I Meeean.. U Came On Here. You Don’t Like It And You’re Still Here. You’re Not Their Close Friend

Yall should uhh definitely look at my edits on my TikTok account 👀🙏🏽 hotelfilmms

THIS is what I see when I say 70s douchebag Chris.

treat me like a FOOL

nate and preppy reader

“treat me mean and cruel, but love me”

Their relationship is like something out of a soft, sunlit dream, the kind where everything feels simpler and sweeter, even when the world outside is hectic. Nate, with his laid-back nature, has always been drawn to her, this perfect mix of grace, warmth, and discipline. She, with her impeccable charm and fiery spirit, can’t help but soften around him. When they’re together, everything around them fades into the background. It’s just the two of them, laughing over the smallest things, sharing moments that feel timeless and tender.

Her parents don’t exactly see them as the perfect match. They don’t come right out and say it, but their eyes speak volumes when they’re around. They think it’s just a high school fling, one of those relationships that’ll burn brightly and fade away. They can’t imagine their daughter with someone like Nate. He’s not exactly the type they pictured for her, laid-back, a little unpredictable, not someone who fits the mold of what they’d want for their perfect, poised daughter. But she doesn’t care. What they don’t understand is that this isn’t just some teenage rebellion to get under their skin. It’s real. Nate makes her feel seen and understood, like she can just be herself without all the expectations hanging over her head.

Nate adores her. It’s almost to a fault. He’s completely, utterly obsessed with her in the purest, most innocent way. He loves the way her voice sounds when she’s serious, how her eyes light up when she talks about something she’s passionate about. He doesn’t need anything grand or perfect. Just her. And despite all the times she can be a little sharp with him, snapping when she’s stressed or frustrated, he doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds it endearing in a way. There’s a charm to how she’s so sure of herself, even when she’s not feeling perfect, and it draws him in even more. He doesn’t ever question why she chose him. He knows better than to ruin the magic of it all by overthinking. Why ask such a stupid question when what they have is enough?

They’re the couple everyone sees and assumes is just a fleeting thing. But the truth is, they can’t go long without being together. It’s not out of neediness, it’s simply that they fit. They balance each other, like two pieces of a puzzle that somehow match even when no one expects them to. There’s no big drama, no grand gestures. Just quiet, little moments: the way Nate lights up when she walks into a room, the way she lets her guard down when they’re alone together, even if she’s pretending not to care about how much she’s giving away.

Their love is innocent, pure, and a bit like puppy love, fresh and untainted, full of surprises and little quirks. People may not get it, but they don’t need to. They don’t need to explain themselves to anyone. It just works, and that’s all that matters. When Nate looks at her, it’s like he’s seeing everything he’s ever wanted in a way that feels both surreal and completely real. And when she looks at him, there’s a softness in her eyes that tells the story of everything she feels but doesn’t always say aloud. They’re young, but in each other, they’ve found something timeless.

@issysh3ll

This music video got me cryingggg😭 why they eat that up tho

CHALLENGERS — suggestive, no smut, implied smut

frat rafe cameron and frat saxon ratliff x 𝒜ngel reader

The party is loud, music pounding through the walls, the air thick with alcohol, sweat, and something dangerous humming beneath it all. You’re not supposed to be here, not really. You’re the kind of person who shows up at these things with a friend, clutches a red cup full of something you won’t finish, and smiles politely at the chaos around you. You don’t belong in the thick of it. You never do.

And yet, here you are.

Standing by the makeshift beer pong table, watching Saxon Ratliff and Rafe Cameron destroy their opponents with a kind of reckless confidence that makes it look easy. Rafe is silent, his jaw locked, eyes razor-sharp as he lines up his shot, sinking another ball without so much as a smirk. Saxon, though, Saxon is eating this up, grinning as he flexes his fingers, talking shit with a voice that’s way too smooth for someone half a bottle deep.

They’re winning. Of course, they are.

Saxon catches your gaze mid-laugh, eyes flicking to you like he knew you were watching him before you even realized you were. His grin widens, and he raises the ball between his fingers, tilting his head in your direction.

“C’mere.”

You hesitate. Not because you don’t want to, but because the way he’s looking at you, like he knows something you don’t, makes your stomach twist in ways it shouldn’t.

Still, you move closer, slow, your fingers tightening around your cup. Saxon’s already reaching for you by the time you do, fingers brushing against your wrist, warm and confident.

“Give it a kiss,” he murmurs. “For good luck.”

Your lips part, heat crawling up your neck. “That’s stupid.”

He smirks. “Yeah? Do it anyway.”

You should say no. You really should. But Saxon’s looking at you like he knows you won’t, like he’s already won this game, and somehow, that’s worse. So you do it. You lean in, pressing a soft, barely-there kiss against the ping-pong ball, and you swear he breathes a laugh when you do, quiet and full of something slow and smug.

And then, of course, he makes the shot.

