#I think there’s a horror game on there where a girl wants to take another girl to a school dance

[sapphymayeyeplease]

gasa4 🤝 regretevator

roblox lesbians

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 3 - Dreams And...

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE) - PLEASE REMEMBER TO CHECK, THIS CHAPTER IS DARKER IN TONE!

PREV - NEXT

Your hands are pruned. It’s quiet in the extravagant bathroom, other than the sound of the tap’s running water and your own shaky breathing. This was all a bit much. Your hands are more than clean now, but you absolutely do not want to go back out there.

You kind of just want to go back into one of the stalls and cry. A core girlhood experience, except you were an adult with a job and taxes. Or, you were. You think you’re some rich scion or something in this dream. Which like, cool, who wants to slave under capitalism anyways?

…You wonder if anyone would notice if you slipped out the window. You’d been gone for a while and nobody had come looking for you, since you’d totally gotten lost trying to find the bathroom. Sure, you were on the third floor, but at this point you were willing to risk it. Even if you couldn’t walk in a straight line right now, much less climb the trellises. For some reason, you could not handle your liquor today like you usually could. But once again, this was all just a very vivid dream, so it wasn’t like you could die.

To punctuate that thought, you hear someone scream.

It cuts off instantly, and then there’s quiet again. You pause, then turn off the tap, listening for any more sound. Drip, drip, drip… you press the tap down again and properly turn it off. Still no noise. Immediately, you realise you are standing directly in a horror film. You live in Gotham for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t an unlikely occurrence. You’d gotten mugged just a few days ago.

And you were alone in the bathrooms. So unbelievably drunk, and alone in the bathrooms. You were actually so dead, it was crazy. A dream, a dream…!

Your head bows, staring into the white porcelain of the sink as you focus hard on your hearing. You don’t think you could hear the party before, but you’re not sure. It’s definitely not there now. You swallow the dry pain in your throat, trying to summon a modicum of courage. Your vision spins.

You slap your wet hands to your face and then blink through your fingers. God. Okay, okay, okay. You can do this. You survived a mugging just last week with only minimal bruising. To convince yourself of your badassery, you dig your fingers into the blemishes, hoping to wake yourself up with the pain. It’s a bad habit but you have lots of those.

…Where’s the pain? Oh god, where’s the pain? Wait, don’t panic, it’s a dream! Of course, you wouldn’t have your bruises in a dream. That made total sense. And you definitely weren’t panicking.

You splash more water on your face. Time to face the music, you drunken moron. If you were going to be in a horror movie, you’d be the final girl of all final girls.

One hand on the sink, you take your heels off. They’re going to get in the way, and the sound of them clicking against the marble will give away your location. Massaging your sore ankles, you try and come up with a game plan. You don’t know what’s going on, and it really could all just be a false alarm, but better safe than sorry and all that. It’s a gala full of some of the richest people on earth, and you’re pretty sure you saw a swat team of security guards at the entrance.

So this was probably a hostage situation or a villain attack. You’d hear more noise if it was a supervillain fighting a superhero downstairs. Then you’ll bet on a hostage situation for now. Depending on who had taken you all hostage, that could be a totally fine situation where you all just end up leaving with lighter purses, or it could be the Scarecrow’s shown up and he’s about to mentally traumatise you. Like you needed any more of that.

Of course, this was all probably still a dream. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll actually believe it. You’ll just plan ahead in case this is real (which it definitely isn’t). Plus you’d proven you could feel pain in this dream anyway, with all the times you’d slapped yourself. You hoped the fucking Tim Drake didn’t think you were too weird. Because he definitely thought you were weird.

It’s cool. You’re cool. You could handle this. You were a Gotham native after all. Totally cool. You have to force yourself not to gag on your own fear. Totally, absolutely, terrifically cool.

A few deep, calming breaths later, and you’re cracking the door of the lavatory open just an inch. You peer through the crevice, taking another deep breath when you don’t see anyone in the hallway. You push the door open a bit wider, peek your head around it to look the other way. Still empty. Another deep breath, you feel your chest rise and fall, and then you take the first step out onto the wooden floors. You wince at the slight noise the bare sole of your foot makes and hurry over to the long Persian rug to snuffle any more sounds.

And then you’re standing in the middle of the hallway in your ballgown, head swivelling back and forth as you try and catch any minuscule sounds, shoulders bunched up to your ears.

The first thing you need to check is the exits. Since you are on the third floor, and the banquet was on the first, you can assume that they’re well-guarded, but probably far away from you. Still, this is the Wayne Enterprises Tower, and there wasn’t just the party happening tonight. It was mostly empty as you’d seen but there’d been a few people you’d wandered past. They’d all seemed like late-night office workers, and the female janitor you’d bumped into was the one who had told you where the toilet was.

Was the janitor okay? Was that her scream you’d heard? Concentrate, dumbass. On airplanes, they tell you to put your mask on first before you do it for anyone else. The idea was the same here. Save yourself before you can hope to save anyone else.

That was… that was if you even needed saving. This could all still just be your own paranoia. Someone hit their knee on a ridiculously fancy side table or something. Like that scream wasn’t of pure terror. Like it didn’t sound like someone on death’s door.

Concentrate! Okay, check the stairs first. Don’t take the elevator, because you’re not an idiot. Maybe. Hopefully. Slowly but surely you creep your way back towards the entrance to the third level, where both the elevator and the stairs were. There was a map, too. You hadn’t been able to figure it out earlier, but you had a bit more incentive this time.

You make sure to place your feet carefully, aiming for the carpets and rugs. Even if your drunken steps miss half the time, you’re still mostly quiet. Every time you have to walk across a crossing you spend a minute listening, and then peer around every corner too. You’re not sure if you should be running, or if you really should try one of the windows.

Deep breaths. Keep moving. That’s the best course of action. Don’t get caught, but don’t just hide either.

It’s when you’re almost at the third-floor foyer when you hear something. There’s a crash, the sound of something breaking. No voices, though. Still, you can’t convince your body to move for a full minute. There’s a part of you that wants to go hide in an abandoned cubicle and wait, but there’s another part of you that is very aware of the rates of fires in this city. You keep going, taking a longer route to avoid the source of the crashing.

Another noise. A scream. Laughter. Spine-chilling laughter.

Shit, motherfucker. Why the hell did you get smashed at a fucking Wayne gala? Everybody knew the rogues of this city were totally obsessively in love with Bruce Wayne. Especially your own personal worst nightmare. You don’t dare even think his name, lest you summon the bastard.

Was he in Arkham right now? He should be. Like you should be at home in the Narrows getting a good night’s rest. Like you should be wearing dorky Flash pyjamas, not a dress more expensive than your rent.

He should be. It’s not nearly enough.

You realise, suddenly, that you have to make a choice here. You can walk away, pretend you didn’t hear anything, that you can’t hear anything. A woman’s cries, you think. You could leave her, save yourself. Hideaway and let whatever fate she’s facing befall her. Could you do that? Could you even stomach the idea?

In the end, the universe makes the decision for you.

“And who do we have here? What’s a pretty little thing like you doing wandering around?”

You hear your doom in his slimy voice, even though you didn’t hear him sneak up on you. Shaking, you raise your hands into the air, and slowly turn around. You see your doom in the twisted clown mask’s grin. For a second you think it’s really him, but then you notice his dark brown hair and the tanned skin under the mask. God, god, god. It’s a Joker goon. Your literal worst nightmare, given flesh. Is he here? No, no, no- You swallow down the urge to scream, to run, and do your best to keep thinking like a person and not a prey animal.

You feel like one. You think he knows that. You hope he doesn’t.

“Hey Travis, I found another one!” the man calls out, raising his gun to point at you. He jerks it, moving forward, and you turn back around obediently. The gun presses against the back of your head, and you move forward, obediently.

“Shithead, don’t say my name out loud!” another voice replies. You get to see its owner when you come around the corner and find the foyer.

There are five other people here, all tied up. Four seem to be exhausted office worker bees, who just stayed too late on the wrong day, and the last is the janitor who helped you. The kind lady gives you terrified eyes, but she’s the only one not crying among the hostages.

“Man, you worry too much. Like there aren’t hundreds of Travis’s in the city.”

“Just shut up, my god! If we leak info and it gets traced back to us, he’s docking our pay.”

Who’s he? Who’s fucking he?! He can’t be here, right? He fucking can’t be. You can’t, you can’t. God, you're going to vomit right here and now.

“Whatever. Anyway, this is the last person on this floor.”

“Check the feed again, dickhead,” the second one commands, obviously the leader between the two.

The one who caught you groans, and then you hear the sound of fabric shuffling. Is he looking at his phone? You wish you could turn around and look. You don’t dare with the barrel against you.

Your teeth dig into the side of your mouth. So did they have the security feeds? That meant you were doomed from the start. The only other option would’ve been to actually jump out one of the windows. They would’ve probably found you anyway. Hunted you down to meet their quota.

Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This is looking like a big deal. And everybody knew Joker never left out on his big deal jobs, he enjoyed them too much. He’s probably downstairs demanding the Batman come meet him and have tea or something. Shit.

All of a sudden these goons seem like the much better end of the deal.

“Checked, checked, double-checked, triple-checked… There’s nobody else here,” the man behind you grumbles, and the one in front of you sighs.

“Alright, alright. Bring her over, I’ll tie her up, and then we can blow this joint,” the man says, and you really, really hope he’s not being serious about blowing this place. You’d had enough of explosions, thank you very much. Especially ones organised by the Joker.

The gun digs harshly into your skull, “Well, go on.”

Swallow, swallow down your fear. Don’t let it stop you. You walk forward to the other man, arms in the air shaking. When you’re in reaching distance, the second goon roughly grabs you and shoves you to your knees. He pushes your hands in front of you, not bothering to tie them behind you. You don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

The rope cuts into your skin. It’s going to leave marks, and bruises. The man finishes tying the knot and then pulls you back to your feet. Then he shoves you towards the elevator and turns to start picking up the other hostages. You turn so your back is toward the wall, not willing to have your eyes off the monsters for even a second.

It’s when he’s pushing one of the office workers towards you, that the second man speaks again.

“Hey, the boss said we had to kill one of ‘em.”

What? What did he say?

“Oh yeah, oops.”

The gunshot goes off before you can process the words. Before you can process the gunshot, the janitor’s body is crumpling to the floor. Before you can process her fall, blood is starting to seep from the wound in her chest. Before you can process any of that, the man behind you laughs.

He laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs.

The janitor lies on the floor, blood seeping into her hair and uniform. You squeeze your eyes tight, tears slipping over the lids. You refuse to look at the wound. At the gaping hole in her chest. And despite yourself, you know why they shot her, not you. Not any of the workers either.

Because she wasn’t worth the cash.

Yesterday, that would’ve been you on the floor. You were a fake wearing a fancy dress, who didn’t belong here at all. Still, they didn’t know that. You didn’t think anybody knew that. Not anyone but you, who had woken up in a world a little to the left.

“I’ll be down in a minute, Trav. I wanna play with this one for a bit,” the shooter says, and all of a sudden you’re thrown back into your body, into your frail mortality. You’re cold, your spine gives a shiver, and your horrified eyes find the wretched clown mask.

Like you said, your doom. You wish you weren’t right all the time.

“No way. She’s one of the high-profilers, we need her,” his leader replies, and you’re desperate to stick by his side. You didn’t think a Joker goon would be your saviour, but here you were.

“I’ll give you five K of my split,” he offers, not willing to let go of it. Of you.

The other one pauses, glances at you assessingly. There’s a glint of something in his eyes, something that tells you you’re not making it out of here unscathed. It’s something you recognise, something you even recognise inside yourself.

It’s greed. And it’s going to kill you. You always knew it would, you just didn’t think it’d be like this.

“Make it seven,” he finally announces, the deal for your soul made without any fuss or fanfare.

“You’re such a hardass. Fine, fine, seven it is.”

“Alright, and only thirty minutes, tops. Not a hair on her head, you understand me?” he says over his shoulder, waggling a finger at his coworker.

The group leaves through the elevator. It dings, and you watch in mute, stunned horror as the other hostages refuse to meet your gaze. As they abandon you to save their own asses. You couldn’t really blame them, as much as you wanted to. You were ready to do the same earlier.

“I think not even a hair is pushing it, right?” the creep says, finger reaching out for said hair. You jerk back out of his reach, an instinctual flinch. He grins, and lets his hand fall back to his side. You take a shaky step backward.

You’re trembling with fear. With the need to get away from this terror, this situation.

He gestures with his gun, pointing back in the direction of the branching hallways.

“Well, go on. Run.”

And God help you, you do.

Spinning on your heel, you flee to the echoing sound of his laughter. Your feet fall rhythmically against the marble floors, the sound of your bare soles far too loud. You can’t even do anything about it. There’s no option for stealth here, only the sort of hunt you’d expect to find in the woods.

Not here in civilised mankind’s territory. But this was Gotham, and the monsters often looked human.

You dart into a large room filled with tiny square cubicles. A call centre or something, a maze of low walls that are too small to hide behind. You keep going, teeth-gritting when his laughter cuts off. He’s taking this seriously, hunting you down. You think he’s done this before. ‘Played’ with people.

You can’t worry about those other poor victims, lest you become his next one.

Another crash, this time to your left. Your head snaps to the side, eyes wide, but when you look there’s only a broken lamp on the floor. You have to swallow down the urge to cry. He is. He’s playing with you. He’s having fun with it.

You keep running, passing by halls and offices and don’t stop running till you can’t. Out of breath. You’re out of breath. You bend over, the stitch in your side too much for you to stand. Why are you out of breath? You can run more than this. You often run more than this when you’re late for your morning train.

What’s going on? What’s happening to you?

A bang, behind you. You spin around. Don’t see anything.

He’s nearby. Right under your nose. You need to keep running, you have to. Through your panting you hear his laughter again, and that’s enough fear to get you moving again. Maybe you were in Arkham, arms strapped to your side and screams wailing down the halls.

You didn’t believe it. No, not in this moment. Not right now, as you run for your life. If you lived through this, you’d probably go back to thinking it was all a dream or a delusion.

But with that monster nearby, there’s nothing this could be but real. With sweat dripping down your neck, smearing your makeup. With the feeling of your heart beating out of your chest, in your ears. With the blind, all-consuming panic you’re in.

He’s real. And he’s coming for you.

You lift your tied hands and press them to your lips, muffling the sound of your harsh breathing and soft sobs. Heart beating out of your ribcage, you push your body even as it screams for you to stop. You’re flagging. Vision’s swimming, and you can feel bile creeping up your throat. You can’t keep doing this. You need to keep doing this.

For a moment, you stop to catch your breath. And he catches you too.

You scream, tugging at the rough grip on him. He swings you around into a wall, and again, you cry out. Side throbbing with pain, singing with it. Still, you don’t stop. Can’t stop. Not safe, not safe, not safe. You push back against him, and he pushes back against you. Your drunken state is no match, and you tumble down onto the carpet. When he laughs, you look up at him, and he down at you.

The goon’s plastic mask merges with the Joker’s mutilated face, until you can’t tell the difference.

You aren’t the type to fight back. It’s just not instinctual to you. But when you hear his belt buckle clack, your foot kicks out before you can even think. You hit him squarely in the stomach, knocking him backward, and then you scramble away from underneath him.

