#pocket billiards

[pwlanier]

Snooker, Billiards & Life Pool Scoreboard Attributed To Thurston & Co.

A nice combined Victorian billiards and life pool scoreboard made of light oak. The billiard scorer sits upon a lockable ball cabinet that can house 32 balls, which then sits upon a cupboard. The cupboard comprises of two drawers, a pair of panelled doors enclosing a shelf, the cupboard raised on a plinth base. The scorer comprises of two blue rollers with gilt painted numbers, 0 to 20 / 20 to 40 / 40 to 60 / 60 to 80 / 80 to 100, with two ebony slides to mark your score, one spot and one plain. The Life Pool board consists of 12 slides with coloured discs, each colour representing the player's cue ball and the order of play. The colours of the discs being blue, brown, green, white, red, yellow, black, pink, spot orange, spot white, spot red and spot yellow. When each slide is pulled back 3 boxwood discs are revealed, one for each life of the player. There are also "stars" hiding, and these are used as extra lives. In the middle of the scoreboard there is a slate board for keeping scores etc.

The game of Life Pool can be played by a number of players, a maximum of 12 players with this scoreboard, who form the pool. Each player has their own coloured ball and loses a life each time the ball is potted by an opponent. When three lives are lost an extra life can be purchased, this is represented by the 'star'. This can be done up to 3 times before the player finally has to leave the game.

Schotten

[esoteric-cue-sports]

Canadian Skittles

I discovered this little gem while searching the internets for more details regarding Danish Pin Billiards.

Among other things I discovered that another word used for pin billiards is "skittles", presumably named after the lawn bowling pins bearing the same name.

Anyway, a game that caught my eye seems to be a half-way thing between Snooker and Danish Pins. It's referred to as "Canadian Skittles" and doesn't have a Wikipedia entry for me to refer back to. The lack of such a centralised resource was actually the main motivation to create this blog!

Anyway, on with the game explanation.

From my limited research, I can see that the game comes in a number of different variants. The most notable three differ in the number of black pins used.

This writeup will introduce you to the 1, 2, and 3 black pin variants of the game. The rules shouldn't differ too signficantly between versions other than initial setup.

Materials and Setup

To play this game you need the following:

A Snooker table, but a Pool table can also work

1-3 black pins (depending on variant)

4 non-black pins. This can either be 4 whites, or a yellow, green, brown, and red pin.

A white cue-ball, a yellow ball, and a red ball.

The pins are between 3" (7.62 cm) and 3.5" (8.89 cm) according to the rules I found, which is taller than Five-Pin pins (2.5 cm) and shorter than Danish Pin pins (10-12 cm).

To set up for the 1-black-pin variant, put the yellow ball on the brown Snooker spot, the red ball on the pink Snooker spot, and place the black pin on the blue Snooker spot with all the other pins surrounding the central black pin as shown below:

To set up for the 2-black-pin variant, set up exactly as before, but place the second black pin on the pink Snooker spot, then put the red ball on the black Snooker spot as seen in the diagram below:

To set up for the 3-black-pin variant, place the third black pin on the brown Snooker spot, then place the yellow ball on the yellow Snooker spot in the corner of the D, as seen in the diagram below:

As usual, please note that the diagrams are not to scale.

The placement of black pins and balls may vary from variant to variant. From placing the yellow and red balls on the black and pink spots in the 1-pin variant, to swapping the black pin and yellow ball in the 3-pin variant.

I don't think there's any official standardised set of rules for the game. The number of black pins basically just determines the difficulty level of the game.

The Game

The object of the game is to get 31 points without going over.

An optional variant is to play the game with numbered peas (nomally used for Kelly Pool), where each player gets a secret random number from 1 to 15 which determines their starting score.

Most versions of the rules I've found also sees players play for a $10 pot with additional penalties for fouls and such. Winner collects the pot plus money for each foul made by the other players.

Structure

The game is played in innings, meaning a player's turn continues as long as they make points and don't make any fouls.

Causing a foul ends the turn immediately, see Fouls for details.

The Break

To break, the starting player places their cue ball in the D, which must then exit the baulk area/kitchen, then hit a ball. This is the same as the in-hand rules.

Note that the cue ball may hit a cushion outside the baulk area then rebound and hit a ball inside the baulk area. The point is just that it must fully exit.

Scoring Points

There are a number of ways to score points in the game, all of which come from the games that inspired it.

Pocketing the yellow ball: 2 points

Pocketing the red ball: 3 points

Losing Hazard/In-Off on the yellow: 2 points

Losing Hazard/In-Off on the red: 3 points

Carom Shot/Cannon: 2 points

Knocking over non-black pins gives the appropriate values in points, red: 1, yellow: 2, green: 3, brown: 4.

Knocking over a black pin gives 5 points.

Pins can be knocked over by any ball, as long as the cue-ball has made contact with another ball first.

A Losing Hazard or In-Off is a shot where the cue-ball is pocketed after hitting another ball. A Carom shot/Cannon is when the cue-ball hits both the other two balls.

All Losing Hazards give the player ball in hand.

Additionally there are three ways to get an instant win:

Royal: Knocking down all the non-black pins by themselves. This is also knowns as a sweep.

Natural: Knocking down all the black pins by themselves (not available in the 1-black-pin variant)

Pocketing all three balls in the same shot (according to one rule-set)

Re-Spotting

Any pocketed balls and knocked over pins get re-spotted to their starting points as necessary. A pocketed cue-ball gets "re-spotted" in-hand within the D and must then be shot with the normal break rules.

Fouls

When a foul occurs, the foul is marked with an X on the scoreboard and the player's score resets down to zero.

Knock over both black and non-black pins.

Score on the same type of shot three times in a row.

Cue-ball doesn't hit any other balls.

Cue-ball hits the pins before hitting a ball.

Cue-ball gets pocketed without hitting a ball.

Cue-ball fails to make contact with a ball outside the baulk area when in-hand.

Active player exceeds the target score.

Active player achieves target score without knocking over any pins.

Pins or balls get knocked off the table.

Knock or move something in other ways than intended through normal play. i.e. with a sleeve or the side of the cue etc.

Winnings

As mentioned, the winning player wins the pot + the value for any X's the other players made in fouls.

If you aren't playing for money, call these victory points or game points instead.

Sources

As mentioned, this game didn't have one de-facto source for rules, so I had to source them from a few different places:

[z2z-gaming-and-random-art-ai]

Console Sports Games of 1993 - Side Pocket

A very old game making its way to the SNES in 1993, Side Pocket is a pool game developed by Data East and initially released in Arcades way back in 1986. 

Releases for the NES, Game Boy and Genesis would follow in the interim with the SNES release following in 1993. Side Pocket would not be the same game releases each time, with each new release the game was improved with better visuals and sound, as well as additions to the game's modes. 

The SNES and Genesis versions of the game would see the Pocket game mode increase the number of levels, as well as additional trick shots. Two new modes are added to the game for these releases, Trick game and Jukebox. 

1. Intro 00:00 

2. Gameplay 00:15 

3. Outro 04:40 

Twitter (Gaming & AI Art) 

https://twitter.com/zero2zedGaming

Instagram (AI Art) 

https://www.instagram.com/random_art_ai/

For more sports game videos check out the playlists below 

Console Sports Games of 1993 

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFJOZYl1h1CEhIf6hohng9T2IPLCpzn7o

[srsallay]

Check out this awesome 'Monster 8 Ball Billiards Game' design on @TeePublic!

[bratbby333]

IM INLOVE WITH UR WORK can u pls do one where gojo and reader fucks on a pool table 🎀🎀🎀

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“You’re one cocky bastard, ya know that?” You scoffed, eyebrow raised at your white haired boyfriend stood across from you. You watched as he bent at the waist and lined up his turn, expertly shooting another one of his balls into the pocket.

Fuck, he made that one in, too. Only three balls left for Satoru.

“Seems like I can back it up, too, huh?” He smirked as he waltzed around the pool table, joining you on the other side. You turned to face him, the back of your thighs pressed up against the wooden edge of the billiards table, arms overlapped begrudgingly across your chest.

You stared up at him as intimidatingly as you could, rolling your eyes as he stood in front of you and placed his arms on either side of your body, trapping you between him and the table.

He leaned down to meet your glares.

“Ya know, we didn’t have to bet on this game…” he teased, your faces only inches apart now. “Cause…you’re not as good as you said you were, sweetheart,” he chuckled, head nodding toward the green felt.

“We can call the game now and you can take your punishment,” he offered smugly, his hands resting on your hips.

You glanced over your shoulder at the table. Six balls left for me, only three for Satoru. I’m screwed. The game was a wash.

You looked back at him, having accepted defeat, eyes glinting with mischief. You smirked as you casted your pool stick aside and hooked your fingers into his belt loops, tugging at them so his body was flush with yours.

His bright eyes darkened immediately, a cocky smirk twitched at the edge of his lips. You leaned in to kiss him, only for him to pull away as he clicked his tongue against his teeth.

“Uh uh, baby. Need to hear you say it,” he mused, his hands rubbing firm circles into your hips. You frowned at him before breaking his gaze, rolling your eyes again.

His hand found your jawline, gripping it tight as he brought your face back up to look at him.

“Say it.” He taunted, his fingers digging into your cheeks.

You sighed, chest hot with embarrassment and pussy drenched in arousal. A warm rouge emerged on your skin as you eyes traced the details in his face. You swallowed your pride before smiling sweetly.

“Please punish me, Satoru.” You requested, your doe-eyed face peering up at him innocently.

“Mmm..atta girl,” he groaned. In one quick motion, he spun you around so your back was pressed against his chest.

He placed hot, wet kisses on your neck as he undid the buttons to your jeans, sliding them down your legs; just enough for quick access.

His calloused fingers rubbed quick circles against your still-clothed clit, the urgency in his movements making you arch away from him, moaning out at his touch.

His long, slender finger slipped under the elastic of your thong, pulling your panties down to toy with your pussy some more.

“Already so wet for me, huh?” He teased, tracing his fingers through your gushy slit. He pressed one of his fingers against your entrance, dipping in just a bit before pulling out again. He shallowly plunged his digits in and out of you a few times, your whimpers of desperation setting his heart ablaze. He loved making you beg for him.

“‘Toru…p-please. Need you s’bad,” you mewled.

He chuckled deeply at your depravity, his teasing fingers still working into you superficially.

He pushed you down so your chest was pressed against the felted table, thrusting his fingers deep. You gasped at the sudden stretch as your hips dug into the wooden perimeter. His free hand grabbed your wrists and pinned them behind your back. Your pretty cries for him made his dick throb against your thigh.

“Look s’pretty laid out for me like this, princess,” he voiced with lustful admiration. He leaned over you, his bruising grip tight on your wrists, his slender digits kissing your sweet spot.

“F-feels s’good, Toru” you whined, hips gyrating against him. Your slickness trickled out around his fingers, your body desperate for more.

He knew your body better than you did and he reveled in how responsive and vocal you were just for him.

“You're soaked, pretty girl,” he praised. He worked deeper into you before removing his fingers, a trail of arousal gliding down your thigh.

You whined out for him, bucking your hips back in hopes he’d give you more.

You heard the metal clinks of his belt coming undone and the familiar sound of his zipper disengaging. He pulled himself out of his underwear, rubbing his cock against you, lubing his head with your juices.

He released your hands from behind your back, moving to grip your hips, palming at the fat of your ass as he lined himself up, teasing his head against your needy cunt. He thrusted into you roughly, your poor, deprived pussy sucking him in immediately.

A sob broke through your parted lips as pretty tears cascaded down your rosy cheeks, blissful stimulation rocketing through you with every thrust.

He leaned back over you, one hand pressed into the small of your back, the other cupping your throat, lifting your head up. His panting breath danced around the shell of your ear, his deep groans ripping through your fucked out body, pushing you even closer to your sweet release.

“Bad at pool but good at takin’ my cock, huh?” He husked against your neck, laughing as he fucked deeper into you.

He looped his arm underneath yours, bringing your shoulder blades toward one another as he pulled you upright against his chest. You dropped your head down, letting it bounce around aimlessly with every rough thrust.

“Mmm…uh huh—wanna be so g-good fa’ you,” you gasped out, the new angle allowing him to rub against your gummy walls so delectably. He tilted your head back so it rested against his shoulder, suckling roughly at your exposed skin.

“God…you’re fucking milkin’ me,” his words caught in his throat as he felt you clench down on him. “Takin’ your punishment so well,” he groaned into your neck, hungrily nipping at your throat.

He pulled out quickly and spun you around, hoisting you up onto the table. You kicked off your jeans as you laid back, your hair fanned out around you beautifully, arms strewn out. He climbed up after you, his strong arms tugging at your hips as he threw them around his waist. He repositioned himself at your soaked entrance and plunged deep inside once more.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this,” he growled out as he returned to his unrelenting pace inside you.

His large hands fondled at your chest, expertly rolling your budding nipples between his slender fingers. He ducked down to pull one into his mouth, lapping at it greedily. Crude, sinful sounds filled the room as your sloppy cunt sucked him in.

He rubbed furious circles into your throbbing clit, the tip of his cock feverishly fucking into your sweet spot.

“A-ahh…Satoru, I’m—”

“I know baby, I feel it…c’mon. Be good ‘n cum on this dick,” his tip prodded deliciously at your sweet spot as his fingers strummed around your clit in perfect synchronicity.

Your legs locked around his waist, eyes screwed shut as you squealed, clenching down around him as your orgasm clawed its way through your body.

He pumped into you furiously as he chased after his own release. You pressed your palms against his taught abs, hoping he’d give you some semblance of a break as the aftershock of overstimulation bulldozed your trembling frame.

He grasped your wrists in one hand, pushing them over your head as he pinned you to the table. His sapphire eyes drank in the sight of your languished body.

“Uh uh…keep takin’ me baby. You’re doin’ so so good,” he urged, thrusts rough and desperate. “Almost there, mama” he gasped out, his throat constricting around his words to mimic the tightness he felt around his cock.

His thrusts grew sloppy against your gushing cunt, hips stuttering into you as he finally bottomed out, shooting ropes of his milky seed deep into your womb.

The soft whines that fell from his pouted lips could’ve made you cum all over again.

He leaned down, catching your mouth in a sweet, lazy kiss. He pulled away and rested his glistening forehead against yours, the two of you sharing one breath.

“Just so you know...I lost on purpose,” you panted, struggling to regain your breath. You smirked up at him as your dazed eyes flitted around his face. He smiled down at you, brushing strands of your hair out of your face.

“You’re so full of shit.”

author notes: this one flew out of me during a 4am spiral last night...i hope you all enjoyyy ☺︎ biiig thanks to the lovely anon who sent this in xx

my request are open! i answer them randomly but i will eventually get to them! you can send your suggestions here♡

chaptered content is on the way! woohoo!! i will continue to release short form stories as i finish up the chapters.

as always, thank you so so much for engaging with my writing. every comment, like, and reblog is greatly appreciated. i love you all!

©bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[nouvxllev]

hey! can i get something like... Vada cavell x Fem reader? R is in a bar playing pool but she is terrible at it. Vada is enchanted by R and approaches her but R doesn't pay much attention to Vada. Vada then makes a bet that if she wins the pool match against R, she will get a kiss.

you can make the ending with R liking Vada and going home with her. smut if you want and g!p if u want

first fuck

Pairing: G!p!Vada Cavell x Fem!Reader

Summary: ^^ request!!

