Game of Thrones Daily
oozey mess
izzy's playlists!
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
shark vs the universe
titsay
Andulka
JBB: An Artblog!
trying on a metaphor
Janaina Medeiros
d e v o n
Claire Keane
KIROKAZE
Sade Olutola
we're not kids anymore.
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
todays bird
AnasAbdin
Mike Driver
seen from Germany
seen from Iraq
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Brunei
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Türkiye
seen from Latvia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
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@kaiawrites
MASTERLIST
FORMULA ONE
HOCKEY
BAD OMENS
MOTIONLESS IN WHITE
THE MARAUDERS
important note: please know that when i write about celebrities i am writing about characters inspired by the public personas that these celelbrities present! i am in no way trying to realistically represent these people as i do not know them personally and also do not wish to be invasive of their personal lives!
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Happy pride to all the F1 drivers and NHL players that look longingly at their teammates and have barely controlled lust for one another ❤️
Time to resurface this bad boy
My fav genre of sidcros pics are the ones that look like they’re taken from my camera roll in the 2010s
like im gonna pretend I took these. Thanks. Thats my man. I love him and he loves me.
┆ ⤿ 🪽 ⌗ CUDDLE MONSTER — JURAJ SLAFKOVSKÝ
summary… you fear you may have spoiled juraj with a little too much affection. now, you've got a monster on your hands. [0.5k words.]
⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱ requested here! thanks so so much for the request angel and sorry it took so long — loving getting to write sm for slaf lately!
IT’S NEVER BEEN A SECRET that juraj is a huge attention whore. even from the start, juraj had been clingy, always craving some form of contact or level of affection. on the first few dates, it had been subtle, sure, but always there, something below the surface to be addressed.
hi!! could i request a macklin celebrini x reader imagine where they’re best friends and she jokingly tells him she’s bad at kissing? mack, being mack, immediately offers to “help” her get better. it’s supposed to be innocent practice but the second their mouths actually touch he loses his mind (like full-body shiver, hands on her hips, slightly-too-desperate energy). they pull away like “haha yeah that was—” and then immediately go back for more. smut absolutely welcomed.
JUST PRACTICE, RIGHT? ✫ macklin celebrini
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ macklin celebrini x fem!reader. suggestive content!, best friends to lovers, joking gone wrong, “just practice”, accidental kiss, mutual pining, oops-we-like-each-other. i’m sorry it’s a bit short!
in which you joke about being bad at kissing, and your best friend offers to “practice,” forgetting that you’ve always been the one thing he was never supposed to want.
my main masterlist! ❀
“Okay, but define bad.”
You’re sitting cross-legged on Macklin’s bed, stealing fries out of the takeout carton balanced between you like it’s a sacred object. He’s leaning against the headboard, hoodie sleeves shoved up, watching you like this is the most important conversation of his life.
“I don’t know,” you say. “Bad. Wrong. Like I’m thinking too much. Like my brain is overthinking the whole thing instead of letting it happen.”
“So… you’re kissing like you’re… writing an essay?”
“I mean… kind of,” you point at him. “With a body paragraph, a conclusion. No flow just words.”
He hums. “That does sound bad.”
“Thank you for the support.”
“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, “kissing is kind of a muscle memory thing.”
You narrow your eyes. “Why do you sound like you’ve read articles about this.”
“I play hockey. Everything’s a muscle memory thing.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
He grins. “You’re avoiding.”
There’s a beat.
Then, very casually, he says, “We could practice.”
You laugh immediately. “No.”
“I’m serious.”
“That makes it worse.”
“I mean—” he sits up straighter. “Not like a thing. Just… practice. You trust me, right?”
You squint at him. “I trust you with my life. I do not trust you with my first non-awkward kiss.”
“Well, that feels personal.”
“You offered.”
He lifts his hands in surrender. “Hey. No pressure. Just an option.”
You look at him. Really look at him. The way he’s pretending this is no big deal. The way he is fidgeting nervously like he’s about to take a faceoff.
“…Okay,” you say.
He freezes. “Okay?”
“Okay. One kiss. Very clinical. Like a lab experiment.”
“Why are you like this,” he mutters, but he’s smiling.
You scoot closer. He doesn’t move away.
“Rules,” you say. “No making it weird.”
“Define weird.”
“No tongue. No—” you gesture vaguely between you. “Hands things.”
“My hands are innocent.”
“Your hands are really suspicious.”
He laughs, then goes quiet when you lean in.
“Ready?” you ask.