“You bitch!”

He grabs you by the nape of your neck, yanking you backwards. You choke, hands grasping desperately at the grip around your throat, but he offers no relent. You’ve pissed him off. That doesn’t mean you can stop, can give up. You can’t stop fighting. Can’t stop struggling. Can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t stop-

The gun clicks. You freeze.

“Yeah, figured you’d be more obedient if I did that. Now, get up,” his voice is breathy, from the high of the chase or the hit you delivered, you’re not sure.

You hope it’s the latter. You hope this fucker drops and dies, right on the spot. You’re not that lucky, though.

Ah, your hands are hurting again. Not just the one, but both. Maybe you touched something. An allergic reaction of some sort. It shouldn’t be distracting you, it shouldn’t even be noticeable in the situation you’re in but god. The itchy heat is nearly as unbearable as the evil cretin in front of you.

“You think you’re gonna get away with that? I’m so fucking sick and tired of you whores who think you matter anything. You don’t, and I’m going to help you realise that,” he rants. His eyes are red through the tiny slits in the mask. Angry, dangerous, on the edge.

“Please, look I’m sorry,” you stutter out, stinging hands in the air. You want to run, but you think he’ll shoot if you do.

“You’re lucky I don’t fuck corpses.”

No, that doesn’t sound very lucky at all, actually. No, this seems like maybe it might turn out to be the new worst moment of your life. You don’t think it can get much worse than this, than the next moments that will pass. And it’s too much. It’s too, too much. Your palms are itchy and there’s a gun pointed between your eyes and the goon’s licking his lips and oh my god you’re going to die from an allergy before the bullet and-

And you just want it all to stop. You want it so desperately. You want the man in front of you to disappear, to never exist again, to go right down to hell where he belongs. You just want him gone.

Your hands stop hurting. The burning heat disappears. It’s quiet again. You can’t hear him laughing, the awful slick sound of him licking his lips. You can’t feel the cool iron on your forehead, the heat from his body so close. You can’t smell his sweaty stench. Your eyes open.

…There’s no gun. There’s no man.

You crumple to the ground with a relieved sob. Fisted hands lift to your eyes, as big blubbery tears stream down your face. Your shoulders shake with your cries. Your heart is screaming in your chest, trying to beat out of it. He’s gone, somehow. You’re alive, somehow. You’re not dead with a bullet in your brain, somehow. Somehow, somehow, somehow.

An impossibility. It’s an impossibility, and you’re so goddamn grateful for it.

As always, you don’t give yourself long to cry. Even as your tears still fall, even as you lick them off your mouth, tasting salt and lipstick and fear, you push to your feet shakily. You almost fall over with your hands still tied, shouldering the wall next to you for balance. You don’t have time to cry. No time to process what just happened. You need to get to safety.

You creep back into the main area, heart pounding in your ears, breath hiccuping. You don’t know how long it takes for you to get there. Ten minutes, thirty, maybe even an hour. When you try the staircase door, it doesn’t open. You yank on the handle, grab a chair and try and smash it in, but it stands strong. Fuck. You try the elevator as a last-ditch effort, but the buttons don’t respond.

You press your overheated forehead to the cool metal. Okay. Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

You turn around and storm back into the cubicle space, find one at the edge of the room with a clear view of all the doors, and tuck yourself under the desk. Pulling your knees to your chest, you resist the urge to rock yourself like a baby.

And you sit there, and you watch, and you wait. It doesn’t matter how many hours pass, you are not moving from this spot. It doesn’t matter how heavy your lids feel, how the adrenaline leaving your body has you sagging.

You’re not going to sleep. It’s not safe, and you’re not dying today. You’re simply not.\

You’re not allowed to.

-

A hand touches your shoulder, and you snap awake. Your fist slings out at the would-be attacker, but they dodge it smoothly. When you rear up for another, they move back, hands in the air in a show of surrender. Panting, you don’t lower the fist, your vision swimming.

It’s the Joker. But the Joker wouldn’t back up, right? And the Joker isn’t red, he’s green and purple.

It takes a while for the Joker’s pale, laughing face to disappear. But when you blink and he’s gone, you find someone else underneath. A red mask, a man you think you recognise from TV. A vigilante. God, you hated the vigilantes in Gotham.

Not more than the Joker. Not more than him.

The man stays a safe distance away, gloved hands firmly in the air. He’s tall, really tall. Broad-shouldered, scary. But he’s a vigilante, right?

Is he here to save you? Someone should've by now. The bastard's late then.

He says your name, you think. You can’t hear him properly. Wait no, it’s a nickname, one you haven’t heard in years. You could barely remember your mother calling you that as she tucked you in, as she told you she loved you over the phone, as she disappeared from the world entirely.

You hadn’t let anyone call you that since.

How does he know that name? How does this bastard know your name?

“-hurt? Hey, hey. Listen to me, are you hurt anywhere?” his voice is deep and warbled through the red metal mask, his eyes peering down at you through his domino. You just stare at him, eyes wide, barely breathing.

You need to know how he knows. Unconsciously, your hand reaches up to him, and after a moment, he takes it in his own firm grip. It’s awkward, as you’re still sitting half under the desk and he’s trying to stay as far away from you as possible. Still, his hand is warm through the leather, grounding, keeping you from drifting off into panic and fear. Into your worst nightmares come to life.

Because this was real. It didn’t matter that it was impossible, it was real. You simply couldn’t deny it any longer, this was all real.

You stare at this stranger’s gloved hand like it holds the answers to the universe. It might, in the end. It really just might. It wasn’t like the universe was making much sense at the moment.

“She seems fine. Uninjured, if a bit shocked. Doesn’t seem to have a concussion. Hardly responding anyway,” Red Hood speaks, but not to you. An earbud, you think. Superheroes used wiretaps and things like that all the time, right?

If you could even consider Red Hood a superhero. Everybody knew he had his own gang. Of course, even as your very life is being saved, it’s by a morally grey hero who runs around with crowbars and guns. Ah, you’re crying again.

You told yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t let yourself cry anymore. And you’d managed it, mostly. You think you’ll give yourself a pass for today, just a little one. You hold this stranger’s hand, and you cry.

You just cry. You cry, and you hold the hand of some stranger you hate, because you have to.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[neuvistar]

GAMER ! BLADE HEADCANONS!

— featuring ┊blade x f!reader

— warnings / content warnings ┊both suggestive + kinda fluffy yup yup ! use of nicknames, oral (m!receiving), pathetic loser gamer blade is my favourite blade, he spits in ur mouth.. like once, mentions / implications of vaginal fingering, overall suggestive content | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

— a/n ┊thx 2 the anon who sent an ask abt gamer blade, ily mwah </3 this is inspired by ur ask angel ! ♡ whaddahell it didn’t work the first time let us pray it works this time

GAMER ! BLADE who would have an adorable girlfriend like you. honestly, he didn’t expect to have a girlfriend because of how pathetic and how much of a loser he is. you’re probably his first relationship too because he’s a loser who can’t communicate with women but that’s besides the point! i t’s his first time, give him a rest! for his first time being in a relationship, blade would surprisingly be a good boyfriend to you, he’s trying his best, really. he wants the best for you and him so he would try his best to spend time with you rather than his pc, bladie has such a huge puppy dog crush on you he probably kisses the ground you walk on.

GAMER ! BLADE who is actually pretty clean and organized, he’s a total hottie too.. that’s a bonus. his desk and room is always clean, and he actually looks hot for a pathetic loser. blade would get flustered every single time you called his loser ass hot because in all these years of his life he’s never been called such thing, and being called hot by you? that’s a blessing to him. i think he’s not confident about his looks much since he’s pretty much.. a sore loser! but when you came into his life, he changed his mindset about himself! a lil realization in his head while looking at the mirror after a long shower like.. “.. oh. i’m kinda attractive.” he would say, looking at his reflection with a towel around his waist. i bet he’s pretty muscular too, extra bonus points!

GAMER ! BLADE who would try and be secretive about his relationship with you from his viewers (if he even streams) but if the time comes that you both are ready to reveal your relationship, his viewers are sending shocked and funny comments, half of them saying how they never expected blade to even bag a pretty girl like you, hyping him up and telling him how lucky he was (he really was! he really was lucky to have a pretty girlfriend like you).

there are times where he likes showing you off and flexing to people how pretty his girlfriend is while sometimes there are moments where he doesn’t like showing you off, ooh. possessive much. i mean, can you blame him? he can’t have another guy trying to win your heart over! this isn’t a video game, he thinks!

GAMER ! BLADE who would spend hours on end playing games, maybe even streaming as well. he would take his sweet time on his games that he wouldn’t even notice how much time passed already, how late he was to dinner with you when he promised to be down in a few minutes. well, i hope he likes his food cold because you’re not making him more as payback for making you wait so long. blade would apologize to you by dropping his games and devoting his whole time on giving attention you, a lil bonus if he fucks you too as an apology, consensual ofc!

“that’s it, angel.. fuck.. you feel so good.” he mumbled against your neck, biting down and digging his teeth into your skin. “‘m sorry, baby. fuck! how many times to i have to say it, hm? mmh.. can i fuck it in your pretty head? mhm? ‘wanna make you realize just how sorry i am.. cmon.”

GAMER ! BLADE who would ask you to play horror games with him, i mean.. it’s not like he’s afraid he just wants you to accompany him. most of the time, it’s you screaming on his lap with your hand clasped around your mouth nuzzling against his neck, trying your absolute hardest to stifle any more screams from leaving your throat! he would tease you about it nonstop.

“why were you so scared? it wasn’t even bad.” if he’s feeling a little extra, he would ask if he could.. calm you down in a more intimate way.. of course you’d accept! but there’s something so erotic about how he slides his fingers inside your shorts while teasing your slit with the base of his fingers, trying to calm you down while he whispers praises and dirty things in your ear, so erotic. there’s something so good.. so erotic about that. “calm down, will you? that stupid monster’s not gonna get you, baby. i got you.”

GAMER ! BLADE who would ascend to heaven the moment he sees you kneeling under his desk, resting your cheek on his lap. he knows this, he knows your tactics.. he knows what you want from him. he would have his dick sucked under the desk from time to time, running his fingers through your hair.. it’d be even more riskier if he was streaming, trying his best to stifle his moans and hold himself back from completely fucking your mouth. it’s embarrassing enough that some of the viewers noticed his odd behaviour and commented if something was wrong. fuck, he knows it’s hard when you’re there swirling your tongue around his cocktip, stroking the parts of him you couldn’t reach. blade couldn’t take it anymore.

he would mute his mic and turn off his camera, grabbing a fistful of your hair while bucking his hips against your mouth with such force, tears beginning to form on the corners of your eyes because of how rough he is with you! “that’s it, sweet thing. keep sucking me off like that.. fucking naughty girl you are, huh?” he pulled you up from the ground, forcing you to open wide for him before spitting in your mouth. “you’re such a slut for my cock, aren’t you? couldn’t even wait when i was done streaming, hm?” he forced you down on your knees again, cupping your cheek. “you want me to fuck you infront of everyone, angel? you want everyone to see how much of an impatient whore you can be, hm? is that what you want? because i’ll gladly show every single one of these fuckers how much of a slut you are for my cock.” damn. he’s so.. mean sometimes.

GAMER ! BLADE who would finger you occasionally while he streams to ease up a bit! he knows it’s risky, you know it too. but he just can’t get enough of the feeling of your hole pulsing around his digits, he just.. can’t control himself when your hands are roaming all around his body, caressing his toned stomach, his biceps, everything. you sat on another chair, legs spread with your sweet pussy displayed for him, plunging his fingers inside over and over again, hitting your sweet spot. he’s so.. mean! blade told you to keep quiet.. he doesn’t want a sound to even leave your lips. but you know it’s impossible, he knows too. but.. i guess you have to try, you wouldn’t want his viewers finding out what he was doing to you behind the scenes, would you? </3

[sl-ut]

more streamer!ellie hcs

been wanting to make another one of these for a while now so here we goooooo

part one | part three

ellie loves having her gf on stream as often as she can

they always let chat vote for who gets to choose the game that they play, but y/n wins probably 90% of the time

ellie pretends to be annoyed when she picks the sims or minecraft

but in reality she really likes sitting together and making each other and building their dream life

she made her simself have huge muscles, was mad when her girl just laughed and made them more realistic

when she won, she liked to pick horror and rpg games

she loves trying to act all big and bad and "protecting her girl"

meanwhile she's holding onto her for dear life and screaming at the top of her lungs

when she's on her own, she likes playing any type of game with voicechat

she always ends up fighting with and cussing at some random kids across the country

she gets so wild whenever one of them calls her a virgin

always freaks out at them before beginning to brag all about her super hot gf that they couldn't even dream of having and they wouldn't even know what to do with that

she gets a "???" text from her girl a few seconds later

she takes little gf breaks during the stream, where she literally sprints out of the room, kisses her, and rushed back

her insta is so dumbbbb

like its literally a compilation of stupid memes, random photo dumps, brand deals, and the most well edited and gorgeous photos of her girlfriend

her tiktok really took off after they started dating too

she makes thirst traps and also the most wholesome lovely dovey vids about her relationship

she loves reposting fan edits of them

as mentioned in the first one, ellie's gf is also in the public eye

i think i've decided that she's an up and coming singer/actress

ellie loves going to major events with her

she always looks like a wet dream like

she likes to wear suits of some kind where the top is partially unbuttoned and her hair is slicked back and ughhhh

don't get me wrong, she looks so good and fierce in her solo pics

but anytime you're anywheres near her that night, she's got the most obvious heart eyes anyone has ever seen

whenever ellie goes with her for press events y/n's manager immediately know its gonna be a gold mine

theres always some kind of promo that's literally just the two of them cuddling

once y/n gets her big break they 1000% get offered a ck campaign

the whole thing is them doing domestic stuff together and being all cute and sexy and ellie looks so DAMN GOOD in her boxers and bralette

she literally spends the whole day leading up to her stream with her gf bc she's "gonna miss her" during the 3-4 hours that they're apart (even tho she's calling her in every 30 minutes just to say hi anyways)

wears stupid shirts on stream that she custom orders

they all say stupid loser gf shit or just have a picture of your face on it

[sarahisslytherin]

rose garden filled with thorns

peeta mellark x reader

summary: peeta and katniss are just playing their parts, aren't they? sometimes you're not so sure.

contains: angst, jealousy.

a/n: ngl i'm proud of this one. shoutout to @oweninadaydream for being my cheerleader for this fic. gif by @bookcentral.

word count: 840

Just this morning you had woken up in Peeta’s arms; now you watch him glide across the dance floor with Katniss in your place. The Capitol party is in full swing now, pastry-shaped bursts of color flashing past you and music blaring. Snow’s garden is overflowing with people, yet you find yourself with no one to turn to. It seems you’re left with nothing else to do other than seethe in the distance as you sip on what feels like your hundredth drink and your eyes follow the capitol’s “star-crossed lovers”.

You had always been fond of Peeta. You would go as far as to say you might had been harboring a bit of a crush on him all these years. You wished you could’ve told him what to expect at his own games before he was reaped, but you had never found the right moment. There was never a right time to tell him of the horrors he would witness, and learn to live with if he somehow managed to survive. You were thankful for his love for Katniss back then, it is what saved them in the end. But now, after that romance had fizzled out upon their return to District 12, and yours had only begun, you feel the pang of jealousy reverberate in your stomach like the fire of a cannon. 