Words: 4.0k (was not expecting this is THAT long)

Warnings: smut. i think thats painfully obvious. but also a little fluff, bottomvadabottomvadabottomvadaholyshit, i love a confident to awkward little guy vada cavell

a/n: thank you for your request anon!! much appreciated, hope ive fulfilled it

masterlist.

Vada wasn't what you'd call someone who's great at pool, 8ball, or billiards, whatever you'd call it.

She'd boast about being 'somewhat decent' at the game even though her skills barely lined between the basics and knowing nothing at all.

She manages to win a few games here and there, but she doesn't really think winning a game against her 11 year old sister would be much of a win situation.

You on the other hand, the prettiest girl that Vada was definitely not watching for the past 20 minutes trying to pocket atleast one ball, basics were definitely not your thing. Or maybe you just skimmed it all and let it go through the other ear with how absolutely terrible you are playing.

Not that Vada has any room of say. But watching you focus so intensely on the cue stick only to somehow to sink the 8-ball in every match is almost adorable to her.

She couldn't tear her eyes off of you for even a second—it's suffocating.

She couldn't care less watching an idiot struggle lining up her shot for what felt like the hundredth time this evening surrounded by, seemingly, your group of friends.

Yet she could. She could say she was head over heels for you, enchanted even.

Vada, perched on top of the edge of one of the bar tables, a wry smile slowly coming up to her face as she watched you, drink in hand while she swirled it around, the ice slowly melting but her gaze on you remained frozen.

She heard how your friends cheered you on for the hundredth time, giggling while they watch you horribly fail and pocket the cue ball. They were ganging up on you quite fast, like there was some bet going around that if you win they'll probably give you 100$.

"So are you just going to keep watching that girl or are you going to come with us?" Nick creeped up, hand in hand with Mia, slightly kicking one of the legs on the chair, almost tumbling Vada down. Though she would rather die in her own hole than admit that she was someone light-weight.

Vada almost got knocked off if not for her getting a grip on the edge. "Kick my chair one more time and I will make my fall so damaging your wallet should be the one being hospitalized." She scowled, even if it looks like a pout more than anything.

"Scary." Nick rolled his eyes, almost darting his tongue at Vada if not for Mia nudging Nick, shaking her head while letting out a sigh.

"We're gonna play beer pong with the others. You coming, Vada?"

Vada hesitated for a moment, she could play pong where she was an absolute beast at, or she could stay and horribly pine for a girl she just saw like some weird stalker.

It's an easy choice.

"Mn, no thanks," she squeaked out, nodding slightly, "You guys go ahead. I'll catch up with you later," she replied, mustering a half-hearted smile before averting her gaze back to you.

The two let out a shrug, a 'suit your self' kind of shrug as they headed towards the table of those stereotypical cups you'd see in highschool parties, surrounded by her other friends. She could almost regret her decision if not for you catching her eye just for a slight second.

With a deep breath, as well downing what was left of her drink in mere seconds, she pushed herself off the edge of her seat and made her way over to your table, steeling herself for what she hoped would be a move of confidence (or maybe to fuel the lack of.)

And of course she'd regret it right away when she was already 2 steps away from you.

God, you were pretty. So, so, so pretty. Like her breathing capacity slowed down to a minimum.

Her hands made her way to that one ring on her pointer finger, fidgeting as she felt her heart pound in her chest and making its way up to her ears. She felt a flutter of nervous excitement in her stomach, like butterflies. But it wasn't just flying around, no, it was definitely eating her from the inside. In a good way.

She cleared her throat, trying to sound casual but not like that voice you'd do when it's awfully obvious you've been staring at them for a while.

"Uh," she started, or maybe stammered. What a way to go, Cavell. "Hello, do you—would you mind if I join in?" She stood at the left side opposing yours, fidgeting with her hands.

No response.

She didn't miss how her heart shot up a pitch when you glanced her way for a brief second before returning to that focus you had.

Maybe, at that point, it was Vada's cue to stop talking, but she persisted anyways, "I'm pretty good—okay maybe not that good but I do know the basics. You know, how to pocket a ball or two... is it alright if I play a game with you?" What an absolute lady charmer, Vada.

But again, no response.

It's sad how she sounded like if a man embodied a 7th grader who still used the same reduce and reuse horrible pickup lines was a 5'3 19 year old woman.

Vada bit her lip, so maybe it actually was the time to shut the fuck up. Or maybe not. Downing a glass of beer wasn't technically a way to stitch one Vada Cavells mouth up even if you tried.

So as some last-ditch effort, and something she wouldn't normally do if she had the mental capacity to stop her brain, Vada slammed a couple of $100 bills onto the pool table.

If someone were to ask where in the fuck did she get all her money from she'd probably answer that she's been waiting for this day. (Even if it was the money to pay her large amount of debt for Nick.) It was safe to say it caught all your attention.

"Could I make a bet with you?"

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

You weren't getting a fucking thing.

Pool wasn't your strong suit, more so not your forte. Maybe agreeing to joining a game with your friends might not have been the wisest move you've done. Sure you pocketed some balls, but they were either by a long shot or the wrong ball.

When you got that invite via text, you figure you'd just join in for a while then bail when things either, a, get messy and they have to drag you in for a possible aiding and abetting crime that would mess up your whole record, or b, becoming the designated driver for your friends who'll be blacked out like a light switch.

No person who has the mental capability and their frontal lobe intact would see either options to be appealing.

The balls scattered on the table after a near perfect break, which was the only thing you were good at you noticed, and your attempts to sink them into the pockets were met with more misses than hits.

To say that your patience was wearing thin was an understatement, and you have half a mind of stabbing your friends in the eye with the cue stick.

Your friend slung her arm over your shoulder, unable to contain her laughter. "Oh, this is sad to look at. You should just give up the 100$, y/n. It's been, what, 5 rematches? That's not even counting the times you accidentally hit the wrong ball."

You roll your eyes, hearing everybody laugh around you before sighing as you tried to line up your next shot, "I'd rather die before I have a negative symbol to my name." You retorted, mustering up the confidence and that one comfortable hand position that wasn't doing you any justice.

Of course, it doesn't. It always doesn't. How was it possible that you were hitting every corner but the one you're supposed to hit!?

The others let out an empathetic little 'ooooh...' even if you knew they were tiring their asses out not to laugh at you.

"Knowing that you have a 100$ and nothing is crazy, and that's even sadder."

And that's when you heard a loud slam when you were about to make your shot, expecting it to be one of your friends' hands messing you yet again, so imagine your surprise when you looked up to find the most amount of money you've been offered your whole entire life.

You blinked, your grip loosening on the cue stick as your gaze repeatedly looked down at the money and at the girl, "Hello?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

You knew this girl was watching you ever since she walked up to the table, yet you never seemed to pay attention to her, so you hadn't taken a good look at her until now.

Oh you were fucked.

She was gorgeous.

To say that your curiosity was piqued was an understatement, it was definitely caught. Trapped, even. "A bet?" you repeated, the flicker of interest in that one word was something you needed to work on, "what kind of bet?"

She nodded, a smile coming out of her lips. A dimple. Shit.

Her gaze was locked onto yours, you didn't even notice how all your friends dipped the moment the cash was slammed onto the table. "Yeah, is that... cool with you?" she leaned against the table, you didn't even notice she was only wearing a pair of basketball shorts and an oversized tee. "I'm Cavell. Vada, Cavell."

It looked hot on her more than it should've.

"We play a game of pool, think that's obvious enough," she chuckled, "If I win..." Vada paused, you could see her thinking as she stared off, "you owe me a kiss. But if you win," her fingers tapped on the bills of cash laying around, "I'll give you this. Maybe even double."

There is in no universe, no world, does the prettiest girl you have ever seen just proposed a bet with the stakes of a kiss and a couple hundred dollars in hard cash.

And it's almost concerning how you'd burn all the stacks of cash just to lose and kiss this girl. A stranger, yet she was one of those strangers who you'd absolutely go down on.

Maybe you had too much to drink when you gave a silent nod and accepted her challenge.

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

It's only been a few minutes into the game and you're giving half a mind to throw the game all together and pull Vada into the nearest stall and makeout with her.

You'd have to remind her that it's you should be plotting the cue ball then shoot. Not wink at you with that insufferable smirk on her face, take the cue ball from your hands, and pocket her own ball.

You're pretty good yourself, you noticed. You started taking on a different approach to cue spins, and you were getting the hang of not accidentally shooting the wrong ball.

Yet your thoughts became increasingly tempting, each one more distracting than the last.

Every time she leaned over the table to line up her shot, you couldn't help but stare at the way her hair often fell in loose waves around her face, her shirt falling against her movements.

That distracting in a way you could almost gauge your eyeballs with the cue stick to remind yourself to focus and tear your gaze away from her. Quite literally.

You lined up your shot, to say that your fingers were trembling was an understatement, they were fucking palpitating at this point. You try to ignore it yet it felt like every nerve in your body was relying on this damn point in your life, like they don't have anything better to do than make your body function normally.

It would only take one solid ball to make your shot and you can get to finally shoot the 8-ball.

"Oh shit right, I didn't get your name."

Of course, Vada of all people, would only ask this question now.

Your mind goes blank for a moment. Shit, shit, shit.

"Oh, uh, it's…" you stammer, feeling like a complete idiot for forgetting your own name in front of her.

Before you could even speak, she's leaning in even closer, her perfume taking your senses, a scent that you could almost overdose in and would gladly take either heaven or hell.

"It's y/n," you finally manage to say, the rush of relief never felt more satisfying than the words leaving your lips.

The built up tension in your mind eases slightly as you meet Vada's gaze as you turn your head, her smile widening into a ray of sunshine that warms your heart. It's captivating, almost mesmerizing, and for a moment, you find yourself lost in the warmth of her gaze.

And maybe a little too captivating to the point you miss the unmistakable sound of balls clacking against eachother as they fall into the pockets, watching in disbelief as Vada pockets her last striped bal and the 8-ball all at once.

Oh, fuck me.

"Forgot to tell you that you ran out of time, y/n." Vada smirked, a full-blown shit-eating grin crossing her face.

"Oh my God." You curse under your breath, standing up slightly, even your posture looks defeated. "So not well-played." You jokingly quipped, placing down the cue stick and crossing your arms.

"You owe me something." She inched a little closer to you, her voice too fucking intoxicating for you to handle. You feel a shiver run down your spine as you step back just a slight, her head tilting upwards and a glint in her eyes that makes your heart race even faster.

"Impatient much?"

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

"S-shit, wait... "

You gasped for air, stumbling into your apartment. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt Vada's hands falling to your hips and desperately clutching your waist, her body rutting against yours, feeling her clothed erection grinding on your heat. Fuck, you could tell she was big.

Her arms wrapped around you, pushing you against the door in frevor with your heart pounding in your chest as her lips met yours in a heated kiss, her mouth parting to intrude yours.

A sudden surge of desire and hunger shot through you as she claimed your mouth, closing your eyes as you hear her groan inside of your mouth all while she took you breathless.

"I thought you only wanted a kiss," you managed to murmur between kisses, your head tilting to grant her even more access, "Now you take me home to your apartment?" Her touch travelled down further, cupping the swell of your ass, feeling every curve you had in an agonizing desperation.

You'd think making out with Vada in more than 10 minutes in a bathroom stall would satisfy the both of you, yet you're here. In her apartment, feeling her hardened cock bucking against you.

Vada whined, her breath warm against your skin, a smirk gracing your lips at her sound, "I want more," she almost pleaded, "I need more," she whined, "please." Her fingers traced your jawline, your eyes meeting hers that almost begged you to take her.

You nodded frantically in response, your lips parting as your hot breath hits her skin, having no trust by letting your mouth run off rather than shoving her bulging cock down your throat until it fits perfectly in your mouth, pleasing her in every way possible.

Without hesitation, you lean in and kiss every inch of her skin, feeling her abs flex under your touch while you left wet kisses in her wake as you trailed down on your knees, letting your fingers slide into the waistband of her shorts and boxers, her garments offering no purpose to hide her painful erection.

"W-wait, y/n," she stopped you, her hands hovering over yours as she looked down on you with the prettiest doe eyes ever. "I never—I never done this before."

You looked up at her, your eyebrows raised, almost having to withdraw your hands from her, "You're... serious?" It was hard to imagine someone like her never had sex, yet it spurred you on even more knowing it was her first time. Her first fuck with you.

"Well, I have," she explained, her voice slightly trembling, " Close enough. We stopped before we got to actually fucking."

"Sorry, just—" she gulped, her hands leaving yours and tangling them into your hair, "just warning you. I'm not that experienced. Well, I have watched porn—"

"Vada." You stopped her just before she could tell you more, but you couldn't deny that it was extremely adorable for her to do so, "don't worry baby, I'll take care of you."

You wink before letting her boxers hit the wooden tiled floor, her veiny and pulsing cock sprining out and slapping against her abdomen, your eyes widening at the sight of her while your mouth watered and your cunt throbbed with want, needing her cock plowing into you.

"Fuck, Vada, you're huge," you gasped, your fingers wrapping around her dick as you guided the throbbing length to your lips, her pre-cum coating your already abused mouth.

You could sense Vada smirking above you, her ego boosting by the slightest compliment, but fuck she knows she's big.

You looked up at her, your eyes glistening with the faintest hint of lust as you started stroking her dick.

Quiet moans escaped her lips, her hips repeatedly bucking against your fingers while her head was thrown back, her fingers tightening their grip on your hair as you took your time tracing lazy circles around her leaking tip.

Every stroke you made on her had her cock twitching, almost begging for release, whines escaping her mouth every minute, she was pleading for more yet you gave her nothing.

"God, you look so pretty like this, baby, just for me..." You panted, it was intoxicating, maddening, the way she responded to your every movement with desire written all over her, especially when you call her that. She was never much of a dominating one, you noticed.

"Y/n, please… oh, f-fuck!" She threw her head back when you sped up, hearing her labored breaths, the way she would occasionally gasp your name in a broken moan all while you looked up at her like you've done nothing, how could you not tease her just the slightest bit?

You slowed your movements to a halt, drawing out her pleasure in the most agonizing way possible, tilting your head just a slight bit, "what is it, pretty girl? Tell me."

"Wanna—shit..." she moaned, "wanna cum'n your throat, baby, please..."

"Of course, pretty girl," you chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss her hardened cock while wasting no time in shoving her dick down your throat, gagging around her as you feel her erection stretch your lips as you took her deeper and deeper.

Vada's hips bucked around you, her moans growing louder and louder. Your name kept tumbling from her lips in broken moans and cries, her other hand hovering over her mouth yet it never muffled her erotic moans.

"Y/n, fuck, your mouth feels so good around my dick," she moaned, her words sending a shiver along your spine all the way to your dripping pussy.

You gagged around her pulsing length, feeling every crevice and vein inside your throat, your throat constricting as you struggled to take her size.

Spit dripped from your lips, going no where but to her balls and onto the floor as you tried to take her in.

With each thrust of her hips, each gasp of pleasure wanted you to take her in more and more.

You close her eyes, the taste of her on your tongue, the feeling of her throbbing length filling your mouth, the erotic sounds of her moans and your gagging around her dick—it was all too much, and yet not enough.

