#pretty women are my biggest weakness...

[britneyshakespeare]

you know who was the biggest clown of the season in bb25... me. because on premiere night when watching the first nomination comps i told my sister i thought l*ke was cute & i was hoping cory would lose and get eliminated.

[nemesyaaa]

❝ no brain. only big arms and fat thighs.❞

featuring himbo!rafe x reader.

⸻★himbo!rafe who’s a beast of muscles, all beefy and heavy, literally the bulky man towering everyone around him. when he's not putting on his stupid preppy kook dressing, he loves wearing those little tight t-shirts that are too small to fit his big tits but shows off his well-shaped six pack.

⸻★ himbo!rafe who is the king of manspreading. you can be sure that his massive legs are always highly spreaded every time he sits down somewhere. bonus, when he's wearing one of those favorite shorts after going to the gym, and his thick thighs are naked enough to reveal his fleshy skin filled with hard stunning veins.

✦ He's HUGE so ofc, he's gonna take a lot of place. ⸻ “sit on my lap, baby. you don't need a seat. ”

⸻★ he's more a female magnet than a womanizer. attracts women as well as he knows how to catch them but it doesn't mean he's got a hard interest in them. you're the one he cares about. he's not smart enough to get them with his brain but like any good himbos, he knows how to use his physique to his advantage. ⸻ his pretty face saves his lack of culture.

⸻★ biggest and proud member of the thirst trap community. you can be sure that he posts hundreds of photos after the gym of his large thighs and strong arms, flexing his muscle on the bathroom mirror to get all those veiny lines bulging his thick biceps and pecs.

⸻ he likes to pretend that it's for his gym bros but will delete the story if you don't see or react to his post.

✦ of course, he's an attention whore when it comes to you. that's a true himbo.

( the rest under the cut...)

⸻★ himbo!rafe who will take every opportunity he gets to show you how strong he is.

no matter your weight, he's bigger than you so don't you dare worry about your body size. you're perfect. he's gonna lift you up so easily, and it's also an excuse to show you how well–builded he is.

✦ if your feets hurt, he will carry you a short distance as well as a long one. he will open all the jam jars for you, and carry all your bags and suitcases. with him, you won't move a finger and you can be sure that you won't break any nails.

✦ you are a princess to him, and he will treat you with all the respect a girl like you deserves. he doesn't call you his baby for nothing.

✦ and that man loves to smack on your ass but you immediately need to calm him down because he doesn't know about his heavy strength. like this man, he's kind of a beast, could bruise you with just one good slap.

⸻★ big addict when you touch and compliment his physique. like yes, praise him. you're the gool girl he craves and literally dreams of. huge simp when you've just done your nails and you're testing their quality on him. he loves having your wild marks on his skin. come on, he's big. ⸻ his huge size is literally not for the WEAK so he's begging at your feets for you to use your nails on him. he wants you to dig them so hard so that every time he looks at his broaden back in the mirror, he remembers why he's paying for any of your girls appointments.

⸻★ 100% jealous. he’s really is. he doesn't want to share you. even if you're not his girlfriend, he’s convinced that you are his and that you belong to him.

the problem with himbo!rafe is that he's not really that smart... even if you're the one who made the first move with this guy in the club, you can be sure that the innocent person with whom you flirted will end up in a hospital bed...⸻while you will have all the privilege of ending up in his bed. (women can do no wrong)

he doesn't want to hear or know the context. (be serious, he's not gonna understand it in any case.) like any himbos, he hates to think. he only trusts what he sees. so if he has to spend all the party breaking the jaws of all these guys around you, you can be sure he will do it.

you don't want to care about him ? he's gonna show you a reason why you should.

this man will literally fight. yea, he got muscles to show off but also to be sure to destroy his rivals.

he is proactive. he acts, he does not think.

⸻★ if you want to go out in a short dress, a mini skirt, any tiny piece of clothing, you can be sure that he won't say no but will be clinging to you like a leech. like he's okay with your outfit but you don't go anywhere without him. it's THE RULE.

✦ if you're not okay with that, fine. you're gonna cry about it at home.

and you can pout, he doesn't care. (you're still pretty so…)he will literally mock you by saying don't play games you're gonna lose if you want to win.

“ but raf…” you start. but he doesn't care. “ do not rafe me. you've done enough tonight. ” “ i want to go to the party ! ” “ no, you just want to get on my nerves so you stay here. ”

but if you're going out and the other boys want to look at you, there's no problem. you can be sure that in the next second, their faces will be too broken to continue staring at you.

⸻★ don't talk to him about things that are too complicated like politics, ecology or feminism, you're gonna waste your time. the only thing on his mind is you so don't confuse him with things he'll never understand.

⸻★ himbo!rafe who adores when you need him. like, if this man doesn't wait for your call every time.... that's probably the only reason he has a phone.

he loves when you need him, even for random things. you need a driver? he is there. you need money? give him the amount and it's done. you need advice on your new outfit? he's gonna worship you.

⸻★ himbo!rafe who always got a soft spot for you and called you by sweet nicknames like baby, princess, peach, and pretty. he's listening to everything you have to say, don't make you repeat even if he doesn't understand a single word of what you're saying. ⸻ “ rafe, you're not listening. ” you shouted softly, snapping at him. “ of course, i'm listening baby. ” “ okay so what did I say ? ” “ that you wanna hang out with me tonight ? ” he proposed with such an obvious smile that you're forced to laugh at his audacity. “ i didn't say that. ” “ okay, but do you wanna hang out tonight ? you can't say no. i mean, it's yes or yes. ” “ okay, i wanna hang out with you tonight. ”

if you hate some people, you can be sure he's gonna be the biggest hater of those people too. but easy girl, because he's also the biggest hater of boys that you love.

✦ himbo!rafe who loves when you cry on his arms because one, his ego needs to be the first man you think about when you're sad, but also because he loves to carry you against him. shush you everytime you sob, but also kiss your forehead dearly. he's so gentle at the moment, but the moment he knows the name of who makes you cry, he's turning into an evil man.

⸻★ when you show interest in him, he loses his mind. he's like a sweet giant puppy. he's not the type to blush when you look at him but he just wants to squish you in his big arms. like, you are so nice and pretty.

you make him feel so dumb ( when in fact, he's really stupid on daily and it's not about you.)

⸻★ it's also a sucker for the size difference between the two of you. like, you are so small compared to him. so, don't try to run away from him, he will always be faster than you. himbo!rafe loves to play around with it, resting his arms on your head when he's next to you, joking about your small feets compared to him, pretending to not see you when you're around.

it's all a joke until he finds that thing can be a kink…

and that you’re maybe into it.

⸻★ himbo!rafe who's is a BIG VIRGIN not because he doesn't get any opportunities to fuck some bitches but this man wants to get his first time with you and only you.

✦ not only he cares about his virginity, but he does checks on yours every time.

⸻★ he's got a nice cock if you ask, everything so good-shaped about him…but god, he's such an himbo. there is nothing in his brain, so don't expect your dumb puppy to know how to use his pretty dick.

[reidgenius]

Low Pain Tolerance | S.R. x Reader

image by reidgif <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Word Count: 1.4k Category: angst, hurt/comfort? Warnings: commitment issues, wildly insecure!reader (it's really just me) A/N: I haven't written for Spencer before, so please excuse any OOC inaccuracies and be nice okay! I am a long-time lurker/admirer of the lovely @pathologicalreid and am writing this for her cutesy margovember event :) Song Inspo: Low Pain Tolerance by Abby Holliday

You never enjoyed running.

Still, that didn't stop you from doing it often. Whether it be on the job or in a relationship, you ran.

To catch a bad guy. To catch yourself before you fall. To stop something terrible before it happens... You ran.

In this instance, you found yourself running from Spencer Reid.

"Would you look at me? Please?" he pleaded.

You knew if you were to turn around that you'd see his glassy doe eyes and be drawn right back in. You knew your weaknesses, and he was certainly one of them. The biggest one. That's why you stayed put, staring at his bedroom wall.

"I can't, Spence." You meant to say it with finality, but it came out more as a whimper.

"You can't look at me, or you can't-"

"Neither. Both."

As the holidays approached, Spencer had mentioned the idea of the two of you making a trip out to Vegas. "Just for a day or two," he'd promised. Though there wasn't much he treasured about home, you knew that his mother was there, and that was more than reason enough.

This evening, he'd brought it up again after letting you avoid the topic for weeks.

"It's only a matter of time before you figure it out," you admit.

"Figure what out?"

"God, Spence, that I'm only bringing you down!" you nearly shouted, though you hadn't meant to. The anxiety took over. "I'm like... gahhh! I don't know how to do any of this, I-"

To your dismay, he let out a laugh as you finally turned to face him. A real, genuine laugh.

"Bringing me down?" He looked at you with an earnest amusement. "Honey, I don't think you realize what you-"

"I'm scared. Okay? Is that what you wanted me to admit? That I'm scared of meeting her?" A single tear gushed down your cheek.

His brows knit in concern as he quickly thought of ways to disprove the common fears surrounding schizophrenia and it's manifestations.

"Baby, schizophrenia doesn't ma-"

"Dammit Spencer, it's not about that! It's- I..."

You found yourself stumbling over your words.

"I don't care about her diagnoses!" you laughed. (Of course, you did care, but that wasn't what was scaring you.) "I'm scared of this!" you said, waving your hands between the two of you. "I don't want to rush it. I don't want to get her hopes up..."

You let your legs give way to sit on the floor against the wall, your head in your hands, mumbling to the cold hardwood.

"I don't want to get my hopes up."

There was it. That was the truth.

You weren't used to it. You weren't used to someone asking you how your day was and really caring. You weren't used to the notion that a man would want to wrap himself around you at night and keep you close. You'd never been one to draw much attention from men. Or women. Or anyone, really.

Naturally, you figured that there must be something deeply and inherently flawed in you. Something Spencer had yet to discover.

So, being with him was... terrifying. You were constantly waiting and wondering when he'd conclude that you weren't as pretty as he initially thought, or as witty, or as intelligent, or kind, or...

And it would only be cruel to drag Diana into this. To have her think that perhaps her son had found his person. To have her thinking that she might be meeting her future daughter-in-law. It felt cruel to yourself, in some twisted way, to pretend that this was all going to last.

Spencer was typically a fast thinker, but your admission had the cogs in his brain working overtime. You were afraid of him? Of your relationship?

He padded over to join you on the floor, keeping a little distance so as not to scare you.

"Get your hopes up? You don't-" he gulped, "I mean... you don't think we're gonna- that this is gonna work out?"

Still speaking to the floor, you sigh, "I don't know, Spence."

You were exhausted. Incessantly feeling like you're on the brink of being "found out" can do that to a person. It's not that Spencer hadn't done all the right things. No, he was the perfect partner. But therein lied the issue. He was perfect. And, in your opinion, you were far, far from it.

You took a deep breath through your tears.

"I don't think I can keep doing this."

Confusion. Utter shock. Things had been going so well with you the past 8 months. Spencer immediately began to wrack his brain combing through all the possible mistakes he could've made. Did he raise his voice with you? Had he forgotten some big milestone? Was he not giving you enough?

"Honey I-" he gathered himself, placing a hand on your thigh, "I'm so sorry. Can I ask... what makes you say all this?"

Though you were reluctant, you figured that now was as good a time as any.

"Spencer. I am not good for you! Good enough for you!" With each point, you illustrated by raising a finger, "I am impulsive and I complain and I get weird sometimes when you touch me and I can be a massive bitch and I never know how to-"

"Woah, woah, woah-" He snuck up closer to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and placing his head atop yours, all while you kept rambling. "Why in the world do you say that? Not good enough for me? If anything it's me who isn't deserving of you..."

"No, you-"

He stopped you in your tracks just by saying your name in that beautiful way he does. Like its covered in honey and dripping with admiration.

"You are everything. You may think those things about yourself but I certainly don't." His thumb caressed your bare skin so carefully as he continued, speaking slowly so as to allow the words to really sink in. "You are the most generous person I've ever encountered. You care so deeply about people you love. You are courageous and willing to try all the weird foods I suggest even though you really don't want to." He smirked a bit at that one. "You have taken everything that life has thrown at you and navigated it with grace. You really are just... you're it. You're her. You're the girl - the woman - I've always hoped would come my way but never dreamed actually would. Honey, I've figured out everything I need to know when it comes to how I feel about you."

You sat there, warm under his embrace, pondering his words as he spoke. It's nothing he hasn't said before, granted, in much less grand and emotionally charged ways. But it was like you were really hearing it for the first time. You wanted so badly to believe him.

"I love you," he continued. "I love you so much that sometimes I am afraid of myself. Of what I'd do for you. You, god, you make me so much better."

"I love you, too. Too much," you squeaked out.

"No. Not too much." He leaned back to encourage you to look up at him. "You know I really mean all that right? Just the way you are. Quirks included?"

"I guess. And now I'm just self-conscious that I am so self-conscious..."

"You say that as if I'm not the exact same way!" he chuckles, trying to make light of what is clearly a shared wound. You'll deal with that later. Together, preferably. "Please, trust me. Do you trust me?"

And you did. You trusted Spencer with every cell in your body and hair on your head. There was nobody else you'd ever been so confident in. So, you nod against his chest as your tears begin to subside.

"Good. Now why don't we move this party up into the bed?"

"No offense, Spencer, but the last thing I want right now is to f-"

"No no no nooope! Not that, babe," he laughed. "Just wanna lay with you 'til this feeling passes. Is that okay?"

"Please."

And so, the rest of the evening consisted of cuddles under your massive comforter. Sweet admissions whispered in your ear. The tiniest kisses to your hairline and your shoulder and your nose and your wrists.

By the time you dozed into a worry-free slumber, you believed him a little more.

Perhaps you could let Spencer love you, forever.

[caitlinbueckers]

take care.

caitlin clark x reader type beat PART 2!!!!!!!!

6.2k (what the fuck)

ok. Listen!!!!!! This is long time coming and also is a disgusting amount of words and dialogue and like weird subtextual angst masked with smut honestly it’s pure delusion on a page also ending only slightly abrupt bc it was unfathomably long sorry

wasn’t gonna make the sequel so in depth like ??? How’d this one shot turn into a fic 😐 no Clue but all i know is that insecure sort of self deprecative caitlin clark with this soft dominance of a reader combined with two bitches who won’t admit their feelings is my crack!!!! let me know if a part 3 is even needed or if yall even care teehee

no beta simply just vibes

ANYWAYYZZZZZ love u guys sorry that i suck!!!

two weeks.

it had been two weeks since you’d texted that number with your name, a simple contact, and she’d liked the message, and that was it.

it wasn’t like things immediately changed— you still, somehow, made your flight despite the throbbing headache that reverberated in your skull, and you still were able to make sure you didn’t leave a toothbrush or a stray apple watch charger in the hotel room but, miraculously, you find a way to not mention a single thing about your one night stand until you touch down at home; manchester, connecticut.

you tell your friends all about it— probably missing some implied understanding about nda’s— and pretend like it isn’t that big of a deal that one of the biggest basketball players for women’s college wasn’t knuckles deep inside of you only the night before.

but it’s a big deal. and you know it is.

like her breath, fierce and rampant with each spellbinding curl of her fingers, wasn’t startlingly still replaying in your mind, her mouth soaking in each warm, huff of air that you expelled in the form of a moan. like she hadn’t watched as she fucked you, dark eyes somehow impossibly darker as her biceps flexed, the line of thick, corded veins that traveled her muscular arms somehow jumping with each pump of her fingers inside of you.

that the same, somehow blushing girl that stood in the elevator had regarded you like something to be challenged, like something she could fight for. something she could win.

you didn’t forget a single thing. not in the way she leaned down over you as her fingers quickened their pace, the force of it eliciting grunts from caitlin’s mouth as she tore you apart, piece by piece, licking the remains as her teeth grazed over a nipple, the sensitive jut of your collarbone.