You can only watch for so long before you feel the need to run off, to escape the scene one way or another. The more you look at them, the more they seem to belong together. Did you really think you would be able to get in the way of their famous love? Peeta swears it’s all an act, that they’re only indulging the public to keep Snow content and the dangers at bay. Part of you wants to believe him, but with the way his hand rests on Katniss’ waist as they dance, the way he seems to gravitate towards her no matter where she is tells you otherwise.

You wander the grounds, your heels sinking into the grass-covered soil with every step. The music from the party fades out the farther away you get, relief washing over you as you realize it. You take refuge in an isolated greenhouse which you find to be brimming with Snow’s signature ivory roses. You try not to pay them mind, beautiful as they may be, because you know just thinking about the man who put you all in this game will make you sick.

Your head is spinning from the heat of the night, from the tight confines of your capitol-friendly attire. You’re in such a daze, you almost don’t notice Peeta’s voice echoing your name until his face is mere inches from yours.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” he scolds you, as if he has any right to. “How could you just run off like that?”

“I’m surprised you even noticed.” you retort, your words slurring a bit. Peeta’s brows knitted as if wanting further explanation. “What with all your attention on your darling fiancé.”

"You can't be serious." he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know it's not like that."

"How do you think it makes me feel, Peeta? Watching you with her. ever since your games it's been painfully obvious. You loved her then and you love her now."

"Y/n." you hear him groan, but you ramble on.

"I don't know why I lie to myself. I tell myself you moved on, that you love me now. It was stupid. I don't hold a candle to 'the girl on fire'." You barely even notice the tear that dribbles down your cheek until Peeta’s thumb swipes it away. When your gaze meets his it’s like being in the eye of the hurricane, in your own personal haven. 

“It’s all for show, baby. You gotta believe me, it’s all for the Capitol.” he pleads with you, crouching down to meet your eyeline. “Whatever feelings I had for Katniss are gone, I swear.”

You sniffle, helping peeta to dry your tears. “How can you be so sure?”

“How can I be sure?” he repeats, laughing incredulously. “Because every moment I’m with her I spend wishing I was with you.” His hands come up to cradle your face, delicate in his grasp. You know your feelings of inadequacy won’t disappear with a few pretty words, but for now it is enough. Your breathing has steadied, your tears have dried. This isn’t just anyone, it’s Peeta; and he’s your Peeta now.

“C’mon.” he smirks in that way that looks like he's got everything under control. He stands, offering his hand for you to take, and you do. You pull him in by his suit and plant a passionate kiss on his lips. “Let’s get back to the party. You still owe me a dance.” 

You giggle at that, hand in hand as you leave the solitude of the greenhouse. “Alright, Mellark. As long as you don’t step on my toes.” He snickers. “I won’t make any promises.”

[girlgenius1111]

pop back up

barca femeni x reader

r gets hurt during a game, and her friends make sure she’s okay :)

You were something of a set piece machine. The girls joked that you had a magic head, no matter how much you told them that that compliment sounded like something very different. You had an incomparable ability to get your head under the ball, leaping high into the air above girls taller than you. If you got your head on the ball, the odds were that it was hitting the back of the net.

So, while you were often a target for corners from your team, other teams had started to catch on, and marked you pretty heavily. It was early in the second half when you found yourselves lining up in front of the opposing goal. You were sandwiched in between two opposing players, but you were confident you could get free as Pina made eye contact with you, raising her arm before moving forward.

As the ball sailed toward you, you doubled back around the defenders, launching yourself into the air. Your head made contact with the ball at the same time as one of the defenders made contact with your whole body, sending you hurtling back down toward the ground. You threw your arm out, quite stupidly, to catch your weight, which promptly crumpled.

You heard the cheer of the crowd as the ball went in, but all you could think about was the intense pain coming from your elbow as you rolled onto your opposite side, clutching your arm tightly. It had made a horrifying sound, which most of the girls around you had heard, and no one moved to celebrate the goal, all looking at you in horror. Ingrid was the first to your side, resting a hand on your head.

"Y/n?" She asked quietly, as you'd yet to make a sound.

"Ow," you mumbled, voice thick with tears. You never cried. Not when you got hurt, not when you got knocked down so hard everyone was sure you were hurt; you always popped back up, shaking it off in the way only someone so young could.

"Medics!" Ingrid shouted, waving at the sidelines. If you were crying, she didn't want to think about how bad this was. "Okay, don't move, they're coming," she said, and you nodded pitifully into the grass, body twitching in pain. You sensed another body kneel down by your head, and Lucy's voice was filling the silence on the field.

"How bad is it, buddy?" she asked, desperate for more information, unable to wait for the medics, who were now only a few steps away. You only groaned in response, and Lucy's face fell. She looked up at Keira, panicked, before her and Ingrid were pushed aside as the medics arrived. One of them was kneeling by your head, speaking into your ear.

As Lucy and Ingrid stepped back, flanked on either side by the rest of your teammates, they were relieved to see that you were responding the the medics. Confident that you were in good hands, Lucy turned to the girl that had knocked you down, hands clenched into fists. Before she could even take a step, an arm wrapped around her abdomen, and someone else blocked her path.

"Let me go," she said, tone threatening. Lucy was rarely this serious, and never spoke this severely, but Patri stayed planted in front of her, not moving. Mariona's arm only tightened around Lucy's waist, and Lucy sighed impatiently.

"No, we don't need you getting a card," Patri told her, meeting Lucy's harsh glare with one of her own. Lucy had to admit, Patri was picking up a mean stare quite well from Alexia.

Lucy opened her mouth to argue more, when she heard a cry of pain from behind her. She whipped around, and saw you on your back now, still cradling your arm to your chest, in obvious distress. Shrugging out from in between her teammates, she walked over to you, crouching down on the side by your head, where there was room. You looked up at her, eyes big and wet, and all thoughts of revenge left Lucy's head.

"You're okay, buddy, I promise," she said. You were trying to raise your head to look at your arm, which she didn't think was a very good idea. Your elbow was clearly dislocated, sitting at an odd angle. She knew the sight of it would only panic you; the medics were getting an air wrap ready to place around it, and it would be out of sight soon. Wanting to prepare you for the movement, Lucy tapped your cheek lightly, drawing your attention back to her. "They're gonna get you wrapped up, and then we'll get you off the field, okay?"

"No, I wanna finish the game," you said weakly. If you hadn't looked so serious, Lucy would have laughed. Here you were, arm practically hanging off your body, and you wanted to finish playing.

"No can do, kid. We gotta get you fixed up," she said, and you pouted, clearly not happy with that answer. One of the medics spoke then, explaining that he would need to touch your arm in order to get is wrapped.

"Can't I just walk off without that?" you asked, looking terrified, and slightly nauseous at the idea of someone touching your arm.

The medic shook his head regretfully. "No, we don't want to risk you moving it, we need to keep it immobile until we know what's going on in there."

You sighed, blinking a few tears away, before your eyes flickered to Lucy, as if hoping she would overrule the medical professionals.

"It'll be over fast, y/n, I promise," she said instead. You nodded shakily, and Lucy smiled down at you. Carefully releasing your injured arm, you moved your good arm away, with a clear flinch of pain. Lucy placed both hands on your head, holding it in place on the ground, so you wouldn't look, knowing it would probably hurt worse if you saw what they were doing.

The medics moved closer, and you were wishing someone was holding your hand, but both of Lucy's were occupied. As if reading your mind, Keira's face appeared next to Lucy's, and you felt her take your good hand into both of hers. You smiled gratefully at her, before giving the medics the go ahead.

They worked fast, and Lucy and Keira flinched every time you did, at every whimper and cry that left your lips as they manipulated the airwrap around your arm. By the time they were done, you were crying again, but silently.

"You did it," Lucy said proudly, and you at least had the energy to roll your eyes at her. "Let's get you up, okay?"

"Unless you want a stretcher?" one of the medics asked, and you gave him a withering glare.

"I wouldn't want a stretcher if I had lost a leg," you snapped, and everyone hid smiles at the sudden return of your personality. Keira and Lucy got you up off the ground. Everyone should have felt better, seeing you on your feet, but no one on the team missed the way your teeth was gritted in pain, and the way the color drained from your face when you moved your arm slightly, taking a step.

"We'll be back as soon as the game is over," Keira told you and you didn't seem to hear her as you focused on walking unsteadily off the pitch, supported on each side by one of the medics.

Every step you took sent shock waves of pain up your arm. You tried moving your fingers as you got closer to the tunnel, just to make sure they still worked, but even a slight twitch had you groaning in pain.

"No, keep everything still," they told you, leading you down the hall. You didn't notice Mapi slip away from the bench, having come off at the half, and following you, nor did you notice them closing the door before she could enter, telling her they needed scans, and no one else could be in the room yet. Everyone was moving fast around you, paying attention to your arm, rather than you, and you felt yourself quickly getting overwhelmed.

-----

The minute that Ingrid had motioned for the medics, Alexia was moving from her spot in the bleachers, expertly navigating the stadium, quickly going to find you. She knew that if you needed medics, it was bad. She'd seen you break a nose, and try to shrug off the medics, so whatever this was, was worse.

She walked down the hall, spotting Mapi pacing next to a door. Mapi, who was looking at the door you were behind with distinct irritation. As she got closer, Mapi turned to look at her, and Alexia raised her eyebrows in question.

"They won't let me in. Something about scans, and needing to get a grasp of the injury before anyone could see her. She'd just a kid, she shouldn't be alone," Mapi ranted, and Alexia was quick to match her level of irritation. You hated doctors, you hated being hurt, and you were likely surrounded by people more focused on your injury than you. Both girls stood quietly, trying to decide how to get into the room, when the door opened in front of them.

"Oh good, you're still here," one of the medics said. "Can you come calm her down, she's kind of freaking out and we need to get the scan done, but she won't let us touch her arm, or give her any medication," he stated, looking annoyed.

Alexia and Mapi were, somewhat unnecessarily, shoving past him before he even finished talking, and entering the room. You were reclined on the exam table, tears streaming down your face, arm once again cradled to your chest, as about 5 medics talked at you at the same time. One of them was holding a needle that he clearly wanted to put in your arm. Mapi was ready to drag everyone out of the room by their shirts, and maybe stab the one guy with his own needle, but Alexia went for a more diplomatic solution.

"Everyone get out," she shouted, and the commotion in the room stopped, every person looking at her in shock. "I said get out, you can come back in when she's calmed down." Alexia's face was filled with fury at how bad of a job they were doing taking care of you, and everyone must have figured that out, as they quickly moved towards the door, stepping into the hall. When it was just the three of you, Alexia stepped closer to your right side, while Mapi went to the sink, wetting a towel.

"I'm sorry," you cried. You were just so overwhelmed, in so much pain, and so unsure of what was going on, you didn't want to let anyone touch your arm, until someone told you exactly what they were going to do.

"No, no," Alexia said soothingly, moving closer, "they are not taking very good care of you, you are obviously overwhelmed. Let's just calm down first, yeah?" Gone was the voice of Captain Alexia that had shouted at all of the medics in the room, replaced by Alexia who was speaking so softly, so gently, completely concerned with getting you to stop crying.

Mapi moved to your left side, the side of your injured arm, with a damp towel, and you whimpered, trying to shift away from her.

"Cariño, I'm just gonna wipe the grass off your face, I won't touch your arm, I promise," Mapi said calmly, and you relaxed slightly, nodding once. Carefully she wiped the grass stains, and the tear tracks, off your face, not minding that more were replacing the one's she wiped away. Your eyes fluttered shut at her actions, finally feeling like someone was taking care of you. When she was done, she tossed the small towel into the laundry, before focusing back on you.

You were still crying softly, still clutching your arm to your chest, and they weren't really sure how to get you to relax. You seemed to be in a lot of pain, so Alexia decided step one was getting some meds into you.

"Bebita, you look like you're hurting. Can we get you some meds?" You shrugged, not really sure that you wanted meds, or that you didn't.

"Why don't you want them?" Mapi asked, and you looked over at her.

"It'll make me all loopy, and I won't know what they're doing, and they won't even tell me what's wrong," you said, voice choked. Both girls looked at you, slightly confused.

"They haven't told you what they think is wrong?" Alexia questioned, and you shook your head. She sighed. "We'll make sure they tell you when they come back in, and we won't leave you alone again, alright?" she asked, but you still seemed unsure.

"I promise, we won't let them touch you again until you're ready," Mapi vowed. "Let's just get you some medicine, and then go from there, okay?" At this, you finally agreed, although somewhat hesitantly. Alexia left to get the medics, but it took significantly longer than you expected, leading you to believe she was perhaps yelling at them out there.

Meanwhile, Mapi pulled your boots and shin guards off, slowly as not to jostle you, pretending she wasn't trying to listen in to the conversation being had in the hallway. If she wasn't so reluctant to leave you, she would be out there too, yelling much less professionally than Alexia likely was. She was about to make a joke about it, when she glanced up and saw you staring at the ceiling, biting your lip hard.

"Hey, what is it pequeña?" She asked, walking back to stand next to you.

"It really hurts, Mapi," you whimpered, and Mapi had to swallow back the lump in her throat at the pain in your voice.

"I know, cariño, we're gonna get you something to feel better soon," she told you, as Alexia reentered the room with only two medics, who looked like they had, indeed, just been yelled at. Alexia looked expectantly at them, taking a place by your side, standing rather protectively over you.

"Alright, y/n, we're gonna give you some painkillers, and get some scans done," the one on the right said, more gently than he'd been speaking to you before. You nodded meekly, looking up at Alexia who gave you an encouraging smile.

"If we could just have you both step out for... never mind," he said, seeming to change his mind when Mapi and Alexia's head both snapped to glare at him.

You focused on your friends for the next few minutes, as the shot of painkillers was administered. It dulled the pain slightly, but not all the way. You mentioned this quietly to your friends, who turned expectantly to the medics. They, in turn, told you that they couldn't give you any more. You nodded, while Mapi and Alexia continued to glare. The medics wouldn't allow the older girls to come with you for the x-ray, though, much to their dismay.

They waited in the room, while you let the medics manipulate your arm every which way to get the correct scan, trying to hold back your gasps of pain. You needed to be brave, needed to get this done so you could go back to your friends.

By the time they walked you back to the room you were in before, your face was once again red from crying, and your lip was bleeding from where you'd bitten it, hard, during the scan. You ignored the concerned looks that Mapi and Alexia shot you as you carefully sat back on the table.

You settled back, moving your arm to rest next to you, finally letting it go from your chest. Every movement felt like your elbow was being torn off your body, and as the medics left again, you looked helplessly up at your friends. Alexia brushed some loose hair out of your face, before speaking.

"What can we do, cariño?" she asked. You just shrugged your good shoulder, leaning almost imperceptibly towards your captain. She got the message, though, gently pulling your head to press against her stomach, as she carded her fingers through your hair. You relaxed at her touch, and Mapi busied herself with resting a hand on your lower leg, the only part of you she could reach from where she was standing.