"Gonna cum, oh God, m'gonna cum..." she took a handful of your hair, trying to push you in deeper, chasing her high, "can I cum? Baby, please, I wanna cum so bad, please, pleasepleaseplease..."

You remove your mouth from her dick, hearing her groan and whine at the slightest bit of distance from your mouth and her cock, releasing it with a little pop all while you lick your lips, the faint taste of her still lingering on your tongue.

"Have a little patience, Vada," you cooed, going to your feet and taking off your undergarments, Vada's eyes immediately shooting down at your wet pussy, watching how her eyes wanted to take you all in, how she wanted to slam you against the bed and fuck you till early morning.

You let your arms stretch over her shoulders, trapping her in as you leaned in, your clit bumping with her twitching cock. "We've got all night, baby. Just wanna have you ready before you fuck me."

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

"Vada! F-fuck, m'gonna cum again... gonna cum all over your cock, oh God!"

Throwing your head back, the only sounds that filled the room where the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the sloppy and wet squelch of your pussy as you went down on Vada's cock for the 4th time this evening.

Your words were barely coherent, your hips bucking and squeezing uncontrollably against Vada's cock all while your face was red and flushed from all the orgasms you've been receiving from her and giving her, tears streaming down your face in pleasure and pain.

The only sounds that filled the room were the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the sloppy and wet squelch of your pussy as you rode Vada's cock for the fourth time this evening. Each thrust of your own body left you gasping and moaning in heaven with Vada as she stared at you with her lips parted.

Her hands found peace on your waist, guiding your body with each movement you had on her, showing Vada how to perfectly cowgirl, your ass bouncing every time you hit the base of her cock that painfully stretched you until your puffy folds got used to her size.

Your own hands found their way to her chest, feeling the delicious flex of her abs as your tight walls squeezed around her dick.

Yet, you were running out of stamina, your pace slowing down as you started to grip on her chest a bit more tighter than usual.

Of course, the ever sweetest girl, Vada Cavell, noticed this almost immediately as she cooed, "you alright, y/n?" She moaned breathlessly, her cock still sensitive from you, "we could take it slow if you want—"

"No…" you panted, going to a halt. You couldn't stop now, not when you were so close to the edge, "don't wanna… wanna cum'n your cock… please," you whined, though you weren't resuming to your natural pace of fucking yourself into her.

You collapsed onto her, feeling your eyes closing shut and your body relaxing against Vada, her scent mixed with sweat was oddly comforting all while you melted into her embrace.

Vada sighed against you, her heartbeat against yours was all she needed after a few hours. Gently rubbing your back, she kissed your shoulders, praising you everytime her soft lips landed on your skin.

"You're perfect, have I ever told you that?" She whispered, "the prettiest girl. I don't know what I would do if I didn't offer you that bet." She then chuckled, making you chuckle against her back, pulling her into a tighter embrace as you whined at the loss of her cock inside of you.

"How's that for your first fuck?"

"Better than the shit I've take. Like, way fucking better." You both laughed.

"I'll draw you a bath, 'ts just a few steps away from my bedroom anyway." Vada got up after she laid you down comfortably on her mattress that was awfully stained with your and her juices. She put on a new pair of boxers before kissing you on the forehead, smiling against your skin.

"You're the sweetest, V." You smiled dumbly, yet Vada looked at you with tenderness and fondness in her eyes, like she didn't just fuck a stranger well into late night. But, she might just be falling in love after all.

Vada laughed, a smile creeping up on her face, bringing out her dimples, "V?"

"'ts your nickname," you slurred "Don't you like it?"

She took a moment before responding with a kiss on the lips, her soft ones meeting yours, "I love it."

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

V: So... so are we official? Like girlfriends girlfriends, we're not just fucking around? Oh my God, don't tell me this is just a one night stand. Y: Vada, I thought that was already established when I repeatedly came around your dick yelling 'I love you.' V: Rrrrright, but what if Y: Vada, we're girlfriends. Alright?

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

another a/n: been mia for probably weeks now, so sorry about that!! especially to those who have pending requests. ive been focusing on my studies recently AND i got hit with the worst cases of writers block. so thats two of them. but now since ive got maybe a free schedule, i can focus more on writing requests! thank you so so much by the way and stories might be posted a lot more late than usual. anyway,

[sailorrhansol]

Amnesia | Teaser c.sc (m)

❀ Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f. reader

❀ Summary: Choi Seungcheol has never been the type to commit to relationships - casual is more his thing. You’re fine with that - except you and Seungcheol seem to be terrible at casual when it comes to one another. 

❀ Word Count: TBD

❀ Genre: FWB to Lovers

❀ Type: Smut, Angst if you squint

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Teaser Warnings: Recreational drinking, tension

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Playlist

FULL FIC AVAILABLE NOW

Wordlessly, Seungcheol holds his hand out. Flushing from the neck down, you hand it over to him with a silent thank you. He pops the top easily, bicep flexing for a moment before he passes it back over, shooting you an award winning grin. 

“Wow, so strong.”

He pouts and you swear you see stars. “Hey, I am strong.” 

“No, no, you are. Thank you.” 

“You shouldn’t tease me. I’m new.” 

“Huh.” You sip your beer, letting the cool liquid slide down your throat. It does nothing to soothe the heat spreading over your skin under the sole attention of Seungcheol. “I don’t remember that being a rule.” 

“I never was one to play by the rules anyway.” 

“Oh, so you’re saying you cheat at games like Jeonghan does.” 

“I like winning.”

You roll your eyes. From the edge of your vision, you see people leave the pool table. Eager to stand up and stretch your legs, you start to slide out of the booth, the wood grain scratching against your jeans as you do. 

“Come on then, cheater. Let’s play pool.” 

“I’m down.” 

Seungcheol follows you. Your fingers grip the glass of your drink tight, knuckles straining. You move around tables and duck around other patrons, hyper aware of the way Seungcheol keeps close to you, the heat of him against your back. 

Next to the rows of dart boards are two pool tables, the felt a faded green with beer stains and other mysterious smudges on the surface. You grab a cue from the rack on the wall, spin it in your hands, and hand it over to Seungcheol. He eyes it, running his fingers along the splintered and dented wood.

Grabbing your cue in one hand and the triangle rack and set it on the table while he collects the balls from the table and the pockets, rolling them over to you. A few feet away, Joshua is already accusing Jeonghan of cheating. You don’t know how you cheat in darts, but you do know if there is a will, Jeonghan will find a way.

“Dangerous to let them have sharp objects,” Seungcheol notes, sliding the last ball over to you. You huff out a laugh, rolling the rack of billiard balls back and forth to set them. “You’re not going to get violent with me, right?”

“I don’t know, are you going to cheat?”

His smile is wicked. “Me? Definitely not.” 

“Hmm. Not convincing.”

Seungcheol presses the flat of his palm over his chest, drawing your eyes to how thick he is in the chest area. You swallow thickly as he says, “Cross my heart.” 

“Whatever you say. What are we playing for?” 

“What will you give me?” 

You look up at the shift in his tone. Dark. Flirty. He leans against the pool table, resting his hip casually as he crosses his arms over his chest. You ignore the way his arms flex, totally focused on the way his eyes are only for you. Intent. Meaningful. 

A warning goes off in your head. You already feel the pull to him, the innate attraction that has your heart hammering. You should brush off the flirtation, move on to other things. Relationships aren’t really your thing, but there’s something about him that makes you know you’ll want more. 

You already do want more. 

“What do you want?” you ask softly, ignoring your better judgment. 

When Seungcheol smiles, you know you’d give him anything. Everything.

“I can think of something, I think.”

[jaysng]

impress you — sim jaeyun

pairing: jake x reader

genre: comedy, fluff

synopsis: your precious jakey’s billiard game is did not go as expected.

• REBLOG if enjoyed.

the billiard hall was buzzing with energy, a mixture of cheers, laughter, and the clinking of pool balls echoing around the room. you were seated on one of the high stools, watching the game intently. your eyes flickered between jay, who was casually leaning against the pool table with a confident smirk, and jaeyun, who was lining up his shot with a focused expression.

it was supposed to be an easy win for jaeyun. he’d even told you on the way here that he was going to impress you with his billiards skills. but things weren’t going according to plan.

jay had been a surprise contender, smoothly sinking shot after shot with almost infuriating ease. you had to admit, he made it look good—too good, in fact. and judging by the way jaeyun was glancing at you every few minutes, he’d noticed the way you were watching jay.

jay lined up his final shot, sending the eight ball smoothly into the corner pocket. the room erupted in applause, and jay grinned, straightening up and giving you a quick wink. you couldn’t help but smile back, impressed despite yourself.

“and that’s how it’s done,” jay said with a casual shrug, handing his cue back to the rack.

jaeyun muttered something under his breath, his expression darkening as he watched jay walk over to you, looking every bit the picture of confidence. when jay reached you, he gave you a playful nudge.

“not bad, huh?” he teased, and you nodded, still smiling.

“yeah, that was pretty impressive,” you admitted, your gaze flicking over to jaeyun, who was now fiddling with the pool cue, his jaw clenched. jay noticed the look on jaeyun’s face and chuckled, giving you a knowing look before excusing himself to grab a drink.

as soon as jay was out of earshot, jaeyun let out a frustrated huff, tossing the pool cue onto the table. “who the hell does he think he is?” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

you raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the stool with a teasing smile. “someone who’s better at billiards than you, apparently.”

jaeyun shot you a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. “oh, come on, y/n. you know i was just off my game today. next time, he won’t stand a chance.”

“sure,” you drawled, still grinning. “or maybe he’s just better, and you’re jealous because he’s handsomer too.”

the moment the words left your mouth, jaeyun’s eyes widened in disbelief, his eyebrows shooting up in mock outrage. “what did you just say?” he demanded, taking a step closer to you. “he’s handsomer than i am?”

you shrugged, enjoying the way he was reacting. “i mean, he’s got that whole tall, dark, and handsome thing going on. it’s hard to compete with that.”

“you better take that back,” jaeyun warned, his tone playful but with a hint of seriousness. he leaned down, his face close to yours, his eyes narrowing as he tried to look intimidating.

you leaned back slightly, biting your lip to hold back a laugh. “and what if i don’t?”

“then i’ll… i’ll…” he faltered for a moment, clearly scrambling for a threat. then, in a burst of inspiration, he reached out and started tickling your sides, causing you to shriek with laughter.

“jaeyun, stop!” you gasped, squirming to get away, but he just grinned, continuing his playful assault.

“not until you take it back,” he insisted, his hands merciless as they found all your ticklish spots.

“okay, okay!” you finally caved, laughing so hard that you could barely breathe. “i take it back! jay isn’t handsomer than you!”

he immediately stopped, grinning triumphantly as he straightened up. “that’s more like it,” he said, looking smug as ever.

you were still catching your breath, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye as you looked up at him. “you know, you’re kind of ridiculous sometimes.”

“ridiculously handsome, you mean,” he corrected, giving you a wink. you rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face betrayed your true feelings.

“yeah, yeah,” you said, shaking your head. “ridiculously something, that’s for sure.”

he chuckled, his earlier frustration completely gone. he reached out, gently tugging you closer by your hand. “but seriously, y/n,” he said, his tone softening as he looked into your eyes. “you know i don’t care about the game, right? i just… i just wanted to impress you.”

you felt your heart flutter at his words, your playful mood shifting to something more tender. “you don’t have to try so hard, jaeyun. you already impress me, just by being you.”

his eyes lit up at that, and he squeezed your hand, a soft smile playing on his lips. “yeah?”

“yeah,” you confirmed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.

“good,” he said, his voice filled with relief. “because you’re the only person i want to impress.”

you couldn’t help but smile back, feeling your heart swell with affection. “mission accomplished, then.”

“mission accomplished,” he echoed, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. you closed your eyes, savoring the warmth of his lips against your skin, the earlier tension now just a distant memory.

and as he pulled back, his gaze lingering on you with a softness that made your heart skip a beat, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you were the lucky one.

a/n: man this is so bad im so out of ideas for jake’s post arguement i’m goneeee 😭😭😭😭

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Peach Part 2 of 2 (Rafe Cameron Two Shot) +18

+18 Minor DNI

CollegeStudent!Rafe x Ward'sSugarBaby!Reader

⭐️ republished ⭐️

+18 Minor DNI

Part 1

📖 Rafe has a thing for his dad's sugar baby (reader)

🪄 warning (contains spoilers): somnophilia, cheating, swearing, degradation, name-calling, pet names, oral (fem. receiving), eral (male receiving), ownership kink, reader’s a sugar baby, rough sex, nipple play, ehoking, creampie, & cum play, no use of y/a but everyone refers to her as the pet name Peach, softish rafe but he’s kinda mean here and there, breeding kink, brief smut (kisses and pushing fingers in) with Ward

✨ You walk a few paces, just two doors down from the locker room. Rafe steps out from behind the door, adjusting his tie dramatically before running his fingers through his romp-tousled hair. He looks over at you, giving you a little wink before shuffling away. ✨

2K

Reader’s POV:

Rafe chuckles darkly, rolling his eyes to yours, giving you a look that speaks volumes. “Why don’t you let me know in two minutes? Huh? I’m sure that’s how long he’ll last.” He reaches down, snagging your little panties off the floor, stuffing them in his powder blue suit pocket.

Rafe reaches out his hand, helping you off the couch. Your knees wobble as you continue to come down from your high off his fingers and lips alone.

Everything with Ward was ruined the moment you and Rafe were alone. Was I hoping for this all along? Was a part of me just trying to get closer to Rafe from the beginning? I mean, it seems like it. All I know is I made a mess for myself and fast.

Rafe opens the door for you, hanging back as his hand continues to hold yours, lingering until the last moment before pressing a soft kiss on top. “You know where to find me. Yeah?” You look up at Rafe, the dark room matching his darkened eyes. He smiles smugly as you give him a timid nod. “Good girl.” Rafe releases your hand; the door fanning shut, closing off the two of you from each other.

You walk a few paces, just two doors down from the locker room. Rafe steps out from behind the door, adjusting his tie dramatically before running his fingers through his romp-tousled hair. He looks over at you, giving you a little wink before shuffling away.

Fuck me.

“Ward!” You gasp. Your stomach turns, déjà vu hitting you like you’d pressed rewind. Ward slams his lips against yours, taking your breath away. You pinch your eyes shut, praying silently that he doesn’t smell his son’s rich cologne lingering on your skin.

Your long nails scratch through his hair, making him moan and you shudder into your kiss as he pulls you deeper into the room; your guilt mounting by the second. The shame feels heavy, a suffocating weight pressing down on your chest.

“Where were you, baby girl? You were gone too long,” he whispers against your mouth as he lays you back on the smooth top of the billiards table.

“I ran into one of the wives,” you pant, your heart racing with your thoughts. “M’sorry.”

“It’s alright. As long as I have you with me it doesn’t matter, Peach.” His rough fingers meet the inside of your thighs, moving higher and higher. No. No. Fuck. My panties- “No panties. Huh? Such a needy thing for Daddy. You couldn’t even bother wearing that little set I bought you. Could you?”

You clear your throat in an attempt to clear your mind. “No – no. I need you. Please,” you whimper. Your nerves and unease, muddled for sheer unadulterated want. You swallow thickly as Ward’s fingers push inside you.

