, my teammate... hell, even my engineers keep asking if we’re dating! They say you really like me."

"Well, theyre lying to you." Paul said stubbornly, his tone defensive. Silence fell between them again. Y/n looked between his eyes, silently hoping this was a joke. When he picked up his glass and sipped from it, avoiding her gaze, she took it as it was. Y/n laughed bitterly, shaking her head. She chucked her napkin onto the table and sat up. "What are you doing?" Paul asked. "They might be lying, but your eyes aren’t. You don’t look at me like we’re just friends. You’ve never looked at me that way." Paul didn’t respond. He couldn’t. She put down a fifty euro note, hoping it would cover her part of the bill before grabbing her jacket and slinging it over her shoulder. "When you’re ready to stop lying to yourself, you know where to find me." Without another word, she walked out of the restaurant, leaving Paul sitting there alone, his thoughts racing and his heart heavier than ever.

For the first time, in a long time, he realized he might have just made the biggest mistake of his life.

[creepa-b0t-inc]

Being an artist is scary

What if the characters you gave trauma and drama and tragedy come to life and kill you for it

[poisonousquinzel]

Batman (2016) #100

the way it probably took him a second to find her after he abandoned Joker and chased after her. how the bomb evidently did detonate.

i'll ponder forever over how that moment went down and how he prevented the explosion from killing her, but not enough to save her from being severely injured & unconscious for a week recovering. how he spent hours at her bedside in case she happened to wake up that day, how he went to her hospital room on that day as well despite "I had to bury my father again today. I did it with my family." And having every beyond reasonable excuse to just not that day,,. he still made time and effort to check in on her.

the day dc treats harley's suicidal ideation as exactly what it is and let's the characters around her acknowledge it will be a glorious win for the community

[thebiggerbear]

Wow this was amazing!!! This was my very first foray into reading Sansa x Reader and it did not disappoint. I really enjoyed the Lady of Bear Island aspect that the reader came from.

Grey was a simple color but you thought it had never looked more regal on someone else than it did her. Sansa Stark was, indeed, truly beautiful as everyone else had said. She had a stoic look on her face that was very fitting for the plain Stark colors, but her fiery red hair seemed to compliment it in a way you had never thought was possible.

Love this bit. Really paints the picture of Sansa not only as the flame-haired beauty but also as a Stark and how she is complemented by the House colors. Beautifully written!!!

She was extremely tall, even sitting down, but her arms were placed neatly in her lap as she wore a small but pleasant smile on her face. She didn’t seem to try and be intimidating in any sense, yet somehow her raw beauty still managed to have you shaking.

I love this, too. It really does capture the essence of Sansa and as Queen in the North, and I can imagine being just as nervous as the Reader.

“Lady Mormont,” there was that word again you said to yourself. “I’m afraid the name doesn’t truly fit me. There has never been a Lady of Bear Island declared such from a lower house before.” “There’s never been a Queen in the North before either,” the Stark girl offered catching on to your feelings of uneasiness. “And yet, here we are.”

Perfection. Pure Sansa.

“You may call me Sansa,” she gives you a warmer smile this time and you feel yourself smiling back at her. You can’t help but think you’ve just passed some sort of test the Starks give to test others’ loyalty and hope this means your relationship with the Queen is at least off to a pleasant start. For too long, conflict between leaders and their people had caused bloodshed across the continent and peace seemed unattainable. But now, you had a truly devoted, just, yet sharp-minded ruler of the independent North that you were certain would lead you all to prosperity.

I feel like this really describes not only Sansa, but everything relating to the Starks as a House to a tee. Sansa was the just woman that was needed on a Throne and I believe she proved that, even before her ending in the series finale. And she is very sharp-minded, incredibly intelligent and devoted to her family, House, and The North. All of this to say that I love how you put all of this into words here.

A somber smile struck her face again. “Thank you, the fabric belonged to a friend of mine back in King’s Landing.” “You made friends in King’s Landing?” you asked genuinely surprised. She seemed to sound serious but you had heard enough stories from the south to know that Northerners generally don’t do well in the capital.  “Just one. Her name was Margaery Tyrell.” “Oh,” a lump formed in your throat. The former Queen and the Rose of Highgarden had supposedly been so beautiful that she could melt any Northerner’s cold frozen heart. You’d heard tales of her beauty and didn’t doubt that they were wrong, but aside from her charm and grace the only thing you knew about her was her unfortunate fate. “Then I am so sorry for your loss, Sansa. Truly.” “Thank you, Y/N. But she did teach me a lot and was kind to me when I had nobody else. She gave me hope when I needed it the most.”