“so pretty,” she’d murmured against your skin, almost absently, like she didn’t even realize she’d said it. “you like that?” obviously, it went without saying that you did (very much), but really, you’d learned that she wanted to hear you say it. it was in the same way that - as she’d recounted to you drunkenly in a hotel bar that night - she needed to hear the audience cheer. that the fans hollering and shouting was when she felt like she was on fire. it was the external validation that urged her forth, amped her up, kept her alight.

somehow, you could see exactly how it applied to her then, her eyes quick to scan over your face— your lips, to kiss them, before she’d ask again, urgently, “you like how i fuck you? huh? tell me.”

you’d nodded furiously, words tumbling past your trembling lips, “y-es, fuck, yes—“ god, it would’ve been impossible to pull more than a few words from you with how wrought you are, body unrelentingly tense, shaking and weak until she’d coaxed another orgasm out of you, her name sounding broken on your tongue as her fingers slow, the unrelenting grind from the heel of her hand finally relaxing to ride you through it.

she was unforgivingly good with her fucking hands, you’d come to realize.

and yet, beyond all of that, much to your friends dismay, you don’t call her.

no, in fact, you mute her name on twitter and block the IOWA womens basketball page because it becomes suddenly like a frenzy. she’s everywhere, more than usual, like some sick sign from the universe and as much as it seems almost the complete opposite of how you really feel, you decide that you can never see her again.

it’s not like the sex wasn’t phenomenal, or that when it’s late and your hand sneaks into your pants, your imagination doesn’t always seems to conjure up tall, pretty girls with brown hair and green eyes, or that she didn’t completely captivate you from the moment she’d looked at you, dumbfounded and sheepish in an elevator with a blush staining her cheeks.

it wasn’t that. in fact, it was the complete opposite.

it was because the moment you’d seen a picture of her online after the fact, looking tougher than you knew she was, you’d realized that the last place you’d seen her was from between your legs, and it felt like a fucking soul crush.

because she was beautiful, and smiling, and playing up that celebrity, all-star mentality that you knew she could back up, but that you realized wasn’t her in the slightest. because now, you knew her— sort of— and saw her in ways that nobody else had— that you knew of. more so, that she’d learned your body in the span of a night and then just left, and somehow that just wasn’t fucking fair.

there was a shroud of mystery that surrounded her, even if she belonged to the world, to her supposed boyfriend, to everyone, really— way more than she ever belonged to you, even if just for a night.

so you go on about your life, and you pretend you don’t notice the draft is coming, or that soon, the already well known athlete was gonna be world renowned, taking her biggest leap to play professional, and you’d be nothing to her, nothing but the girl she’d screwed in a hotel room when she’d gotten too drunk after the final four.

and sure, you find solace in it. but there’s also this lingering, nagging feeling of being unfinished, like there’s still more. there has to be more.

so, no, you don’t call her.

but, somehow, you find last-minute tickets for the draft— which, in the grand scheme of things isn’t completely selfish. the moment you’d seen nika muhl and aaliyah edwards up for the league, you’d known that you were going to try for tickets. you just, probably, maybe, weren’t actually expecting to hookup with the projected top number one draft pick, either.

but you did, so, you buy them anyway.

you let your friends tease you for picking a dress that’s sorta slutty and for spending more time than you should doing your makeup at whatever hotel you picked in boston, only a few blocks from the draft.

all in all, it goes exactly how you expect. caitlin gets number one draft, which only slightly makes you antsy in your seat, thinking about the fact that she doesn’t know you’re there, that she doesn’t know you saw her win big and that she possibly could’ve been thinking about anyone fucking else. your favorites, nika muhl and aaliyah edwards, get teams that you’re more than happy to celebrate, and watch paige bueckers and azzi fudd get shoutout after shoutout. it’s good, it’s fun— but fuck it.

you think you miss her. maybe just her fingers, or her mouth, but you realize in a weird swell of recognition as the guests are ushered out, your head spinning back every few moments to see if you can catch a glimpse of her, that you do.

you miss the cait you’d met— you just didn’t know the one that sat in the room now.

then, it’s all sorta funny, in a way, considering the situation you find yourself in once everyone begins to disperse, limos and SUV’s pulled up and parked outside of the venue, crowds of fans standing around the barricades to sit for their favorite athletes to pile out of the doors, to go to some super elite, exclusive party that you knew you had no place at.

you don’t expect any special treatment, and you don’t expect a text or a call— which is good, because they don’t come.

no, actually, they don’t come until later.

later, after you’d spent the rest of the night in a nearby bar with a couple of girls you’d met leaving the draft. they’re funny and they’re nice, gushing about the picks, talking miles a minute about all their favorites and making you pretend that the tequila doesn’t burn just a tiny bit more when they mention caitlin’s name.

it doesn’t come until you’re showered, dressed in sweats and pleasantly drunk, scrolling through the shitty channels when your phone buzzes once, then twice, then three times and it almost makes you click the lock button, shove it over in assumption of your friends bothering you about an unsuccessful night to woo a pro athlete— but then it happens again.

you can’t really decipher what makes you look at the random assortment of numbers and it suddenly click. maybe it was because you’d spent the past few weeks in a complete back and forth, scanning over a crumpled napkin with the name ‘cait’ and these specific numbers beside it.

you know who it is, and despite yourself, your heart catches in your throat.

“hello?”

“you made it.” her voice is deeper than you remember, and it doesn’t fail to make your cheeks burn almost immediately. fuck.

“huh?” you play dumb, mostly because it’s more embarassing to admit that you’d came all this way for this, for the slim possibility that she’d fucking notice.

“tonight, i mean. you- i didn’t know— i didn’t know you were coming.” you stay silent, because what else is there to say? had she seen you?

but she continues, “you should’ve told me.” and then, “i, uh— i would’ve liked to see you.”

she’s pathetic, and so are you. a hand comes up to shove back your hair from your face, breath increasing only slightly. “i have a hotel, like, smack in the middle of boston if you’re… like, if this is an offer.”

now, she’s silent. there’s a shuffle on the other end, a murmur of a voice that you don’t recognize, before she’s back, her voice closer, softer. “yeah. yeah, i’d, uh, i’d like that.”

you open your mouth to say something, probably alcohol fueled and embarassed, but she’s speaking now, a bit quicker, “just text me, yeah?”

then the phone clicks, and for half a second, you stare at the home screen as if this couldn’t possibly be fucking real.

but it is, miraculously, and god, it makes you kind of fucking horny to think that she’s willing to see you at half past three in the morning, so your fingers fly over the keyboard in record time— a pin being dropped through imessage with a confirmed ping.

it’s fucking go time after that.

you find the lacy, practically nonexistent underwear you’d brought, forgo a bra entirely, and try to find something a little less boring than your sweatsuit, before you realize with a sickening realization that the revealing dress you’d worn for the draft was the outfit you’d expected to see her in, and as much as you cared, you kinda fucking didn’t— she’d been inside of you, by now. clothing didn’t seem as pressingly urgent as it would otherwise.

it’s only about twenty minutes before she texts you, a simple ‘here’. you send a brief message, just the number of your hotel room, and pretend like your heart doesn’t practically pound out of your chest for each passing moment, eyes flickering from the door, to the window outside, the city bustling even at a time like this.

she knocks only twice, and it startles you enough that it takes your breath away.

the moment the door swings open, it’s like a wave of calm washes over you, a weird sense of solace that you hadn’t realized she could offer, mostly due to the fact that before you stood the caitlin you’d remembered from all those weeks ago, after final four. not the exquisitely dressed, superstar you’d seen earlier that night, in shades and clothing that you could never afford with an attitude you didn’t recognize.

instead, she stands before you at her startling height, in sneakers, sweats and a windbreaker, a hood over her head and her hands tucked into her pockets. once again, looking impossibly small for someone of her stature and it takes all that’s within you to not kiss her right there.

“you got here quick.” you mention, still only slightly breathless as she offers a smile that resembles more of a smirk than anything else.

“i was scared you’d fall asleep,” and it sounds as sheepish as it makes you feel.

you step back, let her walk in and inhabit the space, only slightly making your palms sweat to have her here, in front of you again.

you decide to take the initiative to plop onto the bed, looking up at her as you toy with a stray string from your hoodie, “i wasn’t gonna fall asleep,” you retort, looking up at her, catching a glance that you don’t break, “congrats on top draft pick.”

now, she’s blushing, shaking her head and pursing her lips, “still feels unreal, dude.” she murmurs, looking down at her feet before slowly, her movements unsure, she sinks onto the bed next to you. “you’re unreal.” you say quietly, smirking at her, because you know how she’d cringe at it, scrunches her face before shaking her head. “god, not by a long shot.”

you open your mouth to say something else, maybe tease her about it, but she clears her throat quietly, “but i don’t, uh- wanna talk about that right now?” she offers a mirthless laugh, “is that stupid?”

she turns to look at you, and it happens to only be a couple centimeters from your face once you look up, shake your head “then we don’t have to.” you agree quietly, and it’s impossible to miss the way her eyes flicker down at your lips, back up to your face, and it’s equally as impossible to ignore the flip you get in your stomach before you surge forward to kiss her.

she kisses the same, tastes like what you remember, if not marked by whatever cocktails she must’ve had, whatever liquor still sat on your own breath, and it washes over you greedily that you do fucking want her— more than whatever you tried to convince yourself of during the past two weeks, more than what you’d downplayed to your friends.

“been thinking about you,” it comes out rushed, murmured against caitlin’s lips, shakily from your own mouth as she lets out a slow, wanton breath. you turn to crawl up on your knees, swinging over her hips to push her back against the bed.

she makes a noise like it stems from disbelief, almost like denial, but doesn’t pull away, not even once as her hands, fingers long and palms wide, spread beneath your sweatshirt, span across the expanse of your back and grasp.

“i did,” you insist between breathless kisses, foreheads pressed together hard as her hand races up the front now, over your stomach, palm your breasts and elicit a pitchy gasp from the immediate contact of her cold hands to your sensitive nipples, “every fucking day.”

“shut up,” she denies it again, which only slightly irks you because as cliche as it felt to say during a makeout, it’s not like you would lie about how much you’ve craved this— or more specifically, her.

you try to really expand on the thought, but it becomes almost impossible when her lips attach to your jaw, suckling until her teeth are teasing the sensitive, thin skin beneath your ear, and you make a noise too embarrassing to recount before you can gather your words. “…missed you.”

caitlin makes a noise in her own throat, something between a growl and a groan as she arches her hips up slightly to press against you, before she shakes her head, pulling back only to look up at you from your position on her lap with this sick, almost torturous gaze. her eyes are lidded and feverbright, cheeks pink, and lips glossy, kiss-bitten.

“you shouldn’t think about me.” it comes out quick with her breath, her thumbs still slow in the circles they rubbed around your nipples, making your head arch back with a whimper before you swallow hard, her words almost too quiet to hear, “not worth it to think about.”

the admission surprises you, “fuck off, clark.” you snort, the words fall lazily out of your mouth, “so humble, huh?”

she gets hot at that, and you can tell from the way her face is pressed into your neck, the way a heat radiates from her cheeks right at that moment that makes your stomach swirl, your own hands coming up to tangle into her hair.

“…i‘m serious.” she insists, still mouthing against the same area of skin that you knew would be bruised, and pretend like her totally incognito, self deprecative words weren’t somewhat confusing and worrying you.

she was fucking perfect, didn’t she realize that? how could she not when practically everyone else in the world thought the same? maybe you were being dramatic or maybe you were just horny, but it felt achingly real in the moment that she knew that, even if she wouldn't listen, even if you'd have to show her instead.

“cait, i’m fucking serious.” you counter now, using the hands in her hair to tug, exploring the reaction that it elicits, which is something that apparently caitlin enjoys by the soft whine that jumps from her throat, the way her breath quickens, the wide eyed look she gives you.

it makes your head spin, your thighs clench involuntarily. she seems so fucking innocent, and yet, all knowing at the same time.

“is that… bad?” you continue, your own head ducking to latch your lips against her neck, feeling her pulse jump beneath your teeth, “that i… touched myself and thought of you?” maybe it was the cocktails or the fact that this could be the last fucking time you see her, but it’s like word vomit— every thought and emotion that comes to you is spoken without hesitation, and apart of you wonders where you’d gotten such newfound bravery.

caitlin must be wondering too.

“not bad,” it comes out of her weak, weaker than she is right now, melting under your mouth and the tight grasp you have on her dark hair, the way each strand twines around your fingers to where even the most minuscule move of your fingers elicit a huff or a sigh, “it’s… fucking hot, what the fuck.”

it fuels you, in some way, to hear her validation. for some reason, you don’t try to hold off much longer— your own sweatshirt is being pulled off in record time, tangled in your arms momentarily and flung across the room as you go to reach for hers, “off?” you hum in the midst of the movement, to which she nods, quickly, obedient and yet, so unruly.

she was a dichotomy of everything she stood for. a shy girl pretending to be a superstar, and yet, even in moments like this, quiet and intimate, it felt like a superstar pretending to be shy. you knew just how easily she could unload, dominate the situation— pin you down by your wrists and eat you out within an inch of your life, because she had.

but now, she’s relenting, and it makes something within you burn, strengthening wildly to try and tame that beast that you knew sat fervent beneath her skin, to try and prove that caitlin didn’t always have to be caitlin clark, she could just be this.

just a pretty girl you wanted to fuck.

besides, maybe you were making up for lost time, returning favors you’d been too drunk and blissed out to give the first time around when she’d finished you off with fucking ease.

as soon as she’s exposed, her black sports bra yanked off with little effort to reveal her breasts beneath, pale and dotted with freckles, a red line from the band of it standing starkly against it, you find your mouth lowering to suckle on a spot near her nipple, teasing against the bud and licking gently at the skin until you hear her breath increase, breaking only slightly into a whine that makes you swallow hard.

you pull away, just to look at her— dark eyebrows furrowed, focused in a concentration that you can only discern as someone fighting for the need to control, to dictate, to display the same use of her strategic authority that she’s used time and time again on the court.

you decide in that moment, that you won’t let her.

“let me take care of you?” it comes out softer than you mean it to, and you can see the trust building within her, slow to register as safe— and you don’t blame her.

you both are practically strangers, knowing nothing of each other than drunken conversation that had turned too deep, nothing but the sound the other made when they came, the faces they made. it was intimately unfamiliar, and perhaps that’s where caitlin had found the solace.

maybe she knew that at this point in her career she wouldn’t have normalcy. it was practically impossible for any person knowledgeable in sports to not know her, or even just of her. to a further degree, even most, with the exception of being well versed in women’s sports, had at least heard of her, and that was simply a piece of herself that had been taken, one she’d never be able to retrieve.

but this, this might be the one standing, single piece of lucidity and realness that was hers— locked away in a hotel room in a city unfamiliar to the both of you, and it’s enough.

it’s enough for now.

“you wouldn’t even text me back.” she counters, but it’s clear in her tone, regardless of how ragged, that it’s to prod at you, and it works.

“shut up.” you murmur as you press your hands to her shoulders, push her back against the bed to straddle her fully as you brush your thumb over her abused nipple, reddened and too easy to bruise. she moans when you press on it, and it elicits a smirk to your face that’s impossible to hide. “you’re here now, aren’t you?”

for some reason, it causes a sad sort of smirk to her face that’s impossible to miss, regardless of how quickly she covers it with an exhale of want, one that you know isn’t feigned, “where else would i be?”

there’s a million answers to that. press, interviews, sleeping, with her fucking boyfriend, but you settle for a small smile, “good point.”

you hope it centers her a little when the bruising press of your fingers translate into something gentler, more of a caress against her chest that you trail up to her face, and it almost twists something inside of you to see the way her face relaxes, leans against it as if it was some type of treatment or medicine to some ailment you weren’t aware of.

you go to pull away, to begin working at the ties on her sweatpants to unwravel her even more, lost in the softness of the moment and yet still blinded by the hazy lust until she speaks, quiet and barely there.

“did you really think about me?”

it stuns you for half a second, because the simple confession hadn’t registered to you as something she’d recall, something she’d look to expand upon.

but you’d always been honest, brutally so.