“Fuck, princess… Have you been thinkin’ about me? You’re so wet,” he lauds. “Why didn’t you tell me?“

“Hurry. Please. C’mon, Daddy-”

“Gotta be real quiet, Peach. I’d hate for the other guys to know just how good Ward Cameron takes care of his girl. You’re drippin’ just thinking about it, Sugar-” You grab him by the root of his hair, silencing his ignorance with your drenched pussy.

Goddamnit, Rafe.

Rafe was right… As much as I hate to admit it. Ward didn’t stand a chance. Yet another fake orgasm for the books. After we got back to the event all I wanted was Rafe’s attention. / craved it. I craved him. I wanted his eyes on me and his lips on mine. / wanted to finish what we started. Rafe acted like it was nothing at all… ignoring me which made me fight for his focus even more. Ward’s son going as far as flirting with other women. Just taunting me further.

I couldn’t take it any longer, my mind stuck on Rafe, Rafe, Rafe while I listened to Ward snore. I weighed my options for a moment. Sure, I feel guilty. I know what I did was wrong. But, I can’t take the risk.

I need to do something fast. I need Rafe.

You look down at him, his large toned body tangled in sheets. Your manicured finger traces his rosy bottom lip as you study his features – the man, just as beautiful when he sleeps. You grab the bow at your waist, loosening the satin strap, letting it fall to your feet leaving you bare just like him.

Your pussy throbs with anticipation, thinking about Rafe’s words just a few hours before, hearing just how bad he wanted you for himself. Your fingers brush over his gold chain, to his strong chest, following the divet of his abs; flexing under your touch to his slight happy trail.

Rafe rolls to his back, pitching the linen sheet eversoslighty as his dick starts to respond to your touch. You let out a needy moan as you pull back the sheet, his long, thick cock just begging to be licked, sucked, and fucked. You reach down, gliding your fingers through your pussy, gathering your wetness as you climb on top of him.

You take hold of the base of his dick, tracing up slowly, feeling him get heavier in your hand the harder he gets. His fat pink tip, shift to a deeper hue as you watch a little pearl of precum gather at his slit growing larger with each stroke. He’s so fucking big… Your mouth waters at the sight of him.

Your tongue traces along a vein, catching his precum as it drips down slowly down the side. You lick a few fat stripes up his shaft, kissing wetly as his dick twitches in your palm. You groan onto his cock as your warm wet mouth wraps around his swollen tip. A sleepy moan follows from Rafe as you suckle on his head, flicking your tongue to tease.

You caress his balls as you take him to the back of your throat. “Fuck,” Rafe gasps, “Oh. Oh, Fuckkk.” His surprise pivots to pleasure in an instant. “Goddamn, princess… Took you long enough,” He hums as he gathers your hair in his hand, pushing it out of the way to get a better look. “I knew you’d flip, baby doll. You were mine the moment I saw you.”

Rafe pushes you a little further, releasing a needy moan at your gag reflex. Tears roll down your cheeks as you take almost all of him, pulling off slowly, swirling to the tip making his eyelashes flutter. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he moans as he throws his head back on the pillow. “Gonna bust my load already… You have any idea how good this feels? Such a fuckin’ slut, ma… You already know how to suck me just like I like,” he sighs blissfully, catching the mess of saliva dripping from the corner of your lips before sucking it clean.

Rafe blows out a breath as you start to stroke him with your mouth, rolling his heavy balls in your small hand. You release his cock with a pop, causing him to let out a grunt for more, almost instantly eased by your fist, jerking him off.

You can feel your wetness, trickling from your pussy, seeping down your inner thigh. “I can’t wait to fuck you, princess. I already fucked my fist twice since we got back, just dreamin’ about that sweet pussy of yours.”

Twisting your hand at the base you bob up and down. Rafe follows your strokes, pressing you lower as he mumbles more words of praise. “He doesn’t deserve this. You’re perfect. This fuckin’ mouth, baby. You can get anything you want from me. Wanna breed this perfect pussy. Really make you mine.” You hollow your cheeks, milking his cock, making him groan and shift on the mattress, cutting off his babbling. “Gonna cum… let me have it, baby. Let me fuck it deep in your cunt. Yeah? I won’t stop. I’ll keep going. Just let me fill you up.”

You come off his dick, crawling toward his lips as Rafe grips himself. You moan in unison as you take every inch. Rafe’s balls squish against your ass as his eyes roll to the back of his skull. You feel his cock twitch, throbbing inside your sensitive cunt as he fills whatever space is left, stuffing you to the brim with his load.

“Fuckk, baby. Holy shit. I… Mmm… I’ll take care of you. Alright?” He pants as his eyes lift open on yours. “Say somethin’, princess.”

“Okay, daddy-”

”Daddy?“ He echoes, his pleading tone turning smug as he gets exactly what he wanted.

Rafe captures your lips in a heated kiss, deepening it in a moment. Your mouth moves with Rafe’s, exploring and savoring the taste of his soft lips and tongue. Your hands roam his body, pulling him closer and closer. You grind and swivel your hips nice and slow, moaning and whining against his mouth as his cock hits all the right spots.

Rafe’s lips separate from yours, making you chase his kiss. He rest his large palms on your hips, lifting you slightly to hover you over his still rock-hard cock. You feel Rafe’s cum drip from your pussy, catching the head of his pulsing dick before rolling down his shaft.

His dark eyes lift to yours, making chills fall down your spine. ”Don’t worry, princess. Gonna fuck it all back in you I promise.“ He mumbles through raspy whisper as he drags you to his lips. His hand weaves through your hair, wrapping the other around your waist before pulling you down to the mattress.

Rafe lays you out, eyeing your slick slit making you whimper as he traces his digits through the mess, lifting it to your lips. You taste the both of you on your tongue; Rafe, letting you suck on his fingers for a moment. You swirl your tongue as your eyes stay locked on his.

“You’re such a filthy whore, baby. Just perfect for me-”

”Please, Rafe…“ You whimper the second he pulls them out, frantic and aching for him to plug you just like before.

”What was that, princess?“ He asks, cocking an eyebrow in your direction as he clutches your legs, curling them over his broad shoulders.

”Please, daddy.“

”Mmm… Mhmm. There it is. There’s my girl,” he sighs as pushes into you once more. Your mouth hangs open as he bottoms you out; Rafe making you squeal in pain and pleasure as he plows himself flush with you, pressing his body weight down on you to fold you in half.

“So big, daddy,” you weep.

Rafe pecks a soft kiss on your quivering lips. “You alright, baby?” He whispers as he drags himself out.

“So fucking good. I wanna cum on your cock. I need it-”

He sucks his teeth and chuckles malevolently. ”How long has it been, Peach?“ His tone almost guised for genuine concern.

“Rafe…” you plead.

”No shit? Fuck. That’s so embarrassing for him… You poor little thing. M’gonna make you cum again and again until the only man you remember owning this perfect pussy is me.“ You bite your lip and nod as Rafe throws his hips into you.

His lips locks with yours, moaning and blissful cries exchanged. Rafe’s hips slap against the back of your thighs; his dewy forehead, nestled against yours, stealing glances from time to time to watch his cum-covered cock dip in and out.

He picks up speed, feeling your walls drawn in around him. His large wooden bed frame knocks against the wall, making your eyes widen. ”Rafe s-stop… Just – just slow down.“

“I ain’t stoppin’,” he grunts, snapping his hips a little more. The rhythmic banging surely heard from rooms away. “I told you I’m gonna take care of you. That means takin’ care of him. Aight? Don’t worry, baby. Daddy’s got you. Now c’mon, princess, don’t hold out on me. Let him hear how it sounds when his little doll cums… My little doll.”

His strong hands grip your hips, using them as leverage to drill into you, making you scream. You throw your head back, eyes shut tight as you feel yourself about to fall apart. Your mouth draws open as a string of curses and praise flows freely. “Rafe. Fuck!” You moan as your pleasure releases, pussy pulsing around his big cock as you cum hard. Rafe fucks you through it as stars dance in your eyes, his stamina unmatched as he continues to rut into you.

“Holy shit, da-”

“Peach?” You hear Ward call.

Your heads snap toward the door, Rafe not missing a beat. “Oops. Think someone’s lookin’ for you, Peach.”

“OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!”

“Uh yeah, Pops. We’re kinda busy in here,“ Rafe drones; his voice hoarse and worn with pleasure. ”Ain’t that right, baby?”

Ward starts to bang on the door as Rafe starts to thrust quicker, keeping time with the rapid pounding of Ward’s fists. The door handle jiggles as he fights with the locked handle.

“Rafe…” You sniffle as tears of pleasure leak from your eyes.

“Me too, princess. Fuck. Me too,” he coos. Rafe slips his hand low; his adept fingers brushing fast.

“Yes, daddy. Just – Just like that.”

“I need it baby… Cum for me one more time,” he grunts.

You cry out as your orgasm spills over, soaking his cock, and wetting the sheets below. ”That’s it… Good fuckin’ girl.“ Rafe leans in close, caging your body in. His lips brush against the shell of your ear, breathing rapidly. ”Squirtin’ on my cock, angel? I’m such a fuckin’ showin’ off. Told you. didn’t I? No one’s gonna take care of you like me.”

“Ugh, shit. I’m yours. M’yours, Daddy.”

“Yeah you are… Fuckin’ right. All mine.” His hips snap into you one last time, filling you with his warmth, toppling down on top of you. You can feel everything at this moment, his release and your own, the two of you glazed with sweat. Rafe’s lips press against your just as you hear the door force open.

[evielmostdefinitely]

I would love see the first time that “excentric” aspect of they relationship started. Like how Coryo punishment her for the first time, She know what will happened? They talk about? And how she feel with that? Afraid ? Turn on ? Jealousy in think that probaly he did this with someone else ? Sorry if i wrote something wrong, english is not my first language

closer to the darkness |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested, the dark backstory that led to you and coriolanus' exciting sex life.

contains: very very VERY DARK undertones. mentions prostitution and the exploitation that occurs in the capitol. public sex with undertones of slight humiliation. very very dark coriolanus. slightly manipulative and obsessive coriolanus. bdsm themes. dom!coryo x sub!reader. spanking. spanking with implement. oral (fem receiving). overall very dark smut. minors dni.

A simple invite, passed to him by the sly smirk of a classmate. “Snow,” Dennis hissed lowly, pencil tapping on the page of a book, eyes cutting to watch for the librarian. “A couple of us are going to The Underground tonight. Are you coming?” 

Coriolanus blinked, face staying stoic, unreadable. He didn’t particularly like the boys in his class, not now anymore than years before. He found the civilness of their polite conversation to be useless now- now that he had you. 

“I’m busy.” Coriolanus dismissed. He had no interest in going to their gambling billiards room or whatever this club was. 

“Oh, come on.” Dennis grinned, head ducking low. “You can leave the Duke girl for a night. She won’t mind anyways. Her brothers are always there. You’ll be in kept company.” 

Coriolanus perked at the mention. Your brothers, the two elder Duke boys that he hadn’t yet charmed the way he had your father and mother. A necessity to secure their approval. He knew they’d run the family business, already high up in the family ranks. If he planned to go forth with his game ideas, he’d need their investment. 

That drove him to cancel his plans with you, a half-hearted excuse about studying, offering to spend the weekend with you instead. He joined the boys of his class, socialites and aristocrats alike, all wearing their family’s name like a badge of honor. Coriolanus followed them towards the luxury end of the Capitol, secluded and reserved for only the best of the Capitol goers, exclusion even in the highest class. 

Coriolanus twisted the wad of cash in his pocket, hoping he could remember enough to pass at the roulette tables. “Here,” Dennis hummed, passing the small, black mask to Coriolanus when the doorman let them in. 

“What’s this?” Coriolanus muttered, twisting the mask in his hands. 

“Just part of it. I’m sure it helps the others feel their identity is well protected.” Dennis shrugged, tying the silk ends to the back of his head, eyes accentuated with the harsh black contrast of the material. 

They gamble openly during the games, but are worried here? Coriolanus thought, fighting back an eye roll. Instead, he fastened the material, following the string of people through the darkened hallways. It felt far from luxurious, more like the burrows and halls he’d sneak with Lucy Gray back in District Twelve. 

His mind wandered back to hers, furiously shaking her from his thoughts. He needed to be sharp, alert. Coryo had already decided he’d stumble into your brothers, hopeful he could still find them with the masks, that he’d sit at the right roulette table. 

Coriolanus stilled when there was no table. No green velvet lined table with dice and cigar smoke, no liquor or Avoxes roaming about. No, instead, there was a small, circular stage with a single row of chairs surrounding it. 

“Snow,” Dennis nudged his arm, pulling him from his thoughts. “We’re over here.” 

Coryo followed him, thankful for the mask, hoping it would conceal his wandering eyes. What was this place? A stage in the middle, nothing else. Coriolanus’ chest tightened with fear, grim curiosity perhaps as he settled into his seat. All around him, men with masks, chatting with each other, all nearly identical in the dim light of the room. 

“I heard they found her from Eleven.” The boy, Lucios, beside Dennis grinned. 

“I’m quite bored of the homely looking girls. They always look frightened, like caged animals being led to slaughter.” Dennis rolled his eyes in boredom. “I wish they’d bring in another girl from One. They always know how to put on the best shows.” 

“I’d even settle for Two.” Lucios cackled in a droning posh tone, waving over for his drink. “Maybe Three.” 

“It wouldn’t even be a real girl from Three. A hologram.” Dennis laughed. “As long as it isn’t Twelve or Ten, they always have the worst smell.” He snarled, eyes cutting to Coriolanus, who was rigidly watching the interaction. 

Dennis frowned, lips parting with a question, the trilling of a bell silencing him and everyone around them. All settling into their seats, quiet and still. Coryo’s heart beat so loudly it was deafening in his ears. Eyes scanning the room, he caught a glimpse of your brothers on the other side, eyes meeting only for a moment before the room fell dark. Completely pitch black, Coriolanus swallowed his rising panic, fists balling. 

It was a set up, a conspiracy to get him here, kill him. Of course they’d want to, they wanted you all for their own. Dennis had commented on you weeks ago, congratulated him behind bared teeth. How could he be so stupid? How could he not see?

A single light blinded him, body tensing at the sudden intrusion of light spilling above the stage. Underneath the beam, a man stood. His face was concealed entirely by a red mask that covered all his features, dressed in appropriate but dark wear, but with gloves that matched his mask. Next to him, a girl kneeling in a collar, and just a collar. Her face not covered, oh no, Coriolanus could see every line of fear, shine of terror though she tried to hide it. 

“Gentlemen,” The man’s voice was loud, even through the muffling of the mask it rang through the silent room. “Tonight our guest from Nine.” His gloved hand ran over her tied hair, and Coriolanus didn’t miss the way she shivered, biting her lip in fear. 

Coriolanus watched in eerie intrigue as the man brought her to a small bench like contraption, making a large show of securing her arms and legs, so she was left spread, vulnerable to the audience to see the most intimate parts of her. 

Coriolanus’ chest burned, maybe with fear, maybe with something else. Your brothers were here, here. He hoped they hadn’t seen him, stomach turning with the fear of what you’d do if you found out- fear that you’d leave him. The man on stage’s droning words fell deaf on his ears, mind racing with a plan, a plan to leave before they’d see you. He couldn’t see the row on the other side because of the light, so he hoped they couldn’t see him. 