The room erupts into chaos, drinks spilling, voices rising. Saxon basks in it, dragging a hand through his hair as he turns back to you, his grin full of something victorious. Rafe just shakes his head, exhaling sharply like he’s unimpressed, but the way his eyes flick to you as he takes a swig of his drink tells you otherwise.

And that should be it. That should be the end of it. But somehow, it isn’t.

Because now they’re both following you around the party, circling you like you’re something to be won. And maybe you are.

“You a freshman?” Saxon asks, leaning way too close, his breath warm against your temple.

“Sophomore,” you murmur.

Rafe hums, standing just behind you, the contrast between their energies almost dizzying. Where Saxon is all heat and teasing touches, fingers ghosting against your waist, your wrist, your shoulder, Rafe is steady, quiet, eyes dark as they flicker down to the way your breath catches.

“You look like you don’t belong here,” Rafe observes, and there’s something about the way he says it that makes you feel small and exposed.

Your throat tightens. “I was invited.”

Saxon grins, tilting his head. “Yeah? By who?”

You glance away. That was probably the wrong thing to say.

Rafe’s hand brushes against the small of your back, slow and deliberate, like he’s testing something. “What’s your major?”

You swallow. “Film.”

Saxon laughs, deep and slow. “That makes sense.”

Your brows pull together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Saxon just smirks, but Rafe, Rafe leans in closer, his voice barely above a murmur. “Means you’re soft,” he says, his breath teasing the shell of your ear. “All sweet and careful.”

Saxon chuckles. “You one of those girls that reads romance novels and thinks she’s above all this?”

You open your mouth to argue, but it’s useless, they’re talking like you aren’t even here, like you’re something fragile between them, something to be studied and toyed with.

“Bet she’s never even done a keg stand,” Saxon teases.

Rafe smirks. “Bet she hasn’t even funneled a beer.”

Your face burns. “That’s not exactly—”

“You drink whiskey?” Saxon interrupts.

Your lips press together. “Not really.”

Rafe leans against the wall beside you, watching the way Saxon tips back his cup, throat bobbing as he swallows. “Not really,” Rafe repeats, shaking his head like that’s amusing.

Saxon grins, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s cute,” he says, and the worst part is, you can’t even tell if he’s mocking you.

Your stomach tightens. “I should go find my friends.”

Saxon tuts, fingers grazing the back of your neck like he’s barely holding himself back. “They can wait.”

Rafe smirks. “Yeah. We’re having fun.”

And the worst part?

They’re right.

The party only grows louder, the heat of bodies pressed together making the air feel suffocating. But somehow, with them, Saxon grinning, Rafe watching, their touches light but deliberate, it’s not the crowd that has your head spinning. It’s them.

You don’t know how it happens. Maybe it’s the way Saxon’s hand finds the small of your back as he leans in, murmuring something low and teasing in your ear. Maybe it’s the way Rafe lingers, his gaze burning into you like he’s unraveling you thread by thread.

Or maybe it’s the way they move, together, separate, effortless in their control.

You don’t know how it happens, but suddenly, you’re upstairs.

The music is muffled from here, the dim hallway a stark contrast to the chaos below. Saxon tugs you forward with an ease that should scare you, but it doesn’t. Not really. He kicks open a door, stepping inside like he owns the place, and Rafe follows, the door clicking shut behind him.

You should leave. You should say something. But Saxon’s already tilting his head at you, his grin lazy and amused.

“C’mere, pretty.”

You swallow. Your feet move before you can think, drawn into the gravity of him.

Saxon’s fingers ghost over your hip, the heat of his touch barely there but still enough to make you shiver. Rafe is behind you now, solid and unyielding, his presence alone making your pulse stutter.

Saxon tips his head, his gaze flickering over your face. “You nervous?”

“No,” you whisper, though the way your breath catches betrays you.

Rafe chuckles, low and knowing. “Liar.”

His hand finds your waist, steady, grounding, and then Saxon’s fingers are brushing your jaw, tilting your chin up. You barely have a second to think before his lips are on yours.

Soft at first, slow, like he’s savoring it. But then he deepens it, his fingers curling around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, swallowing the quiet sound that escapes you.

And then he’s gone.

Your eyes flutter open, dazed, breath uneven. Saxon smirks, running his tongue over his bottom lip like he can still taste you.

“Pretty,” he murmurs.

Your stomach tightens.

And then, Rafe.

He doesn’t hesitate. His hand tilts your chin up just enough before his lips are on yours, rougher, more demanding, like he’s proving something. You whimper against him, and he makes a sound low in his throat, his other hand finding your hip, gripping just enough to make you ache.

When he pulls back, his breath fans against your cheek, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Baby,” he murmurs.

You shudder.

Saxon chuckles, his fingers tracing the bare skin of your arm. “Think she likes that.”

Rafe smirks. “Think she does too.”

And then, Saxon’s mouth finds your neck.

Warm and slow, teasing kisses against the sensitive skin, his breath hot as he hums against you. Your head tips back before you can stop it, lips parting as your hands find his shoulders.