You stayed like that, limply resting again the blonde woman, until the medics returned. You looked at them as they walked in, not liking what you saw. They looked apologetic, and you were suddenly sure they didn't have good news.

"So, it's definitely dislocated," the taller one started, "but we don't think we can get it back in. Sometimes, when the joint is comes out of the socket in the right way, you can only get it back in surgically, and it's looking like that is the case here," you groaned, throwing your head back against the table in frustration.

"What's the recovery like?" Alexia asked for you, and the medics exchanged looks.

"It really depends on what they find when they get in there, but it's not a leg injury, so once it doesn't need to be perfect before she gets back on the pitch."

"When do I have to go?" you asked, dreading the answer.

"We've got an ambulance waiting outside," the shorter one said and you looked up at your friends in a panic.

"It's alright, we'll come with you, and Lucy and Keira will meet us there, alright?" Mapi said, trying to calm you down.

"Can't we wait until the end of the game?" you pleaded, looking between the blonde and the brunette. One of the medics spoke instead.

"We really can't, it's best we get you to the hospital and into surgery as soon as possible."

"There's still like 20 minutes left of the game, plus extra time. I promise, the two of them will meet us at the hospital as soon as possible, okay?" Alexia said, resting her hand on your forehead.

Everyone started moving, Mapi slipping slides onto your feet that you hadn't noticed her grab, and Alexia helping you sit up.

"Can one of you get my phone? I should call Leah," you said quietly. Mapi nodded, rushing to the locker room and grabbing it for you. Her and Alexia both knew how close you and Leah were; you didn't have a good relationship, any relationship really, with your parents, and you'd spent your last year in England living with Leah instead of them. Alexia had been slyly texting Leah updates, but knew that talking to her would calm you down.

You made your way, slowly, to the ambulance, climbing into the back and sitting on the bed begrudgingly. This felt a little ridiculous, you had a dislocated elbow, not a major head injury. Alexia sat in the back with you, as did one of the paramedics. Mapi joined you just before the other paramedic closed the doors, handing you your phone.

You opened it quickly, struggling slightly to hold it with your one shaking hand, as the vehicle started to move. You hit Leah's contact, knowing she would not be thrilled to hear that you needed surgery, especially whilst she was in another country, and couldn't come help take care of you.

You waited as it rang, and she answered the phone rather quickly, voice panicked on the other end.

"Y/n! How are you, buddy? Tell me you don't need surgery," Leah said, and you couldn't help the fit of laughter you broke into. You leaned back, getting more comfortable, as you began to tell Leah what was going on. Mapi and Alexia took in the way you relaxed at the sound of Leah's voice, more calm than they'd seen you since you'd gone down, and both wondering if they could keep Leah on the phone until you went back for surgery.

Alexia looked down as her phone rang in her lap, and Mapi did the same, her own phone buzzing. Lucy was calling Alexia and Keira was calling Mapi, almost simultaneously. They'd clearly finished the game, and discovered that you were gone. They both sighed, Alexia texting both girls instead of answering the calls, not wanting to disrupt your call with Leah.

They made eye contact, aware that they were about to be fielding phone calls from just about all of your England teammates, who'd somehow ended up with Alexia's number, [she blamed Lucy]. They found that they didn't care, not if it meant that you were well taken care of. As the ambulance rumbled towards the hospital, and you spoke quietly to Leah, Mapi and Alexia settled in for a long night by your side.

------

god i could not figure out how to end that. definitely will be a part 2 for this one :) [part 3...? did the other one count as part 2?? i think so...]

[yuri-is-online]

One Sided Love Triangles: Tokyo Debunker

Link to Twisted Wonderland Post

Because I hate when people have to lose. Though I'd be way more comfortable writing a normal love triangle for tdb than twst... there's a few of these bitches who could stand to be knocked down a peg or two.

Haru vs Peekaboo- betrayal never comes from your enemies does it. Haru wants to be happy you get along with his baby, and he's really grateful for your continued help in the anomalous animal sanctuary, really. He even originally found your interactions with Peekabo really cute! He's got a bunch of videos saved on his phone and everything but he can't help but feel just a wee bit bitter. He really wants to be the one with his head in your lap getting scritches and being told how cute he is. Something he'd never say to your face but whines about at the bar enough for Romeo to record and send to you. "For free?" Yeah for free he's had enough of this shit please come get your man MC.

Kaito vs Luca- this one is cannon to a degree I think... Kaito is deeply insecure about how much more confident Luca is around MC compared to him and how the girls on campus seem to like him more. The fact that he's so painfully oblivious doesn't help, meanwhile Luca is just overjoyed that his two best friends are in such a good relationship. You're genuinely perfect for each other, why all these secrecy and making him promise not to tell the other about the nice things you say? Isn't it natural to gush about your partner???

Towa vs Ren- Towa is such a pouty baby who doesn't fully understand his feelings and Ren is just happy to have a friend who understands the concept of a log in bonus. Neither of you fully realize that Towa is attempting to flirt, or would it be closer to say woo? All you know is one minute the two of you are casually chilling and talking about horror movies or something and then *BAM* Towa's thrown some flowers at Ren and pulled you into his lap. He's happy you wiggle to get comfy with him but very upset that you keep up your conversation with Ren. Stop being a good senpai and pay attention to hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim.

Tohma vs Leo- just hear me out. I don't think Tohma really gets jealous? He seems super secure in himself and his abilities so he doesn't have much of a reason to get whiny and silly over MC, that's your role in the relationship. And he knows, logically that this little video Leo uploaded is bait to test the security on campus but it doesn't stop him from damn near cracking his phone in half when he sees it. That's how Leo wants to play this little game? Well fine, Tohma hopes he's ready to be thoroughly humiliated. No one can flirt with another man's partner quite as well as a bitch with a monocle. Leo is totally unaware any of this for the most part, he just assumes the extra irritation he's picking up on from Tohma is because he keeps spying on him and Alan. The fact he keeps teasing MC doesn't even cross his mind, he's just doing that to irritate you.

... as a side note can you imagine how confused everyone would get if Leo and MC kept picking fights about their upcoming "divorce" when no one even thought they were ever technically together. Except for Ritsu who sits you down to seriously try to talk you in to let him being your divorce attorney and still doesn't fully get that it's a joke by the time you're done. Actually while I'm at it:

Leo vs Ritsu- where that's exactly your dynamic but Leo starts catching some genuine feelings when he tries to crack a joke about you cheating on him with your divorce attorney only to realize that makes him unironically angry. How dare you, after everything you've been through. Wasn't he he enough? You know he can't treat you like he can. And you're just like "what can't treat me wrong?" And then you have a very toxic make out session Sho has to hear both of you scream about later while he seriously considers taking up a drinking problem.

Taiga vs Haru- this game has one character named Haru (ginger, baby) and one named Haku (green, evil?) Which confuses me an unreasonable amount. I already mentioned I wanted a serious Taiga vs Haku love triangle... but Taiga vs Haru would just be silly. You have MC who loves anomalous animals and hanging out in Jabberwock and Taiga who hates emotional intimacy and his feelings for MC just as much as he hates the idea of you being with anyone else. And of all people why Harry? He thought they were friends... or cool at least even if he won't let him eat that chinchilla thing. And now he's got MC playing defense for it too, it's irritating. He already has to fight himself to remember who you are every time he sees you again and go through the annoyance of recognizing he's a bit in love and now he can't even break into the animal sanctuary without tripping over himself and paying attention to you instead. It's annoying and it's all Haru's fault for having everything he wants. (If you ask he'll say that complaint is about Peekaboo but Haru and Romeo know it's not.) Haru is just trying to get some help from a trusted friend he's so stressed out ;-;

Sho vs Jin- Sho and his excuses... he doesn't want to just invite you to hang out and he doesn't want to ask you to come help him with the food truck because you've got so much else to do. You deserve a chance to rest, and he wants to be who you come to do that with. But Jin... he'd make that so much easier if it was him wouldn't he? He's rich and connected, and you're so sweet he's sure you could thaw that frozen heart enough for him to see you as human and not a gopher. Sho knows you, the moment he started paying attention to you he saw you as a person. But he still hurt you... and Jin didn't really do that did he? Jin doesn't like Sho because he's in Vagastrom and he doesn't trust him with your safety. Sho might see a rival and a better option, but what he's really dealing with is MC's disapproving dad who can't stand that their boyfriend has a leather jacket and a motorbike. He bets he's got tattoos and an arrest record too doesn't he MC, Jin is judging you so hard.

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

v. i gave my blood, sweat and tears for this

— the one where both of you have given everything to be where you are.

warnings: misogyny, sexual harassment, this is how monaco went btw i accept no criticism. barely proofread, sorry. 3.7k words (+ article, podcast excerpts)

masterlist ✢ next

'Have we let y/n y/ln get away with way too much?'

By Alan Gomez

Yes folks, it might be our own fault, we have created a monster in the form y/n y/ln. Mediocre actress at best and with an even worse personality, if the latest events are any indication.

But how could we let this happen? Come on, we're smarter than this!

The thing is, y/n brainwashed us into believing that her doe-eyed, no-brain characters were actually her. Don't beat yourselves up over this too much, even I was a victim of those pretty eyes. But now that the blindfold has fallen, we have come to realize we have let y/n get away with everything!

You might know y/n from Supercut, the romantic comedy that took the world by storm in 2019, where she starred alongside Aidan Kim and it lead to these two becoming one of the general public’s most cherished couples. At least until two months ago, when their breakup was announced via Inside Out. Although there haven’t been any official statements, given the circumstances, we believe it was the actress who broke it off with Kim.

RELATED:

→ Aidan Kim and friends at Cannes Film Festival

→ Y/N supports alleged boyfriend at charity football match

But whether she’s dating a new guy now or not, why do we keep letting her do whatever she wants?

How did she actually brainwash us into thinking she’s anything close to an “it girl”? After Supercut, all she’s done is the absolute bare minimum to keep people talking about her, it’s all RomComs and no effort. I didn’t want to be that person, and you have to believe me on this, but Aidan Kim made her.

Let’s remember Aidan built his career from the ground as a member of Star-5 the early 2010’s boyband that split in 2018. He was the ‘someone’ in the relationship. How can people even compare having the hit song “Round and Round” in your résumé to being in Scream (Netflix) and The Mist (again, Netflix)?

Aidan made us like her and the writers of Parisian Valentine, The Hating Game and Last Night In Love, did her a HUGE favor by consolidating her as the “Queen of RomComs” by what standard? Well, don’t ask me.

The truth is, we accepted y/n into our hearts and homes, thanks to Aidan Kim and an unbelievable amount of luck, and we haven’t held her accountable for anything ever.

Here’s what I’m talking about, if you’re still wondering what the point of this article is, click on every link to be taken to the whole context, you’ll thank me later:

❍Y/N yells at paparazzi to leave her alone as she walks around Beverly Hills with Victoria Presley.

❍ Y/N praises Taylor Swift while tearing down several male artists for writing songs about their personal experiences.

❍ Y/N says in interview with ELLE that not every movie has to be “profound”.

And just for fun:

❍ A collection of Y/N’s disastrous looks.

It’s time we realize y/n y/ln is talentless, has a horrible personality and feigns innocence she certainly doesn’t have. You will NOT continue to take advantage of us, y/n! It’s all over for you, so I’m glad you’re dropping your pathetic career to become a WAG. #Y/NIsOverParty.

↺ FROM ❛WE WATCH❜ PODCAST

Paul Byrnes: Can y/n really do another role now, after all she’s known for are romantic comedies?

Anna Sanchez: well, I really liked her in The Mist, she did great as character in a horror it was—

Paul Byrnes: No one cares about The Mist, Anna, just you.

Anna Sanchez: all I’m saying is she’s a good actress, she can do other things. That was your question, Paul.

Paul Byrnes: Well, in my opinion she can't and that's it.

↺ FROM ❛IT TALK❜ PODCAST

Greg Zane: Let's talk y/n y/ln and her fashion choices now that she's an F1 WAG. What do we think?

Riley Green: She's a what now? How long has it been since she broke up with Aidan Kim?

Martha Vincent: I think she's looking great, I just wish she'd let go of the ugly caps.

Riley Green: No seriously, how long did she stay single?

Greg Zane: I agree Martha, but caps are big in Formula 1, nothing we can do about that. I'm wondering if she'll go for a more glamorous look in Monaco.

Riley Green: guys? hello?

Martha Vincent: Oh Riley, we're not talking about her love life, let it go.

↺ FROM ❛HOLLYWOOD VIBES❜ PODCAST

Pauline Oscar: [cont.] I'm just so curious about the reason of their breakup, why hasn't anyone said anything?! It must be juicy.

Brenda Yim: I feel like it's bad for one of them, most likely y/n. Hello, can anyone offer one of their friends some money? Just like old times!

Pauline Oscar: [laughs] Definitely! We need to know! Can it get any worse than the fact that she's already with another guy? What's his name? Charles Le what? She soooo cheated.

liked by charles_leclerc, vicpresley, mati.bassi, carlossainz55 and others.

ynfreesia UM THE LIKES?

xxynbaby it's "monaco" of course

aidanluvs you don't even have the decency to pretend like you're alone? fuck you

ynredstar i cannot defend you if you pull this shit girl

mati.bassi great view for breakfast with my best girl!💕

ynredstar oh ynredstar nevermind thanks mati ↳ feels4aidan don't be so gullible she's obviously covering up for them

THE COMMENTS FOR THIS POST ARE DISABLED.

May 27th, Montecarlo, Monaco.

THERE are tears in your eyes, and despite your best efforts not to let them run down your cheeks, it's futile. The worst part is that you're the one doing this to yourself. There's zero need to read 'articles' from pseudo journalists on how a man gave you your career and how you're tossing it into the trash for another. Not to mention the cascade of curses you received for a picture on instagram, where everyone thought you were with the other man.

Has your life really come to this? People don't talk about you unless a guy is involved? You loathe it. Your career was never about Aidan, and it's not about Charles now. Who only makes things worse every time he shows up and yet you can't manage to bring it up to him.

It's embarrassing. You don't want to walk up to him during whatever free time he has in a hectic weekend, and ask him if it really doesn't annoy him everything the press has made up about the two of you, or if he's really that unbothered by being paired up with you in the wildest scenarios, and tell him that he can shut them down whenever he feels like it (you wish he would already), and let him know you won't mind whatever he says about not being involved with you.

But no, Mr. Leclerc is busy giving unclear answers at interviews and liking your instagram posts, as if this isn't already a wildfire.

You put down your phone and pick it back up almost immediately, Vic's ringtone fills your hotel room and you wipe away your tears before answering her FaceTime request.

"Were you crying?" it's the first thing she says, moving her sunglasses to the top of her head. There's a lot of noise in the background and you can barely make the words out, but she comes so close to the phone that all you can see is the tip of her nose. "Why were you crying?"

"It's nothing, Vic. What's up?" you sigh, rubbing your eyes only makes things worse but you don't want to worry about that now.

"I just got to Monaco, babe," the phone is at a safe distance from her nostrils again and you can see around her, the airport where you landed a few days ago. "I'm with my parents," she rolls her eyes, lowering her voice. "But if you could get me into the Ferrari Suite I can hang out with you tomorrow!"