His thoughts were stopped by a single cutting whistle of wood through the air, walloping onto skin with a resounding smack! followed by a muffled cry. 

“In the dark times, far before the dark times, since nearly the beginning of time, there have been many forms of debauchery that have been used to cause excitement.” The man droned dramatically, twisting a leather paddle in his hand. 

He tapped the girl’s left bottom cheek, before bringing his arm back, sending the paddle soaring onto her ass again. Coriolanus jumped slightly at the impact, mind dumbly blank of the worries from before. Nearly trance-like, watching the man paddle the girl, how she cried pathetically, how her flesh turned, blossoming with marks. 

“There has always been a power imbalance.” The man continued, letting the paddle rub teasingly over her body. “There have always been the powerful, the helpless. Those who are in charge, those who are submissive- completely at the mercy of your cruelness, of your control.” 

Coriolanus felt his pants tent, blood rushing from his head down to his throbbing cock. The man stalked, heavy footsteps that echoed in the room, back between the girl's legs. “There is a need for order. Even in intimacy.” He hummed, bringing the paddle down twice, two snapping flicks of his wrist. 

Coriolanus swallowed, spit pooling in his mouth at the cries the girl gave. The man scanned the room, setting the paddle on her backside, slowly taking off a glove. Coriolanus leant forward, watching the man with intense intrigue. 

“Because as we all know, there is pleasure in power.” The man boomed, his hand disappearing between the girl’s legs. A gasp ghosting on the edge of pleasure filled the room, her back arching at the sensation that was hidden from Coriolanus’ view, his eyes narrowing for a better view. 

Coryo’s face blushed deeply, burning with excitement when the man’s fingers lifted, covered in sticky arousal from the girl that webbed his fingers. “And as you can see, there is pleasure in pain as well.” Though his face was hidden, Coriolanus could hear the smug smirk of his voice. 

“My darling guest here is one who enjoys such pain, which is why she’s chosen to serve the Capitol and offer her services.” The man continued, wiping her release on his pants. “For the night, the rates bidding starts at a high price since she can only be shared once.” 

Coriolanus slipped out when the bidding started, the lights dimming enough for him to see the exit. He walked furiously down the streets of the Capitol, throwing the mask furiously on the ground. Still, his cock throbbed, stirred to life, not at the girl but at the idea. The idea that you would be tied up, tilt that power to him entirely, be at his mercy and command. 

He’d brain his throbbing cock as the reason his thoughts were scattered, why he showed up at your penthouse. 

“I thought you were studying- oh!” You squeaked, letting the door fall with a snap shut, Coriolanus’ hands on your waist, kissing you with feverish hunger. 

“I missed you.” Coriolanus rasped, your heart swelling at the words. “I couldn’t wait until this weekend. I had to see you. Had to taste you.” 

Your knees wobbled at the words, tensing with excitement. You could feel his stiff cock on your hip, ignoring the way he rubbed himself into your hip, letting him settle between your legs. You were surprised when his plush lips pressed to the inside of your thighs, hot breath ghosting over your clothed pussy. Your fingers tangled through his hair when his lips wrapped around your sensitive clit, lapping and suckling. 

Coriolanus knew what to do, what he needed to do to get you brainless, pliant before he’d suggest such a proposal. So he let you pull at his hair, let you tug at the roots while you whined and cried out, bucking beneath him as his tongue worked you open. 

“I want to try something.” Coriolanus hovered above your sprawled out frame, slack and limp against the rustled sheets. His eyes were dark, looking down at you from the slope of his nose- it sent a shiver right through your already trembling frame. “If you’re willing.” 

Brain still foggy from the previous orgasms, you nodded lazily. Of course you did, it was like clockwork to Coryo, all a part of his plan. “You always enjoy it so much when I’m rough with you,” Coryo began, biting back a smirk at how you blushed, body folding shyly into itself at his words. “I want to try something a little… more.” 

“I don’t much care for torture.” You frowned, lips pulling in a scowl. 

“I would never torture you, darling.” Coryo smiled softly, a small shake of his head that had you relaxing. “I think you’ll find this more pleasurable than painful.” 

He had you over his thigh after a short amount of coaxing. Legs on either side of his thigh, body resting on the silk sheets behind him. He alternated sharp smacks to your ass that left you squealing, lifting in tense alert at the sensation only for his hand to slip back between your thighs, tease and pleasure you until you melted back onto his thigh. Until his spanks were met with pathetic whimpers of pleasure, rubbing yourself shamelessly on his thigh. 

It was only the beginning. The very start of the shift in power for the two of you. First in the bedroom, then out in the world.

[pwlanier]

George Peabody Gardner

Anders Zorn

• Painting, 1899

Arthive

[velvetlilacsdaisies]

Shit at Feelings iv

Bodhi Durran x fem!reader

Synopsis: Bonding with dragons? No issue. Killing venin? Unfortunate, but doable. Confronting your feelings towards your childhood best friend? No thanks.

Word count: 6k 🫢

Warnings: swearing (ofc), drinking, angstttt, y/n lore, lmk if I missed anything, not proofread at the end lmaooo

A/n: the long awaited part 4!! Hope y’all aren’t disappointed, trying not to think so hardly on this part bc I scrapped and rewrote this so many times 😅

You're unsure of when it started during the night, but as you sat at the booth with Violet, Rihannon, and Nadine; something stirred in your chest. You desperately tried to look interested in the conversation, trying to meet the eyes of Rihannon trying to focus on the way she animatedly told a story. Laugh when the women poked fun at Violet for something cheeky she’d bring up. Adding input to Nadine’s questions despite having to ask her to repeat herself without having your eyes dragging themselves to look at the other side of the bar.

Who was she?

She wore a dressed down pale blue healer uniform, her skin flawless free of relics and tattoos, glossy perfect red hair that cascaded down her back in waves. She radiated bubbliness from what you observed as she laughed at whatever Bodhi said or did a little dance when her friend sunk a billiard into a pocket. She always seemed to go right back to chatting with him. You couldn’t bear watching her cling to him, but you couldn’t drag your eyes away.

You were well aware you had no right to be sitting there, stomach churning with a bitterness of cold ire…but here you were doing just that.

Rihannon clicked her teeth, making you snap your attention back to the group. You didn’t even try to offer a coy look—this was the second time one of them caught you. You had tried the last two hours to hide your irritation, but it just kept beckoning to the surface. Slowly ticking away within you as if you were going to burst at the seams.

“Okay, what is going on between you two?” She laid her palms flat on the table.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You took a sip of your drink, acting as nonchalant as you could.

She gave you an incredulous look. “The fact you shied away from him all first year, then the first night of break whatever that was.” She waved her hand. “The other day during breakfast, when Dain came to grab him for the leadership meeting, and it was clear as day he was practically undressing you with his eyes when we first arrived.” she rattled off.

“It’s like I’m watching a romance novel unfold in real time.” Nadine said dramatically, a hand moving to her forehead feigning fainting.

You cringed, “it’s-it’s definitely not like that.”

“Not like what?” Quinn interrupted walking up to your own group. Bodhi and Imogen still had been at the table.

The mystery girl touching his built bicep. He had discarded his jacket an hour ago, his rebellion mark on display underneath his tight short sleeve t-shirt. “Ohhh,” she followed your gaze to Bodhi. “Immy told me all about this.” She said in delight to your dismay, taking a seat next to Nadine.

You brought your attention over to the curly haired blond girl. “Does everyone know about this ‘something’ except the two people this ‘something’ is about?” You snapped.

Everyone seemed to have an exciting interest in the nonexistent relationship between you and your childhood best friend.

Quinn merely raised her hands defensively, Rihannon and Nadine awkwardly sipping their drinks looking at the table interested in the wood grain.

“We’re all in the same wing, same section, Y/n it’s hard to ignore the hot and cold between the two of you.” Violet had a softened look in her eyes, being the most sympathetic toward you.

You flushed realizing your outburst, not meaning to aim it at your new found friends. The gnawing bitter feeling was just eating at you, and you couldn’t stop it from being all consuming.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, a scowl on your lips, staring into the clear fizzy liquid in your glass. Despite the tension you created, you looked at the bubbly girl across from you. “Quinn, who is that girl?”

She had a hesitant look on her face, her brown eyes swirled with trepidation. “Ariante, a third year healer.” She offered a short response, seeming to know more than she let on.

You only nodded, turning back to the other side of the bar watching the billiards tables. Ariante, the beautiful young woman, was lining up to shoot the shot, and shot Bodhi a wink before shooting. A small snarl left your lip unknowingly at the sight, leaving all the group to cast worried glances your way.

You grimaced at your behavior, not entirely sure why you had visibly been so riled up at the sight. “I’m gonna get some water.” You stood up, and left the group without another word.

Ariante skimmed her dainty plain manicured hands over Bodhi’s biceps as she giggled over something he told the group he played with. Usually her advances didn’t bother him, last year he had given in to them as a distraction many times when Y/n avoided him like a disease. Tonight though, his chest hammered in annoyance—maybe not just with her in general, but everything tonight seemed to be so overstimulating.

The loud tavern, how he fought a flinch every time the que would knock against a billiard, the musty smell of alcohol and fried food permeating the space, and how fucking unbearably hot he was.

He knew it had nothing due to the summer weather, that the heat that festered deep within him was caused by something wholly different.

Usually he’d use churam to block Cuir out, but the effects of the few drinks he had made it harder to keep that mental shield up and his dragon’s emotions started to take over. Of course Cuir and Cleasaí chose tonight of all nights to fight.

He had spent a year being accustomed to this, but he worried about you.

You still had been clueless to everything, your dragon stubbornly kept you in the dark, which had frustrated both him and Cuir. You didn’t deserve any of that, and he couldn’t help the pang of guilt he felt when he thought about it. He watched how tense you were at the booth, the girl’s giggling at what seemed like your expense; a scowl on your pretty lips at the interaction.

Another wave of heat filled and irritation rippled through him, and he screwed his eyes shut trying to ground himself. He had ripped his jacket off an hour ago, but to no avail aided any relief to his skin. It seemed it only made the pretty third year healer cling to him more. And the only aid that was brought, was to the disdain that rose with the proximity of her.

“Damn it Henrick!” Quinn stomped her foot frustratedly, making him open his eyes again. “I thought I was playing with an amateur?”

Sawyer had a broad grin as he nabbed the gold coins on the corner of the parallel table across from the one him and Imogen played at. “Beginners luck?” He shrugged casually.

The curly haired blond furrowed her eyebrows at the redhead. “Mhm, sure. Beginner’s luck my ass.”

Imogen cackled at her friend. “You’re the one that suggests putting coins down.”

Quinn mimicked Imogen, before a playful glare settled on her features. “Shove it Cardulo, I’m gonna go wallow in pity now if you need me.” She handed the cue to Sawyer before flouncing off to the rest of the group they came with.

Bodhi’s brown eyes not paying any mind to the feisty third year rider as she joined the booth, he instead had been focused on you again. Watching how your tongue darted in between your soft looking lips licking them, the same scowl still lingering on your face.

He had longed to get a feeling of what your lips felt like since he was barely an adult. Doing anything at this point to have a taste of you, knowing he shouldn’t have felt that way. You had always been just barely out of his reach, but he would have risked anything to have that moment as selfish as it sounded.

You were his best friend.

It was more than the idea of blurring the lines of your friendship that stopped him in the past; you were never meant to be anyone else’s, but who was chosen for you. Your parents had made you a lady of the Aretian aristocracy. The intent to secure a cushy life to make sure you would never have to experience war and hardship like they had—even if it wasn’t a love match. You were forced to take the decision they made for you with poise and grace. Exposed to the corrupt society of the aristocracy that lurked behind the violence since a preteen, never supposed to know war and violence like he had. But by the time the peak of the rebellion happened, and Execution Day arrived—it had been too late for the first hand you had been dealt with. Another decision instead handed to you from a choice that hadn’t been yours to ever make.

It was self indulgent thought, but the moment he knew you safely crossed the parapet—there was a hope that ignited in Bodhi’s chest he hadn’t felt in a long while. Despite the blatant act of avoidance on your part, he quietly watched your every move the first year.

Made sure Imogen spent extra time training with you so you’d be ready for your next challenge, telling her what she needed to critique you on from sparring lessons. Insisting Garrick to convince you to eat more than what you usually did so you could bulk muscle to help ease through the gauntlet. Pleading with Xaden to rearrange squads in the flame section so he could keep a better eye on you. Every action in efforts to aid you from the help of your mutual found family was a coercion from him; so he would know you’d have a shot at surviving this hellscape.

For only a measly chance of you to finally acknowledge him.

It had only been a coincidence (or was it? Cleasaí was known to be petty) you had bonded with Cuir’s other half. The mated dragons hadn’t talked since the end of his first year. The first half of being bonded to the notorious green filled with tumultuous arguments that he didn’t know what started from. They had only been recently mated in the last decade from what Cuir told him.

Bodhi swore he did more supply runs for churam than weapons by the end of the year before they went no contact, and just coexisted in the Vale with one another.

He would have preferred that over feeling the wavering aggression through the bond at this very moment.

“Handsome boy,” Ariante cooed, snapping her fingers to get his attention from across the table. Realizing he had zoned out again staring at you, Ridoc clapped him on the back.

“Yeah handsome boy...” he purred mockingly. Bodhi shrugged his hand off quite hastily. He was not in the mood for the second year’s comedic relief…and the overly inebriated physical touch of the counterpart.

Imogen sensed his discomfort by how tense he had looked, his posture usually more lax, or a boyish grin that had been replaced with a grimace. “Gamlyn, go get us some water.” She barked, face set to a hard grimace.

Ridoc with wide eyes in the fear of the short woman, saluted the group before walking off to the bar.

Bodhi reminded himself to thank her later once he was in a better mood. Instead he twisted his face into something that barely showed interest, not like it mattered, the healer was two shits to the wind at this point. Just caring his eyes were on her. Smiling brightly once he turned back to her, even if it was a stoic look he had on.

“I need you to watch as you lose this round.” She giggled, grabbing the cue from her friend’s hand.

The tawny skinned man watched disinterestedly as she made a show of setting her shot up. She swayed her hips to the table, making sure to press her chest down into the polished wood edges so her low cut tank top showed her cleavage as she lined up her shot. She made eye contact with him, offering a seductive wink, before clumsily shooting and completely missing the pocket. If he wasn’t so aggravated, he could have laughed at the scene.

It was Imogen’s turn now, and he subconsciously let his attention wander back to the booth again, noting you were now absent from the table.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but his heart skipped a beat in panic. He scanned the tavern looking for a glimpse of where you could have gone. He could spot you out of a crowd anywhere—from the way you wore your hair to the way you carried yourself.

His brown eyes searched the makeshift dance floor in between tables, the line for the bathroom, the exits of the tavern. The sense of relief when he finally found you should have eased his heart, instead it pounded louder and louder as his vision tunneled. Bodhi’s stomach churned with a burning green feeling, watching you sit at an empty side of the bar with Ridoc, smiling at him as the pair of you talked.