“yeah,” you say it as if it was obvious, when truly it wasn’t, and more so, probably wasn’t reciprocated, “i had fun,” a gross understatement, a weak replacement for all that you really wanted to say. then, if not a bit more revealing of your inner voice, “didn’t you?”

caitlin makes a noise that resembles a huff, but it’s not impatient, it’s honest. you wonder how often she gets to do that. “you know i did.” it comes out like an admission of guilt, under her breath, yet her eyes are unrelenting as they are sincere and it makes your eyebrows lift.

it makes your breath halt slightly, “is… not having fun in your contract or something?” you lace it with a quiet chuckle, mostly because you don’t want to make it too deep, too revealing to ask, but part of you thinks it’s expanded beyond that already, had been since she'd called you at three in the morning, just to say that she'd seen you, that she wanted to see you again.

her hands rise from her sides to rest against your thighs, and the touch is welcome, one that you relax into before she manages a half smile, “might as well be.”

but then, you see that surge of confidence again, something in her eyes glimmering as she squeezes at the skin of your thighs, hard, but your eyes remain fixed, even as hers drop, almost shy in her show of strength. “it’s why… i’ve thought about you like, everyday since... final four?”

that certainly makes your breath halt, invoking a reaction in your stomach and between your legs that you choose to ignore as you swallow, thumb still slow in its brush against her cheek.

“yeah?” it comes out of you rough, and she grants you with a nod as a response, then, after only a moment, she whispers, an echo to your words from before. “so... is it bad that i missed you too?”

“god, shut up.” you repeat again, as if somehow that was a valid response to being told such a thing by a girl you’d only had met twice, by a girl you knew nothing about.

you wanna ask her a million questions, know anything and everything: ask her if she’s actually into girls, if she’s actually into her boyfriend. mainly, if she’s actually into this pedestal that she’d been thrust into, if the fame was too much, maybe if it was never enough.

but you settle for shutting her up for now, because you can see the way her chest rises and falls rapidly, can hear the strain that it took to admit, and you realize, selflessly, that maybe you won’t let yourself ask for more.

not now, anyway.

instead, you lean up, uncharacteristically tender as you slide your lips against hers, feels the way she relents against you, slow and subservient.

“can i show you how bad i missed you?” your fingers tease the edge of her sweatpants, and she lets out a creaking groan, head tilting back and eyes closing as if in exasperation, before she nods. “please.”

you get right to work.

it takes only a little bit of adjustment to get her pants off of her long legs, to reveal the simple pair of black boy shorts that she wore, before you can finally tease a finger against the soaked fabric, reveling in the wetness that you knew matched your own.

her hips jump up, caged in only by your legs as you arch your middle finger, riding the knuckle against her heat, watching the way her face twists only slightly, lips parted in silent noises that you wish you could beckon out of her.

it is fun, you realize in the back of your mind, to pull her apart like this. without the inebriation clouding your mind from the last time, you feel almost startlingly cognizant of your own movements, of her reactions.

when you finally pump your middle finger into her, you notice the way her stomach and abs flex involuntarily, the way her voice pitches up and almost keens in her throat, catching with every stuttered inhale.

when you lean down to press your lips against the slickness of her cunt, press the pad of your tongue to her clit, she says your name— loud. it’s something mixed between a whine and a plead, long, dexterous fingers tangling into your hair and holding on tight.

you devour her, tongue slow to slide against her slick folds, to feel the surge of wetness spill out around your fingers, mixed with your own saliva. you drink her in like she’s a potion, or an elixir, something that you swear you can find and savor if you just go deeper, harder.

it isn’t until you feel her thighs tense, clamping around your head as she lets out a sound close to a gasping breath, marked with a moan that makes your head spin— she sounds so fucking desperate, and you’re bound and determined to give her exactly what she wants. what she deserves, really.

she comes on your fingers, in your mouth, and you relish every bit of it, quick to clean up the excess with fervor. she’s sensitive still, her breath huffing out whenever you breach too close to her clit, but you’re gentle. that’s what this was all about, right?

it’s quiet after the storm, your wrist sore and mouth wet as you sit up a bit, eyes careful to observe how hard her chest rises and falls. the way her hair, having fallen from its loose bun, sat in messy waves around her face, nothing like the impeccably straightened strands you’d seen at the draft, and it sort of makes you smile in an off handed way that you can’t explain, especially not when she opens her eyes finally to look at you.

“quit.” she says, and there’s a smile, tired and breathless, teasing at her own mouth as the hand that had fisted your tangled locks finally released, dragging down the side of your head to push your chin away lightly,

you can’t help but snicker, raising a brow, “what?” she rolls her eyes, and you repeat yourself, this time with a snort, “sorry, you’re just— you just look pretty like this.”

it’s hard to pretend that something inside of you doesn’t wince when her smile drops slightly, and you pretend like it isn’t uncommon to compliment the stranger you just ate out with such sincerity and honesty.

she’s slow when she says it, “...you always look pretty.” and it sounds wistful, murmured in a way that you can’t help but flush a bit at, as you roll your eyes now as if to return the favor, “you’ve only seen me twice, drunk, in sweats.”

but for some reason, that makes her smile return and for half a second, you let yourself pretend.

that maybe, this random series of hookups between you two weren’t fueled by some weird attraction slash escapism slash secret infidelity that had to be shared between you, or tucked away from the world. for half a second, she wasn’t caitlin clark, women’s basketball superstar, future member of the indiana fever.

she was cait, a girl you’d met at a bar that you’d hooked up with who just happened to see you again, and maybe, if you were a little dumber, and maybe a bit drunker, you’d admit to yourself that there’s a part of you that likes her, and each time you’d thought about her in the past few weeks, it had become achingly apparent.

but, you’re smarter than that, and definitely not drunk enough, so you pretend that her next words don’t make your heart skip multiple beats, as if it doesn’t cause a flutter in your chest.

“still,” she scoffs, and she’s sitting up a little, her hand having laid lazily against her stomach, reaches over to grasp your wrist, almost absently, “plus, i saw you earlier tonight, in that dress?”

it shouldn’t make you almost stunned into silence, but it fucking does.

“sorry— not to like, be weird and say i was looking for you but, i dunno, i just— i remember you saying something about UCONN, so i just assumed you'd be ther—“

you’re kissing her before even you can register what she’s saying, or why she says it all in this shy, almost sheepish tone that fills you with a flood of endorphins, butterflies being set alight inside of you.

“god, you’re so…” you’re not sure where you’re going with it, but you can’t help the way your hand comes up to hold the side of her face, dip your thumb against her bottom lip as if to make her taste herself, all as your eyes watched, lidded and fixed.

then, you exhale, only a whisper, “i’m gonna get you in trouble.” you manage to say, despite the very obvious fact that watching her suck on your finger is doing unspeakable things to you, before you drag the wet digit out, her bottom lip pulling only slightly.

“with who?” she says it almost as if you both know the answer, both thinking about the multitude of bigger names and bigger people who had long since been the determinant in caitlin’s career— at least from the little that you knew— and it lapses you both in a measured silence.

until she speaks, and it’s quiet, and sincere. “you’re just like… the only thing in my life right now that has nothing to do with basketball.”

it's a compliment, wrapped up in something a lot more sad, a lot more sincere. it shouldn’t make you want to hug her, but it does, so, you do.

your arms twine around her neck slowly, your face lowering to bury against her neck, just beneath her chin, and you can feel her chest vibrate slightly with a chuckle or a laugh, before her arms are around you, squeezing you tight, “don’t go all sappy on me, dude.” she murmurs, but it’s present in the way she doesn’t pull from it, or really, the way she fucking clutches onto you, almost desperately, that you pretend once again that this doesn’t mean anything. that this is traditional, hookup behavior, and that once she leaves this hotel room, everything will shift right back into place.

a place where caitlin clark gets to be caitlin clark and you get to be you, and there’s no overlap.

except, that doesn’t happen.

no, instead, once you pull away from the hug she kisses you again, hungrier this time, her hands sliding from your back to your hips so she can hook fingers in the edge of your panties, urging you to sit up on your knees so she can pull them down.

instead, she lets you ride her thigh— both hands firm and strong, her own biceps lfexing to keep you glued to her thick, muscle corded thigh, your cunt unforgivably wet as she dragged your hips down, over and over.

your head tips forward to press to her forehead, and she kisses you through each desperate cry that escapes your lips, the friction and slide becoming wetter, slicker by the moment, drawing these high pitched noises from your throat that you know caitlin is drinking in, all while she murmurs to you in this soft little voice, “show me good it feels, lemme hear you.”

in the end, you both pass out there, somewhat in a laying position as caitlin lays on her back, arms loosely wrapped around you, who’s laying stomach down atop of her, a thigh lazily hiked up to hang against her hip, your face pressed into her neck.

it’s fucking bizarre when you think about it.

how you both had talked more than you ever had before, and when you look back on it in the morning, nothing but a ghostly reminder of her presence by the sheets that lay strewn about, the undeniable smell of sex and sweat that still hung in the air, you pretend like you don’t realize just how little you still knew about her, and just how much that you wished you knew.

you also pretend like you don’t miss her, or that when you’re gathering your clothes to check out, a soreness in your body unlike one you’ve really ever felt, you’re practically stunned to see her faded, gray, IOWA shirt, thrown lazily over the desk chair that makes you wonder just how accidental it was for her to leave it.

you wear it anyway,

it isn’t until you make it back to connecticut, making up some excuse for your friends as to how you hadn’t been able to meet up with caitlin, how she’d been too busy anyway and you’d spent the night drinking at a bar, that maybe, just maybe, there was a part of you that wanted to keep her protected, confidential.

maybe it was the post-sex fueled lust that wanted you to keep it close to your chest, a dirty secret only for you to enjoy, or maybe it came from somewhere softer, somewhere that remembered how caitlin had such little privacy, that it almost hits you like a pang just how much you wanted her to still have that, even if it was at the expense of not seeing your friends faces when you told them that you guys had hooked up, again. even if she'd never know that you didn't say a word.

fuck it. it’s the least you could do.

you try not to think about her for days really, not until you’re doing laundry and come across the grey t-shirt, deciding only then that you’d pull up your goddamn bootstraps and finally send a message.

it’s cheeky, the wrinkled t-shirt thrown on over your underwear, leaving your thighs on display and the peek of a hip that you know is intentional before you snap a picture, sending it with little hesitation, and subsequently throwing your phone afterwards at the bed.

“you left something”

cc loved your message, “you left something”

“i know”

“guess i’ll have to come get it back”

it’s stupid, you know it is, but it makes you smile, typing with an urgency only known when texting back the pretty girl you like, before you send it, bottom lip teased between your teeth.

“how close are you to connecticut?”

[rimunagenius]

Good Game

ʚ pairing: Kate Martin x Cheerleader!reader

ʚ word count: 1.3k words

ʚ warnings: RPF!! , otherwise none.

ʚ request: anon ask; “are you down to make a kate martin x cheerleader reader?”

ʚ rimunagenius speaks: here’s another request! i love that you guys are sending requests, and i’m glad that i’m the one you’re choosing to ask to write them! thank you so much for liking what i write, truly unbelievable. Also, I’m making my way through my inbox so from now on, my fics will most likely be request, so feel free to drop some more, but also, please be patient as i continue to do so! enjoy!

"Good job, Martin!" You yelled at you waved your pom poms infront of you, engaging in your cheer, but looking to the side as the Iowa women's basketball team ran down the tunnel for half time.

You gave her the biggest smile, getting one in return. "Thank you!" She grabbed a cup of water and ran down the tunnel following her teammates.

Usually that's how all of your interactions went. A 'good job' or 'you're doing great' here and there. Kate was your favorite on the team. She was tall, pretty, kind, and really damn good at playing ball. What's there not to like about her? You always mentioned her to your cheer friends; they evolved to trying to start up conversations with Kate and bring you into it.

It helped that one of your bestfriends was on the basketball team, too. You and Kylie met on your first day at Iowa University. You two have been inseparable since then.

So every game, you'd get to just a little bit early, hitching a ride with Kylie, and she knew full well why you did it. There was the off chance that you'd talk to Kate. They normally had shoot around, and the cheer team would get there just a half hour later to start warm ups and make sure the music was working.

You valued your time before every home game. That's why Kylie made sure to make you bump into Kate on your way into the big game tonight.

"Hey, Kate!" Kylie shouted to the blonde ahead. She turned around, her long blonde hair twisting as she turned to look at you and Kylie.

"Hey! Oh, Hi!" Kate greeted her teammate, and then greeting you, with a side hug. She was much taller this close than from the sideline to baseline view. Your knees were weak.

"Hey! You excited for tonight?" You beamed, you were also excited for tonight. The big Iowa vs. UConn game for the final four spot.

"Yeah, super. Your cheering tonight?" Kate knew the answer, she just didn't know what to say because you made her nervous. You could tell by the way her cheeks reddened immediately after asking.

"Yeah, I am. That's why I came with Kylie." You turned to point to your friend, only to find she left. You look up ahead and see her walking with Sydney down the hall towards the lockerroom. "Oh, nice." You whispered as you turned back to Kate.

Your cheeks turning pink just by the sheer height difference. "Nice, you're gonna cheer for me right? Your favorite on the team obviously." She bumped your shoulder, making you laugh.

"I will cheer for you, but only out of obligation. Y'know, I didn't get a full ride for nothing." Your sarcasm eliciting a small giggle from the tall blonde.

"Haha, very funny." Kate looked ahead, catching Kylie peak her head out of the lockerroom doorway, immediately blushing harder.

"Kylie's actually my favorite, but i'll make an acception for the cute golden retriever." You smiled up at Kate, tossing a small strand of hair up playfully, her smile widening some more.

"Yay, the cute cheerleader loves me." She bumped your shoulder again, both of you walking into the lockerroom like big grinning idiots. Kylie definitely texts you after you walk out with your headphones she had in her bag, asking how it went.

You walked onto the court, a couple of your teammates here already, smiling at your phone while you told Kylie what happened. You then didn't fail to talk about it all the way until the girls started warms ups. You didn't want to get caught talking about a minor interaction between your literal crush.

"Wait, stop. I think Kate likes you, babe." Your teammate literally stopped you dead in your tracks. You didn't know if you heard that correctly. You hoped you did.

"No, stop it. No she doesn't." You looked over, and sure enough Kate had been looking at you. You both gave eachother a small smile before resuming to your respective duties.

"Girl, she's been looking over here every thirty seconds. Of course she likes you." You smiled softly, thanking the cheer gods that your uniform looked so good on you. Seriously, you were glad you were confident enough to strike up a conversation. She was so pretty you didn't think you'd be able to do it.

"Okay, stop telling me that or that's all i'll think about all night, and I don't want to forget our cheers. Especially the half time performance." You sighed as you walked off the court, to do stationary stretches, while the girls used the full court to do warm up drills.

Now it was your turn to stare. You watched her as she moved in sync with her team. Fully enamored by the way she moved, communicated, and played with her team.

During the game, was no different. You’d watch her play, literally just watched her. Something about her was just so intriguing. You couldn’t look away.

She’d look to you, smile and continue to play her game. She would try and hide the smile when she heard you scream ‘let’s go 20’ and hasn’t stopped thinking about it. She thought about it all the way through the second half, and completely into half time.

She wished she could watch the halftime performance, wanting to watch you do your thing, in that pretty uniform, the skirt that fit you perfectly. You two had seemed to be totally enamored with eachother it was driving you both nuts.

After the game, the team went into the tunnel, for the normal post game talk. You were nervous to sit in, Coach Bluder allowing you to sit and listen since Kylie was your ride and you were just minding your own business. The lockerroom was fairly big, you finding a spot infront of a locker, scrolling through tiktok with your headphones on. You hadn’t known the huddle was over until someone was approaching you.

Looking up, you met the perfect blue eyes yet again. You looked up and saw you were sitting at her locker. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll just—“ You started talking and got up when she had already reached for her towel on the top shelf. Your bodies were pressed against eachother, eyes looking into the others, your breath mixing together.