“Yeah,” he says. Too quick. “Yeah.”
Your lips touch his.
That’s it. That’s all.
Except it isn’t.
Macklin inhales sharply, like he forgot how breathing works. His hands —traitors— land on your hips automatically, like muscle memory really is a thing. You feel the tension roll through him, a full-body shiver he absolutely does not play off well.
You pull back. “Oh my god. Sorry. Was that bad? Too stiff? Am I—”
“No,” he says. “No, it was—again.”
You blink. “You didn’t even give feedback.”
“I need more data.”
You snort. “You are unbelievable.”
“And yet,” he says, softer now, “you’re still here.”
You lean in again.
This time, he kisses you back.
It’s still gentle. Still careful. But there’s something else under it now —something unsteady. His thumb presses into your waist like he needs something to hold onto, and when you instinctively settle onto his lap, he lets out a sound that feels way too honest.
You pull away, both of you breathing too hard for something that was supposed to be practice.
“Haha,” you say. “Yeah. That was—”
“Yeah,” he says.
Silence.
Then, at the exact same time, you both lean in again.
“Wait,” you murmur, grinning into the space between you. “We’re definitely breaking the rules.”
“I never agreed to the rules,” he says, already too close.
“Liar.”
“Okay, maybe a little.”
The kiss lands again —less careful, more real— and when you break apart this time, neither of you jokes.
You just look at each other. His lips curved into a broken smile before finding yours again, desperate, needy. Somewhere in the chaos your own hoodie had been thrown to the floor, his hands skimming heat along your sides until your bra strap slid against his fingers.
Your mind completely short-circuited.
This was a bad idea. A spectacularly bad idea. The kind of bad idea that future-you would bring up at three in the morning like, remember when you did that? Yeah. That.
And yet.
The way your best friend kissed you —like you were oxygen, like you were the last lifeboat on a sinking ship— made it impossible to stop.
Or want to.
He pulled back again just enough to look at you, eyes wide, lips swollen, breathing like he’d just run laps. He took you in like he was trying to memorize you for a pop quiz he definitely had not studied for.
“Fuck.”
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I’m Sorry, Mrs. Crosby
Sidney Crosby x fem!reader
Word count: 1k Masterlist
Summary: Mackinnon and Marchand play a harmless prank on Celebrini at a bar in Milan all while their Captain watches.
“I’ll give you $100 if you go ask her out,” Nate nodded towards where you were standing at the bar, talking animatedly to another woman.
could you possibly write something cute and fluffy about cole caufield? plot entirely up to you! please :)
of course! thanks for requesting, sorry for the wait!
MASTERLIST
Eyes on You || cc13
word count: 1,099
not my gif!!
You weren’t really a hockey fan.
Well, you liked the idea of it, the energy, the fast pace, and the passion. But you’d never really followed it closely like your best friend did. Everything you knew about hockey was based on your best friend's ramblings when she dragged you to Montreal Canadiens games. It was because of these games that you first noticed Cole Caufield.
Or, more accurately, he noticed you.
It was subtle to start out with. You weren’t sure if you were imagining things when you caught him glancing at you from the bench one game. When you brought it up, your best friend laughed it off.
“Trust me, he’s not looking at us,” she teased you. “They’re professionals, hun. Locked in.”
But, game after game, you swore the quick glances became more intentional. One night, during warmups, you stood by the glass with your best friend, absentmindedly watching as players skated by while you chatted. Then, out of nowhere, a puck hit the boards in front of you.
You were snapped out of your conversation, blinking in surprise and looking straight up at the boyish grin of Cole.
Your best friend practically squealed beside you, “Oh my god, Y/N. Did he just…”
Another puck against the boards. You snapped your gaze back to him, heart fluttering as he gave you a quick wink before skating off like it was nothing.
You had no idea how to process it.
————
The real turning point happened about a week later. Your best friend had left you at the table in a bar downtown, going off to flirt with some guy she just met. You were fine nursing your drink alone, scrolling through your phone, when suddenly you sensed a presence behind you.
“Not a hockey fan, huh?”
Your head immediately snapped up. Cole was standing in front of you, casual in a hoodie and jeans, the same boyish grin from warmups playing on his lips.
You couldn’t function for a moment, your mouth opening and closing. “What?”
He chuckled, sliding onto the stool next to you. “I see you at the games. You never seem that into it.”
“So, you’ve been watching me enough to notice?”
His grin widened at your words. “Maybe.”