I LOVE this callback to Margaery. I have to admit, that was one thing in the show that bothered me that they never touched upon again: Sansa hearing of Margaery's death or reacting to it in any way shape or form. So thank you for putting this in here and for doing it in such a way that is a beautiful tribute to that friendship/mentorship they had and just how important Margaery was to Sansa. Just

“Of course! I would be delighted. I was hoping to leave before the new Lord Umber gets too drunk anyway. He can be very handsy after a few glasses of wine,” you joke which makes her laugh for the first time in a long time. It’s so gentle and it lights up her face so marvelously that you can’t help but think it is the most beautiful thing in the entire North and you hope to make her laugh again.

This is just lovely. Such a beautiful salute to not only Queen Sansa but Sansa herself as the woman she is, the character we came to know over eight seasons. Thank you so much for writing this, I truly enjoyed it!!! 😊💖💖

The Wolf Queen Part 1/? (Sansa Stark x female reader)

As the new Lady of Bear island you are called to the coronation of the new Queen in the North. After a harsh winter that seemed to take all hope of future happiness away from you, a certain red headed beauty’s kind heart rekindles a flame in your heart brighter than ever before. This is just you meeting Sansa and the two of you becoming acquainted. Things will definitely heat up as the story progresses and I’ll let y’all know when the next part will be up real soon :)

House Whitewater had lived on Bear Island under the banner of the Mormonts for thousands of years. Between the War of the Five Kings and the Great War, there had been too many loses across the island for you to handle. Personally, your brothers had been taken from you when they went off with Robb Stark and then your mother, the matriarch of your family since your father died when you were two, had been lost to the army of the dead. Soon after you saw her engulfed by a wall of wights as she pushed you to safety, you learned of the loss of your fierce lady: Lady Lyanna Mormont. She had been your lady but more importantly your dear cousin, since your mother was born a Mormont. After you had lost her, you struggled to find a reason to continue living.

However, with what was left of the Bear Island population, you were technically next in line to take over for House Mormont and you were encouraged to take the name due to the special circumstances. So at the tender age of 17, you were called to attend the coronation of Sansa Stark, Queen in the North, as the Lady of Bear Island.

Keep reading

[miradelletarot]

Ughh this is gonna be a messy post, but I want to say some things that are on my heart rn.

First of all, this blog will always and forever support LGBTQIA+. No intentional erasure of any kind will happen here. I just want to make that clear.

All my life (despite a very Conservative, bigoted and r*cist upbringing with silent gen and boomer parents,) I have always fought to love everyone. To treat everyone the way I wanted to be treated. With love and respect.

I spent my whole life with a binary mindset, trying to understand and learn about all the different pronouns and identities. I still have a lot to learn and understand. I'm getting there. (And I hope you'll be patient with me as I continue to grow).

Now, here I sit, months after discovering my own demisexuality... And I'm straight. Talk about feeling like a round peg trying to fit thru a square hole. My identity means so much to me right now because it's belonged to everyone else for all these years. I was brainwashed into believing I had no autonomy. I'm finally in a place where I can reclaim what's been taken from me. (I won't go into how Christianity hurt me...but let's just say, I have a lot of trauma bc of my old faith that ties into a lot of this. I'd need to make an hr long video just to unpack it all.)

What's great is that I have been met with nothing less than love, respect, and kindness, welcomed with open arms without terms and conditions from this community. On and off Tumblr. More than I've experienced in any community ever. Even more so than the witchy/pagan community.

I guess I just want to say that I love y'all. A whole fucking lot. Thank you for making me feel seen. Thank you for your love.

And I hope it's ok to say this but... I'm excited as hell to celebrate this year's Pride month, no longer just as an ally...but as a part of the Ace community.

Thanks for giving this odd, funky-shaped peg a place to call home.

Happy Pride. 🏳️‍🌈

[tls12lessthan3]

kim dokja erectile dysfunction arc. walk with me here

[riverrunscold]

Since we're sharing youtube comments, I wanted to share this underrated one

[ofromtheunderworld]

Tbh, I kinda like this new approach towards Moana now. I feel like it could be a major subplot within Moana 3, like with her discovering more powers and that she’s immortal now, with her debating if she’s wants to become a demigod or try to find a way to make her mortal again.

I feel like she would really struggle which to choose since she absolutely loves her people and her family and doesn’t want to outlive everyone, especially her younger sister who loves her to death. She cares so much about her people and her family that would be willing to fight gods for them. She is the chief (or future chief) of her people and she wants them all to be happy and thriving. But at the same time, she doesn’t want to Maui alone since he was on his own for most of his life.

This could easily create a struggle for Maui too if he realizes if Moana doesn’t want to be a demigod with him. When you think about Maui’s story, it’s actually very sad: His parents killed him right after birth because they didn’t want him, the gods gave him a second chance at life and raised him to become a demigod, he did everything for the humans to become wanted, but that want for acceptance led for him to steal the heart for the humans, which led to the destruction of many islands and tribes and caused him to be in isolation for HUNDREDS OF YEARS.