They allowed you one guest and the spot has already been taken by Mati, so there really isn't much you can do in terms of getting her into the Ferrari Suite. "Well, let me see what I can do, okay?"

"Okay," she sounds unsure, you know Vic enough to be sure she expected a different answer. "I mean my parents have Lounge privileges but it's more fun to be with you."

Had she said something about coming to Monaco you might have been able to do something, but as far as you were concerned she planned to stay in France all week, enjoying Cannes and mingling.

"I'll do my best Vic, but you know how they are," you exhale heavily, "Plus it's a crazy-ass weekend."

"Isn't it always?" she's yawning now, "We can meet for dinner later and you can tell me what's up alright? Being with my parents is so boring."

You shake your head, "Be nice, they just want to hang out with you. I'll call you after Quali," you check the clock on top of the nightstand, it's 10 am. You have to get ready for FP3, which you don't care about attending or not but Stuart Schaffer asked to see you, so you haven't got much of a choice.

"Sure babes, love you." Vic pulls her sunglasses down again and blows a kiss to the screen.

"Love you too," it's your turn to yawn as you tap the hang up button.

You look at the special edition Ferrari cap you received as a gift yesterday on top of your suitcase and immediately discard the idea of wearing it. No caps. And then the wave of disgust invades you, are you seriously going to do what some random man said on a podcast you came across by accident?

The answer is yes, unfortunately.

─────────

You would rip your leg off if you could, at least it would mean you’d be able to get out of this chair and away from Stuart. But his palm resting on top of your knee feels like a death grip and you’re frankly afraid to move in case it goes further up.

Mati decided to skip FP3 and you’re really hoping she’ll be on time for Quali because you have no one else to talk to, Stuart is just parading you around again and keeping you way too close for comfort because he’s in a great mood since both Ferraris maintained their top spots and things are looking hopeful for Qualifying.

You know it’s your chance to ask if you can bring Victoria around tomorrow, and you know the answer will be yes, but you don’t. You don’t want to ask things from this man, he’s the type to never forget a debt.

You barely catch a glimpse of Carlos and Charles as they walk by on the way to their debrief and Charles waves at you quickly, with a single-dimpled smile. He’s wearing the same cap you refused to put on.

“I’m going to call my friend,” you blurt out once Charles is out of sight, finally moving your leg back to make Stuart’s hand drop. “She had the worst hangover, I have to check up on her.”

“Oh, you girls get wild in Monaco,” Stuart cackles as you sprint away from him, actually resisting the urge to wipe your knee clean.

"Hey y/n!" Mati's voice can barely be heard above the EDM playing wherever she is. "What's up?"

"Where are you?" you whine, looking back inside the Suite. "Help."

"What's wrong?" you picture her frowning as she tries to walk away from the noise helplessly.

You feel guilty for worrying her so you sigh. "Nothing, I just hate being here. Are you coming here for Qualifying?"

"Yep," she pops the 'p' and laughs. "Listen, why don't we have lunch here at the yacht and then go back for Quali?"

"Yes!" once again you look over your shoulder to where the Elix men are laughing at their own jokes and patting each other's backs. “I’m on my way, okay?”

“I’ll be right here, also don’t scare me like that again, please.”

“Sorry,” you chuckle, embarrassed. Maybe you’re a bit dramatic at times, but it’s really all good-natured. “See you in a minute.”

You turn to the door of the Suite, giving a short jump back when you open it at the same time as someone else.

“Oh, god,” you sigh, stepping inside as Charles moves out of the way to let you in. “Thanks.”

“Sorry I scared you,” he smiles, closing the door again once you’re fully in. Charles is once again holding a closed Elix can, tapping his fingers on the side.

You eye it suspiciously, wondering if the thing has really grown on him. After all, one of the first things he told you was how much it disgusted him.

“It’s alright. I thought you were in your debrief?” You grab a can of Elix yourself, looking good in front of the sponsors cannot hurt.

“It was a short one. Keep doing what you’re doing kind of thing,”

“Right. Well, good for both of you,” you look around for Carlos but he’s nowhere to be seen. “Would it jinx it to say ‘good luck’ for later?”

You know many sportspeople take their jinxes and rituals way seriously, and you don’t want to be the one to blame if something goes wrong for the local star.

Charles considers this for a second and then shakes his head no. “Wish me luck,” he smiles.

“Good luck, Charles.” You beam back at him, enjoying—despite yourself—the way his eyes burn into yours.

─────────

You’re back at the Suite with Mati 10 minutes before Qualifying starts. The tension that had seeped out of your body in the form of laughter and loud singing with Mati is already making its way back to your back and jaw. You’re not ready to be around the Elix people again, but you must. However, first, you make Matilde promise she won’t leave your side.

Stuart Schaffer is already patting the empty seat next to him when you make your way through the refreshment tables. You smile at him, a muscle in your cheek falters as you walk past him on your way to the balcony, to catch both Ferraris leaving the garage.

“Oh don’t drink that,” you whisper when you see Mati walk your way, two cans of Gold Elix in her hands. “Don’t.”

Matilde snorts, “You’re literally the ambassador of this thing, and you don’t like it?”

“SHHH!”

“Fine, but those guys are looking at us so we have to at least sip it.”

You groan, opening the one she offers you and then taking a huge gulp. “Yum,” you mock.

Mati laughs again before her face goes sour with the taste. “Oh my God,”

“Warned you,” yet you take another sip. You think that if it grew on Charles it might grow on you, but you don’t really see it happening.

Q1 and Q2 go by smoothly, at least for Ferrari and you’re on the edge of your seat for Q3. This is the race you’ve been more excited for, but it’s not like you’ve attended many others. Still, Monaco just hits different.

The end of Q3 almost gives you a heart attack, although you also blame your almost empty Elix. You didn’t even notice how much you drank, but the thing that really gets your heart jumping out of your chest is Victoria’s ringtone.

Begrudgingly, you turn away from the track. She has texted you a thousand times, without exaggerating, since Quali started and you know it’s because she’s bored out of her mind at the Lounge with her parents. But you’re starting to find this genuinely entertaining and you are bothered by the distraction.

“I told you I’d call you after Quali, Vic,” you singsong, looking up at the screens inside the Suite.

“Well Quali is almost over, no one cares about the last three minutes.”

You do, Max Verstappen is in first place, then Charles and Checo in P3. You’re crossing your fingers for Charles to manage to get above both Red Bulls. And for Carlos to squeeze in there too.

You don’t say anything else, too enthralled by the battle on the screen.

“Y/n?” Vic raises her voice, “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes Vic, what is it?”

“We’re going to be at Ferrari together tomorrow, right?”

You wince, glad she chose a phone call instead of FaceTime this time around. You haven’t asked and you don’t intend to. Vic still has VIP Lounge access, she’ll be fine.

“They said no, Vic.” You lie, your eyes scanning the screen, it’s the last lap before they get the checkered flag out. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why? Did you tell them I can give them publicity? I have one million followers!”

“Monaco is different from Miami,” you explain gently, “But you’ll still be at the VIP, you have a great view.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she’s beyond annoyed now, as it happens every time things don’t go her way. You can’t blame her, but you also think it will be good for her to spend some time with her parents, whom she refuses to visit although they live in Malibu and pay her mortgage. “We’re still up for dinner though, right?”

“Yep! I’ll meet you at your hotel.”

“Okay see you then, babes.”

By the time your eyes return to the screen, Charles is in P1, Carlos in P3 and the Ferrari Suite is exploding in cheers.

YOU’RE up painfully early the next day. Vic and you went back to your respective hotel way past three am and you’re exhausted, but at least you had enough self-control to avoid today’s hangover.

Nevertheless, the morning goes by in a blur between breakfast with Elix people, calls with Mildred and Walter, your manager, and two casting agents that tell you that no, you don’t need to go for an in-person casting, you’re not getting the role.

By the time you get to the Suite you have a headache and the knot on your throat is progressively getting harder to swallow. You only make things worse by rage-reading tweets with your #IsOver hashtag.

People claim, with more force every day, that Aidan gave you everything and you are starting to regret ever meeting him.

You have worked your ass off for years, taking on small roles, commercials, stock-photo deals. Learning scripts and going to castings and taking classes, you have been criticized and rejected for more things than just “not fitting the role”.

You have given everything you are and everything you have, and people assure what you got in return you owe it all to some man.

“Hola y/n!” Carlos is the first one to get back to the Suite and you wish he would rub off some of his good mood on you. “How are you today?”

“Hi Carlos, I’m alright and you?”

“You definitely look it,” he says, semi-sarcastically. “Something on your mind?”

The knot is back in your throat so you shake your head no. “And yours?”

“Nada de nada.” he smiles. You’re still growing on each other, but this is the most comfortable you’ve been while sharing the same space.

Charles arrives while Carlos, Mati (who is hungover from her party at the yachts) and you are comparing workout playlists. Wearing what now seems to be like his comfort cap, and a pair of ugly ripped jeans, he smiles brightly at the three of you.

You’re happy to see both Ferrari boys so smiley after the past couple races. Miami especially. And you hope they’ll do well; but you’re particularly scared for Charles, and whatever it is that made him unlucky in his hometown, you don’t want this day to end on a sour note.

You spend about an hour talking to them about anything, your movies, their races, Mati's tour with Romeo and Juliet. Music, hobbies and quirks, Charles and Carlos have an opinion on everything and they are actually quite fun to be around. Then, a Ferrari Team member comes to get them for the Drivers Parade so you wave them goodbye, wishing them a smooth race.

"You're not going to wish me luck, y/n?" Charles asks, the smirk on his face is one you identify as mischievous, and it makes a small wave of anxiety run down your back.

Mati stops the bottle of water halfway through her mouth to ogle at the two of you, and the palpable tension that has installed itself in the space.

"Good luck, Charles," the smile you return falters in one corner, but Charles doesn't seem to mind as he adjusts his cap and says thank you before leaving behind Carlos.

Mati has forgotten about her need to hydrate and is staring at you with both eyebrows raised. "I thought you were not doing that?" she gestures with her head towards the door through which both drivers vanished.

"I'm not doing anything," you reply, defensively. "He's being—"

"y/n, you could cut the tension there for a minute," Mati finally takes a swig of water and you wait for her to continue talking. "Like I said, I don't recommend it but... you're free to do whatever you want." she isn't unkind while wording that last part, but it still stings you with annoyance.

"Thanks, Mati." you bite the inside of your cheek, leaning back into the sofa.

─────────

The Ferrari Suite explodes in cheers once the checkered flag is out. After a frankly insane race with rain, crashes and too-long pit stops, both Ferraris have crossed the finish line, and most importantly Charles has finally managed to get rid of his Monaco curse. His enlarged picture appears on every screen with P1 right in the middle. Carlos is P4, but the points are extremely important in the long run, so people celebrate nevertheless.

Before you know it, Mati and you are being dragged down to the track for the podium celebrations. You're buzzing with excitement, holding Matilde's hand as you run to one side, where the mechanics can't crush you as they jump up and down.

Even above the general screams of happiness, you can hear talks of 'Charles deserves this so much', 'It was about time' and 'His hard work is finally paying off at home'.

At least someone's blood, sweat and tears are valued.

YOU are probably not living down the Charles dating allegations this weekend. Which is not your fault, honestly, had they enlarged the picture, it would have shown Mati just as excited for Ferrari as you were. She's Italian, and she bleeds for Ferrari.

But right now, surprisingly, you're not overwhelmed with whatever it is they're saying on Twitter. Although it took Mati snatching your phone away and tossing it in her own purse before sitting you down to retouch your makeup for the celebration party.

Victoria is joining you too, because a 'the more the merrier' applies to any sort of party happening in a Monaco club, especially if it is for the unofficial prince.

It is the first time in three months you let go of your worries, even if it is for the shortest amount of time as you dance with Victoria and Mati and drink anything you please and whoop every time the DJ mentions Charles and Carlos.

You're happy to be with your friends, away from Elix and celebrating two people who can become something more than coworkers to you. Although through the night you see them on a few occasions, Carlos waves at you as he passes by a few times only stopping in the third time to let you congratulate him with a quick hug that's more of a shoulder squeeze than anything.

Charles is obviously harder to approach, and to be fair, it's not like you're even trying. He's surrounded by his hometown friends and by anyone who wants to have his attention for a minute, for a picture or a dance or to buy him a drink.

It's past three am when Victoria is beyond buzzed and you're starting to feel exhausted so you decide it's time to leave. Mati has found someone to take home so she's been gone for around forty minutes, minding her business.

"Come on, let's go," you are grabbing Victoria by the wrist as her ankle twists. "We've both had enough," you laugh, Victoria joins your laughter as you snake through the crowd of people pumping fists in the air, some of them point and wave at you and you smile back at them politely.

You hear your name being passed around a few times, but you focus on finding the exit while keeping Victoria by your side, who has started to whine about not wanting to leave.

Once you break into the outside, you take a breath of fresh air, the coolness makes your skin rise in goosebumps and you shiver, letting go of Victoria to lift the hair on the back of your neck.

"It's too early!" Victoria complains once again, her eyes are glassy and she's just as sweaty.

"It's not, plus you're drunk, we should leave," your ears still feel drowned in the sound of music. “My feet are killing me.”

The exit opens again, and a couple stumbles out laughing and they tell Vic and you goodbye in drunken French. Before the door shuts again, Charles is out on the street too.

"I heard you were leaving," he says in what you're sure it's a too loud voice. But your ears have barely stopped ringing, so you can't blame him. "Are you two okay?" he eyes Victoria, who is starting to lean down on her knees to soothe her dizziness.

"Oh we're alright, we've just partied enough," you smile at him. Charles is rosy, bright-eyed and sweaty. Is it corny to describe someone as painfully handsome?

"I didn't get to congratulate you," you add, trying to keep your attention on Charles while being aware that Victoria might start retching at any given moment. "You did amazing."

Victoria straightens immediately, her glassy stare focusing on Charles. "You're such a good driver, Charles, for real."

"Thank you," Charles nods awkwardly a few times as Victoria pokes him with her left index finger. "And thank you y/n."

"Come on, Vic," you chuckle, keeping her hand away from Charles. "Seriously though, I'm happy for you."

Charles smiles again, running a hand through his hair. "Thank you, really. I'm sorry I didn't see you earlier," he points behind him, to the club.

"It's your party, you can't be everywhere,"

Vic is yawning loudly, and you roll your eyes, amused. "We better get going."

"y/n, when are you flying to Spain?" Charles blurts out, the moment you turn to lead Vic down the street.

"I'm not sure, Wednesday probably?"

"You know, I can still show you a place or two in Monaco. If you want." He sinks his left hand in the front pocket of his dark jeans, and you wonder where the mischievous aura from what seems like ages ago went.

You pause, letting Vic put her whole weight on your shoulder as she finally gives up to the exhaustion. "Um well..."

The same tension that appeared at the Ferrari Suite is back, and the more you hesitate, the thicker it becomes.

Victoria pulls you down with her as she throws her head back, yawning again. Charles is just in time to hold you back up, his other arm pulling Vic back to a standing position.

"Only if you want," he says, he is far too close now and you can smell the mix of alcohol and cologne on him.

And maybe it's the alcohol in your own system, and you'll regret this once you sober up and realize that you told Matilde several times this is exactly what you were not going to do, but you say yes.