You weren’t entirely sure how the conversation between you both flowed so easily after that, but it did. It really did. You learned that he was just as charming off the ice as he was on it. He had this way of making you laugh, of pulling you into his world so effortlessly that you forgot that you barely knew him.
By the end of the night, you had his number.
————
Texting with Cole became second nature. He was almost relentless with his messages, whether it was sending you the most ridiculous memes at random hours or chirping you for not knowing basic hockey terms.
It was easy to fall into a rhythm with him.
But what truly sealed the deal was the night he personally invited you to one of his games, with a promise of meeting you afterwards.You weren’t sure what you expected, but as soon as you left your seat to go meet him in the players lounge, Cole beamed at you like you were the only person in the room.
“You actually came,” he said, slightly breathless.
“You only reminded me, like, twenty times.”
He grinned. “Did you at least enjoy the game?”
You hesitated for a few seconds, then admitted, “Yeah. I might be starting to understand why people follow this sport for life.”
His eyes practically lit up at your words, “Oh, I’m definitely taking credit for that.”
The night ended with him walking you to your car, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, eyes flickering over you in the dim streetlights.“So…” he said once you both reached your car, rocking back on his heels. “Are you gonna let me take you out, or do I have to keep throwing pucks at the glass to get your attention?”
Your stomach fluttered. “Hmm. That depends.”
“On?”
You grinned. “Are you always this cocky?”
He stepped closer, playfulness dancing in his expression. “Nah, just with you.”
And with that, you were hooked.
————
Dating Cole was fun. There was no other way to describe it.
He had this infectious energy, always finding new ways to make you laugh, whether it was sneaking terrible dad jokes into conversation or playfully teasing you.
But what surprised you most was how thoughtful he was.
He had learned your coffee order by heart. If you had a long day, he’d randomly show up at your place with takeout and a goofy grin. If you were sick, he’d bundle you up in a ridiculous amount of blankets and insist you hydrate by shoving a water bottle into your hands every five minutes.
One morning, you woke up to a text.
Cole: Did you eat breakfast?
You: No?
Cole: Rookie mistake. Check your doorstep.
Confused, you opened your apartment door only to find a bag of pastries and your favourite iced coffee sitting on the floor.
You immediately texted him.
You: Did you seriously just do a drive-by breakfast drop??
Cole: Yep. Elite boyfriend instincts.
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through you.
————
The first time you realised that you were completely and hopelessly in love with Cole was during a lazy Sunday afternoon at his place.
You were sprawled across his couch, mindlessly flipping through a book, while he sat on the floor, messing around with his PlayStation.
Every so often he’d glance back at you, like he just wanted to make sure you were still there.
At one point, he let out a groan, tossing his controller aside. “Alright, I officially suck at this game.”
You bit back a smile. “Maybe you should stick to hockey.”
He turned, resting his chin on the couch beside you, his eyes locking onto yours. “Maybe,” he said softly, “or maybe you should help me.”
Your heart stuttered at the look in his eyes. He had that look that made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.
Without thinking, you reached out, brushing a hand through his messy hair.
“Yeah?” You murmured.
His lips curled into that boyish grin you loved so much. “Yeah.”
And just like that, he leaned up, closing the distance between you both.
It wasn’t your first kiss with him, but it was definitely the one that changed everything.
Because in that moment, you knew this wasn’t just fun anymore.
This was real.
Take Your Time
~Take Your Time by Hudson Westbrook~ Author's Note: requested! idk but words are written :) Summary: Cole falls for the girl across the coffee shop Warnings: n/a Word Count: 3,185 Cole Caufield x fm!reader
could you do cole caufield and a him meeting a girl who plays for the montreal victoire. like a meet cute of sorts
it’s the kind of morning that tastes like blood in the back of your throat. practice ran long, you didn’t sleep, and the metro was delayed just enough to fuck up your timing. your stick bag digs into your shoulder, your hoodie’s stuck to your skin under your coat, and some tourist outside the bell centre mistakes you for a team assistant and asks if you can point them to the canadiens locker room. you smile with all your teeth and say “nope.”
and then you walk right in.
you’re not thinking about the men’s practice schedule. you’re not thinking at all. brain stuck on loop, just noise, just caffeine and sore knees and the low echo of your coach telling you your breakouts need work. you turn the corner to the auxiliary gym like you own the place, because this morning, you do.
and that’s when you almost crash chest-first into cole fucking caufield. short, wide, unbelievably built like someone reassembled him from muscle and bad ideas.
he’s mid-step, hoodie rolled up to his elbows, jaw bruised like someone tagged him good last night. he smells like exertion and laundry soap and expensive gel, like someone who sweats and then goes on tv about it.
you blink. he blinks.
and then he looks you up and down, not subtle, not slow, not respectful, just—checking. stick bag. taped wrists. your team hoodie. he puts it together real fast.