Moana was the same thing to him in his eyes like all those other tribes: wanting Maui to help her with something. But when they got to know each other, he finally has someone who cares about him. Someone who can get serious yet silly with him. Someone who’s he worries about losing. Something that he possibly never truly had before.

A friend.

He was completely against her coming onto the trip this time, not because he didn’t want to deal with her, but because he doesn’t want her to DIE. You seen the way he was crying when he found out that Moana died at the end of the movie. She was the first human who he interacted with for years and possibly the only friend he ever had in his life. So I imagine when he fully realizes that she can’t die anymore and can fully live with him forever, he would be more than thrilled.

So you could imagine what this struggle could cause for the both of them. Maui would have to comprehend the fact that the person that he’s closest to could possibly not want to join him in the deity life and he may still be on his own for the rest of his life and Moana would have the bigger struggle to deal with and the bigger question to answer: “Do I abandon Maui and the new demigod life that I was given for my people and my family or do I abandon my people and family, INCLUDING my little sister, for my best friend?”

We could have multiple ways this could play out in the 3rd movie: Maui and Moana arguing over this topic and almost causing them to fallout of their friendship, Maui and Moana wanting the other to be happy and doesn’t want to make things more difficult for each other while fighting their own inner demons, Moana fully accepting the deity life but she has to teach her family and people why she chose the path (Which could lead to a whole spiral of problems, especially with Simea), etc.

I could see either one of the endings playing out with Moana either becoming fully mortal again or staying as a demigod, (Unless they pull something completely random out of their ass, like idk, Maui becoming a full mortal again) and it would be very interesting to see how everything plays out in the 3rd movie. I’m kinda excited for Moana 3 now just with this subplot alone, let alone about Nalo being a major villain in the 3rd movie, and let’s just hope that whatever Disney chooses that it’s written correctly in a likable way for the audience and not washed down by a bunch of unnecessary jokes.

moana being immortal now really fucks me up like you're telling me she's going to watch simea grow up and older than her? I'm supposed to be normal about the fact that moana will never return to the sea, to her ancestors, the way everyone she knows and loves will? you mean to say that someday maui will be her only companion, the only one in her life who won't grow old and die? am i understanding correctly that death, originally her biggest obstacle, is now just pretty much off the table for her?

[triglycercule]

sometimes i like to think that horror comes to dust's room late at night just to talk to phantom papyrus. no he doesn't wanna talk to dust. horror probably doesn't even CARE if dust's awake at the asscrack of dawn or rambling off to the hallucination too loudly this late at night because he just wants to talk to phantom papyrus

horror's not delusional enough to believe that phantom paps is actually real and his own papyrus like dust does but sometimes he really wants to,,,, so just for these short moments between them he wants to pretend that the hallucination is his papyrus. that he gets to talk to his own brother before everything went to shit and before he ruined his brother's life. yeah sure phantom paps kinda says some crazy stuff that horror's papyrus never would back then but so what?? dust's papyrus is the closest thing he's got and at least he doesn't have to deal with the guilt at even LOOKING at his brother's face (the sunken eyesockets,,,, the uneven teeth,,,,, yeah no) because there's nothing there. horror doesn't have to do anything but keep his back turned to dust and just talk to papyrus through him

they both keep their backs turned to eachother when they do this because neither of them can stand looking at eachother. dust especially because hearing horror sound so much like how he was before. horror sounds so lighthearted and relaxed and just,,,,, normal that it almost reminds dust of himself. maybe if he closed his eyes and tuned out his own voice he could just imagine the moment being a conversation between himself and paps back then before he had to kill him over and over. dust doesn't want to have to look back and see horror's mutilated skull and his permanently replaced eye. he doesn't want the fake scenario he's choosing to indulge in right now to be broken

and then i think they talk like that for a long time; because horror has a lot to say to paps about himself and what he regrets and dust has a lot of reminiscing to do on the good old days before he lost himself :3

[harbingerofsoup]

begging y’all to remember that aziraphale and crowley aren’t men

[whentherewerebicycles]

hmm not very impressed by the eye doctor... he was 30 minutes late to start with and then he did the "1 or 2" thing like three times total and none of the options were any better than my current lenses. then instead of continuing to try he was like ok we'll order these lenses (even though the one he picked was still blurry?). i was like oh that's not quite... i was still having trouble with those... and he was kinda impatiently like well your eyes are dilated so we won't be able to tell for sure until you come back and your eyes aren't dilated. sir you were the person who dilated my eyes literally five minutes earlier... why would you have done that if it meant you couldn't get an accurate prescription?

[tiowsejr]

My sister is having a baby shower and my mom got my brother and I to draw some kingdom hearts art for it

(she's naming her baby Roxas, which is kinda cringe ngl)