“Oh..uh. Sorry!” Kate said, sidestepping to let you pass. Both your cheeks were red and demeanor suddenly timid and bashful. The things you two did to eachother.

You neeed her number.

She needed your number.

You then stood by Kylie’s locker, waiting for her to finish up, her opting to shower at her home, and then before walking out, you turned around and walked up to Kate. You didn’t know if it was the confidence of Iowa winning the game, the adrenaline running super high. But either way, you were doing it.

It was now or never. You liked her, and wanted to talk to her longer than short conversations before and after games. Getting closer, you tapped her on her shoulder. Her eyes wide, a soft puppy look on her face, god your knees were weak. “Hey!” She smiled as she put her basketball shoes in her bag, sliding her feet into her slides.

“Hey! So, you can totally say no, but I wanted to know if I could get your number?” You smiled nervously at the blonde, her smile growing wider.

“Yeah, of course. Here.” She handed you her phone, letting you type in your number, sending a quick text so you could save her number in your phone. Feeling your phone vibrate, you thank her and handed her her phone back.

Her now standing infront of you, you decided to kiss her cheek. Her face immediately turning a light shade of red. She rubbed the back of her neck softly, before looking down at her feet and then back up to you.

“Good game tonight, Martin.” You turned heel, and walked out the door leaving her absolutely stunned. She could not wait to text you tonight.

[ma1dita]

forever falling: luke castellan & his four great loves

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.3k

summary: (post-TLT) The one where he falls from grace and still thinks of you. (the four great loves of Luke Castellan’s life and how it will end up killing him) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: i held myself hostage in my car outside the gym until i got this right this morning — listened to forwards, beckon, rebound by adrienne lenker while writing this, thank you for your patience and happy september!

edited, doing taglist when i get back from the gym lmao

—

Falling to his death is taking a lot longer than Luke Castellan thought it would.

For a man with a multitude of regrets, he finds that he can count his biggest ones off the four bloodied fingers that stain his peripherals with every bump and tumble down the jagged rocks of Mount Tamalpais.

What a waste of a life.

Everything he’s ever tried to accomplish has come to this final, humiliating moment of being at someone else’s mercy. Life is so unfair, he thinks, to give everything for love and have it kick you off the side of a fucking mountain that reeks of eucalyptus and regret. Sure, it was wrong to steal the master bolt, to turn his back on camp, poison Thalia’s tree, have his little sister hold up the sky, try to kill Percy Jackson every so often, and cause all this chaos… (I mean you know how this goes) but the pros outweigh the cons here! Promise.

Luke was so sure that they would all see reason—that he was doing this all out of love, no matter how convoluted and backwards his way is compared to theirs, even if he’d never admit that. Change is supposed to be uncomfortable and war was never meant to be pretty. It wasn’t supposed to end like this, really. The gods weren’t meant to win.

But at the end of it all, love must be his greatest weakness. It has to be.

The Fates should be slicing through the fibers of his lifespan by now, ripping through the embroidered memories in his mind. Nothing of his is his own anymore—not his life, nor his love.

Love, if he’s learned anything in the two wretched decades that Hermes himself has cursed his existence with— hurts like a motherfucker. That, or Thalia was definitely wearing steel-toed boots when she kicked his ass off the cliff. He’s given his life for love, dedicating himself to the greater good of protecting his loved ones, and no one, not even the gods could stand in the way of that. A method to his madness or his undeniable naivety, he still can’t tell, but it's gotten him falling deep into an abyss at the hands of a bunch of kids who continually undo his plans to change the world.

Maybe love is little deaths then, and maybe Luke Castellan loves too hard.

There has never been a single moment in his life where he hasn’t gone down fighting—he never lets anything go, holding what’s important to him so close to his chest that it suffocates. Luke believes that after everything he’s been through, he was never meant for mediocrity—not even when it comes to love. Maybe his death would mean something then— maybe that is his glory. To love someone to death, even if it was wrong— if this is his end, maybe his death will bring peace he knows his love never could.

Four names run through his mind like most things do, intense and fleeting. His final thoughts as he plunges toward the earth are his last act of prayer. If the gods have never listened before, well, these thoughts are all he has to comfort him; they feel heavy behind his lips the further he falls.

Could the Fates be wrong?

His fatal flaw manifests itself into the names of four women he knows he could never deserve in this lifetime, but he’d die trying. He is, dying. This fall from grace is proof enough that he was never meant to be a hero. Excessive wrath bleeds from his being until all that’s left is love, and he’s ashamed of it.

Gods, he’s such a fucking loser.

Luke’s neck cracks against stone at the bottom of the cliff, white hot pain crawling up his spine with only one remaining thought clanging around in his brain—he should’ve never fucking come back to San Francisco.

And while we’re talking about regrets—Luke recognizes that the one thing he’s never had control of is love.

So he lets go, feeling the weight of his body crumple against the downhill slope of Mount Tamalpais like a puppet cut from its strings without a single cry of pain because Luke Castellan finally comes to accept the loves and losses of his life. His landing feels softer now, rolling to a stop like the waves on Westport Beach. Then he sinks into the earth with a bated sigh and it feels like gentle hands of loves that once believed in him.

Luke closes his eyes before his world spirals into black—because if these few moments are all he has left, he’d like to take this time to remember them.

MAY CASTELLAN [storgē - στοργή]

Luke Castellan was born into this world half-mortal, half-god, but 100% May Castellan’s son. From the moment he came into this world, he was fully her own. Hermes was a factor, yes—but the manifestation of a demigod is wholly that of the mortal parent in every aspect visible to the naked eye. Blood runs alongside ichor in his veins, but Luke is all hers in every way that matters—from the slope of his nose, his dark velvet curls, and the honey-molten warmth of his eyes. And they were happy together, once upon a time, even if it was mostly just the two of them.

The gods make their half-mortal children in the likeness and image of their human love since their own forms are ever changing. There is nothing permanent about being immortal—leaving their partners with babies that look like them but are vulnerable to the Mist. And when you love a god, the only tangible reminder left behind is one that goes where you cannot follow. Things most can’t understand— speedy baby steps padding down the hall, tiny hands unlocking the pantry door, and a motor mouth able to transmit meaning through toddler gibberish.

But before Luke even knew what love was, his mother made sure he knew hers was stuck to his being—like peanut butter and jelly on the roof of his mouth from all the sandwiches she made. His clothes used to smell like chamomile from her morning brew and his fingers were often stained blue from Kool-Aid powder. May would always let him mix, even if she had to pretend to not see him sipping from the big spoon in the pitcher. Loving a trickster meant she knew how to raise one.

His mother’s love was sugar sweet. It was in the cookies she baked, the kisses she’d press against his broken skin, and in the confectionery words she’d whisper to him before bedtime. As the years passed by, May would end up repeating herself and the ‘i love yous’ were more for her instead of him—like a mantra she needed to remind herself of who she was. But Luke always understood. When her voice would fail and tears would replace it, Luke learned to wipe away what his father left behind for him to take care of.

His identical chocolate irises watched hers turn to emerald, and it was then he knew that too much sugar could make everything rot.

THALIA GRACE [eros-ἔρως]

There was always this intensity whenever he was with Thalia Grace, the daughter of Zeus. And she made sure he always knew it—a static spark igniting between the two of them as soon as their eyes met in the streets of Charleston. Like him, Thalia always made sure to get what she wanted, two north poles of a magnet bullheading through life to get what they’re owed. By that same evening, they were elbow-deep in the golden dust of a dragon that had come home to find two bushy-browed little freaks with arrogance quadruple their size.

Luke and Thalia were a match made in hell—one always trying to outdo the other to get the upper hand when it comes to control. And at 12 years old, it was the first time Luke had ever had anyone fight by his side. But they were both short fuses and she always set him alight—a glint of her father rushing through her glare so hot that it burned blue. He would do anything to keep her attention on him since grabbing devotion by force is all he’s ever known. Moving quickly and being in her face was the only way to remind his mother of her affection so he assumed the same would go with her. That, and he couldn’t help being extra fidgety— being a son of Hermes meant he couldn’t sit still for long.

Though with Thalia’s growing annoyance of Luke, it was established that their dependence on each other was one of necessity to survive the odds stacked against them. She was repelled by what made them so similar, hubris that blinded them from wanting to figure out the difference between surviving and living. There was a poison of hate in their love for one another. A shame in wanting a love that understood the attraction that linked them so early on in life, however innocent.

Both were too alike and were burned the same.

They burned each other. A type of selflessness and selfishness that battled each other for balance, so close but so far away.

There was always something about Thalia that blistered at his confidence. A forbidden part of her he couldn’t bear. It’s why he spit words of acid instead of encouragement once he realized the Furies wanted her the most when they were running for their lives, Luke was always the fastest runner anyway—dragging little Annabeth up Half-Blood Hill and by the time he realized he’d left her for dead she became a hero (he admits now that he could’ve run circles and saved her too; he just didn’t want to).

Thalia Grace gave everything for this love. But she sure as hell never trusted him to do the same for her.

The spark they shared was snuffed out that day. And Luke continued to burn without her.

ANNABETH CHASE [philia- ϕιλία]

Luke Castellan had never been chosen for anything before. Growing up in the mortal world, he was used to watching families eat together through restaurant windows and children playing in parks that he would pass by, taking slower turns around the block so he could imagine what it felt like to be wanted. Luke was never once beckoned to take part, but he accepted long ago that he didn’t really belong anywhere.

It was nice to think about though.

The daughter of Athena doesn’t remember it anymore, something so trivial in that big brain of much more important thoughts—but when she reached her hand out to him instead of Thalia (after almost breaking his skull in with a rusty hammer), it meant everything to him. The kid thought he was a monster at first sight, and she still chose him after everything.

Annabeth Chase grew up idolizing him and he thrived because of it.

Like ambrosia, Luke was strengthened by her faith and it made him feel powerful. Having the daughter of Athena in his life was like being awarded a gold medal. He loved Annabeth like she was his biggest prize, gleaming on a shelf for him to admire when he was feeling down about himself. Both him and Thalia raised her with pride; with little to no material possessions, they learned to make something out of nothing—and they made it golden. He chased that feeling and it made him greedy for her affection—she announced his place in this world of cruelty. The harsh hands of fate were gilded by Midas himself as long as he had Annabeth. And she put him on a pedestal too—an unattainable goal in her mind that the highest form of glory was to be like her older brother and best friend.

Luke Castellan was finally good at something, and he had the proof to show for it in the shape of a small girl with inquisitive eyes. With her, all of his answers were right. To choose each other and be reciprocated with equal fervor helped him idealize what it felt like to win in life.

However Annabeth was not just his best student, but a prodigy that learned to outplay the trickster. An intellect like hers was never meant to corrode in a dusty, dark corner.

YOU [agape- ἀγάπη]

Plato wrote that humans were once created whole— with four arms, four legs, and two faces fused back-to-back for the entirety of their mortal existence. They were at peace, and how could you not be?

With your soulmate at your side, you could face anything, even the gods. And eventually Zeus felt threatened by their power, in knowing that humans could be invincible against any pain, suffering, and doubt as long as their soul was physically and intimately tied with their other half. So he separated humans from their soulmates in a snap of a finger. It was just another thing that jealousy would take away from humankind by immortal beings that would never understand what it means to live with an ending.

There’s a misconception that love is being together in our original state until the gods took it away. But in fact, it was written to be that love is the desire to become whole with someone else, in addition to yourself. Love is the choice to spend your life trying to find your other half—as we are destined to roam until we have someone to share the rest of our time. Humans have long accepted that we don’t know when the end will come—but the act of searching for our person to share it with, that is love.

Love is the ultimate sacrifice to meet your partner wherever they’re at, to make a home out of the rubble of your past and still choose it anyway knowing that the both of you will go hand in hand into the future. It isn’t glory like he’d convinced himself in the past; it’s not accomplishing some heroic feat worth the recognition of the gods—he knows by now that he couldn’t give a single shit about them. The answer had always been right in front of him, unwavering against the test of time with fluttering amethyst eyes and laughter that renders him senseless.

Why go through all that trouble? one might ask. But that is also his answer.

Fate had never cut him loose— tumbling down Mount Tamalpais was one of the many proofs of that, and with nothing else to do, Luke comes to the conclusion that loving you is a lifelong commitment he made to make more time with you.

Shitty deal, he thinks, trying to beat Kronos at his own domain without anyone’s help must have been a waste for it all to end so pathetically.

But loving you was a choice he made every day, even in your absence. It’s his reminder and solemn vow that loving you could never be a waste. Luke laments not being able to take you to meet his mother, or giving you the white house with the big bay windows, but by giving up his life, honor, and whatever glory is still attached to the name Luke Castellan— it must be worth it as long as you’re living the life you deserve.

Even if it means he’s not part of it, he hopes you’re still searching for him too.

—

In the end, even as he falls to his death, he finds himself calling out to his father for the last time. His plea reaches deaf ears of course—but he isn’t begging anymore. Luke Castellan thanks his father for the first and last time in his life and embraces his losses if it meant that he mattered. If not to the gods, then to his mother. To Annabeth. Thalia, even for a short moment, and you.

Especially to you.

Unwavering and without question, to live to the fullest is to have been by your side walking through the woods of Camp Half-Blood and hearing the sound of your cackles through the air, sending animals scattering from something he said.

Because to be loved despite everything he has done, everything he will do— Luke thinks he must be the luckiest man to have ever lived.

Death blankets the weary traveler, and time is an unflinching hand pulling him through a rip in reality. He’s gone in the blink of an eye, falling in reverse to where he needs to be next.

Somewhere, Atropos raises her scissors away from the indelible strand of his life force as she takes a breath and sits back, her sisters unable to do anything else but watch. This boy was becoming more trouble than what even the gods knew he was worth.

Luke Castellan must be lucky, indeed.

—-

Ding.

450, 451, 452, 453…

A wet cough from a satyr next to you disrupts the silence in the elevator up to Olympus; you give him a sideways glance that makes him shift closer to the door with what you hope is a blush and not a fever. It’s warm and stuffy in this 3x4 crystalline box that shoots towards the heavens, and a bit crowded for a weeknight—though you suppose it is the Winter Solstice.

You haven’t been back here since your ex-boyfriend stole the master bolt.

There’s a moment where you wonder if the Fates have ever found your predicament funny, but then the satyr sneezes with a boom.

537, 538, 539, 540…

It’s almost dusk now as clouds roll through the night sky and into the distance. Frost lines the metal frame of the elevator shaft and if you’re flying at the speed of light, it doesn’t seem to be a problem. But this trip is taking much longer than you thought it would for a decision you made on a whim.

You still have a final to take in the morning, and Annabeth wasn’t answering your calls—then her location on Find My iPhone sprung from San Francisco to the middle of Manhattan from the span of your trip on the Long Island Railroad.

Something was up. The sense of something important trickled down your spine like second nature. Can’t this thing go any faster?

It was second nature for you by now to know when something was up, especially with the trio. You’d always make the time for them. Besides, your life has been a little too quiet lately. Being an adult demigod does that; there’s no monsters that bump in the night anymore, just the ones in your head and the ones that make you take finals three days before Christmas.

…600.

Ding.

Weaving through what seems to be a celebration fit for the gods, your glove-clad hands push through the sea of minor godlings, heroes, and Olympians. Aphrodite sends you a wink that makes you feel hot to the touch before you realize Hestia’s eyes are also on you, the both of them clearly whispering about your treacherous love life. You shove your gloves and scarf into your jacket pocket. Bowing your head lightly in greeting, you keep walking further into the grand hall.

It seemed you were always a hot topic up here on Olympus. Great.

The music is so loud you can feel it in your chest, thumping away to the accelerated beat of your heart and by the time you grab a glass of ambrosia-spiked champagne to help with the lump in your throat, you hear the sound of your name in the midst of all the chaos.