─── team principal radio: ❝thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. I want to say thank you to everyone who interacts with this series, it means a lot to me to know that you're enjoying it!♡❞

✰ paddock club members: @majx00

[en-hazed]

collect my pages

PAIRING: slenderman!sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE / CW: this is kinda like scary? reader is alone in the woods so you can def guess what’s going on

WARNING: sunghoon doesn’t have some kind of age, so let’s say he’s like 100 years olds lmao, reader is 19, psychological horror (?) kinda, smut, dub-con, sunghoon is fucking big like in all meanings, tentacles, creampie, kissing, angst (?), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), petnames, praising, begging, dacriphilia, size kink, if i missed something i’ll edit this later. MINORS DNI.

A/N: this is purely based on the game and theories about slenderman (not on the movie), so i’m really sorry if there’s something that doesn’t really match the storyline :( also im not rlly good at writing smut

There was something that you found interesting and endearing about walking alone in the woods as a relief. You weren’t the kind of girl to spend much time with friends since you enjoyed more your alone time, even though you’ve heard some rumors about you in college that you were weird for such thing, but it’s not like you really cared, at all.

You never feared the dark as a little child, your mom did think there was something wrong with it since all of the kids usually are scared of it, but for you, it was different. You find comfort in it –somehow– but it wasn’t something to be ashamed of.

Today was one of those days where school ended a little late, and you decided to take a late walk to the woods that was near to where you lived. The feeling of the cold breeze hitting you felt like a kiss, even wearing your big puffy coat, you still could feel it.

Being by yourself had some advantages, such as spending as much time as you want to exploring the deep parts of the woods, looking at little details and also observing the pretty dark blue color in the sky. You always thought that there was something so beautiful about the woods, you didn’t know if it was the pretty trees, the fallen leaves on the ground or everything about it.

Roaming around, you found some weird looking note that was glued to the tree, as you were getting closer, you got goosebumps. You usually didn’t find things in the woods since no one really came here because it’s been kinda abandoned, so it made you feel really curious if somebody came before you and put things just for fun to scare people off.

But the note was really weird looking. Why did the note say “HELP ME” in such a creepy writing? Was there someone here following you all along pranking you?

You definitely felt followed, but that didn’t change the growing curiosity that you had wondering if there were more notes. Walking faster and careful looking through all the trees weren’t sufficient, you definitely needed some kind of flashlight, and lucky for you, you always carry one in your backpack.

Getting the flashlight, turning it on, you started looking for more information. You definitely thought that you looked kinda crazy running around the woods if somebody came by, but there was something so interesting about this that you just couldn’t let it go.

In the distance, you could see a new note attached to another tree, you rapidly went and took it, this one saying “CAN’T RUN”. Adrenaline was hell, you felt like you could explode, were all these notes some kind of puzzle that you needed to complete? How many of them are? Such thoughts were in your mind as you were trying to calm yourself while looking at the piece of paper with the word that has been written.

Taking both notes, you did not wanna lose them, so you put them both in your pocket, and resumed roaming around. You noticed there was some kind of strange road that led you to an ever bigger part of the woods, and also, to some new pages.

This time, there was some kind of tall, really tall man drawn on with some words, such as saying “NO” and “FOLLOWS”. Is this some kind of prank? You just couldn’t step out, you were kinda lost, you’ve never been this deep inside and now, it was kinda scaring you. Your phone didn’t have any kind of connection or signal around, so you were definitely fucked.

Taking this situation lightly wasn’t a great idea at all, you knew your mom was worried since you don’t last that much time outside that much. Anxiety was killing you at this point, what the hell was going on? Also, it was also getting really late, you took a little peak of you clock, and it was almost past midnight.

Running around was simply not helping, you felt like you were stuck in some fucked up maze that didn’t have any kind of exit. You wanted to scream, you really did, but you didn’t want people thinking that you were getting murdered or something. Starting to feel dizzy, everything was looping, feeling like you couldn’t get out was one of, if not, your biggest fear. Without noticing, you fell to the ground, your strength was gone, and your head was pounding.

More than 10 minutes passed since you were still in the ground, until you felt some kind of presence, the goosebumps coming back again. You were too far gone to even try to open your eyes, so if someone tried to kill right there, you didn’t care at that point.

The breeze was getting colder, creaking was louder, and there was something there with you, but you didn’t dare to look. Some steps were getting closer to you, and you almost started praying to God to help you out if he was even hearing your pleads.

Now you were crying, you were the one that started following all of those stupid notes going nowhere, and now you were stuck in the deep zone of the woods. After some minutes of thinking, you had the guts to speak up.

— Is somebody here? Anyone? Please, I swear I’m a good person, I won’t do anything to you, but please, I need a reply. — You stated, trying to look around in the dark, since you forgot where you put your flashlight and also, you lost your glasses.

Nothing, you did not receive some kind of reply, so now you were thinking if everything that’s happening is some kind of hallucination from your mind.

From the distance, you swear you saw something, like some big thing standing there, but you couldn’t even seem to confirm that since your poor eyesight wasn’t helping you at all. But that weird creature looking thing was getting closer this time, and you didn’t have that much space to move, so you had to act fast and start walking from there.

Looking back wasn’t something that you wanted to do, if you did that it was gonna be really scary knowing something was chasing you in the dark. But what you didn’t know, that tall white man could teleport if he wanted to, and now, he was right in front of you.

You froze, what was that? You starting looking up and down trying to figure out if it was human or not. He was wearing some kind of suit, his hands were so pale and white, his fingers were so long and his face, you couldn’t really recognize it. He did have some prominent facial features, such as his nose and eyebrows, and also his hair.

— Are you lost, little thing? Have you collected my pages? — He finally spoke, his voice was… something. Not really deep nor sharp, it was just unexplainable.

— I’m sorry, what? — You asked, pages? Why is that his first thought?

— My pages. They’re all attached to different trees. Have you collected them? — He added, getting a little more closer to you.

Oh, so the notes you were looking for, that now you know they aren’t pages, he was the one who attached them to the trees? Is he crazy or something?

— I lost them. I got lost here and when I ran, they kinda flew away from my pockets. I’m sorry, if you’re gonna kill me, go ahead. — You hung down your head, you were definitely cooked and also getting killed in the woods. How nice!

— Game over then. — He spoke lastly, you looked at him with now, more tears in your eyes. He gave you a smile, his fangs were now shown.

His cold hand went to your chin, making you look up to where his eyes were supposed to be, but you were looking at some faceless man. You got caught in his tentacles, putting you in the air and almost choking you by how tight he was taking you.

— Pl.. please don’t do a-anything.. I swear, I’ll do whatever you w..want! — You tried speaking, but your chest felt so heavy that it was almost impossible to.

— Well, actually I do want something from you, if you don’t wanna get killed. — He spoke, his voice was now kinda deeper than before and it was scarier. You could feel his gaze up and down around your body, as if it was scanning you.

— W-what is it? Please! Tell me! — You replied rapidly, gulping. You were in a situation that defined between you being alive or dead, so you were willing to do anything at this point.

You were feeling already anxious until you felt his could touch in your body, closing hard your eyes, you were psyching yourself up that everything that was happening it was all in your imagination. Tears were staining your face, your cheeks turning red and your makeup all messed up.

His cold tentacles were groping you, touching you everywhere while you were just crying. You couldn’t get out of his grip since he was way too strong and taller than you. He started undressing you, retiring your skirt and leaving your tights on. Was this some kind of kink he had?

— I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, looking like a scaredy cat, crying and without any kind of escape from me. — He said, smiling proudly, giggling. His big hands were taking your head, making you look at him. Somehow, he changed your position, using his tentacles to tie your feet, and also your hands together, that were now resting behind your back.

You felt how something cold was poking your now dampened panties, you were definitely scared but your body wasn’t feeling like that. You closed your eyes harshly, not wanting to see what was about to happen. The cold breeze was now feeling like if death was coming near you, not feeling like something safe.

With no further preparation, he pushed himself inside of you, feeling like your guts and tight cunt were being rearranged by his big member. You couldn’t stop yourself from whining and screaming out loud, you weren’t a virgin sure, but his cock felt like dying.

— Don’t be t-too harsh! P-please! — Trying to speak while he was pounding deeper and deeper inside you was tough and more like a challenge.

He tsked his long tongue in response, not really caring about you and going harder on you. One of his tentacles groping your boobs mercilessly, while the other ones were simply roaming around your body.

Changing your position, now in doggy style, he was going harshly and harder, your body was hurting and your were being treated like nothing but a sex doll. You felt your vision going blurry, your hearing going off and feeling extremely numb. You closed your eyes and that’s where you forgot about everything.

Waking up felt like a nightmare, your whole body felt sore, you were covered in cum and definitely felt how the hot liquid was slipping from your thighs. Trying to look for your glasses or any kind of clothing (since you were naked) looking around. That’s when you saw some random guy, weirdly dressed with a suit and also using some glasses, he was tall and pale.

— Are you okay? Do you need help? — That anonymous guy spoke, looking at you and then your whole body, smirking.

You couldn’t even speak at all, so you just nodded. He helped you get up, he somehow carried things in his pockets such as tissues, that he used on you, trying to get you clean.

Finishing by putting on your clothes, you patted all of your body, as if there were some kind of dirt (there was, everything was all covered in it). You looked again at that weird guy that happened to find you in such condition, what was he doing here?

— I’m Sunghoon, and I definitely can read your mind, I just happened to be here when I found you here all alone, covered in… Whatever that was, no need to thank me. — He finished saying, still smirking and looking at you as if he was scanning your whole body.

As a blink, he disappeared, nowhere to be found. There was some weird vibe coming from that guy that you couldn’t explain, but you felt like you already knew him.

What the fuck just happened to you? You for sure were having some kind of fucking overdose of some fucked up vivid dream, you will never be the same after this.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day twenty-eight: uniform kink

>>> all the hating bitches to the back i literally do not want to hear it!!! ttyl xoxo this is for more of my depraved self-ship needs

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: established relationship, clothed sex, reader and gojo have three kids, breeding/pregnancy kink, uniform kink obviously i swear they tie in bear w me, spankings, doggy >>> wc: 3.6k >>> event masterlist:

it started out innocently enough. well, that’s a lie. it was not innocent, ever—though it wasn’t weird!! you guys are the same age, married for years–with children! it’s only weird when there’s massive age gaps, right? either way, he feels a daunting sense of guilt mixed with devious amounts of excitement shiver down his spine as you step around the corner. 

the two of you have been pilfering through boxes all day, trying to clear out the bonus room now that the girls were old enough to have their own rooms. they were visiting uncle megumi while their parents rearranged the house to surprise them, but it seems you’ve gotten a little side-tracked walking down memory lane. the first box was full of pictures from school, some of your earliest moments with satoru memorialized forever in the stills. it does make you a little emotional to think about how far the two of you have come, the years spent together and the things accomplished side by side. these pictures tell your story; the first few days of school where you and satoru—then spitefully called gojo-kun—stood at opposite ends of the frame to be as separated as possible. satoru gives ieiri bunny ears and you’re hugging suguru’s arm–but the two of you are looking at each other. it’s clear to you now that you were trying to make each other jealous, but at the time you would have sworn to the heavens above that you couldn’t stand the man. 

now satoru always had a soft spot for you, torturing you was all just fun and games to him—until you started dating a guy from the kyoto school. this, of course, was memorialized in pictures too. there teenage you stood, all dressed up for winter formal, grinning ear to ear as you pose for the camera shoko was operating. you can remember this like it was yesterday, standing in your dorm after exchanging your uniform skirt for an icy blue cocktail dress—you were more nervous for a certain someone to see you than you were to meet up with your date. you knew what you were doing when you picked the dress out, and its effect was clearly captured with satoru’s bulging eyes, red face, and gaping mouth in the background. you pass that one to your husband after taking a few good chuckles at it, remembering shoko turning around her little canon camera to show you the picture and how good you felt after seeing gojo-kun’s reaction. 

he waves the picture in his hands, whistling in the same way he did as soon as that camera fell to shoko’s side. he looks at the picture with fondness, remembering it as the moment he decided to get serious about you. the warmth in his cheeks and jealousy squeezing his heart as your date came to pick you up had him reeling to come up with a way to stop you from going. 

“he gonna make you go halfsies on dinner?” he calls after you, and embarrassment stung your cheeks. your date, just as petrified of gojo as he should be, shakes his head no. 

“n–no, we’re going on full stomachs.” he replies, clutching a pathetic bouquet in his hands. gojo laughs. that bouquet was three dollars maximum, and you were a $30 arrangement at the least. and too cheap to take you on a real date? he shouldn’t be surprised, but he can’t help but press on at the horror on your face and the desperation in his gut. 

“ah, daddy didn’t give you any money? i’ll pay you enough to get yourself a real nice dinner if you leave the lady with me.” he sings, holding out a few yen notes for him. you’re mortified, sure this was another one of his stunts to embarrass you— but your date was easily bought. 

“but–”

“b-but–” gojo rolled his eyes in annoyance, slapping the money in his hand. “i recommend the sushi place on the corner.” he turns, beaming at you, slipping his arm through yours when the kyoto boy drops— without skipping a beat. “c’mon. i believe there’s a dance tonight?” he pulls his sunglasses down his nose a little bit to let you see the mischief and excitement swirling in his eyes. 

you bite the inside of your cheek. you want to punch him in the arm–so you do–and then you nod. it sure took him long enough. “you better make this worth it, gojo-kun.” 

he grins. “call me satoru and i’ll make it all worth it, pretty lady.” his voice is a low rumble in his chest instead of his usual light tone. it makes your heart skip a beat and that warmth burn on your cheeks again. 

you never call him gojo-kun again. the rest is history–a viewable version with the many grainy phone selfies of dates and onslaught of school photographs and even an old camcorder with some footage of you practicing your technique on him made it to this spare room. you’re amazed at how nostalgic it all feels, pulling out a picture of you and satoru on graduation day. he’s smiling and pressing a kiss to your cheek—making the switch to a blindfold instead of his circular specs. his hair stands due to the fabric, but you liked the new look; especially when he pulled the blindfold up to wink at you and let you see his sunshine. he’s slumped over you, arms wrapped around your chest. you’re grinning, leaning back against him with your hands tucked into his hold on you. it’s a sweet picture—but you’re focused on the next few. you’re in the same position, but he sneaks his hand to the dip of your waist, then your hip, finally ending with a picture of you blushing from the invisible hand grabbing a handful of your ass. you pass those to satoru too, watching his expression as he flips through them, admiring the youth on your faces. 

“god you made that uniform so sexy.” he snorts, eyes dancing over the way the black fabric clung to you. at the time, he wondered if you’d ordered it that tight just to taunt him, but now he knew there was no amount of clothes that could’ve hidden that bangin’ bod. he shakes his head as he remembers just how horny he had been–not that much has changed even after three kids and over fifteen years together. “had so many fantasies of you in that thing.” 

you arch a brow, “really now?” you ask, clearly intrigued. you had seen the familiar bundle of fabric folded at the bottom of the box. “what kind of fantasies?” you purr, making the hairs on the back of neck stand up, the effects you had fifteen years ago just as efficacious now. 

how honest could he even be with that answer? yes, back then—even as your equal, he envisioned punishing you as your sensei in that little skirt—oh the ways he would have defiled you in yaga’s classroom if you had let him. he’d wondered if you would lean into the slutty schoolgirl act, if you would call him sensei instead of daddy. or would you think that was too much given his current occupation. not like it was the uniform that he liked, just the way you looked in it—and the way it felt to be young and obsessed with you. his obsession has never wavered, its just had to become more subdued as you raise your children —wanting to be a good example and all, he’s nothing but a loving and proper man in front of them. buuuuut. they were with megumi for a few more hours. “what other kinda fantasies about schoolgirls are there, gorgeous?” 