“So yeah, then Imogen told me to grab some water for them, and now I’m here doing that.” Ridoc rambled on about his night. Unbeknownst to him, you had spent the majority of the night meticulously eyeing the group from the booth. But you nodded along, idling swirling your finger along the lip of your cup, letting his word vomit become a white noise in your brain. “Imogen has a scary way of demanding things.”

A smirk had crept onto your face, replacing the frown you wore. Ridoc was always honest, but it was amusing to hear him drunkenly bare his soul at the bar over the silliest details. It had almost been enough to forget the prying animosity that filled your veins.

“Who are you telling? I have known her my whole life.” You reminded him rather distractedly.

Despite talking to him, your attention was still flicking towards the quieter side of the tavern—still invested in the man you’ve been stubbornly hiding your feelings from poorly and the pretty girl that clung to him. The game of billiards was dying down, only her friend and Imogen still playing one another.

Bodhi sat backwards in a chair off to the side, his chest pressed against the back, arms casually draped across the wooden top rail, and head hung low as he sipped from the bottle of ale he had been nursing. Ariante perched in a chair beside him, leaning over into his ear to talk. Her lips mere centimeters from him had your heart thumping so hard that you could hear it in your ears.

“Yeah, but you’re not like her or them in fact.” He shrugged.

That made you turn back to Ridoc, who didn’t realize you were only half heartedly invested in the conversation. Or if he did, he didn’t make it known.

“Like they’re all scary broody motherfuckers, and you're just you. Intimidating sure, but not all broody and aggressive.”

You let out a dry chuckle, “language please, they are my friends.”

He raised his full hands defensively, ignoring the fact he sloshed water all over him. “Sorry. You know what I mean though.”

You leaned your head to the side, a quizzical expression on your features. “Elaborate Gamlyn.”

You might have been aware of what he meant, just for the sake of your entertainment you didn’t mind hearing the inebriated man’s ramble of what he thought. It was the only thing that was keeping the pent up emotions beneath the surface.

“Well, you’re kind of lady-like?” He tested the word then nodding. “Yeah, lady like. Not that they don’t have manners—they have better manners than me, but you’re like a refined woman.” His eyes got big and arms were flailing as he animatedly spoke, water sloshing on him.

“Would you be surprised if I said I had been a lady?” You interrupted his spiel.

“No shit, like tea and biscuits, go for a promenade around the garden kind of lady?” He slurred in disbelief with an attempt of an accent.

The way he had said it made it hard to stifle your laugh. “Dowry to my name and all.” You mocked using a posh accent as well.

He made a strangled noise, as he puffed his cheeks out to prevent laughing. “Shit that was the worst accent I’ve ever heard.”

You tilted your back, laughing loudly as he snorted, unable to contain himself. “Thanks for your honesty, yours was just as awful.” You tried to compose yourself.

“I’m not the one that comes from the Aretian aristocracy though.” He said through a fit of giggles. You scoffed, shoving him slightly, giggling more when you had to grab his arm to keep him from stumbling over.

Once the laughter died down, Ridoc had started to talk your ear off again, but of course your focus went elsewhere. Your breath caught in your throat, the amusement on your face slipping.

Bodhi was shamelessly staring at you when you looked over this time. His eyes dark, and stone faced watching the side you resided on. He tilted his head back, draining the remainder of his drink. You couldn’t help to watch the expanse of his throat as he drank the rest of his drink, watching how his Adam’s Apple bobbed as he did so.

You gulped quietly, suddenly imagining how it would be to nip at the column of his thick neck. If he would squirm under your touch or make any soft noises if you kissed up his jaw…you were just torturing yourself at this point.

He the. swung his leg over his seat, muttering something to the pretty redhead, not waiting for a response as he made his way towards you.

Shit.

You panicked drifting back to the drunk man in front of you.

“So did you have—like—a betrothed before this?” Ridoc asked, rubbing the back of his neck, still oblivious you hadn’t been listening. “Is that why we’ve never seen you hook up with someone?!” He gasped as if he solved the biggest mystery, connecting non existent dots.

You could throttle him, trying not to watch the towering figure approach you.

“No, no, no!” You covered your face in your hands, cheeks flushing. “It never got that far, well there were a few arrangements that never went through.”

“Damn, your parents were slacking.” He scoffed jokingly.

“Ridoc,” you glared at him. Any amusement or relief from Ridoc now gone, hitting a nerve within you. The thought of your late parents always causing an ache in your chest and a knot in your stomach.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” Bodhi finished for you, coming up right behind him. He jumped, obviously startled by the new presence, and that it was Bodhi nonetheless. But he quickly recovered, turning to the taller man.

“You always jump right in at the most convenient times, handsome boy?” He questioned in a teasing tone. Handsome boy?

Bodhi glowered, stepping closer to your squad mate. “Call me that again—”

“Bo!” A high pitched shrill voice cut him off. It resembled nails on a chalkboard causing you to wince. Ariante appeared from behind Bodhi, a bright bubbly smile as she stumbled around him, grabbing his arm for support. “You didn’t wait for me.” She pouted playfully.

You had to fight the noise of disgust that wanted to escape your lips, but your facial expression gladly showed what you couldn’t verbally. The rational side of you knew you shouldn’t be reacting this way to a girl you’ve never met. You were past the point of rational though.

She then acknowledged you, her eyes a bright teal that sparkled sticking out her manicured hand. “I’m Ariante.”

You subtly glanced at your hands that were unkempt, nails nearly to the nubs with hangnails.

Gods, she really was everything you weren’t even down to the fingers.

You politely stuck your hand out, limply clasping hers. You hoped she wouldn’t feel your calloused fingers or notice how unladylike your hands were compared to hers as you introduced yourself.

“You know Bo?” She mused. Her hold still on him, despite her being perfectly stable. And the way his nickname came out of her mouth, you think you could regurgitate everything you’ve consumed today.

You offered a strained smile. “We grew up together actually.”

“How sweet!” She practically squealed. “I think it’s great how close knit all of you are!”

The tone deaf statement snipped the final straw of your patience and self control. No, you couldn’t let the feelings lay idly underneath any longer.

“I would say we all are,” you nodded. “I guess that’s what happens when all your parents are murdered in front of you.” You said it as if it was the most casual thing to leave your lips. The smile she wore faltered, and you could see Ridoc shove his hands in his pockets, whistling.

“Y/n…” Bodhi warned.

It could be treason speaking so freely of this, you hadn’t cared at the moment.

“What?” You said innocently, brushing off the warning look you know so well. She had started to sputter an apology, but you cut her off. “But how does such a sweet thing like you know Bodhi?” You asked, a smile growing sinisterly.

In your peripheral vision, you see Bodhi’s face pale.

“We’re acquainted.” He quickly answered, getting out of her grip as he reached over and grabbed the water out of Ridoc hands that were nearly empty from him constantly spilling. He gulped the water like a fish needing water, clearly uncomfortable.

“Very acquainted.” She fluttered her lashes towards him, tone suggestive. Brushing off your awkward interaction.

You made a noise of understanding. Everything you thought was confirmed by two words. Your thoughts lingering and spiraling. The idea of Bodhi intertwined with someone else was nauseating…even infuriating. Everything had drowned out by your heartbeat in your ears, Ridocs words were now inaudible, but assuming he was making a joke. Ariante shrilled giggles didn’t even affect you.

Why were you so mad? You had no right, you’ve been so awful to him the last couple of years—there was never a chance for you. Every interaction you two have had was just rekindling your friendship the past week not meaning anything more. Every poke and prod from your group of friends was something they misinterpreted between the two of you. You knew you shouldn’t have thought too hard on their words and jests, but deep down you only felt crushed of the hope there could have been.

Crack. You looked down at your glass that had been in your hand, the glass in between your knuckles nearly crushed.

The group flitted to you and the cup, even some of the surrounding patrons looked towards you warily.

“Are you alright?” Bodhi was the first to speak up.

“Just absolutely peachy.” You murmured, sliding the object towards the other side of the bar.

“Wow, all you riders are so strong.” Ariante laughed nervously. If this could have been any worse, you weren’t sure if you wanted to punch something or cry now.

“Excuse me,” fighting the lump in your throat. Standing up quickly walking towards the nearest exit without a word.

You walked outside, not quite being able to comprehend what just happened in the matter of seconds. Clenching and unclenching your fists, your chest heaving as everything felt as if it was closing in, pacing on the cobblestone outside the tavern. The smell of incoming rain permeating the humid air that blanketed over the quaint town. Usually a smell that eased your mind, was an overbearing semblance to the internal storm inside you.

“Y/n!” Bodhi called out your name, walking out the door you walked out of moments prior. The bass in his voice stoked the fire that formed in the pit of your stomach, ready to burn you from the inside out. Turning on your heel you faced the 6’3 man, brows already furrowed in glaring daggers towards him, chest still heaving erratically unable to control your breaths.

“You need to breathe.” He didn’t let your behavior deter him. His tone smooth and even, several feet away, not meeting your gaze like if he did he would combust into flames from your glare.

You scoffed, “shouldn’t you be inside with Ariante?” Her name dripped off your tongue with venom.

He opened and closed his full lips, setting his hands on his hips; absolutely dumbfounded. “Y/n…” he said through staggered breath. “I came here with you tonight.” He took a few steps towards you cautiously. “I came up to talk to you at the bar, trying to leave her with her friend.” His focus seemed to be on the wall behind you, and not your own eyes as he still walked towards you. “I followed you out here, leaving her in there.” His words slow, as he stepped right in front of you. “Does it look like I give a fuck about her?” He didn’t let you answer.

“Has everything this past year made it look like I give fuck about anyone else, but you?”

Despite the tug in your heart you felt at his words, pulling you out of your blind rage and jealousy for a split second—it was frustrating how he refused to look you in the eyes.

“You were letting her hang all over you tonight, how can I believe that?!” You held your chest with one arm, the other outstretched to the door.

He gave an aggravated shout, lunging and grabbing your arms. You stiffened at his touch, his hands were just as hot as you felt. He seemed to notice as well, flinching at the realization, but his hold stayed secure on you. He leaned down, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

“If you watched my every move, you would have noticed I wasn’t interested in her. I was only watching you the whole night.” That Gods forsaken deadly calm tone sent a shiver down your spine despite the heat you felt. “Now lift your arms up.” He ordered, the sentence barely above a whisper.

His usual honeyed brown eyes finally locked with yours, dangerously darkened. A silent gasp leaving your mouth agape, unable to pull away from his dark orbs submitting to his quiet demand, your arms rising up slowly.

His rough calloused skin brushing your arms ignited a solely different fire within you as he slid the sweater off your frame. “Fuck, you’re burning up.” He muttered, throwing the sweater on the cobblestone leaving you in the corseted tank top you had on underneath. Lightning flashed in the skyline, thunder following a moment later, and rain started to pour from the clouds moments later. The droplets are warm from the summertime, but still cooler than both your skin, creating a steam that ghosts around the both of you.

“So are you,” you said breathlessly. “Do you have any idea why?” You two were so close your chests brushed together, every time one of you breathed. You anticipated what he would say next, but Bodhi kept quiet, tugging on his lip, seeming to be fighting a battle with himself. He turned away from you, rubbing a hand over his face, looking up at the rain stricken sky.

“You do know don’t you?” You rasped.

“I just want to preface I wanted to tell you—”

‘Don’t. You. Dare. Tawny. One.’ Cleasaí dangerously seethed through your head.

It had been silent on the other side of the bond all night, you tugged the invisible string to her countless times, but no answer. Now she wanted her presence known? Known to someone that couldn’t hear her nonetheless.

‘She deserves to know what you’ve been hiding.’ Bodhi glowered. You were still watching him, and he hadn’t opened his mouth…and he heard your dragon?

A new deep sophisticated tone entered your mind, ‘Cleasaí the inevitable is going to happen—‘ Cuir?

‘That I’ll find out?’ You stood in that mental art studio you were taught to use as your source for grounding. The door wide open letting in the thoughts and voices that freely flew through your mental guards. That one invisible string that led to the door seemed to have an added two now.

“Shit,” Bodhi hissed.

“How long?” You gritted your teeth, focusing on the man in front of you. He stayed quiet. “How long did you know?” You repeated louder.

He looked at the ground, “since my threshing.”

You tensed, how come he knew, but you had been clueless this whole time?

‘It’s not ideal to have one rider running from the other while their supposed mated dragons aren’t even on speaking terms.’ Cuir explained.

You fought the tears that lined your eyes, ‘he gets to know, while I’m left in the dark?!’

‘That was for Cleasaí to tell you, my rider had no choice to listen to us dragonkind.’ Cuir explained with a steeliness.

‘And I told her I would tell her in due time.’ Cleasaí chuffed in the corners of your mind.

It felt crowded in your brain, two additional voices, on top of your grappling emotions. You inhaled deeply, blinking tears away furiously.

“Y/n,” Bodhi came towards you. “I wanted to tell you.”

“When was I going to be told?” You snapped. “When you graduate?!” A couple tears now silently slip down your cheeks.

You didn’t know where to point the frustration at. Cleasaí should have told you it was her responsibility, but if Bodhi wanted to talk to you so badly that would have been the topic to start with.

“Our luck would be they would stick you in Samara like Xaden!” You shouted.

“When was I supposed to tell you? When you were running the other direction?! Or would you have preferred a note during Battle Brief only for you to go into a volatile meltdown?” He argued.

You laughed harshly, “I would have not—”

“Oh yes you would have.” Bodhi rolled his eyes. “That’s why Xaden warned me not to.”

Your eyes widened, “Xaden knew?”

‘Why wouldn’t the Wingleader know?’ Cleasaí snorted humorlessly.

‘I don’t want to hear it from you.’ You growled shutting the mental shield up from her and hopefully Cuir. You didn’t know how this all worked.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “He’s known since before you even crossed the parapet.”

“Does anyone else know?” You crossed your arms.

“Assumedly Violet, but no one else.”

Your eyes narrowed, she seemed to know everything didn’t she?

You grew quiet, mulling over everything as the rain was the only sound that filled the streets. You felt betrayed, not only by the creature that put their faith into you and vice versa, but by the man you had grown to love. Was that why you had felt like your irritation was an out of body experience earlier?

“Why do you think I have a churam dependency?” Bodhi bit the corner of his thumb, looking at you.

“Can you get out of my mind?” You frowned, picking the soggy sweater up off the cobblestone. You sniffled, wiping your face, before proceeding to walk towards Basgiath, wanting to get out of the vicinity of him. To think you could have died without even knowing… what would have happened to the dragons—yet worse—him? You didn’t even want to ponder over the details that entailed that yet.

“Trust me I’m not trying, but your thoughts are so fucking loud.” He muttered, following you.

“Then can you not follow me?” You turned, walking backwards wiping wet hair out of your face. The sting in your eyes is almost blinding from fighting the glaze of tears.

“It’s not safe to walk by yourself this time at night.” He said as if it was obvious.

“I’ll be fine,” you tried to reassure as you slipped the dagger out of your top, you tucked between your breasts when getting ready.

“You’ve been drinking, Y/n. That’s not going to do shit.” He tried to catch up to you, but you were a step ahead, even walking backwards.

“I feel stone cold sober at this moment.” You half lied, quickly turning back around, putting the dagger back where you kept it. You didn’t want him to see how your lip trembled, and you were ready to break. That was the last thing you needed was to have a ‘volatile meltdown’ in front of him. Though that’s what this whole night felt like, a tantrum of a fever dream.