A gentle hand grasps your shoulder then, and it’s Percy Jackson adorning a cup of punch and brand new wispy white tendrils that hang across his face. There’s a story that should follow, but he gapes at you like a fish out of water. Looking up at him (this boy grows like a weed!), both of your confused faces mirror each other as you sidle out words he’s still able to hear over the music, “What’s the celebration for? And why have none of you been answering my calls?”

The son of Poseidon swallows hard, until the smell of salt and sea foam surrounds you and you find yourself staring at the god of the sea himself, standing alongside him. With a smile soft like rippling water, he gently says, “I’ll leave you two to it. And I’ll call your father and stepmother over. Good to see you,” Poseidon says your name as he takes his exit. You hoped it was a good thing then, that he knew you.

Percy wondered why he was always left to make the difficult decisions.

He almost sounds like his father when he speaks, calling for your attention again as he clears his throat.

“Listen, I need to tell you something, and I think we should…”

Shaking your head, your eyes are scanning across the room, meeting Annabeth’s as she drops the hand of the minor god she’s dancing with and makes her way over to you. From the other side of the room, Poseidon pushes your father in your direction as he juggles two golden goblets in each hand, led by his wife as they almost float towards you.

“Whatever it is, spit it out Perce. Your audience is growing by the minute.”

“Hey princess, whatcha doing here? Don’t you have a test tomorrow?” You dad grins, nudging your shoulder and handing you one of the goblets. Ariadne presses a kiss against your temple and you smile, taking a sip before hearing Annabeth’s converse squeak to a stop next to you.

“Someone better tell me what’s going on right now,” your eye twitches and then you see Annabeth’s new strands of silver that frame her face as she grabs your arm and nestles against it.

“I…um…” the sandy-haired boy begins, and then your dad groans and you elbow him hard, wine spilling from his lips as his wife giggles like the sound of tinkling bells and you’re about to strangle the teenager on the marble tile he’s planted on.

“Luke’s…”

“Dead.”

Percy’s worried voice intermingles with a new one you haven’t heard before, like a crackling sound that leaves a metallic taste in your mouth, and then a girl shows her face—black eyeliner and silver jewelry clinking against each other as she looks into your eyes and blue meets purple.

So you start laughing. Cackling even, as your head nods slightly, and after they’ve given you a moment to compose yourself you take a big gulp of the drink in your right hand to then chase it with the one on your left.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. He’s not dead,” you insist, and everyone looks at you like you’re insane, even your father, the god of insanity himself. Ariadne’s hand caresses the nape of your neck as she whispers, “Maybe we should take a seat outside, darling…”

“No…No! I mean it,” you say almost incredulously, a hiccup slipping past your lips when you take in too much air. “That motherfucker doesn’t have the audacity to die and if he did, I would know.”

“This is how we’re letting you know,” Annie murmurs, before Percy sighs and his shoulders fall heavy with what seems to be the weight of the world, “She’s right. He’s not dead.”

A myriad of responses blur in the space around you, all going hazy as you blink and stay focused on Percy.

“It’d be too easy…” you murmur, nodding again like you’re convincing yourself of the fact. Annabeth rubs circles into your forearm and you realize you haven’t breathed since the daughter of Zeus made her entrance, “I’d know if he was dead.”

Thalia Grace looks you up and down thoughtfully, “So you’re the collateral damage.”

“Thalia!”

Annabeth exclaims, her hand tightening around yours and you know deep down she’s rejoicing at the news of Luke’s survival. But for yourself, you were unsure if you felt the same, almost chuckling at the irony of almost all of Luke’s favorite people in the same room as the gods he swore to overthrow, “That’s me. You were a tree the last time I saw you.”

“That’s me. I kicked him off a cliff, thought it would’ve done the job, but he’s always been too stubborn.”

A smile spreads across both your faces. You think about Luke interrupting your date last month by barging into your apartment and how that was tough enough to explain to your roommate, much less if you tried to tell your parents and best friends in the middle of a Christmas party.

You make the choice to keep Luke’s visits a secret. It doesn’t come as difficult as you thought it would.

Hermes bumps into your little group, eyes focused on his caduceus as it pings with different messages. The rest of you go quiet, mirth dimming despite the smile on the messenger god’s face and the kids take that as their cue to exit.

“What’s happening? A group like this, and with you making an appearance,” he nods in your direction, “Must be something special.” He nudges your dad, and you’ve forgotten that they’ve been best friends for millenia.

“Your kid’s not dead. You’d know that if you were nosy in the right places,” Dionysus says through a gulp of wine, turning and walking away nonchalantly, making you smile. Hermes looks at you with his face a mix of shock and appreciation, though you’ve done nothing to earn it. He follows your father with a gust of wind billowing behind his traveling feet.

Those two are more trouble than you and Luke were.

Biting your cheek, you turn to Ariadne and scoff, “So…. Do you think I should tell my dad that the other campers snuck into the party half an hour ago?”

Your stepmother laughs, her eyes following her love across the ballroom, choosing to let everyone enjoy the Winter Solstice for once.

—

“When does a war end? When can I say your name and have it mean only your name and not what you left behind?” - Ocean Vuong

[anglbby444]

sam winchester hcs { nsfw }

• first things first, he has the best cock. Not too big, not too small, just right to where you still feel it inside you even after he’s pulled out of you. I’d say he’s about 5-6 inches, thick and girthy.

• he defo prefers women with a little bit of meat on their bones ;)

• he’s really into spanking, body worship, and hair pulling.

• I mean, the way he pulled ruby’s hair?!

• he doesn’t rlly like toys too much, but if you’ve been a brat, he might bring a vibrator into the bedroom to teach you a lesson ;)

• or ofc if you ask to try toys out, he’s pretty open to exploring.

• he loves worshipping your body like you’re his goddess. he’ll kiss every inch of you and make you feel so special and loved.

• he’s also the biggest munch you’ve ever met.

• tbh he can cum just from eating you out sometimes.

• most nights would end with his face buried between your thighs and your hands in his hair.

• don’t think he’s gonna start right away tho…he will tease you for what seems like hours before his tongue even gets to your pussy.

• I feel like he LOVES thigh riding. especially if you’re wearing thigh high socks.

• he has the biggest size kink ever. he LOVES that he’s bigger than you, that he can easily overpower you if he wanted to. you’re just so small compared to him, and he’ll tease you about it. throwing you around the bedroom (consensually of course), easily scooping you up in his arms, pinning you down on the bed.

• he defo is more of a soft/passionate sex kinda guy in my opinion.

• he loves the kind of sex where you two are just so in tune with each other and what the other wants. his hands, lips, and fingers are everywhere he can reach. and of course you reciprocate, your hands possibly pumping his cock a few times.

• he can either be the softest sweetest dom ever or a mean and condescending dom.

• soft dom sam is the most gentle, caring, pleasure dom ever. he’s focused on your pleasure and your pleasure only. He will lay you down on the bed, cover your body in kisses, hickies, and bites, and then eat you out like a starved man shown a five course meal.

• don’t be fooled by soft dom sam, he can still be a tease. he’d start off by kissing your neck, biting the spots he knows make you weak in the knees. you’d feel him smile into your skin, his sharp teeth gently nipping at your earlobe. picking you up, his hands cupping your ass to keep you steady, and he places you on the counter. his deep voice growling words of praise in your ear as his hands run up and down your body.

• mean dom sam only makes an appearance when you’re really being a brat. let’s say you went out to dinner and you were teasing the shit out of him. flirting with the waiter, rubbing his upper thigh, etc. he’ll whisper something like “if you don’t stop, I won’t let you cum tonight. but you know who is gonna be able to cum tonight? me.” and he sticks to his word.

[mrsparrasblog]

Loser Simon

Tw: he is really pathetic, choking, stalking, masturbation, unprotected sex, baby trapping, micro penis,

A/N: credits to @dumbbitchgalore got inspired by her Pathetic Price fic

The light flickered in the dirty bathroom stall of the pub he went to after Price said they needed to celebrate their win. Well, it was his win; the others were just there. He had every reason to be cocky today. He was a handsome bloke with big muscles and perfect at his job. So when that bird approached him at the pub, which Johnny had eyed for hours, he thought, "Fuck it," and went with her into the dirty pub toilet.

His self-confidence struck again, too high. He should know by now what was about to happen when she removed his jeans, revealing his small member in contrast to his big size. Most of the time, the women or men started to laugh at him before they left. Some hoped he was a grower—he wasn’t. The worst was when a woman finally managed not to laugh, and he came in her face before she even put her lips on him. To a certain degree, he knew he was pathetic, but his confidence always got in his way, so he tried again and again, with the same result.

His sloppy lips licked hers, eager for her to grant his long tongue entrance. His big hands massaged the soft flesh of her ass before she went down on her knees, fighting with his belt. She was so eager, expecting the biggest dick she had ever seen from the 6’4" man. Unfortunately for Simon, she started to laugh when she saw his tiny package standing proud and already leaking precum like a faucet. "That's a joke," she said and just didn’t stop laughing at him, making him lose his cool. He wrapped his calloused hands around her delicate throat. He knew he wouldn’t kill her—he wasn’t a psychopath, after all. "If you tell anyone, I’ll fucking kill you," he threatened. Her laughing stopped and turned to an expression of pure fear as she nodded to keep his small secret.

"That was fast, mate," Gaz mentioned as Ghost returned to their booth.

"That bird was into crazy shit, and I don’t dip my dick in crazy," he replied, getting an approving nod from Price and Gaz, who had their fair share of crazy women over the years. But only Johnny raised his brow suspiciously. He always knew something was wrong with the Lt's sex life—not that he minded, but it was suspicious.

Price didn’t flirt with birds since he was still obsessed with his ex-wife, comparing every woman to Mrs. Price, who he cheated on in a moment of weakness. Kyle didn’t flirt with the girls or boys in the pub since he had a friends-with-benefits thing with you, the most beautiful nurse on base. Poor Kyle fell for you in that act. He himself flirted with every above-average attractive lad or lass who went into the pub, but Ghost—he never had a girl at home, and all the girls he took with him for fun returned minutes later with a traumatized look on their faces. Johnny was pretty sure the Lt was into some kinky stuff or was one of those guys who busted their load way too fast. He just knew something was wrong.

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

He had half a mind to go to the brothel for his birthday to finally get over his fucking virginity. They were paid to do it, so they wouldn’t turn him down or laugh at him. His plans changed quickly when he saw you in front of his barrack, holding a cupcake with a candle in it, telling him "Happy Birthday" with that beautiful smile of yours. He really wanted to say thank you, but instead, he just looked at you and grumbled. You tried to lighten the mood by telling him you baked it yourself and that it was red velvet.

"How do you know I like red velvet?"

"You always choose red velvet over any other flavor when there are cookies in the mess hall," your eyes still shined as you held the delicious treat under his nose. He grabbed it without even saying a simple thank you and closed the door. Well, Kyle told you, you shouldn’t bring him something for his birthday. The Lt was weird and mean, was all he said. You should be happy if he didn’t spit in your face after trying your treats.

Kyle’s warning was fair. You shouldn’t have baked for the Lt—not because of his rude gestures. You just should never feed a stray dog, or it gets attached to you. And having that big broody Lieutenant attached to you was a death sentence you weren’t prepared for.

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

Ghost knew he wasn’t a particularly good human, never was, and never would be. But right now, he felt like the worst human alive. Ever since you gave him that sweet treat, he was obsessed with you. It started innocently—he wanted to find out your name, your dislikes, your friends. It went a bit too far when he knew your blood type, bra size, and social security number. But that happens, okay? You need to forgive him for being so eager. It’s romantic, after all—or at least, that’s what he told himself.

But now he stood in your room while you were roaming around the base, his small dick in one hand and a pair of your used panties he nicked from the laundry bin in the other. The images of you weren’t enough anymore. He needed the real thing—needed to smell and taste you, finally make you his.

Your panties smelled so good to him. All thoughts of getting a prostitute flushed away. You’d be the one to take his virginity. You’re way too sweet to laugh at him. You’ll take him and love him—all his selfishness, the killing—you won’t care. You will love him just like he loves you.

Something was different. Your friends called you paranoid, but you couldn’t be. For a month, no guy hit on you, Kyle broke off your fuck buddy arrangement—god, you missed his dick—no CO yelled at you, you lost at least 20 pairs of your panties. Your pillow smelled weirdly no matter how often you washed it or even replaced it. Your shampoos and perfumes went empty. You were probably going crazy. Your friends were right.

You were already putting on your pajamas when the door rang. To your surprise, the Lieutenant stood in front of you. "We’re going on a date."

"Uh, how about you ask me first?" you argued. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want to—everyone around the base had a crush on him, and you kind of did too. But still, he could have asked.

He didn’t even answer and gave you a big bag. "In 30 minutes outside."

You went inside and opened the bag. To say you were shocked was an understatement of the year. Inside the bag was the black dress you eyed in the mall a month ago in your size, the YSL heels you pinned on Pinterest, and even a set of Victoria's Secret underwear. How did he know all this stuff? Maybe Kyle told him your size, you thought. And who are you to complain about free YSL heels?

The date was interesting. Simon—how you should call him from now on—didn’t talk much, but he was a good listener. He looked even hotter without the mask and paid for the bill without even a blink. If he had talked, it would have been the best date of your life.

Back at the base, he pushed you against the wall, claiming your mouth as his. Everything about him was big and clumsy. You tried to teach him that your nipples weren’t a trigger on a gun, and he was at least eager to learn—that’s more than you’d expect from most of your Tinder dates.

You were surprised when you pulled his dick out from his pants, and he wasn’t as big as everyone thought he would be. But hey, that’s okay. At least it wouldn’t hurt, you thought, as you slowly glided your cunt on his leaking cock. The sounds Simon made were heavenly—he didn’t hold back like other men. He was moaning and whimpering while you bounced on his dick, his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

His thick fingers drew circles around your clit, pulling moans from you. He was so attentive, focusing on your needs, and fuck, everything his dick lacked, his fingers could give you.

"Oh God, Simon," you whimpered as he increased the speed of his thick digits circling your pearl like no one ever did before. Making you cum wasn’t a side quest for him—it was everything that mattered right now.

"So good for me, Babygirl. Fuck, show me how much you love being filled out by me." Your cunt started to clench around him when he used that commanding voice on you. It didn’t take much for Simon to finally bust his load inside of you, heavy balls being emptied as you milked him for all he was worth.

"I love you, Babygirl," was all he muttered. You would have run away if you weren’t in an orgasmic bliss.

He was incredibly proud of himself for how long he lasted, and that you didn’t notice how he came in his pants after you kissed him for the first time. That could happen, okay?

Simon caressed your hair while you lay on top of his strong body. He was 1000% sure that he was going to marry you. You took his dick without laughing, and you’re so sweet. He should teach you to get rid of your naivety tho. Having sex without condoms on the first date—really, sweetheart? As if your sugar pills could prevent him from knocking you up.

[cerastes]

I’ve gotten asks a while ago about my thoughts on those other games but I can’t find them so here:

Wuthering Waves: It has the same strengths and weaknesses as PGR in relation to Honkai: It wants to be Genshin With Good Gameplay so bad that it forgets about everything else. It’s got good gameplay, the systems, the feel, the Nioh 2-esque way you add monster attacks to your moveset, it’s really fun, with a dash of late PGR goodness, like parries (attacking the enemy in precise moments before they launch specific attacks) and cohesive stamina/economy of action balance. Unfortunately, the writing is just so immensely bland and the characters forgettable beyond their One Quirk + Loving The MC that it’s kinda hard to get attached to anyone or anything if you have any standards above No Standards, and it’s all delivered with the charm and prose of a wiki article. Worst offender is Yangyang, who spends the first 60 minutes of gameplay not shutting up about exposition. Devil May Cry if it was Wikipedia out of ten. Designs are pretty nice. Music is very mid, not bad, just mid, which is disappointing coming from the devs that brought us Narwhal. Overall it’s pretty ok and if gameplay is all you care about and you dig it, you’re going to have a good time.