“you perv! gives gojo-sensei a whole new meaning.” you tease him, watching in sheer enjoyment as his cheeks darken a few shades and he crinkles his nose at you in embarrassment. 

“only if you say it like that.” he mumbles in his defense. great, now you think he’s a sicko. he turns back to his box of collectibles, pilfering through what he actually cared to keep now—even though he hasn’t seen any of it since your oldest was born. it’s mostly to hide his shame as he continues to think about you in that little getup with that matured body of yours. he wonders if the material would stretch to accommodate your wider hips and fatter ass. he wonders if the stretchmarks you’ve developed from carrying his children would peek over the waistband of the skirt that’s sure to ride up a little due to your widened thighs. he’s so immersed in the thought of you that he doesn’t hear you slip around the corner to tug on the old outfit. 

it certainly doesn’t fit the same, but it fits. there’s not a shred of modesty to be found– the once form fitting turtleneck top now a cropped version due to the strain from your chest. you hadn’t realized just how much your body had changed beside the obvious pounds on the scale and the marks on your skin—but your mid-thigh length skirt was now a navy mini, showing the dimples of your thighs and the bottom of your ass cheeks. you were no longer the girl from those pictures, but instead a woman who bears the beautiful changes of giving three gorgeous gojo’s life. your husband has always been a massive fan of what he calls “enhancements” to his favorite areas—loving the fluffy stomach for him to rub and the hips that fill his hands. he traces your stretch marks to soothe his racing mind at night, snuggling into your heavy chest for warmth and ultimate comfort in his free time. you know he’s only fallen deeper in love with you and it makes your heart warm with appreciation now that the differences between the young you and the current have been made so clear. you almost give up on the idea altogether, but your husband’s voice calls out for you, so you step around the corner before you can doubt yourself any more. 

he was giving you the sweetest little face—holding up your youngest’s hospital baby blanket with only fondness in his eyes. that is until it registers, as his eyes follow your bulging chest struggling against the fabric, the sides of your hips spilling over the top of the skirt—barely covering anything at all. his face turns red and the blanket falls from his hands, back into the box from whence it came. oh the shame he feels as his cock processes this shock too—making him hiss at the sudden tightness in his pants, biting his lip as he looks at you. it worked on you then and you make it your bitch now, absolutely stunning him beyond words. and he’s never short on things to say. you look even better than anything his imagination drummed up for him. fuck, you are so sexy—you only get better with age. 

the way he looks at you makes you feel like he’s falling in love all over again—eyes bouncing around your frame like he can’t make up his mind to settle on one area. your face burns under his amorous stare, but you fold your hands behind your back and sway to let him admire you. it makes your whole body warm and your cunt clench around nothing the longer he sits and stares–biting his lip, clearly in no hurry to end this moment. as beautiful as he makes you feel, you just can’t help but tease him slightly. you know he’ll pay it back in kind. “do you like it, gojo-sensei?” 

“oh aijichan, can’t you tell?” he hums, eyes falling to his clear erection before they flicker back to you—overcast and darker than usual. he usually playfully calls you his lover, but the addition of the suffix lets you know how thoroughly he’s enjoying your little act. he pats his thigh, spreading his legs even wider across the luxurious office chair. you giggle a little bit, excitement flooding your veins as you walk over to meet him. how you swing your hips and flutter your lashes is not lost on him, in fact he feels the painful buildup pressing against your thigh as you sit sideways on his, looping an arm across his shoulders. “you were such a good little girl in school. i always wondered what it would be like to treat you like a bad one.” he offers, his voice a permanent purr when it comes to the naughty things he presses to your ear. 

it sends a shudder down your spine, and you can’t help but press your chest closer to him in an automatic response. he hooks his hand around your waist, feeling the dip of your waist. he doesn’t miss the reaction—and he loves that you like it. his hand squeezes the fat on your hips, helping you off his lap before standing to full height to tower above you. 

“then bend it over, little lady.” he suggests with a wiggle of his brow, pushing the office chair closer to you with his signature smugness. his eyes sparkle with an erratic excitement, gripping the back of the chair with a tight hold—leaving his impressions in the fabric. you giggle and lean over the chair as instructed. a giddiness floods your veins while he walks circles around you, humming approvingly. “i think ten should teach you your lesson, hm?” 

you wiggle your ass preemptively and nod just to be safe. “yes sir, i think that’ll fix everything.” you purr, feeling one harsh spank to your cheek. it sends a jolt of excitement pulsating to your core, and you know that the results will be evident once he moves your skirt. the arms of the chair dig into your stomach—but it just adds to the sensation as he layers a few intense slaps to your ass. 

“well?” he talks over your loud squeals and happy giggles. “aren’t you going to say thank you?” he hums, shoving your skirt up to your waist to expose the growing redness and incriminating wetness all over your bottom half. he chuckles fondly—you surely do impress. he hits you once more. 

“yes–mmf-” you moan out at the stinging sensation. it’s so much more pleasurable on your bare skin, you can’t help but arch back into him, giving him such a beautiful view of your glistening hole and handprint-branded ass. he slaps it again, enjoying the recoil. “thank you sensei, feels so good~”

he kneads the irritated flesh a little in between the spanks–he’s not heartless, after all. you’re his wife, no amount of roleplay could make him forget the love that swells in his heart for you; especially with that beautiful ass of yours. “that’s seven—can you take your last three, naughty little thing?” 

“mhm, i can take it.” you assure him, finding it wholesome and sexy that he still checks on you even if the dirty talk never skips a beat. from the way you wiggle your bruising ass for him, he knows you’re loving this. he cups his hand under your pussy just to check even though your shiny thighs tell him all he needs to know. he’s delighted when your essence coats his hand anyway, giggling with schoolgirl excitement. hey, that’s your part—

“seems the punishment’s only making you badder.” he hums in approval, hurrying his last few spanks up in order to finally have you. he makes them count though, loud and stinging worse than a wasp—though you can’t recall the last time a bee sting made you feel that good. he can’t remember the last time you two had the house to yourselves, and he planned to put that all of that alone time to good use. you scream out and shudder at the delicious agony, tossing a look over your shoulder to see the sheer pleasure on his face–tufts of hair hanging over his vivid eyes. “seems we’ll just have to move onto something that suits you, aijichan.” 

you clamp down reflexively at his statement, nodding to your undetermined punishment, if such a thing existed under your husband’s treatment. he frees his erection with a little grunt of relief, sliding it through your sloppy lips instantly. he sighs at the feeling—but you whine at the lack of relief. the fire in your gut was burning so hot—you couldn’t take any more of the waiting.

“aw, what is it, little girl?” he mockingly pouts with you. “so needy for your sensei you could cry?” he arches a brow–sheathing his impressive length into the hilt without any more wasted time. he closes his eyes at the feeling of you, just as tight and warm as the first time he had you. it’s wild to him how three kids haven't changed how amazing it is to have you wrapped around him. 

you do cry out at how perfect he fits inside—curving into every gummy spot that needs him with hardly any effort. the sound you make is like music to his ears. you haven’t been able to be this loud since ieiri took the kids to the beach for a weekend four and a half years ago—and that’s how your youngest happened. not to say you haven’t been intimate since, just more…cautious and certainly more quiet. but that does give him an idea. 

he starts to move, grabbing a decent handful of your hair to make a handle out of, pulling you up into a pretty arch. “got one more in you, princess?” he coos, leaning over your body to give you short but powerful thrusts. you can tell from his tone and your regular nickname that playtime was over—he was too consumed by the feeling of you coupled with the undying love you bring out of him to keep up the pet names, but he could succumb to the flash of memories flooding his brain. falling in love with you, making you his for the first time which was also the day he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. he can see the day you played strip uno—which was something he made up just to be cheesy. he remembers your wedding day, you looked so beautiful and were already a few weeks pregnant with your first baby together–your son. god, the memories of you swollen and whiny—

“i—are you serious?” you giggle, a little out of breath from the rigorous way he rocks into you, keeping your asscheeks separated so he didn’t have any resistance. you knew what he was asking, and you know your heart flutters at the idea of having another one despite agreeing to stop after the ones you have. “i thought three was all you could handle?”

“i changed my mind. wanna see you big again. i miss it—’nd i can handle anything.” he says in between the sound of his balls hitting your ass. you can hear the pout in his voice, “you don’t want one?” 

“didn’t say that.” you struggle to form responses, knuckles turning white as you grip the desk in front of you. “just wanted—to be sure—you’re sure!” you squeal with every bruising thwap to your cervix, eyes scrunched shut. you’re almost so gone you might just agree to anything, but the idea of one more pregnancy, one more addition to the family, one more round of being endlessly spoiled as you wait for another gorgeous baby to arrive—it doesn’t sound so bad. it sounds perfect actually, and his words only egg you on. you clench around him in spasms, nodding. “gimme–” 

he chuckles wildly in pride. he would say he loves bully-fucking you into getting his way, but he heard you on the phone with your girlfriend the other day. you were missing that feeling of a new baby as much as he was—and he’s here to please. he moves your hips back to meet his, ass bouncing at the force. your squeals slip into screams and he’s fucking you as hard as he can in order to get more of it: of the sounds, the feeling of your womb keeping him from going any further, the way your pussy flutters around him to tell him you’re so close to cumming—everything was sending him reeling. 

“cum for me first—then’ll give you everything you want, baby.” he encourages, giving you a cocky, “yeahhhh that’s my girl.” when he feels you coat around him—gasping out moans as your legs wiggle and jump. it’s not long after that that he’s gripping your hair even harder, balls drawing up close to him just to spurt his seed as deep as it will go—hoping that his sperm is still just as successful as it’s been known to be. he helps shove it deeper with a few more rolls of his hips, to which you shiver and whine due to oversensitivity.

he pats your ass affectionately, leaning over you again to kiss your cheek as you both sit in the moment and try to catch your breath. he lets your hair fall from his fingers and gently brushes it out of your face, grinning his usual giddy grin. “you’re even sexier now, you know? feel like it’s every day, but even teen satoru would—”

“allllllright thank you, honey, that’s sweet.” you chuckle, shaking your head as he pulls out. he scoops you over his shoulder and shakes his head. 

“whaaaaat–you’re a fucking milf–” he slaps your ass playfully as he sashays toward your room with you. “that i still have–mmm forty-five more minutes give or take to knock up again.” he guesstimates, tossing you on the mattress and crawling over you—determined as ever.

[windienine]

the best game of 2024 was an hour-long visual novel demo, and i can't tell you how it ends

attack and dethrone god.

okay. oh my god. soul of sovereignty by ggdg (of lady of the shard & deltarune fame) is discounted for only a few more days, so i need to get this one out while the iron's hot.

so: i'm inviting you along on another journey. we're following a polite gentleman of the wizardly inclination (loïc) who is approached by a sickly woman in dire need (ysmé). all she requests, in her plea, is an escort to guide her to the nearby temple. his decision to support her may turn out to be the most important choice he ever makes.

... have you ever enjoyed the kind of narrative that traps two people with heavily contrasting motives and personalities together in an unbreakable contract? do you like stories of absolute devotion?

i could look at this shot forever ngl

... are you compelled by immersive speculative fantasy worlds where the use and study of magic heavily influences the rhythm of people's day-to-day lives?

(really intriguing magical linguistics system going on here)

... do you ever promise too much of yourself to others, sometimes, even when it's a bad idea?

... if it was possible -- if you could -- would you abandon your humanity for the power to change your world forever?

and, whatever you may feel in your heart about the above...

do you want to see behind the eyes of a hot trans girl as she bullshits her way into a truly volatile level of power and influence and gets everything she wants?

(+ her pet dilf lovely assistant)

if even one of these elicited a "yes," i think you'll love this story.

i'll go out of a limb:

i think, if you open up your heart, you'll find yourself falling for both of the leads. It's a game that really wants you to look at it from every angle, take it apart, and ask questions about loïc, ysmé, their stories, and what they believe to be true about the world and one another. subtext -- especially the charged subtext this story throws at you and hopes you'll piece together -- is a beautiful thing.

the number of talksprites in this demo is kind of staggering

the jrpg-inspired world of the mosaic and its surroundings is as vibrant as it is profoundly lonely, color folded into every facet of its character as you move through it. appropriately, it's really invested in a lot of questions that arise not just from high fantasy as a genre, but from the modern fantasy sensibilities of jrpgs and the interrogation of what divinity even means in a world where the gods are forces you can interact with and draw power from, however indirectly.

what can i even say? that gg and toby fox's collab score for the prelude is downright heavenly and made it onto my work playlist right alongside the deltarune ost the day it came out on bandcamp? that gg's art, especially their use of light, conveys every scene with vivid beauty?

i wouldn't be posting so much of it if i didn't want to eat every CG. oh my god. he's so pretty. it's not even fair

beyond all of that, i think the game's main resonance point with people is that gg's writing is genuinely thoughtful. they use art detail and deft character writing to convey everything about the leads, using the limited time you get with it to paint layers and layers of information on who these people are and why they make the decisions they do. soulsov's roughly an-hour-and-change of text, expressive talksprites, and lush CGs is infused with so much heart and so much horror and so much intrigue that it leaves you feeling like you're a part of this world, carried along for the ride right alongside the two leads. gg clearly really adores these two, and that level of passion makes everything loïc and ysmé do shine even brighter. in spite of (or perhaps because of) all their friction and flaws, they're easy to love.

(it's really fun to read aloud as a script, too! ysmé's a hoot.)

i hope you experience it with high expectations and an open heart. i don't think it will disappoint. it is, perhaps, just a little bit magical.

i hope you see it through to the end!

[flowersandbigteeth]

Hi Flower! I hope you had a great new years! Wish you nothing but the best this year! I wanted to ask real quick if you took requests. Like

With a minotaur? Like I don’t see a lot of them on tumblr - or I can’t find them - but like it can me sfw or nsfw, whatever you want. I low key think that Minotaurs are so cute. Doesn’t have to be like super extravagant or anything, like something a little cutesy fluffy. I don’t know does that make sense? But like only if you want to 😂❤️

ANYWAYS I love your work and I hope you have a great day!

Thank you! I do take requests and I've actually been working on a couple of minotaur stories but I wasn't quite happy with any of them until I decided on this one. It's a little different with a reader with yandere qualities as well. I hope you have a wonderful new year with many delights <3

'Minotaur demigod (Solomon) x water nymph reader

Word Count: 2k

🌶️ NSFW MASTERPOST 🌶️

W: nsfw monster smut, some violence and minor character death, yandere vibes

You watched the golden bull warily as he lapped water from your spring. Next to him he’d arranged some fruits he’d found and nudged them to you. 

“T-thanks,” you murmured, accepting the fruit, taking a bite and picking at it with your small claws. 