“victoire?” he asks, like he already knows.
you nod once.
“fuck yeah,” he says, all teeth.
he steps aside to let you through and doesn’t do the thing. doesn’t pat you on the shoulder or call you sweetheart or make a joke about women’s hockey being real hockey. he just stands there and lets you pass, then calls after you:
“you skate that fast when you’re not late?”
you stop walking. turn, slow, eyes narrowed.
“you hit that hard when you’re not losing?”
there’s a beat. then he laughs. not big. not forced. a bark, a real one. he jogs a few steps to catch up with you, shoulder bumping yours.
“i like you.” “you don’t know me.” “nah, but you chirp like someone worth knowing.”
he’s not hitting on you. not yet. he’s not trying to charm, not laying it on. he’s just there, in your space, like it’s natural. like he doesn’t have to try. and you don’t move away.
you’ve got tape residue on your fingers, a bruise on your jaw from last week’s elbow, and a mouth that hasn’t quit since peewee. he’s got thighs like tree trunks, hair smashed under a toque, and that look like he’s been benched for fighting twice this month.
“i’m cole,” he says, even though you already knew.
“yeah.”
he laughs again, scrubs a hand through his hair, sticks it out like you might actually shake it. you don’t. you stare at it. then up at him.
“you gonna ask for my number next?”
he shrugs. “i mean… do you want me to?”
your jaw cocks left. “depends. you gonna cry when we beat you to the gym next week?”
his eyes flash—challenged, not pissed. like you just dropped a puck at his feet.
“you wish, victoire.” “bet.” “coffee on it?” “winner buys.”
he nods like it’s locked in. you walk away with a smirk he definitely sees. you don’t look back.
he doesn’t either. but he pulls his phone out as soon as you’re out of sight.
and by the time you’re halfway down the hallway, your teammate texts you: “cole caufield just asked if you were single. did you bodycheck him in the dick orrr?”
you laugh into your elbow. not butterflies. but something sharp. hungry. new.
like a clean breakaway on fresh ice.
HELLO
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Do they bite? NHL edition..
| Quinn Hughes | Yes, he’s freaky are we surprised? He loves attacking your Shoulders when he has u bent over, thighs, boobies.., hips. He truly doesn’t have a favorite spot to bite it’s just the closest spot he has to bite that he’s sinking his teeth in.
| Cole Caufield | It’s not typically his vibe but sometimes if there’s an opportunity he’ll bite playfully but it’s not his usual to bite during sex.
| Jamie Drysdale | Yes he loves biting your lip when he pulls away from kissing you, thighs get some love too from time to time. He bites you for shits and giggles sometimes too, it’s always at a random time usually when his intrusive thoughts win but it’s always funny!
| Kirby Dach | Not really no, maybe some light nips or teeth grazing your skin in the slightest but it’s gotta be when you’re both so caught up in the sex that kisses and movements are getting lazy and fast that he doesn’t even full realize he did it.
| Mason McTavish | Yes, yes, yes. He’s a freak let’s be real, he’ll bite wherever he finds appealing, but it’s gotta be somewhere only he’s going to be able to see.
| Adam Fantilli | Mmm not really, if he does it’s to be silly. He’ll bite your finger if you feed him something or sometimes he’ll take a nice bite on your sweet spot to pull some giggles from you.
| Arber Xhekaj | Yes! Thighs, bum, boobs, neck, shoulder, lips. This man has no limits wherever he can find a spot to sink his teeth into he is.
| Luke Hughes | No, he doesn’t see the appeal of it. Hasn’t bit you since college when he accidentally left a massive hickey and you both couldn’t stand the sight of it.
| Cole Sillinger | um yes, no doubt. He’s a freak he’s bites and he bites hard, enjoys running his fingers over the marks as they’re healing and is impatiently waiting to leave more once they heal. Doesn’t have a favorite spot to bite, it’s honestly wherever he can sink his teeth into.
| Matt Rempe | Absofuckinglutley. He can’t help himself when his teeth sink into your stomach as he kisses down your body, or the way his teeth ache for the feeling of your thick thighs under them, the cries that escape you when he nips at your breasts sends him into overdrive, bigg lip biter when make outs are happening.