Zenless Zone Zero: If it’s Hoyo, it’s got production values, and that is true for ZZZ, it looks phenomenal, and frankly, I had a pretty good time playing it, so congratulations to Hoyo for making the first game of theirs I don’t hate. Characters are pretty fun and dynamic, it certainly tries with how not everything is about combat, and delivers a pretty cohesive package, all things considered. Biggest complaint would be that it’s still Hoyo on the wheel, so they are god awful greedy with horrible rates on pulls and expensive top-ups. Second biggest complaint is that the main meat of the gameplay, the combat, is pretty barebones; it does a phenomenal job making it look stylish (and I mean that, it’s not a backhanded compliment) and cool, but combat all boils down to dps racing with very basic gimmicks, even if sometimes entertainingly skill demanding (Soldier’s just frame attacks, Alexandrina’s doll management). Writing is very charming, actually, the plot isn’t trying to be super Deep And Complex off the gate and wants you to get to know (thus, care about) the characters through smaller, simpler lead ins onto their bigger plot, and characters don’t exist entirely to tell you how much they love you and how you are the center of the universe, which is pretty cool. So, yeah, I’m actually saying something positive about a Hoyo game, pretty nice integrated package.

NIKKE: Nikke honestly blew my mind, it looks like a maximum coomer game — and in many ways, it is — but the plot twist is that it’s a charming maximum coomer game with plenty of other things going for it. It’s a game where “mixed bag” is used positively: The setting is as generic and braindead as they come, Things Were Nice Until The Threat Attacked, Only The Hottest Women Can Stop Them (And You Are The Only One That Treats Them Well). But then your starting crew is basically anime girls Ed, Edd, and Eddy, legitimately a really fun crew. Events either are — intentionally — simple but fun and low stakes character studies, or higher stakes storylines that usually land. The music direction is also REALLY good: Normal stages have very utilitarian music that is just a compliment to the sounds of combat, boss themes do a 180 and are full of personality and pretty memorable, Ominous Cross lives rent free in my mind. My only complaints is that I personally dislike models where you NEED multiple copies of a character to truly realize their gameplay potential, and Nikke sadly has this, the skill ceiling is pretty low and it all comes down to a numbers game/dps race, and non-boss enemies are pretty uninspired. In fact, battles are just… Really not fun, and where the game shines, boss battles, are really also not that good either. Honestly, the only thing that kept me from sticking with the game is the low skill ceiling, and in a world where Nikke had tighter gameplay, I still play it. On a more personal note, I sincerely love the designs, first and foremost Scarlet Black Shadow.

[kunasthiast]

Goals

It all started with your interest and love for soccer. Didn't know you'll find somebody this interesting here, right?

a/n: this can be a stand-alone fic bUTTT actually this is in the same universe of – Looting and Broken Sinks – check out how Sukuna and reader first met hsdhah i've been so inspired with soccer bc of Blue Lock

hope you enjoy this one ;) i'm also so sorry for no uploads the past week, i've been so busy with university – will get back to regular uploads by next week!

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff, Boyfriend AU, Soccer Player AU, University AU Word Count: 1,628 All characters are of age. Suggestive.

You were the biggest fan of soccer. You knew everything about it – the legendary strikers, the egotist players, and the incredible goals. Yet, you never played it yourself.

It’s not because you’re not cut out for it. Or, not because your body can’t take it. Please, you’re athletic as fuck. It’s just that you preferred to enjoy this particular sport from a distance, analyzing each players’ skills, techniques, and plays.

So here you were, watching your university’s soccer team during their first match against a rival university. Are their rivals just too weak or something?

It was your first time attending one of their games, and you had high hopes. But, yes, this is boring you. They were not making plays that are interesting to watch at all!

“When will they make this game more watchable,” you complained as you leaned on the rail, your eyes scanning the field for anything remotely exciting.

The only one you can see is a white-haired guy who’s like an amazing midfielder, but what good are his plays if there’s no striker thats clearly cut out to make an out-of-this-world goal, right?

Just as you were about to give up hope, a commotion on the side of the field caught your attention. Your university’s team asked for a player trade from the bench. Alas, the crowd on that side erupted in cheers and gasps towards a tall, muscular player with pink hair and distinctive tattoos. #20 Ryomen.

“Who’s that?” You muttered to yourself as you squint your eyes towards #20.

“That’s Sukuna,” a voice beside you said. “He’s the star forward of the team – they call him the ‘King of the Penalty Area’ for a reason. He’s like a beast on the field, too.”

“Hmm, that’s kind of a cringey title to call himself,” you said as you continued watching the ruckus on the side of the field.

“Well, that’s what he was dubbed by most people here. I’m Nobara, do you go to this university, too?” An orange-haired pretty woman said as she extended her hand towards you for a shake.

You stared dumbfoundedly on her stretched out hand and confusingly tilted your head as you told her your name.

“Not a fan of handshakes?” Nobara snickered as she set her eyes back to the field.

“Yeah haha, just shocked you were actually watching a soccer game,” you said as your eyes went back to the field as the game started again. “Most women my age don’t really watch these sports, they love basketball more.”

“Oh, I’m not a soccer fan, alright? I just lost a bet and had to watch my friend play which I’m certain is not happening anytime soon now that Sukuna’s in this game,” she replied as she shook her head and folded her arms.

You chuckled, finding her candor refreshing. “Well, hopefully this Sukuna guy can liven things up a bit.”

The moment Sukuna stepped onto the field, the atmosphere changed. His presence was commanding, and it was clear he was no ordinary player.

Oh, this is getting exciting!

“Wow, he does have a certain… presence,” you admitting, watching Sukuna weaving through the opposing team with ease, his eyes focused and determined. “Maybe this game won’t be so boring after all.”

“Yeah, he’s something else. But, don’t tell him that, his ego will just go over the roof.”

The white-haired midfielder, #27 Gojo, passed the ball to Sukuna with perfect precision. Sukuna took it in stride, sprinting down the field with his incredible speed.

He left two defenders in the dust, aiming and fired a shot at the goal, the ball sailing past the goalkeeper and into the net with a satisfying thud.

GOAL 1-0

The crowd erupted in cheers, and you found yourself clapping along, genuinely impressed.

Is he a prodigy? You’ve never seen a forward make an aggressive goal like that!

Sukuna turned towards the stands, a smig grin on his face as he soaked in the applause from the crowd.

The game continued, and Sukuna’s performance only got better and better. He scored two more goals, each more impressive than the last one. How did he even manage to make a hattrick?

3-0

By the time final whistle blew, your university’s team had won decisively, thanks in large part to Sukuna’s incredible play. As the players left the field, you couldn’t help but feel a newfound sense of excitement.

Maybe watching this university’s soccer team wouldn’t feel so boring at all.

As you scanned the crowd, searching for Sukuna among the sea of faces, you couldn’t shake the feeling of curiosity that gnawed at you. Amidst the jubilant celebrations and the chatter of the spectators, your eyes locked onto a figure making his way towards the exit.

There he was, Sukuna, weaving through the crowd with an effortless grace that mirrored his performance on the field.

His pink hair stood out among the sea of fans, and his confident stride exuded an aura of charisma that drew you in.

Without a second thought, you found yourself moving through the crowd, determined to catch up to him. You navigated through the throng of people, your heart racing with anticipation.

What would you say to him?

Finally, you reached his side, breathless from the exhilarating pursuit. Sukuna glanced in your direction, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. 

“Hey there,” you greeted him with a smile.

Sukuna returned your smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he replied, his voice smooth and captivating. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting before."

You chuckled, suddenly aware of how out of place you felt among the adoring fans. "No, we haven't," you admitted, feeling slightly tongue-tied in his presence. "I just wanted to say, you played an incredible game out there. Truly inspiring!”

Sukuna's smile widened, a playful glint in his eyes. "Why, thank you," he replied, inclining his head in acknowledgment. "But I must admit, I couldn't have done it without the support of fans like you."

You felt a rush of warmth at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Oh, I’m not a fan, just an admirer of the sport itself,” you said with a playful grin. “But, I'll be cheering you on from the sidelines at every game."

Sukuna's laughter filled the air. Why does his laugh even sound so good?

"I look forward to it," he said, his smile dazzling in the glow of the stadium lights. "Who knows? Maybe you'll inspire me to score even more goals next time.”

Just as you were about to respond, another player approached, his white hair stark against the evening sky and a pair of sunglasses (mind you, it’s night time) perched on his nose. He exuded a different kind of charisma – playful yet commanding.

"Sukuna making friends with fans again?" he teased, shooting a mischievous glance between you and Sukuna.

“Gojo Satoru," Sukuna introduced him with a playful smirk. ”Our team’s ace midfielder. Don’t mind him, he’s just as annoying as he looks.”

Gojo laughed, extending a hand towards you. "Nice to meet you. Don’t listen to Sukuna, I’m actually the charm of this team.”

You shook his hand, chuckling at his lighthearted banter. "Nice to meet you too, Gojo. It was fun watching you.”

Gojo grinned, throwing an arm around Sukuna’s shoulders. "Oh, you can count on it. With me around, the matches are never boring.”

You snorted, feeling a sense of camaraderie with the two players. “Yeah, I’ll see you around in the next games, too. I’ll get going now, bye!”

As you walked away, you couldn't shake the feeling of Sukuna's gaze lingering on you, a spark of intrigue glimmering in his eyes. And you weren’t wrong. He was still gazing at your figure as you left the field.

"Now, she's an interesting girl," Gojo remarked with a grin, nudging Sukuna playfully.

Sukuna shook his head, tearing his gaze away with a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, she is," he admitted, his thoughts lingering on the mysterious girl who had captivated his attention

Meanwhile, Gojo shrugged off the moment, his easygoing demeanor never faltering. "Anyway, why are you late?" he asked Sukuna, his tone teasing.

Sukuna chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Got a bit distracted by an online game. Just lost track of time," he confessed with a sheepish grin.

Gojo rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smirk at Sukuna’s antics. "You and your games," he muttered, shaking his head in amusement. "Come on, let's catch up with the others before they start thinking we've abandoned them."

With that, the two teammates made their way through the dispersing crowd, their laughter echoing in the evening air.

But even as they rejoined their team, Sukuna couldn't shake the memory of your encounter, a spark of curiosity igniting within him. 

Perhaps this was just the beginning of something unexpected and exciting. And, it is.

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself drawn deeper into the world of soccer with Sukuna. Your bond with him growing stronger with each passing game. You watched from the bench, cheering him on and complimenting his plays after every match.

And eventually, you found yourself seated by the side of the field, watching the game unfold with bated breath as your favorite player took to the field.

Sukuna, your boyfriend, moved with grace and precision, his every move a testament to his skill and dedication.

And this time, the only times he’ll be late was because of his pre-game workout. With you.

You were no longer just a big fan of soccer; you were the biggest fan of Sukuna and his incredible goals.

[highslover]

Maeve’s storyline but right!

I have always though the Maeve plot line didn’t made sense and recently I read a fic (spencer reid x reader) where reader was a serial killer of serial rword and I thought how much better that could’ve been.

Maeve’s plot line was weak in many ways. My biggest pet peeve is that it was that aggressive from the start and Spencer did nothing, which I don’t find in character. That meaning her stalker (Diane).

Let’s assume his first consult with Maeve was pretty normal, how could he imagine she had a stalker? But in order to keep talking to her they went through using letters first. And maybe Spencer thought it was romantic and interesting, but pseudonyms? That’s a bit much.

Spencer knew all along about her stalker, he tells Hotch that much after she goes missing. So you are telling me Spencer found out this girl he likes isn’t leaving her house, she is hot using her phone and is using letters to communicate with pseudonyms to protect herself and didn’t do something? I agree he might’ve been respecting her wishes, but by this time Spencer has been working with the FBI 9 years, he is not naive as he was, he is a social protector, it just doesn’t makes sense he let it go that far.

Again, from the beginning is crucial here because I don’t think he would’ve let it slide just like that. If it had grown progressively while they were together, yes maybe their attachment would’ve clouded his reasoning, but by the time they started talking Diane had made Maeve quit her job and broke up with her fiancé so??? It just doesn’t make sense for HIS character. I believe that at leasttt he would’ve investigated by himself.

But non of that happened so the plot just doesn’t cut it. Instead, if it would’ve been a serial killer? That’s interesting.

Point 1. A serial killer who kills men that are serial rapist is in many ways human. It’s imposible to not like as audience. And Spencer is often the one who empathizes with the criminals (lol beautiful baby 🥺).

Point 2. Her story could’ve been a great episode, we could’ve seen how smart she was (something from Meave’s character) but at the same time how traumatized she was, her story, how evil are the men she kills. She could’ve been the same age as Spence, he could’ve done the interview, connect, blah, blah, blah.

Point 3. I think they could’ve find a way were they didn’t have anything to really hold the case, victims (of the men) not pressing charges and friends who offer alibis for her. So she makes a deal with Spencer because she is also tired and she knows she cannot stop. A letter once a month because she likes his big brain.

Point 4. She is arrested but gets her letter and Spencer gets his, where she is smart and interesting and whatever. Out of nowhere they are writing themselves not just once a month. And they talk every sunday. (Again part of Maeve storyline, everything was there!!!!) (Also I think she could’ve been an assistant for a geneticist and help him with his migraines)

Point 5. And everything is good and they form a bond but Spencer would never admit he likes her and maybe even feels something more, because he is a good guy. But in this time he starts to read every philosopher that has written about good and bad (also talk it with Blake!! best part of the Maeve plot).

Point 6. After this we are only missing her dying and I wish I remember the name of the fic but something similar could happen. In the fic she scapes prison with help and goes to find Spencer because she knows of a human trafficking organization and she wants to liberate them, so she kinda kidnaps Spencer and they go there. Because she wanted to do it, deep down Spencer knows this a suicidal mission for her.

Point 7. They get there, she gets kill by local police but she saves women and children and got to spend her last day or two with Spencer, the only person that made her wished everything she did never happened and maybe she could’ve have a great life.

And ta-da! we traumatized Spencer with an interesting plot that makes sense (at least for me). And far more complex I think, something that maybe even MGG would’ve like. But who knows, is this against copaganda???

[alexissara]

The Best Ships of 2024

If i’m anything I am a lover of love. I pretty much only engage stories with some kind of sapphic love element with some rare exceptions for strong ships I've seen, particular cool women with no love interest, or my partners wanting me to check something out. So as always strap in for a collection of sapphics at the very top tier of great to imagine having little dates and shit because this year was a really packed year for amazing women I wanted to to kiss each other. 

The list is not just new ships from 2024 media but any ship that I just happened to get into this year or had something to reinforce it in my life.  If you like you can see last years list https://www.tumblr.com/alexissara/739778084236050433/top-10-ships-of-2023?source=share and if you enjoy my little top 10 lists and want to see the lesbians I make ahead of everyone else go to my patreon https://www.patreon.com/AlexisSara.

10. Falin Touden and Marcille Donato [Delicious In Dungeon]

One of the most canon non canon ships of all time. One can hope that the anime rectifies the manga and has these two kiss in the end. This ship was one of the biggest ships of the year and while I am a contrarian and a hipster I am not immune, I really love these two, their sweet, cute and have a really strong dynamic and a sense that they truly love each other and would do anything for each other as well as a strong sense of attraction to one another. These pretty white women simply are delightful and worth every bit of hype and love they got this year. 

9. Velvet Crowe and Magilou [Tales Of]

I hated the of Tales Of Berseria but I love both these characters so much, they are so much fun and their like just a perfect dynamic. The extra goth edgy girl who eats people with her demon hand and the silly traitor clown girl mage who is always just treating life like it’s a game make for this really fun dynamic. Women deserve edgy OCs and they deserve those Edgy OCs to kiss a cute little silly lil clown girl. I just don’t know what else to say, their just kinda perfect together you know? 