You two came to a fork in the path that led to Basgiath from Chantara. You may have forgotten which path you took earlier in the night. So you hoped as you veered left, you would be going the right way, anything to just get away.

But his hand caught your arm, pulling you around to face him.

“I just got you back, I’m not letting you just be barely out of my reach again.” He seethed, his grip firm, but gentle. His touch was still blistering against your own skin.

“I’m not doing it, Y/n. I’ve already spent years running for you when you just kept running backwards for whatever reason!”

The tears had silently begun to fall again down your cheeks, this time unable to stop. “Do you want the reason, Bodhi?” You could feel yourself start to shake as the words left your mouth. “Because I love you!” You finally admitted, the confession a hushed whisper.

You watched with tears flowing freely as he staggered back a couple steps at what you said. He remained quiet as you continued. “I was never meant to love someone freely. And everyone I loved left—”

Your declaration is cut off by his lips smashing to yours. A primal fiery heat as your lips connected, his hands cupping your jaw, your lips melted with his realizing he was kissing you. The taste of the saltiness from your tears mixed with the essence of alcohol on both your lips was dizzying.

This was everything you could have imagined and more since you were a young woman. Everything you wanted the past five years. You felt his thumbs brush underneath your chin as you relished the feeling as you continued to kiss him with a fervor you never experienced. Your hands sliding up his chest around the back of his neck, gripping on his wet dark curls you’ve always admired. A soft sigh left his lips, and it was a noise you could listen to forever, but of course your thoughts spiraled.

A much more important secret was withheld from you, not only by him, but Cleasaí. A petty love confession that you withheld as a way to protect yourself and what you thought would protect him, when the secret of bonded dragons affected four beings outweighed it all. Whether it was his choice or not.

You pulled away abruptly. “I-I can’t.” You said, feeling your own heart break.

“What do you mean you can’t?” He sputtered, confused.

“Me professing my love doesn’t change any of the circumstances.” You shook your head, letting go of him reluctantly. “If anything it only adds to the risk of this whole situation.”

You needed to think about everything thoroughly, and away from him. If not, you might not think straight. You had to go.

“Y/n,” Bodhi pleaded desperately. He watched you turn and make your way back to the war college. You ignored him, even when your bones itched to turn and run back into his arms. “Do my feelings mean nothing to you?!” He shouted, standing where you left him.

Your steps faltered, and that break you felt in your chest worsened. You turned, with a strained smile on your face through your tears.

“They do, more than you could ever realize.”

Y/n is definitely Violet coded I’m sorry 😅 and the y/n lore will thicken in part 5 hehe

Thank you sm for the comments and support, it means a lot to have people that actually enjoy what I put out and try to have patience for my posting inconsistency!! I love talking with you all about it and hearing your conspiracies through out the whole series. I think there will be 2-3 more part before I finish and move on to my next ventures, but as always like, reblogs, and comments are appreciated 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[beansprean]

No one looks more like a butch lesbian than season 1 Dean Winchester, except perhaps openly bisexual punk season 1 Dean Winchester covered in tattoos.

Support me on Patreon or send a tip on Kofi!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: Multiple drawings of season 1 Dean in a punk style with tattoos. 1. Chest up in a Siouxie and the Banshees hoodie, hair spiked up, nails black, bar through one eyebrow, septum ring in nose, dolphin bite hoops in lip, small gauges and multiple cartilage hoops in ears. There is a large tattoo of an open mouth full of fangs on his throat. Dean points sternly at the viewer and says, in the form of a tumblr post from tacofriendss, 'Normalize toys during sex. Roll that hot wheels over them titties. Skurt.' 2. Full body of Dean talking animatedly to someone offscreen, gesturing limply with one hand. He is wearing brown work boots, cutoff lightwash jeans, and a gray tee shirt with the Werner logo, torn off at the sleeves and below the sternum. He also has a black leather cuff on his left wrist and multiple tied and beaded bracelets on his right, along with multiple rings and the samulet. Tattoos on his left arm include: a tipped over salt shaker, a woman in a bikini posing on a billiard ball, roman numerals spelling out 11-2-83, and a chevy impala logo. Tattoos on his right arm include a barbed wire wrap, the outline of the angel from the Led Zeppelin Swan Song logo, and the name 'Cassie' written in cursive on his middle finger. On his stomach are the symbols from Zeppelin 4 and a random phone number that looks like it may have been scribbled on hastily. Scooby Doo is peeking out from his calf in the space between his boot and the jeans. 3. Dean from behind, arms reaching upwards. He is wearing low jeans and another homemade crop top, revealing the tattoo on his lower back. It is a full rendering of the impala from the side, with stylized words above it that say 'highway to hell', surrounded by flames. 4. Knees up of Dean wearing a leather vest that looks like it was cut from his dad's coat, a Bruce Springsteen shirt with the sleeves and neck cut out, sitting low on his sternum and tucked into faded black jeans, paired with a simple black belt with a wallet chain. He is posing with the fingers of one hand hooked in his pocket, the other holding up a cigarette. He is wearing all the same jewelry as in previous drawings. More tattoos are visible including a small sword on the side of his left hand, a colt revolver and Faith's tattoo from Buffy on his right forearm, a demon protection sigil in its usual place over his heart, and a stylized crucifix across from it on his right pec. /end ID

[awriternamedart]

One of the many things Akira noticed about Sakamato Ryuji was just how quietly he loved.

He didn’t mean specifically in a romantic sense. Friends, family, strangers- the way Ryuji showed his care and affection was almost silent.

It had first made itself apparent when Akira learned that Ryuji’s bright, yellow blonde wasn’t his natural tone- it was in fact, a bleach job he kept up on. He had noticed that Ryuji’s roots were growing in- a dark brown color that stood out starkly- and made an idle comment on it, drawing a fidgeting Ryuji’s hand to his thick, unruly hair.

“Oh, yeah. Been savin’ up to get some more bleach ‘n toner ‘n shit soon- ain’t let it grow out this long in a while.”

“You bleach it?”

“Yeah, started doin it round secondary and just- never stopped, I guess.”

He had later found out that he had done it so that Ann wouldn’t be alone as the only blonde, and even though they had fallen out over the years, he had still kept up with it. And considering the price of that kind of bleach job, the fact that he was always reminded to dye it back- it wasn’t an easy endeavor to keep up with.

And yet, he did so without even a thought of stopping.

It really had caught Akira’s eye when Yusuke had joined their little group.

For the first time, Akira got to witness Ryuji get along with someone from the beginning- and it wasn’t exactly easy. Ryuji, for all his sunny grins, had more than a few walls up when it came to new people. He got to see a gruffer, more agitated Ryuji- and also got to witness him slowly lower that outward mask to let their teammate in.

When Akira caught Ryuji suddenly always having a pencil on hand, he had known Yusuke had his seal of approval.

This type of pattern just kept repeating itself, mostly. With Makoto it was… a little more difficult- but that was because they had a history by ear. Ryuji’s reputation was the stark opposite of Makoto’s so there was bound to be friction- but Ryuji wasted no time in trying to help her anyway.

Even if Akira would forever shiver at the memory of Ryuji throwing himself in front of a moving car.

From there- Futaba, Haru, even Morgana, Sae, Sojiro and Kasumi on the off chance of meeting her- Ryuji would always have a special way that he loved. That he cared.

Something even Ryuji himself hadn’t seemed aware of when Akira first brang it up.

“Eh? Whaddya mean?”

“The pencil in your pocket. It's for Yusuke, isn't it?” Akira prodded, a nonchalant question more than anything. The quiet tenor of his voice carried a much lighter lilt to it now that they had taken down Shido.

“How'd you know I got a pencil- well, dudes always mumblin ‘bout drawin this or that.” Ryuji offhandedly waved, leaning back onto the comforter atop Akira’s mishmash assembly of a bed. “ ‘s easier to shut him up with it."

“Haru never running out of soil or fertilizer?”

“The bags aren’t that heavy- sides, it ain't like I got anythin’ else to do after school, ‘less ‘m hangin’ out with you.”

“Morgana’s treat pocket in your bag?”

“Keeps him from yowlin’ at me.”

“Futaba’s ever growing manga collection?”

“They were just gonna rot in my room.”

“Makoto mentioned that her notes are always nice and neat whenever she gets them back from you.”

“Well, duh, they aint mine. Gotta keep them in nice condition.”

“Your hair?”

“What about it?”

Akira just rolled his eyes. This guy was impossible- so silence fell over the pair in the quiet room overlooking the backstreets. Wood creaked nearby, a quiet snapping noise that neither paid much attention to.

There was more Akira could have gone into to- the dishes when Sojiro was out and Ryuji was hangin around, Akira catching him looking up gymnastics specifics one evening- hell, Ryuji had even begun to look through how to properly play billiards before.. yeah.

For all the shit Ryuji was dragged through, the butt of the joke, the beaten up punch line- he never stopped caring. Akira couldnt help but be proud of his choice in a loyal right hand.

“Uh oh.”

“Hm?"

“Ya got that look on yer face.” Ryuji leaned forward, a smirk rising on his face. “That stupid calculatin look like your takin a shadow apart with your mind.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

The repressed smirk said it all to Ryuji, the way grey glinted behind faux glasses- Akira had all but two seconds before an arm was slung over his shoulder, gasping as he was tugged down and a hand was playfully ruffling with his hair. Laughter erupted, Ryuji’s demands that he tell him whats going on in his head almost lost to the tussle.

“Cmon, ‘Kira- you cant hide nothin from me!”

“Unfortunately.” Glasses knocked askew, Akira straighted up, going to fix them before they were snatched off his face. “Hey-!”

Ryuji just grinned back, shark teeth and all.

“So, gonna tell me or do I gotta hold these hostage?”

And Akira just rolled his eyes, easily snatching back his glasses and slipping them on his face. He looked back to Ryuji to see brown shining back, amber flecks dancing in the setting sun. Straw gold hair caught the few orange rays that managed to worm their way into the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya, freshly touched up blonde roots barely visible through the thicket of mismatched cut hair.

He felt himself just shake his head, melting easily to his partner in crime who just blinked- looking at Akira in slight confusion.

“Dude, you sure you're good?"

Neither of them were PDA people- maybe thats why it was easy for them to just exist around each other like they did. But for the rare moments- the quiet touch of their lips, the stolen moments they had, hands hesitantly bumping against the others- Akira knew.

For all the ways Ryuji loved, this was the way Akira liked the most.

-

The Quiet Way He Cares - awriternamedart

[glorious-spoon]

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss for buddie please <3

:DD here you go! featuring buck and eddie and unsubtle metaphors involving pool

Last Shot 937 words | first kiss

-

Eddie doesn't realize that he's about to do it until it's already happening. There were, in retrospect, probably warning signs: the warm thrill that licked up his spine when Buck grinned at him across the pool table, way more cocky than he deserved to be given that Eddie wipes the floor with him nine times out of ten. But that's Buck, that's his thing: he gets knocked down and he pops right back up, beaming and strutting and trash-talking Eddie's shots.

So that, yeah. And it's not new, but it's taken on a different quality in the past few months, one that Eddie hasn't been letting himself look at. Because Buck likes men now. Buck kisses men and fucks men and is also currently single, which is another piece of this thing that's been spilling over the careful compartments where Eddie tries to keep all of the parts of himself that can't touch lest they create some potentially explosive mixture.

There's the three beers they've both had, which isn't enough to get him drunk but is enough to make him warm and loose, enough that he lets his eyes linger on the flex of Buck's forearms, his big hands on the cue, the faint dusting of chest hair in the vee of his open collar. The way he laughs, brilliant and golden under the billiard light, when he misses his shot.

"Next time," he says, stepping back from the table and setting his cue down to reach for his beer. "Next time, I'm coming for you, Diaz, just you wait."

"Sure you are," Eddie says indulgently. "Oh, wait. Isn't that what you said last time? Remind me who had to buy the last round again?"

"Yeah, yeah." Buck smiles at him over the lip of his beer and flaps a hand. "Take your shot already."

Eddie scoffs and reaches for his cue. He can feel Buck watching him as he leans across the table to line up his shot, and there's that thrill again, wondering how he looks through Buck's eyes. Wondering if Buck likes what he sees.

He sinks the ball. Buck exhales a laughing groan, and Eddie lines up another shot. Sinks that one too, and then a third, but he misses his fourth shot by a hair. 

"Hah," Buck says triumphantly, like he doesn't still have three stripes on the table to Eddie's one solid. He passes his beer to Eddie as he struts back to the table, and Eddie takes it and drinks even though it's warmish by now and is also one of those godawful lagers that Buck prefers and that Eddie only buys for his sake.

Buck lines up his shot, pauses, squints, and readjusts.

"You need a hand there?" Eddie asks innocently. "Happy to give you some pointers."

That gets him a brief, amused glare. He grins and takes another sip of Buck's beer. 

Buck sinks two balls and misses his third. Eddie sinks his last ball but misses the 8-ball. They pass the beer back and forth between shots without comment, and the bottle is empty but for foam by the time Buck finally gets the 8-ball in the pocket.

"Lucky shot," Eddie remarks cheerfully, leaning his hip against the table.

"Luck? That was pure skill and you know it."

"Oh, is that how you lost the first three games? Skill?"

"Sounds to me that you're just bitter you're going to have to buy the next round. But hey, better luck next time."

"Uh huh," Eddie says dryly. 

Buck grins and steps up into his space to pluck the beer bottle out of his hand, his fingers just brushing Eddie's as he does.

"It's empty," Eddie says. His heart is suddenly racing.

Buck pauses with the bottle halfway up to his lips. His grin fades a little, and there's something in his face that Eddie has been pretending not to understand for months now. Then his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and some small but vital structural element of Eddie's self-control abruptly fails. 

He surges forward across that last bit of space between them to catch Buck by the back of his neck and kiss him.

For a single stomach-dropping instant, Buck's mouth is slack and surprised, unmoving against Eddie's. Then he fumbles the bottle onto the table next to them and gets his hands on Eddie's hips, hauling him close and kissing him back. Eddie clutches at him, and Buck makes a soft noise into his mouth, something that he feels more than hears. His heartbeat is pounding in his ears, and he doesn't think he's ever been so aware of his own body, of the way it fits against Buck's body, of all the ways this is new and still so good.

Buck keeps his eyes shut for a moment when they finally break apart. Then he exhales shakily and opens them.

"Yeah?" he asks softly. The expression on his face is so much that Eddie can barely manage to meet his eyes, but he swallows hard and nods.

"Yeah," he rasps. The rest of it—I meant it, I want it, I've been thinking about it pretty much nonstop since it occurred to me that it might be a possibility—he leaves unspoken. By the way Buck's mouth tilts into a delighted, lopsided smile, Eddie's got an idea that he can tell anyway.

"Okay," he says. And then, grinning again, "I mean, if that's how I get rewarded for beating you at pool—"

"Okay, okay," Eddie says.

"I'm just saying! It's really inspiring."

"You're not funny," Eddie says, but he's smiling as Buck leans down to kiss him again.

[trulyunholy]

a northern wind

daredevil x reader

rating: M

word count: 3.5k

notes: this is only my second daredevil/matt murdock fic, and this one was intended to be a one-shot but i’m kind of obsessed with the idea of it. it came from my unhinged obsession with the black suit and i’m not sorry.