| Brandt Clarke | Not his vibe. Did it once just to try and it was way too hard, neither of you cared for it so now it’s just something that’s laughed about.
| Will Smith | Absolutely, Both sexually and in a fun way. He bites you to be a little shit sometimes but he loves to bite your shoulder the sound you make when his teeth break skin has him shivering with need, he’s also not afraid to take a nice bite of your bum whenever he’s kissing down your body from behind.
| Macklin Celebrini | Little baby piranha, he bites you like he has nothing better to do. He’ll just do it to do it, feeding him something? Purposely bites your fingers, laying there innocently? Bites wherever his mouth can reach, your lips are constantly cut up from him biting them. During freaky time he bites your shoulder to stay quiet but that’s about it.
| Kaiden Guhle | 100%, Kaiden is a freak on the low and biting is one of his favorite things to do in bed. He loves marking you up in places only he will see, inner thighs, breasts, hips, bum.
| Mackie Samoskevich | Yes but mainly around the Shoulder or low enough where it can be covered and only he can see it!
-
Head cannon masterlist!
He looks so fine here omg.
Inspired by your recent work, Macklin hurt to comfort where he says something to the media that is completely taken out of context and looks really bad (something about you, your relationship, another girl, prioritizing hockey, or something). Reader would usually just bring it up to Mack right away and talk it out, but he’s on a longer roadie and reader doesn’t want to have that conversation over the phone, but then ends up stewing on it while he’s gone. Reader kind of unconsciously starts to pull away as she start to get doubts, but Macklin notices while he’s gone and clears everything up and reassures reader as soon as he gets back. Lots of fluff after the original hurt please! Also, I missed your work the few days that you were gone, you are genuinely so talented, I’m so excited for the other ideas you are working on 💜💜
You're so sweet, thank you 💜 I've got a few more things in the work right now, and they should be posted over the next few days! Thank you for the support, happy reading! 4.2k words
Something is wrong the minute he says “I miss you” over the phone, and you hesitate to respond. It’s the smallest of hesitations, but he notices. Usually you respond immediately, with “I miss you too,” or “Can’t wait to have you home.”
“You okay?” he asks carefully.
“Yeah,” you answer too fast, “I’m just tired.” It’s not entirely a lie, you are tired. Not the normal kind of tired, though, you’re emotionally exhausted from seeing that stupid interview clip that the internet had run completely out of context.
⊰══════════════════════⊱
It initially happened four days ago. You were walking back from class when your phone started going off like crazy. At first, you ignored it, assuming it was a group chat or maybe Macklin spam texting you about something going on on his road trip with the team.
It got annoying after a couple of minutes, so you finally caved and looked. The first rendition of the message you saw was from your roommate; all she had sent was a TikTok link and “ummm???”
You opened the video as soon as you sat down the the library, and your stomach immediately dropped.
The clip was from a post-game interview after San Jose’s win over Vancouver the night prior. You hadn’t gotten around to watching all the post-game media, because by the time the game was over you were tired and knew you needed to go to bed because of your 8am first thing the next day.
In the video, Macklin is standing in front of the media wall, headset on, in his Sharks hoodie and his hair damp from a shower. Looking tired but relaxed, a little bit of that post-win glow still on his face.
Accidental Hard Launch
fm93 x reader
I know I said I'd post this tomorrow, but I finished it earlier today, so why not just post it now? First time writing for Fraser, I hope you all enjoy! 😊 2.4k words
You’re still half asleep when you blindly reach for your phone on your nightstand because it just will not stop going off. Lazily you squint against the brightness of the screen, and you’re greeted with a slew of messages from nearly every social app you have.
Instagram: 100+ TikTok: 100+
Follow requests, mentions, comments, reposts, likes, DMs from people you haven't talked to in years.
You have messages from nearly every single person in your contacts, but the ones that stick out are the two from Fraser.
Fraser: You awake sweet girl?
The second, sent less than a minute later:
Fraser: Don’t panic
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
the lack of dobes fics on this app is criminal😭🙏
think of you: mc71
you and your boyfriend spend the day at your favorite spot: having a picnic at the lake. (gender neutral reader x macklin celebrini)
1/? "off-season shenanigans" || masterlist
word count: 2k
tags: established relationship, fluff!, no use of y/n
notes: appearance/nicknames kept as gender neutral as possible. i can't always exclude things like allergies, (dis)likes, etc. so pls bear with me.
english is not my first language | no beta wie die like macks teeth in that jets game
oh my god😭😭 hes so fucking cute and precious