8. Ayaka X Hiriko [Ayaka is In Love With Hiriko]

So this book and show is called Ayaka is in Love With Hiriko so you know it’s about these two doing a romance but the thing is that Hiriko is a stupid ass loser boss and Ayaka has to put her whole pussy into getting this girl to fuck her. I don’t totally love their we need to be in the closet at work kinda deal I think it’s weak to a lot of the other themes in the story but Ayaka and Hiriko genuinely are loaded with charisma and are actual lesbians textually in the narrative which is just rare even for stories with explicit sapphic relationships it’s not normally said out loud as a word and so Idk these two are special to me and their really funny too. 

7. Olive and Callie [My Dragon GF]

This is a ship that could be on a list every year really, since My Dragon Girlfriend debuted Olive it’s been a top tier ship but this years My Dragon Girlfriend gave us a very delicious date chunk of time focused on Callie and Olive doing a date and it was such a fucking cute date so here they are. Trans girl vampire and her cat girl GF it’s just perfect, I don’t know what to say, shy dorky trans girl vampire with her confident cat girl GF and the little ways they interact and feel the life and stuff. I just love them. Every time Courtney puts up little a little smut comic of them or draws them or whatever I am excited, I want these two girls to just ya know be married or whatever, they are the stars of the show to me. 

6. Tama X Koko [Sword Of The Necromancer]

I fucking love these two so fucking much. There is just nothing that beats a woman going to the depths of impossibility to revive the woman she loves no matter the cost, the toll of the consequences, dammit this woman is going to live, that’s not how her story ends and she will save her. That energy, that drive to just say “A World Without Her Isn’t A World Worth Saving” that is the kind of energy that immortalizes a piece of art to me and we see that energy from Tama but then we see Koko’s perspective and she has that same energy. Both of them see each other as this important part of the world, something worth giving up everything for and it’s so special with one of the worlds most amazing payoffs in a game. 

5. Emilia and Valentine [Sunset Phoenix]

Oh to be a magical mob boss with a little butch spy in your pocket who maybe also wants to betray you. These two are a very complicated relationship but ultimately bail each other out of awful situations again and again and again. These two are not dead yet but every piece of the world wants to fucking rip these two to shreads and it’s amazing how they endure everything going on in the plot and how their dynamic shifts over the time of the story. I can’t wait till the second arc of this story and to see if these two get together or not but their gay and their great and it’s so action packed and fucking great. 

4. Honey Trap and Rapid Rabbit [Superwomen In Love]

I finally finished Superwomen in love this year after years of following the series from it’s early scanslations to now and it was even better than I would have expected. These two girls are utterly perfect for each other, their happy ending with explicit love confessions and them raising a kid together is just super sweet and I mean when girls fuse together it’s always a top tier ship. The Kamen Rider fun is great even for me who doesn’t do a Kamen Rider and has no interest in it. Their dates are fun, their desire for each other is fun, their little struggles don’t feel based on just misunderstanding and I really enjoyed the little short body swap story they added too. Their just so damn cute and I love them and I wish there was more of them to enjoy. 

3. Harlivy [The Strange Case of Harleen and Harley Quinn]

Okay, so I didn’t want to repeat any ships this year but there was a new version of Harley and Ivy in the utterly brilliant The Strange Case Of Harleen and Harley Quinn and what am I supposed to do when a brand new version with new origin stories in a YA setting that still lets the characters be radical and cool criminals and be in love since they were teens but gives them a little bit of mess despite a younger audience comes out!  Harleen and Harley both have great dynamics with Ivy, it’s nice to see the different ways they try and support her and also each other. Unlike a classic Dr. Jacklet and Mr. Hyde story the pair of them aren’t really portrayed as “good and bad” side of someone or a “Civilized and wild” side but instead just like alters that live together in the same mind and body. They are different people that have different skills although they draw from similar experiences. Pamala is already in love with Harleen at the start of the story but she falls for Harley right away too even before she realizes they are separate people.  These two are amazing criminal GFs and I love them in every universe basically. 

2. Syliva’s Sapphic Polycule [Potionomics] 

Potionomics put out their Masterworks Edition update and it made it where Sylvia could romance every single character in the game at once if she wanted and therefore making this one of the few games in the world with actual sapphic polyamory possible. While you don’t get to talk about dating other people with each other it’s still a cut above so many other games that simply don’t let you date other women once you’ve locked in.  Syliva’s got chemistry even with the guys in the game but obviously if your a lesbian like me your probably gonna just have her date all the girls and their all fucking fantastic relationships. Sylvia’s gonna keep herself busy between running her shop and kissing all the girls she is dating but she deserves the fun and joy they all bring into her life. All of their little romantic arcs are great and I love how the relationships feel very two sided where you grow through mechanics cuz your relationship with them and they grow in the arc not just being in a relationship with you but growing to some new place in their life. 

1. Sevika X Jinx [Arcane]

Sevika is one of my favorite characters of the year and Jinx is one of my favorite characters just in general. While neither will show up on my best characters list it’s because I didn’t love Arcane Season 2 so I just felt weird putting them there when I have up and down feelings on how they were handled yet, I can’t deny they are here on my top ship and a lot of that is carried by how cool they are. The way Jinx prioritizes getting Sevika her new arm she made for her over saving her own dead brother’s goggles, the way Sevika is willing to risk her life to fight enforcers so that Jinx can finish what she wants, the way Sevika believes in Jinx and wants to see her do things in the world, the way Jinx trusts Sevika without needing to say anything to her, these two are just so good and it really is a relationship between equals which shifts Sevila from her normal dynamic of being under someone. Every scene these two were in together was just a delight, an utter tree and honestly, they wree the heart of this season to me that felt neglected by needing to big up another region of the worlds lore and set up these magic giant stakes that just weren’t needed. Long live Zaun, via la revolution, the people deserve more than one seat at the table.

[rachelsfav-queer]

I have a new obsession, so don’t mind me losing my mind over Wenko again

“Feeling a little flustered, kitten?” Yoko smirked evilly, her eyes darkened with lust as she cornered the small goth against the stone pillar holding up the tall ceiling of the Nightshades hidden library.

Said goth was staring wide-eyed up at the vampire, the taller girl’s eyes uncovered in this room where the sun couldn’t burn them, and Wednesday’s face was burning instead, a little splash of red across her pale skin from the vulnerable position she found herself in, and who specifically had her in it.

Wednesday swallowed harshly and tried to speak, but all that came out was a tiny squeak, and she blushed brighter at the low chuckle that erupted from deep in Yoko’s chest.

Suddenly, the vampire pulled away and Wednesday just barely caught the whine in her throat from coming out as she did. Yoko dug through her uniform pocket and pulled out a metal box and opened it to reveal a pack of cigarettes, holding it up to Wednesday in an offer, “You smoke, pretty girl?”

Wednesday wasn’t sure she was able to blush any brighter, and maybe she wasn’t, she couldn’t exactly check her own face at the moment, but she certainly felt her face get hotter at the pet name. But she managed to push through it and stuttered, “Y- yes. I do.”

Yoko really couldn’t wipe the smirk off her face if she wanted to, and she truly didn’t, as she could see plainly the teasing affect it had on the girl and well, Yoko was nothing if not the biggest tease on earth. Instead, she continued her little game with the adorably shy girl in front of her, “Good. You got a light?”

Wednesday nodded, but took a second to catch up, finally reaching inside her coat and pulling out her favorite lighter, gifted to her by her father, and held it out to Yoko. The taller girl took it carefully, noticing the way Wednesday held it preciously. The girls traded, Yoko offering a cigarette to Wednesday in return, who took it and waited patiently.

Yoko never broke eye contact with the seer as she held the cigarette in her mouth and lit it up, puffing at it once and blowing out smoke in a show that made Wednesday’s knees weak and whimper quietly, though it didn’t quite matter as the other girl heard it nonetheless, and chuckled once again. As Yoko gave the lighter back to Wednesday, she continued puffing away at her cigarette, shamelessly dragging her eyes up and down the goth’s body. Wednesday mirrored Yoko and lit her own cigarette before hiding her lighter away again and blowing out a puff of smoke away from the girl.

“Do you smoke often? Or am I just that special?” Wednesday asked with a playful snark in her voice, hoping to regain some ground in their game. Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite work in her favor.

Yoko blew out more smoke and laughed, “Oh, don’t worry, kitten. You are definitely… special. Especially to me.” Yoko smirks and approaches Wednesday slowly, stalking closer to her in a way that both scared and aroused the seer, making her back up until she was once again cornered against the same pillar. “You… my precious, little kitten… are very, very special to me. And you are entirely mine, aren’t you? Say it.”

Wednesday swallowed harshly once again, her eyes even wider than before as she squeaked out, “Y- yours… all yours.”

“Good kitten.”

End <3

(I hate cigarette smoke, it smells horrible and it makes me cough near uncontrollably. But women smoking is unbelievably hot oml)

[beta-captions-for-cucks]

My Life is slowly becoming more beta safe

So the other day, I asked my owner if I could watch Tiktoks of cheerleaders and other tik toks with girls wearing pretty outfits.

She tolds me anything like that should be censored, but since it's impossible to beta proof tik tok, I had to start blocking them.

Fine. I was sad about 2 or 3 accounts, but I'm trying to be the best beta for Goddess.

However, one of my favorite sings released a new music video where she was wearing a cheerleader outfit and I was obsessed.

There's no official way to block youtube channels, but Goddess said it was fine for me to have it on in the background as long as I didn't look. I tried, but damn pretty women in uniforms are my biggest weakness and so I took the step of unsubscribing and telling youtube i was uninterested in the channel so it wouldn't pop again.

I did that for about 5 more youtube channels that aren't beta safe.

I can still listen to their music, but I don't deserve to see these beautiful singers dancing in revealing or suggestive outfits.

When I told Goddess about this next step I took, she responded "Yes! Get all the restrictions you need to keep you pure."

Being a denied beta is hard but so rewarding at the same time.

Maybe if I'm good, Goddess will give me permission to watch the music videos for a lil bit.

[dvasva]

Tbh? I think the radiant emperor duology deserves more critique than it gets in its tag, so after stewing it over for a couple weeks and also discussing it with my friend, I have decided to do it myself.

So. Spoilers for She Who Became the Sun and He Who Drowned The World ahead.

First off, so nobody accuses me of hating the series, I liked the series. I'd say I'd give the first book a 4.5/5, I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I like both books. I truthfully skipped the fisting scene, it triggered some dysphoria that I wasn't comfortable with personally but I don't have problem with it existing in the book, it's good where it is, no changes.

No, my critiques come mostly from the second book, hwdts. Which sucks because I absolutely loved Baoxiang in it, it's a well known fact that my ideal type is pretty, really mean, characters. ('What about Madam Zhang?!!!???!? Shes mean and pretty!!' I hear you ask. Give it a second cause i will get to my beloved madam zhang) So, my critiques are mostly organized as 'The first part I didn't like in Hwdtw that signals the thing that became my biggest issue, the bits in the middle that i did like along with the bits that I felt didn't really work well, and Act 3 which is where my issues really were exacerbated.'

By the end of book one, I had a general annoyance but acceptance that Ma Xiuying was a bit of a weak character, and not weak as in 'dang shes a woman and cant fight' or any other sexist way you may interpret that, but weak as in structurally, she didn't really have as much depth as other characters. I thought she didn't have as much time put into her character as others. And yeah you could have a million character analysis essays over Ma and her place in the story and etc, but for me, her setup for the next book as potentially having conflict with Zhu or her own morals was the most interesting part of Ma. In general I think a lot of people tend to overlook this flaw partly because Ma is a cis lesbian character and the main 'love interest' in a book that is usually marketed to people as sapphic, which yeah there is certainly a sapphic relationship in the book but I think saying it's a major part of the book is really giving the relationship a load bearing wall ot isn't strong enough to carry. The Radiant Emperor Duology is not a romance, first and foremost. To describe it as a wlw romance is gonna leave people who read ot specifically for that reason kinda dissappointed by the end of book 2.

My big critiques didn't start until book two, and a particular scene, though. Ma, at the start of book two, was generally filling the niche of 'nagging wife' to zhu, which yknow, is a fine place to start from. I was a little disappointed there was no further discussion of Ma's disapproval of the morality of Zhu's actions, and in fact the dead child was pretty much entirely forgotten by Ma in favor of being Zhu's wife. Which, yknow, sure.

The Scene I had issue with happened (Spoilers once again) after Zhu finally captures Ouyang and imprisons him at her base of operations. Ma, dressed in her empressly regalia enters his room with the intention of being the bigger person. She walks in, looks at the stripped down and humiliated general who killed her father and famously is also really a women hater, and tells him she forgives him for killing her father. And then she gets upset and cries when the prideful general who hates women gives her a dressing down and taunts her and is like 'I'm glad I killed your father'? She nearly cries because Ouyang was mean to her (notably only cause he was mean to her and didn't gracefully accept her forgiveness, not because he killed ehr father) and runs off to Zhu. And Zhu responds with 'Wow, he's just a weirdo, everyone likes you and everyone in existance immediately knows you're a good person and you change people.' Which, my friend suggested before she finished the book, was a case of Zhu placating Ma and dismissing her feelings which would be an interesting dynamic.

Really my hangups with this scene come from multiple parts.

1. Ma' few character traits including being observant and reading people really well (a thing she's praised for in book 1) and having good social intuition are completely thrown out by her thinking being alone with ouyang and forgiving him would be a good idea and then her being shocked and upset when he spat on her forgiveness. And

2. Zhu's response is never once treated by the text as her dismissing Ma and placating her, and Zhu's statement despite never being shown to be true before and that moment being the first time it's ever mentioned, ends up becoming Chekov's moral purity by the end of the book, where the plot hinges on Ma being able to magically heal a damaged character's mind enough for Zhu to win in the end. Which I will get back to. There's a lot of other stuff happening between here and the end.

So, before I get back to Ma and her role in the story, I'll address some other bits from after this scene. Both problems and things I enjoyed generally.

Madam Zhang and her parallels to Baoxiang and her being the absolute queen of dissociating really was interesting (before act 3). She was a very compelling character who I completely understood and felt positively about. She had a way more interesting relationship with gender imo than Ma did, especially in book 2. I didn't really like that she was overwhelmingly shown having sexual villence done to her, that felt weirdly like a punishment. But, I did like her a whole bunch, and I liked the look we got into her head. She was probably my second, maybe third, favorite character in the whole book until Act 3.

I really, really liked Ouyangs dynamic and relationship with Zhu. The weird sexual tension between them, their weird kinda nonsexual but also kinda very sexual S&M relationship. It was somehow the most sensual, sexual part of a book that featured Madam Zhang having sex with multiple people, and Zhu going down on Ma, and a lot of other mentions of sex or scenes involving sex. Tbh I feel like, in a way, Ma was left to the sidelines for most of the book because Ouyang became the primary 'love' interest for a hot second there and the only reason Ma could get her spot back was Ouyang and Zbu's separation. Also, from what I've seen when people talk about this book, they always kinda try to express Zhu and Ouyang's dynamic as very nonsexual and nonromantic, as platonic mostly. And there is no inherent superiority of romantic over platonic, but I think to insist that it is only platonic, and not a strange swirl of romantic, platonic, sexual, frustration and relief, and a swirl of familiarity and vulnerability all wrapped into one, is doing the dynamic a bit of a disservice. And ther is, imo, very clearly a subtle hint of romantic intent and interest on Ouyang's part before he realizes Zhu has a body he hates.

Which is also another point I didn't like. Ouyang and Zhu's relationship end felt off. The entire bit with the pirates felt off, but especially how Ouyang found out about Zbu's body, and how Zhu reacted. I think Ouyang finding out second hand, from a combination of being suspicious and from Jiang saying it, was a poor way for that to be revealed. I think there was a better way for that to happen that woyld have felt more like a betrayl to zhu than this did. The fact that Zhu and Ouyang were so in tune and could see each other perfectly, but this one thing was a blind spot for both of them because of how unaffected by gender Zhu was compared to how overaffected by gender Ouyang was is a really interesting thing to explore, an interesting disconnect between two character's whose entire basis for their relationship is 'like recognizes like'. I think Zhu seeing it as a betrayl would have been more impactful if she had presented this informatuon to Ouyang herself and been rejected than how it went down. And, I think her not realizing Ouyang would be disgusted that he felt connected and felt a sameness to someone with a body he found grotesque and that he feared would have been more interesting for zhu, who views herself outside of womanhood and didnt really think that other people would not see her outside of womanhood, if she was the one who told ouyang herself.