The acrid smell of cigarettes lingered outside, wafting out the propped open door of the bar. Sounds of drunk laughter and clacking billiard balls could still be heard as you took in a deep breath of the fresh, cool autumn air. You pulled your jacket closer to your body against the slight chill of the wind.

“You sure you don’t need a ride?” Laura called to you as she stood halfway out the doorway.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you told her over your shoulder. “Just have fun and be safe, okay?”

“You stay safe, too! And text me as soon as you’re home,” she added before she stepped back through the doorway and out of sight.

One drink. That’s what the two of you had met up for at the beginning of the night. But then Laura ran into some of her friends from work, and one drink turned into several, followed up by rounds of shots.

You enjoyed the company, always enjoyed the chance to get out of your own head for a bit. But you had work early in the morning, and staying out until sunrise was not on your agenda. So you decided to walk home. It wasn’t a far walk, and it wasn’t terribly cold.

The smell of smoke finally cleared the farther you got from the bar, taken over by the smells of the city. Gasoline from the street, fresh bread from a nearby bakery, and the faintest smell of garbage somewhere in the background of it all. You loved this city, loved the closeness of everything and the ability to hide yourself among so many people.

The wind bit at your face, which was still feeling warm from the alcohol. The only sound above the monotonous bustling of every night was the surprisingly steady footfall of your boots on the sidewalk.

A different sound caught your attention several minutes into your walk, though. It was a distant sound, like feet shuffling quickly and men talking loudly. Your hand, shoved into your coat pocket, wrapped tightly around the small container of pepper spray, the one you kept with you anytime you were out by yourself. It wasn’t that you didn’t feel safe here, it’s just that you never wanted to take a chance.

Your grip grew tighter the closer the noise got. Then you saw them, a group of men ahead of you, running in your direction. The panic in your chest was short lived, though, as soon as you realized they weren’t running at you. They were running away, from something or someone that was chasing them.

The men scuffled and nearly fell over each other trying to escape whatever was pursuing them. You stopped, frozen in place, unsure of whether to watch the action unfold or to run away yourself. But as soon as the group came across an alleyway about one hundred feet ahead of you, they turned into it sharply, out of sight.

A flash of movement followed, nothing more than a dark blur in your watery vision. You couldn’t make out any shape or feature, and your drunkenness did you no favors. The sounds of a fight came from the other side of the building in front of you, grunting and hits landing on flesh.

You knew you should’ve run. You should have turned around and left and gone as far in the opposite direction as you could. But you didn’t. You were curious. The alcohol had impaired your judgment far more than you first thought. The men, who seemed to have posed no threat to you anyway, had all run off by the time you rounded the corner into the alleyway.

Only one person remained, leaning on the brick wall of the building and nearly doubled over, catching their breath.

You’d heard the stories of vigilantes taking over the city, or superhuman strength and mystical powers. There wasn’t a person you knew who hadn’t heard them. But you weren’t sure you believed any of it. Tales of invincibility and magic seemed too far-fetched.

But in Hell’s Kitchen, the local watchdog felt more believable. Nothing more than a man who dressed in black and beat the shit out of criminals that the justice system couldn’t catch. It still sounded like fiction, but it was at least in the realm of reality.

Now, though. Now you were sure the stories were true. A man in all black, breathing hard after chasing some group of ne’er-do-wells. Maybe the stories were true.

“Holy shit.”

Your voice seemed to startle him, and his stance changed, tensed and taut like a cat that was cornered and ready to flee.

“Wait!” you called out to him, voice admittedly a little too loud.

You weren’t sure why you asked him to wait. He had no reason to listen to you. But you were fascinated, hypnotized by this mystery man, this myth come to life.

To your surprise, he did stop. The air was as tense as it was harsh, beating on the exposed skin of your face. A heavy weight began to build in your chest as you realized you had no idea what to say, what to do.

“Are you…?”

What the hell were you going to ask? ‘Are you that superhero guy I keep hearing stories about?’ ‘Do you really run around town all night and just fight crime like it’s your job?’ ‘Who are you under that mask?’

Everything sounded ridiculous in your head. You were fumbling over your own thoughts, trying to think of something, anything to say to keep him there. Why, you weren’t sure.

Giving up on any question you could have formed, you took a step toward him instead. He reacted fast, poised like a threatened animal, ready to flee or to pounce, you weren’t sure which. But looking him over, taking his n his body underneath the black, his sharp jaw below the mask, you weren’t sure which you were about to do, either.

“Are you real?” you asked, cursing yourself immediately for the clumsiness of your words, the slight slur in your voice.

He smirked, though, his lips twitching up into the faintest of a smug smile you could barely see in the dim glow of the streetlights.

“Well, this isn’t a dream, if that’s what you’re asking,” he shot back, his voice low and smooth as velvet.

“That’s not what I was asking,” you replied, fighting through the haze of inebriation. “Though I don’t think this scenario would be classified as a dream.”

“A nightmare, then,” he added easily.

As you took another cautious step closer, you saw his body relax a little, his muscles loosen from the tension of fight or flight.

“Yeah, a nightmare, then,” you said teasingly, though you couldn’t hide the curiosity there, too.

You weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline of what you’d just seen or the one-too-many shots you’d had at the bar, but you felt bold, bolder than you had any right to feel. You kept walking toward him until he was an arm’s length away. He didn’t move an inch, still as a statue, his head cocked in a way that made you think he was curious, too. When you stopped, you looked him up and down, admiring the glisten in the exposed skin of his throat.

“My kind of nightmare, too,” you said. “Or maybe it is a dream.”

His expression was hard to read with his eyes hidden from view, but the way his tongue shot over his lips, the way his lips began to form a bold grin, you could make a pretty good guess.

“You dream about this kind of thing often?” he asked, his voice somehow lower now. His tone was teasing, testing, lofty. “Of approaching strange men in dark alleyways?”

“Only the cute ones.” Your heart was beating hard in your chest now, and you could feel a heat rise to your face, rush through your body. “Or the heroes.”

“So which am I?” he asked, his tone daring you to answer.

“You tell me.”

Face warm against the chill, body tensed and stomach tight, you closed the space between you with one final step. But the moment you reached a hand toward him, unsure of what you were even going to do, his hand on your wrist in a heartbeat, scaring you half to death.

“Don’t.” His voice was demanding now, his grip strong against you, and his velvet dark voice sent sparks through your veins.

“Okay,” you conceded quickly, though his words did nothing to deter you. “A man with a secret. What do you have to hide?”

Your question wasn’t accusatory. You weren’t demanding any information. Somehow you knew he wouldn’t give it to you even if you were. His grip on your wrist did not loosen, and his mouth fell into a tense line.

After a moment, silence broken only by the sound of your breathing, he let go. As soon as he did, your hands found their way to his chest, your fingers tracing his collarbone jutting out from under the slick black fabric of his shirt. A heavy breath escaped him at your touch, as if he could feel the heat inside of you escaping through your fingertips.

“I don’t have to see you to kiss you, do I?”

He remained still as your fingers trailed across his chest, up, up, up, until they found a place on the back of his neck. His skin was hot and almost sticky, and you could feel the softness of hair peeking out from underneath his mask. He had no response, the smug attitude from only moments before disappearing as he swallowed hard.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked as you leaned in closer to him, your voice barely above a whisper.

A long, silent moment slips between the two of you as you wait for his response, your fingers digging into the back of his neck with the slightest hint of pressure.

When he finally answered, his voice was almost lost behind the pounding of your own heart in your ears. But the hot puff of breath and the movement of his lips told you everything you needed to know.

“Yes.”

Another beat, another silent second before you broke the tension and kissed him. His lips were unmoving underneath yours, still, unsure. But when you closed the space between your bodies, too, thighs against thighs, chest against chest, he relaxed into your touch.

Muscle and skin was warm underneath your touch as your hand slid down to his shoulders. Fingernails dug through fabric into skin, and his reaction to the slight pressure seemed huge. His arms were around you quickly, one hand finding a place on your lower back. He straightened himself, and when he pushed away from the wall and into you, you nearly had to stretch to reach him. And you decided you would do whatever you had to do to reach him again, to chase after the head-spinning high of a simple kiss.

Heat rose in the pit of your stomach, your heart taking too much space in your chest with just how fast it was beating. When he kissed you again, it was different, it was something hotter and hurried. His lips parted, and you took the opportunity to explore, to lick and to taste and to take. When he did the same, and you felt the wet warmth of his tongue, you couldn’t resist nip him. It wasn’t a bite, not really, and certainly not enough to hurt. But he pulled back anyway, his mouth settling into a sort of frown. Surprise, you think.

“Sorry,” you offered, intonation like a question.

But then his smirk was back, lips tilted into a devilish smile that sent chills down your spine. Before you knew it, your back was against the brick and he was pinning you there, hands on your hips, digging into the wall. You tried to find his face with your hand, desperate to touch him again, but he stopped you again.

“Relax,” you told him, breathless. “I’m not interested in unmasking you.”

After only a short moment of consideration he let go, and his hand found your hair instead. His palm cradled the back of your head, fingers twined through your hair as if he’s holding you there, as if he’s making sure you don’t get away.

You didn’t want to get away.

“What are you interested in?” he asked as he leaned in close, his breath hot on your face despite the visible cloud that forms in the night air.

“Whatever you’ll give me.”

Your eyes flicked back to his lips, then to the black of the mask over his eyes, only inches away. You wondered how he saw through that thing, considering you couldn’t see his eyes at all. But in the moment, you didn’t care. Not while his hands were back on you, his body pressing yours into the rough brick, his fingers still tangled in your hair.

A little too roughly, his lips crashed back into yours, the fingers in your hair pulling as they tensed. A short moan escaped your lips at the feeling, and he nearly growled his approval at the sound, a rumbling that sounded like it was coming from deep in his chest, something primal and feral and full of need.

Suddenly you decided that you needed more of him, that you had to have as much of him as close to you as possible. Your hands snaked around his body, roaming down his back before grabbing his ass and pushing yourself even closer to his. Something hard dug into the softness of your belly, but you didn’t stop to figure out what it was.

It almost hurt, the way he kissed you so hard you felt like there would be no air left in your lungs, the way he wouldn’t let you break away for air. When you did try, he pushed you back into the wall, his hand on your head cushioning it from the brick. And he held you there, his lips never letting up, lips and tongue and teeth all melding together into one warm, wet sensation. You’d never been kissed like that before. You had a feeling you might never be kissed like that again.

Anonymous hookups in bar bathrooms wasn’t foreign to you, but this, this felt different. There was a fire burning bright and hot in your stomach, seeping heat out of your every pore. There was a passion, a desire behind the man’s every movement that was hard to describe. He could take you right here in this alleyway and you knew you wouldn’t feel a bit of shame afterwards.

His hands moved from your head to the back of your neck, and you nearly gulped in the cool night air as his fingers traced feather soft trails down the fabric of your coat. He leaned down and kissed you again, but it was softer, slower, with no less heat behind it than before. It was just a different heat, a simmer instead of a boil. But it was just as hot.

He pushed your coat open and had his fingers in your waist in the same motion. His hand felt cold through the fabric of your top, but the goosebumps erupting across your skin had nothing to do with the cold. His teeth caught your lower lip and he bit just hard enough to sting, and the noise you made was closer to a whimper than a moan. You were already falling apart, and you should have been embarrassed. But you weren’t. Somehow it only spurred you on more.

His hand found your hips and his nimble fingers immediately pushed up your shirt. You nearly flinched when he made contact with your bare skin, but you didn’t mind, and he didn’t stop. You were hot, you couldn’t breathe, and you had never been so turned on in your life.

Rough fingers on exposed skin, touch light and fast and he mapped you out. You had no idea what you were doing, making out with a total stranger in an alleyway in the middle of the night. Was it the alcohol, the adrenaline, the fact that this man in the black suit risked his life to save people and bring justice to a city that so desperately needed it, and just so happened to look damn good while doing it? Not even an hour before, you were doubting the validity of vigilantes in the city. Now, you were eager to repay the hero for the risks he took nightly.

You were finally able to catch your breath as his mouth moved from your lips to your jaw, and he started a trail down your neck, kissing and licking and biting in turns. Rough stubble tickled your skin as you closed your eyes, desperate to focus on nothing but the sensation of his mouth as he found a spot at the base of your neck that had you squirming underneath him. You were getting so worked up, so desperate, you could feel the heat growing in your stomach and the desire building between your legs.

Mouth still at the pulse point on your throat, his hand finally rested at the waist of your pants, fingers testing the fabric, dipping underneath and tugging carefully. Throwing your head back wantonly, a sting of pain rang through your head, but it barely even registered. Everything you were feeling was becoming too much, and you couldn’t help but moan again, this time louder and without regard for anything else around you. You heard the man chuckle into your skin, a dark sound that you were sure came from the way he was pleased to be tearing you apart.

Your eyes still closed, your hands felt wildly for any purchase they could, landing on the expanse of his back. When his fingers moved on your waistband, and you could feel his fingers lingering by the button of your pants, your breathing was hard, your heart was beating so fast it hurt, and your fingernails dug into him hard. It wasn’t intentional, but when he let out a low moan so beautiful it shot straight to your core, you knew you had to do it again. So you did, scratching lines down his shoulder blade and into his spine. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and you could feel hot breath on your skin. You felt delirious.

Then your phone rang. It was so piercingly loud in the quiet of the alleyway that you nearly screamed, startled. The stranger jumped, immediately putting space between the two of you.

“Shit!” you cursed, trying to remember which pocket you’d stuffed your phone into before leaving the bar. When you finally found it two rings later, you cursed again at the lit up screen. It was Laura. “I’m sorry, I gotta take this,” you told the stranger without taking your eyes off the screen.

When you answered, your ears were immediately hit with the quick, loud voice of your friend, demanding to know where you were and why you hadn’t texted her yet. You sighed, wanted to roll your eyes, frustrated at her even though she didn’t know what she had just interrupted.

Laura was still going on about something, her words almost slurred to the point of incoherence, when you turned to address the stranger. What the hell you planned on saying to him, you weren’t sure. But when you turned around, he was gone. You were alone in the alley and he was nowhere to be seen. No evidence that he had ever been there in the first place, save your open coat and mussed hair.

You didn’t know what you expected. You sighed and told Laura that you’d call her back as soon as you got home. You were only a couple of minutes away from your apartment anyway. As you hung up and shoved the phone back in your pocket, you wrapped your coat around you again, smoothed down your hair, and headed back to the sidewalk. Your boots hit the pavement hard as you walked, but you could barely hear them over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. You weren’t sure whether to feel disappointed or excited or incredibly turned on. In truth, you felt a mixture of the three churning uncomfortably in your stomach.

You kept your eyes up as you took the last few blocks home, looking around in an inane hope that you might catch sight of him again.

Part of you hoped that he’d find you again, that you could finish what you started. If all the stories were true, you knew he was still out there, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he watched you as you walked home, if he watched you as you got to the door of your apartment building. The brass doorknob was cold in your hand as you hesitated to turn it, looking around one last time. Nothing but lamp posts and telephone poles and the darkness beyond it all. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on your back when you finally opened the door and stepped into the warmth of the building.

——

this hasn’t been proofread by anybody but me, so sorry for any errors or inconsistencies. comments and constructive criticism is always welcome!

find it on ao3 here!