Rafe watches. And then he’s there too, his lips tracing the other side of your neck, his hand slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers skimming the curve of your waist.

You should stop this. You should pull away.

But you don’t.

Because when Saxon grins against your skin and murmurs, “You’re so damn pretty,” and Rafe drags his lips up to your ear, whispering, “You like this, don’t you, baby?”

You can’t bring yourself to deny it.

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you should lowkey do one where angel reader and lochlan lose their virginity to eachother :3 maybe on the yacht when everyone is passed out?

I actually have a fic exactly like this but it isn’t angel reader🙏🏽 it’s this one but if you want me to rewrite it with angel reader or in a different way please lmk

I don’t really watch the kalogeras sisters just cause they’re not really my type of humor, but I have the biggest crush on Sunday wtf SHES SO SWEET AND PRETTY AND HER LAUGH. Thats a face you’d go to war for. I just started getting edits and clips of them on my fyp randomly and they are all very pretty but SUNDAY. HER NAME IS LITERALLY SUNDAY LIKE SHES NOT REAL

BOTH. AT THE SIME TIME. guys i neeeeed requests for the white lotus s3

👅yumm

gotcha workin’ for it ft. Saxon Ratliff

MDNI 18+

pairing: Saxon Ratliff x Reader

cw: p in v (unprotected), pwp, mentions of breeding kink (no follow through), teasing, “baby” as a pet name, established relationship, random pop culture reference

a/n: this was supposed to be a Saxon and locker room talk, but the more I wrote, the more it divulged from its original plot… maybe I’ll revisit that idea when I can write a clear enough story for it.

“You’re always so whiny and pitchy.” SAXON RATLIFF mutters in your ear. He goes on to mimic your moans, exaggerating the way your breaths are stuttered. You punch at him hard to get him to shut up.

“What?” He grins at your response, taking advantage of the wide mirror in front of you two, lifting your chin so that you’re forced to face yourself. “Look, you’re literally heaving!”

He has your back arched enough that you can see how your chest is moving to his rhythm. Your hands are placed on his bed post as he’s got your hair in one hand and your chin in the other. He’s got his hips pummeling into you, his own body arching over yours so that he can rest his chin on your shoulder.

“You’re like…” He’s chuckling a bit. “Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh!”

Your words were about to form a snarky comeback when he hits a particular thrust that makes you choke on your spit a little.

“Hey,” This asshole has the audacity to snicker at you. “Breathe, baby, breathe.”

Thank god you don’t go into a coughing fit. But you also curse whatever reverence is out there as your boyfriend leans back and straightens himself, stopping when you’re so close to your climax.

“You’ll need air if you’re gonna be moving, right?” His voice raising an inflection towards the end of the question.

“Huh?” And your voice does come out quite pitchy.

“Well, I’m not doing all the work,” He slaps your ass. Hard. “So, come on, back and forth.”

“God, you’re seriously a grade A asshole.” Yet you find your hips are already slapping back to him, your back arching to his pelvis.

His hands find themselves steady on your waist, only there to hold on to some stability and guide you to some sort of pace. Soon, your bedroom is filled with nothing but your wet squelching and a speed comparable to that of Ariana Grande when it comes to switching races.

“Uhh, fuck,” Saxon has long abandoned his motive to stay still, rocking into you as he palms your tits and enjoys how your ass bounces back on him. “Fuck, fuck, you feel real good...”

You’re so close, and you know he is to with how he twitches inside of you. You got him whispering into your shoulder, your name repeated like a prayer.

He’s calling you pet names in between his moans. “Let me cum inside…”

In usual Saxon fashion, he’s not asking with a “please” or a “can I…?” but masking his demand to sound like a request.

“Nooo,” You’re telling him unconvincingly. “Pull out…”

“What? You scared I’m gonna baby trap you?” He’s got a lilt in his voice, still teasing you when you’re both so close to finishing.

“Yes, don’t fuck around!”

“Yeah, maybe I will…” Saxon’s got his arm snaked around your waist now, thrumming into you all harsh. “Have a tiny me go running around…”

You’re yelling “Saxon!” but he feels you clench him at that notion.

“Yeah, and you’re probably gonna be calling for me just like that too.” His fingers are working magic on your clit, circling your bud in quick motions. “You know me… I’m a family man.” And boy, is he.

You can’t even respond, too focused on finding your end of the bargain. Your boyfriend is also stuttering in his movements, rutting faster to get to his arrival.

You reach your release before him, Saxon cumming right after and painting your back in white.

He falls on top of you, warm to the touch. You bask in the comfortable silence, deciding to ignore the mess that’s gonna need to be cleaned. Better to enjoy this quiet before Saxon catches his breath, right?

Ppl falling for Cynthia Erivo as rapunzel genuinely upsets me. Yall did the same thing with Avantika LIKE NOTHING IS CONFIRMED WHY ARE PPL SO GULLIBLE I feel like ppl are acting slow for the excuse to be racist