Also, less importantly, think going into Ouyangs annoyance that zhu kept moving his target further away was a good move but it wasn't expanded on as much for my taste. I also really liked it when (spoiler) Xu Da dies, and that entire part despite some minir bits, was extremely good in that Zhu finally has tasted loss. She had, up until that point, been riding a wave of positivity, she was the underdog who won over and over again despite all the odds and despite her own reckless choices. So I did appreciate that everything went wrong for her at least once. that would have been, imo if other things were changed, a good place to end a book two in a three book series. Which will make sense as to why I mention it im a bit.

I also didn't like how Ma was nonexistant unless the plot was like 'ok we need to remind people that Ma exists.'

And there's of course other stuff but those are the main points of acts 1 and 2 that i wasn't fond of or that i liked.

Act 3 is a wholely different behemoth which can be encapsulated with 'I wish it was longer but also different' (courtesy of the convo my friend and I had).

My friend and I both agreed that we liked this kind of courtly drama game it was playing. My friend doesn't tend to like the structure or writing style of a lot of the chinese wuxia, danmei, or courtly drama translated books i read, so it was nice to know that the genre content isn't the issue for her there.

The biggest problems I had with the ending though was 1. I think Baoxiang and Ma had an interesting dynamic despite it being really rushed and how distasteful I found the entire concept of Ma being such a good wholesome goody good good person that she could change Baoxiang, quiet his demons and fix him in some way. That was annoying in an otherwise interesting dynamic. And 2. I think Madam Zhang's character traits and cleverness and all that were wiped away to make her inexplicably jealous of Ma in a way that I don't think fit her character and just served to fit a trope of jealous empress who hates the favored concubine.

So, here's my major proposed changes.

1. Ma gets sent to Khanbaliq extremely early on. Like, act one maybe after ouyang is captured early. This serves three purposes. A. Ma has something to do and is more present in the story. this could be a good xhance to let her actually feel frustrated or upset at Zhu in some tangible way that needs to be resolved or talked thru eventually. B. she gets more time to build a relationship with Baoxiang, whose entire defeat hinges on him having a strong connection with her. and C. Her absence in the other parts of the book feel less like she's being ignored or forgotten. It makes Zhu's lack of haste more than just a way to annoy Ouyang, and turns it into an interesting moral choice. Should she rush to Khanbaliq to save Ma or trust that Ma will be ok in favor of gaining power? Her lack of haste means Ouyang leaves, depressed, and she loses Xu Da, all while she doesn't even have the assurance that Ma is ok, she is truly at her lowest point with nobody with her. If Ma is in Khanbaliq and that's explored, then Zhu and Ouyang can also explore their dynamic without Ma feeling a bit like she is battling for Zhu's attention.

2. Madam Zhang is suspicious of Ma, or feels actually tangibly threatened by Ma. In act 3, Madam Zhang's anger towards Ma feels really out of place. She got exactly what she wants, she is empress, her emperor isn't interested in removing her from her position and her position isn't threatened by anyone. Baoxiang won't get rid of her, he won't demote her, he has shown zero sign of ever even considering it. So, why is Madam Zhang jealous of Ma? Imo, especially since she very clearly has dissociated into oblivion and has no love or affection for anyone anymore, and no real desire or motivation to secure her position further aside from maybe producing an heir to make sure shes taken care of after Baoxiang dies, there's no reason for her to be inextricably jealous of Ma. It kinda just erases all of Madam Zhang's political savvy and cunning into jealous, petty woman, and that sucks. If she was suspicious of Ma's intention, or Baoxiang genuinely expressed spmething that actively threatened her position, her hatred of Ma would make sense, but instead she hates Ma cause Ma is ugly and spends every night with Baoxiang. She hated rice buckets concubine cause that concubine used a lot of funds and competition genuinely made her position less stable. She needs better motivation for hating Ma.

3. As I mentioned earlier, Zhu needs to be the one to tell Ouyang that she does not have a dick. That's just all around better, it feels more like a betrayl to bare your secrets and be rejected, etc etc.

4. The duology should have been a trilogy, with book 3 starting when Zhu is at her lowest, ouyang is dead, ma is in khanbaliq, Xu Da is dead, a new guy is the emperor. This is where a book three should have started. in a series that has so many important characters, i feel like it needs more space. she's in a 10 gallon tank when really she needs a 30 gallon tank. Lots of it, especially towards the end of book 2, felt rushed and the extra book will absolutely push that back a bit and make it less rushed.

Anyways that's my critique of The Radiant emperor duology. Once Again, I liked the series, its one of my favorites i've read all year. I don't dislike it, and having a critique or opinion about something doesnt mean I didn't like the book or understand the book (because obviously if i understood it i would understand why its flawless). I liked it, there are things I wish were different, that's it.

[toasty-melons]

Uhm idk if your request are open so i Hope im not bothering you (also Sorry if my english isnt perfect ) i wanted to ask what about maybe ellie x fem!reader where they're Just Friends and ellie Is stressed out cause She doesnt know if Reader likes her back or not so dina being a good friend ( and Sick of ellie complaining about this situation) sets up a truth or dare night with ellie , dina , Jesse and reader and dina dares ellie to kiss reader and tell her how She feels and yk going on like this( its ok if you dont like this or dont want to do It <3)

You guys could never bother me!!! And I actually really love this request! I adore the friends to lovers trope so this is perfect! Also you’re english is really good so no worries, lovely! <3

TW: cursing, mentions of alcohol

I got kind of carried away but i really loved how it turned out, i hope you like it darling!

If you see any grammar errors ignore them pls :)

Just to kiss you

Ellie Williams x Reader

Ellie Williams has never, ever had trouble with the women she had an interest in. She always knew the perfect words to woo a women until they were buckling in the knees and falling to her feet. But you, oh god. You were her biggest weakness. You were so sweet and kind, and so fucking pretty.

So pretty that she usually had to pinch herself to get her stop staring at you.

So kind with the way you spoke to her, always asking if she’s okay and how her day was.

So sweet that you always put your friends first and were always doing nice things for them.

Like right now for example, you had invited her and Dina out to lunch, which you so kindly offered to pay for too. Dina, a sucker for free food, and Ellie, jumping at the chance to spend time with you.

The sun was warm on her skin, but when you had started laughing at one of Ellie’s stupid jokes, she felt like her whole body had lit on fire. God, you were so pretty. Ellie comes back down to Earth when she feels Dina playfully kick her under the table and give her a knowing look. Causing her face to slowly redden at the fact she had been caught being mesmerized by you.. again.

And what Dina does next would cause Ellie to practically combust with nervousness.

“So y/n..” Dina’s voice was cocky and made the hair on the back of Ellie’s neck stand up. You give Dina your full, undivided attention, smiling at her sweetly to let her know you’re listening. “Me, Ellie, and Jesse are hanging out at my place tonight, you wanna go?” Dina glances at Ellie, and her smug smile on grows at the slightly horrified look plastered on her face.

You’re lack of hesitation has Ellie melting in her seat. The way your eyes light up and your smile brightens as you vigorously nod your head yes.

“Yes! I would love too.” You look over at Ellie with that big smile on your face and Ellie can’t help the smile taking over on her own face. Your phone pings and when you check it, a pout of disappointment settles on your pretty lips. You look up at the two girls and your voice is laced with sadness. “I have to go guys, my boss asked me to come in early. But this was so much fun. I’ll see you guys later.” As you’re grabbing your things Dina is telling you when to be at her place and thanking you for lunch. You, of course, say it’s ‘no problem at all’. Dina gives Ellie a glance and motions her head at you, giving her the signal that it’s her turn to thank you.

Ellie quickly rushes to her feet as you’re coming around the table towards her. You reach out to her with open arms and Ellie gladly welcomes your embrace. You squeeze her tight as you usually do, and the way your perfume takes over Ellie’s senses has her knees buckling. “Thank you, y/n.” You giggle and she feels her heart melt at the pretty sound. You whisper back a ‘anytime, Els.’

Once you’re gone Ellie plops back down into her seat and Dina is looking at her with a smug smile and a snark comment already on the tip of her tongue. “Dude.” Ellie can tell by her tone that she’s gonna be relentless. “When, are you guys going to get together?” Ellie’s gaze finally tears away from the seat you had been sitting and glares daggers over at Dina.

“Well let’s see. Probably never. Because she doesn’t like me.” Ellie leans over and places her forehead on the table in defeat. A sad sigh escaping her lips, causing Dina to gently pat her on the back.

“I guess we’ll just have to see.” Ellie can practically hear the evil grin in Dina’s voice and Ellie can only pray that things go perfect tonight.

Ellie’s leg is bouncing as she sits in the middle of Dina’s couch next to Jesse. He nudges her leg with his knee and she breaks eye contact with the wall to look over at him. “You need to chill.” Ellie scoffs at this and rolls her eyes, now focusing on Dina who walks towards her with three beers balanced in her hands. Ellie gladly snatches the alcohol from her hands and not even a moment later is taking a swig.

You would be here any minute now. Ellie can feel her body start to warm up from the drink and it relaxes her a bit. A soft knock at the door has her whipping her head towards it and climbing over the back of the couch to rush over. Jesse scoff as Ellie’s alcohol is accidentally spilled on him, but chooses not to say anything other than a mumbled, ‘chill out.’

Ellie swings the door open and you’re standing there looking slightly up at her with your pretty eyes and a sweet smile gracing your lips.

“Hi.” It’s the only words Ellie can think of. She internally kicks herself for being awkward again. But the way your smile grows and your eyes slightly crinkle makes her stomach flip.

“Hi.” Your voice is sickly sweet and so soft on Ellie’s ears. Ellie finally takes a step back so that you can come in. As you walk past her to greet Dina and Jesse, your perfume washes over Ellie and she has to bite the inside of her lip to keep from audibly moaning and embarrassing herself.

Two hours and beers later has you and Ellie laughing your asses off at anything and everything. Ellie is relaxed so much that she’s able to talk to you with crumbling and placing little touches on your arm and leg without combusting. Of course Jesse and Dina are all too aware of what’s happening, which is what causes the slightly tipsy Dina to start a game of truth or dare.

After silly truths like ‘describe your first kiss,’ or ‘what’s the worst date you’ve ever been on,’ and stupid dares like ‘prank call your ex,’ or ‘swap clothes with the person next to you,’ it’s finally Dina’s turn again. The look in her eyes has Ellie practically shaking with nerves.

You’re all too unaware of it, not tipsy but bordering on the edge. You’re giggling at the way Jesse has been tugging on your shorts he was dared to wear. The way his clothes hang off your body has Ellie screaming internally, wishing that it was her clothes instead.

“Ellie.. truth or dare?.” Dina’s voice is laced with a smugness and Ellie knows no matter what she picks, it won’t be good. You perk up and point at her accusingly, excitedly announcing to the room that, ‘Ellie hasn’t done a dare yet.’ Dina grins wickedly and leans back into the couch, crossing her arms over her chest. “I dare you to kiss y/n.” The rooms falls silent as Dina’s words settle over. A tension slowly rising between everyone.

When Ellie glances over at you, she surprised to find your face completely flushed red and your wide eyes staring back at her. You glance down at her lips and it has Ellie practically foaming at the mouth. Before anyone can say anything the silence is broken by a phone ringing. Jesses curses under his breath and grabs the phone hopping up. How convenient.

“Shit. It’s my work, I gotta answer this.” He bails out of the room and after a few more moments of tense and awkward silence Dina stands up.

“I’m gonna go get another drink.” She leaves the room just as quickly as Jesse did and now it’s just Ellie and you. You and Ellie. Alone. When Ellie looks back over at you you’re not looking anymore and her heart sinks a bit. Not being able to stand the pressure anymore, Ellie stands up next and she feel your eyes on her again.

“I’m gonna.. get some fresh air.” Her voice is mumbled as she rushes out the side door that leads to Dina’s private patio. It’s small but it’s decorated in lights and plants that has a really warm and homey feeling to it. Ellie takes a seat in one of the chairs and places her head in her hands, elbows resting on her knees. Her heart hurts, she had her chance and she blew it. And for a moment, just a moment, Ellie thought you actually wanted to kiss her and it felt so euphoric.

The sound of the side door opening again has Ellie’s head popping up. She’s surprised to find you sitting down quietly next to her. You don’t look at her, not at first. No, at first you fiddle with your fingers, a nervous habit Ellie noticed you had. You thought you looked so silly right now, hell you felt ridiculous still drowning in Jesse’s clothes.

Neither of you say anything for a while, just allowing the silence to embrace both of you. You shift and Ellie glances at you again, and finds you finally looking at her. You break the silence first, clearing your throat quietly. Before you can say anything Ellie groans and rubs her hands over her face, “Fucking Dina.. always causing trouble.” This makes you giggle.

“She has good intentions.. just awful ways to show them.” At this Ellie gives you a sad chuckle. It makes your heart clench and your brows furrow.

“Kissing me would be awful, huh?” Your eyes widen at the realization and you shake your head frantically.

Ellie watches as your face reddens, a look of fear on your face, so scared that you had offended her. “Oh. No, no, no. It wouldn’t be awful it would be amazing- I mean.. oh gosh.” You cover your face and laugh awkwardly at yourself. Ellie is silent, still hanging onto a thread of hope.

“Ellie.. You’re one of my best friends. I really don’t wanna mess up what we have, but..” You uncover your face and chew on your bottom lip.

“But?” Ellie’s voice is so small, so full of hope that it makes you smile shyly.

“But.. I really really like you Els. And know you don’t like me back and i’m sorry if i’ve ever made you uncomfortable with my flirting, but today with the Dina and the dare to kiss me..” Ellie is stunned at your confession. She honestly feels like she’s dreaming. You like her? And you’ve flirted with her? How could she have not noticed?

“Can I kiss you? Not for the dare.. just to kiss you.” You peer up at her through your eyelashes, face full of nerves. You hesitate but you nod. Ellie leans in slowly, so close to your lips but not quite touching.

“Ellie Williams if this is a joke.. it’s the worst one you’ve ever had.” At your whispered words Ellie chuckles softly. Her lips are on yours not a moment later. The kiss isn’t sweet or soft like Ellie expected it to be. Instead your hands are tangled in her hair tugging her closer. Ellie’s hands find your waist to pull you onto her lap. Her fingers rubbing up your hips and thighs. She feels your breath tremble into the kiss and she pulls away.

“Too much?” You breathily laugh at her question and shake your head, placing sweet kisses along her jaw. Ellie is melting into your touch with the way your hands are sliding around down her neck and chest. You mumble a soft, ‘not enough,’ that has Ellie going feral.

Before Ellie can ravish your lips once again the sound of the side door slamming open has both of you looking over, frozen in place with widen eyes. Dina is standing in the doorway, jaw dropped and stunned.

“Oh.. my.. god..” You’re scrambling out of Ellie’s lap, standing up and shyly looking down. A grin is plastered on Ellie’s face and she can’t tear her gaze away from your shy one. “You guys we’re gonna fuck on my patio.” Ellie watches as you tense up at Dina’s accusation and shake your head waving your hands around you frantically.

You stumble over to Dina and grab her hands in yours. “Dinaaaa.” Your voice is whiney and it causes something deep to stir within Ellie. She can only watch as Dina teases you playfully and you protest with more whines of embarrassment.

“Y/n.” You’re whipping your head back at Ellie when she calls for you. Dina takes the hint and bails once again, shutting the door behind her.

“Yeah?” Ellie reaches out, grabbing your hand and pulling you down onto her lap once again. No other words are spoken as she pulls your lips back onto yours. This time the kiss being much softer than before, a vulnerableness laced into it. “Els.. i love you.”

“Fuck.. you have no idea how much i’m in love with you.”