Normally, you only ate the fish you caught in the nearby river, but fruit was a nice treat. As a water nymph you ate your meat raw as your ancestors had done for thousands of years.

Trapped in your spring, your territory ranged a few miles in any direction on the mountain where you lived, as far as you could walk in a day. When you were small, your mother had removed your still beating heart from your chest and nestled it at the base of this spring. 

Now your magic made the water sweet and endless. The forest thrived around you and creatures big and small came to drink, but your heart bound you to the spot. You could never leave. When you died another nymph would plant her daughter and the process would start all over again.

This golden bull had been coming for a few days, bringing you fruit and sleeping next to your spring. You’d thought he’d take advantage of the water and then move on, but he seemed to be settling in, spending hours lounging in the sun next to you and bringing you gifts.

“You seem to be getting quite comfortable,” you commented as he grazed on the grass around your spring. He paused for a moment and winked at you before resuming his grazing. 

Suddenly he was on high alert, his ears perked and his head lowered to charge. 

You followed his eyes through the woods until you too saw a handful of elf rogues tromping through the underbrush. 

“A spring! Finally!” one of them sighed. 

Two of them were hauling a large chest, while the others carried packs with supplies. They looked like a rough bunch, some without teeth, one missing an eye and all of them in need of a bath. 

“Well look what we have here!” their leader said, spitting and examining you, “a pretty spring nymph all alone out here.” 

He crouched down close to the water, apparently not noticing the massive bull pacing in the shadows. 

“Come here little girl,” he said, crooking his finger at you, “we just wanna have a bit of fun. If you're good we won't hurt you.” 

You drifted to the center of your pond on the lilypad on which you were sitting and the foolish rogue followed you in thinking the water was shallow and he could overpower you. It was up to a point, but nymphs didn’t live successfully in the wild for thousands of years because you were helpless.

Focusing your magic you willed the water to tug his feet from under him, leaving him sputtering even in the shallows. Every time he tried to get up you sent a new wave to hold him down as his friends watched in horror. If you kept this up you would slowly drown him. 

An arrow flew past you, nicking your shoulder and bringing your game to an end. An angry snort echoed through the clearing, distracting you from the trickle of blood making its way down your arm. 

The bull barreled through the archer, impaling him on his horns and when you looked, he wasn’t exactly a bull anymore, but more human…a minotaur! 

The other two elves, who weren’t being drowned or gored, turned to try to help their friend, pulling out swords, but you weren’t going to let the minotaur be taken unaware from behind. 

You willed a large wave of water over the two poor elves, dragging them, choking into the frigid depths at the center of your spring. You held the three of them under until they stopped moving, letting their bodies drift to a dark corner where the eels would pick them apart. 

They weren’t the only bones of hapless travelers who had thought to molest you that had collected at the base of your pool. 

You squirted a more gentle stream of water at the minotaur, rinsing him of the blood dripping down his neck as he dragged the body over to your pool. Sweeping it up, you maneuvered it with the others to be eaten. 

He laughed and shook his head, like a dog whisking the water away. He had fluffy blondish hair that fell in his eyes and long horns you quite liked. His nose was pierced with a gold ring as were his nipples. Around his waist was wrapped a cotton wrap secured with a gold belt that did nothing to hide his bulge. 

“You do not need my protection, fair water nymph,” he chuckled, rifling through the odd weeds at the edge of the pond, “yet, I still wish to assist you.” 

When he found a leaf he was happy with he chewed it up and spit it into his hand. 

“Come here,” he said, crooking his fingers at you. 

You drifted on your lilypad over to him, curious. You jumped as he leaned down to touch your arm, but his calloused, warm fingers on your damp skin was actually quite comforting. 

“It’s okay,” he purred, “it’s just for the cut.” 

He patted the leaf mush onto the wound on your arm and you realized it had stopped hurting, instead the sensation replaced by a cool tingle. 

“You’ve been here for days,” you commented, “what is your name and why have you not spoken to me?”

He blushed. 

“Solomon,” he said, “and as for why I did not reveal myself to you, I saw what you did with the last males who disturbed you and did not wish to end up at the bottom of your spring.” 

You returned his blush with your own. It was true you did have a habit of drowning males who frightened you or got on your nerves or overstayed their welcome. You were all alone in the forest, there was no one to help you. It was best to be cautious and drown first, ask questions later.

“You are no normal minotaur,” you pointed out, “you have two forms.” 

He smiled at you. 

“I’m a demigod, the son of a minotaur and the goddess of spring.” 

Around you flowers bloomed in the underbrush filling the air with a heady fragrance. 

“Then I could never have harmed you,” you added. 

He chuckled. 

“I did not wish to be drowned endlessly while you figured that out,” he laughed, “I can still feel pain and fear. I’m strong but your water can easily overpower me.” 

You preened at his compliments and smiled. 

“Why are you hanging around here?” you probed, “don’t you have someplace better to be? We’re in the middle of nowhere. There’s not a village for fifty miles.”

He grinned and peered at you from under his fluffy hair. 

“I was hoping that would be obvious, water lily,” he said, plucking a flower that had bloomed beside the pond and handing it to you. 

Your water churned around you, your spring flashing pink and purple as your heart fluttered with happiness, clutching the blossom to your chest. Without thinking your water scooped up the demigod and enveloped him in a bubble to draw him closer to your heart.

He was frightened at first, as you followed him down, swimming alongside the bubble. He soon realized you weren’t going to hurt him and relaxed, sitting down and putting his arms behind his head and his feet up. 

“It’s pretty down here,” he said looking up at the sun filtering through the green pads of the lotuses floating on the surface. Colorful fish swam by and your happy heart made the water glow pleasing colors. 

“Is that your heart?” he asked, examining the small sapphire crystal tucked in a clamshell near the bubble. 

“Yes, I think it wanted you nearby,” you admitted, “I’m not sure I have complete control over it. I hope you don’t want me to let you go, I’m not confident that I can.”  

He looked at you and reached through the bubble pulling you into his lap. 

“I don’t mind as long as you plan on making an honest minotaur out of me, little water lily,” he chuckled, “promise not to break my heart.” 

You blinked at him and turned pink. 

“I-I p-promise,” you stuttered quietly, overwhelmed by his scent. He had a pleasant musk mixed with the smell of grass. Leaning down he brushed his lips against yours, nuzzling you with his broad nose. You twisted around until you were straddling his lap, pushing his hair out of his eyes and looking at him gently. He’d been an attractive bull, but he was much more handsome as a minotaur with rippling abs, that hard chest, and soulful brown eyes brushed by golden hair. 

He kissed you softly, sure of what he wanted. He moaned and held you close to him, winding his thick fingers through your damp hair. Brushing your lips with his tongue he coaxed your mouth open, tasting you. Underneath you, you felt his cock hardening and to your embarrassment automatically ground your hips against it. 

He didn’t seem at all put out by your needy display, pushing your hair off of your bare breast so he could knead it with his big hand. Kissing you deeper, he thrust up to show you what he had to offer. As a nymph you never wore clothes, so there was nothing between you and him but the cotton wrap around his waist. That gave you a very good idea of what he was working with as it pressed into your pussy. 

His hot hands traveled over your breasts and your ass, getting to know your body. 

“You are so lovely, my lily,” he cooed, dragging his kisses down your neck, “you smell like sweet water and lotus blossoms.” 

His tongue found your pebbled nipples and he licked and nibbled them until you were whimpering in his arms, lustily rubbing yourself against him. Pushing you onto your back on the oddly squishy floor of the bubble, he dropped his kisses lower, sucking your clit past his lips. 

You moaned his name as he licked and kissed your little nub, gasping when he split your pussy with two thick fingers. 

“Solomon please!” you whined, trying to fuck yourself on his hand. 

He held you steady with the other one. 

“It’s like honey when you say my name,” he moaned into your pussy, so you screamed it as you came on his fingers. 

That made him feral, ripping the wrap off of his waist and looming over you, his huge cock bobbing against his stomach. He had gold barbell piercings down the shaft making your eyes widen curiously.  He didn’t have to ask as you tipped your hips up and spread your legs for him, spearing you with it as he kissed you passionately. 

You cried into his mouth as he stretched you, tears slipping down your cheeks. You felt the piercings rubbing your G-spot making the invasion that much more intense as they pressed into it. He didn’t rush, pushing into you slowly, but firmly until he bottomed out inside you with a grunt. 

He pushed your legs back behind your ears, enjoying the view of his cock splitting your tiny cunt. You loved the way he snorted and huffed as he held himself back from losing it on you, but you wanted his passion, begging for more. You could hardly move as he bent you in half, rocking his heavy body in and out of you. Memorizing his face, tense with concentration, you whined as his calloused finger circled your clit. 

“Your pussy is heaven,” he groaned, the pace increasing as he slowly lost control of himself.

His hands moved from your clit to gripping one thigh and one ankle so hard he would probably leave bruises as he slammed into you, holding your ankles over your head a pounding down into you. The soft membrane of the bubble cushioned your back as he railed you.

“Mine,” he growled. 

His voice was no longer gentle but gruff and animal. He grunted and growled as he took you, ruining you for any other male and you came to the sound of his feral noises. The water around you flashed colors as you orgasmed, squeezing his cock inside of you. 

He roared, filling you with his load, mixing with your fluids and squirting out of your pussy. After a moment of panting next to your head and flattening you back out, he pulled you into his chest as the little spoon. 

“I never asked you your name, water lily,” he murmured into your hair as you curled up safe and sound at the bottom of your spring with your new mate bent around you. 

“(Y/N),” you whispered and you thought you heard him repeat it as you drifted to sleep.

[r3medialch8os]

so since u guys liked that i did this with remedial chaos theory i will now also be doing this for epidemiology.

the most incredible thing about this episode is that it is in fact Not merely an homage like most concept episodes are; it actually happens. a zombie epidemic For Real takes place at greendale. it's not a gimmick or a game or a way to frame the plot. the actual conflict is derived from the fact that people are zombies and the study group need to outrun them/turn them back. how often can you say that a sitcom incorporates a storyline like this and sincerely pulls it off? never.

the emotional tension in this episode is framed around troy/abed/jeff and the dichotomy of being a nerd vs. being cool, which respectively get attributed the qualities of caring about the people around you who have turned into zombies or wanting to run and escape from the zombies without trying to help. abed and jeff's costumes are both pointed out in the beginning receiving clear denotations of 'lame' and 'too cool to care' and therefore their positions in the conflict are cemented. the episode has a push-pull with troy being the moving factor, having to decide what he thinks is most important. he gets swayed in the beginning by two girls rejecting him over his costume and jeff mentioning how expensive his suit is. he changes from his ripley costume into a 'sexy dracula'. abed spends the whole episode trying to get troy back to his side, even saying "what defines a nerd? committing to an awesome halloween costume with your best friend?" troy is eventually 'turned back' into his nerdy self (perhaps a zombie metaphor itself, keeping in tone with the theme of the episode) because jeff cares more about his suit getting dirty than surviving the herd of zombies.

a crucial part of the episode is that it is soundtracked by abba music playing from the dean's playlist. now, who would i be if i didn't investigate significant music choices connected to scenes? first up and probably the most important one: s.o.s. is used in the background of a scene where abed confronts troy about changing costumes. troy insults him and walks away. the lyrics are: 'you seemed so far away, though you were standing near. you made me feel alive, but something died, i fear. i really tried to make it up, i wish I understood. what happened to our love? it used to be so good.' next; gimme gimme gimme plays right before the scene where chang and shirley hook up. another insane choice is at the end when troy is fighting the zombies. the whole sequence has mamma mia playing in the background Faintly. then when troy eventually gets to abed and has to fight him, the music comes in much louder with the lyrics: 'here i go again, my, my, how can i resist you?', which i think fits perfectly. the ending song fernando has the lyrics 'there was something in the air that night', both referencing the thermostat changing the zombies back and the fact that it was just an incredibly weird fucking night.

troy is dressed as ellen ripley and also kind of acts as the ripley of this episode. his journey in this as being the sole survivor and the one to eventually save greendale adheres to a common science fiction model where a life-threatening force is faced against the protagonists and they fall off in degrees, resulting in one person being left to mend everything. here specifically, it seems to mirror ripley's journey in alien (1979) as it starts with a crew that eventually gets cut down leaving only her. i thought that was really cool.

more alien tidbits, but the jumping cat scene is also inspired by it. jones the cat is an imporant figure in the first alien movie. in various scenes, members of the crew will go looking for him, then get ambushed by the titular alien and subsequently killed. it is a minor homage to the movie through yet another subtle reference. the bit is also parodying jumpscares in horror movies in general, and how they are used to cheaply amplify the tension. anyways, it's quite the multilayered joke because it also really works out of context as a bizarre comedic moment.

troy and abed's scene in the basement pays homage to princess leia and han solo's scene in the empire strikes back. the conversation in the film takes place just before han is frozen alive in carbonite by darth vader. not knowing if he’ll survive, he kisses leia, only to be torn away from her by stormtroopers. she says 'i love you,' and as he descends into chamber, han replies, 'i know.' an undeniably romantic moment, maybe one of the most memorable ones ever, is applied to troy and abed who have held reign over the emotional core of the plot for the entire episode. it's pretty special that such an iconic moment is given to them, i feel like the creators of the show wouldn't just do this sparingly. it also perfectly resolves their conflict as troy makes such a vulnerable statement and abed assuring him that he already knew, validating their bond once again.

more on troy and abed, it is pretty amazing realizing the emotional implications tied to how dire the situation was. everyone in this episode was under the direct threat of Not Surviving, and still abed sacrificed himself for troy. he knew this was for real. he couldn't be sure if they were going to make it. but i think he had enough faith in troy to aid in his escape. it's very touching. further, it's incredible that troy is willing to fight all the zombies (all his friends) but when it comes time to punch abed, he refuses to do it. he's struck by the force of their friendship, mumbling 'we're friends' defeated before eventually succumbing to his bite.

troy saving the school by controlling the temperature; nicely setting up his further plot with the ac repair school.

him being the one to escape and abed saying 'be the first black man to make it to the end' subverts the common horror trope of 'black dude dies first'. a playful way of keeping up with the horror movie theme of the episode.

also ironically this episode, which features the song mamma mia by abba, sets up a plotline in season two about shirley not knowing who the father of her new baby is, which is functionally the plot of the movie mamma mia!, a musical based on abba's music. probably a coincidence but a pretty funny one.

at the end when the army arrives, they ask the dean about witnesses. when he says he is the only witness, one of the guards reaches into his jacket, suggesting that he's pulling a gun intended to kill the dean and get rid of the witness. when they notice everyone in the school is still alive, they abandon this plan and go for 'scenario b'. kind of dark but i laugh every time that scene happens.

anyways that's all i could pull from my brain crevices for now. this episode is a genuine masterpiece, it will never ever get old and will remain to be one of the most unique sitcom episodes ever created.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 5)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Warning: this chapter contains mentions of the horrors Snow inflicts on ‘desirable’ victors, nothing graphic but could still be upsetting to some readers. Proceed with caution.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“Damn it,” Haymitch curses, taking a long swig from his glass.

Katniss is inches away from literally becoming the girl on fire. Sprinting through the raging flames as foliage and trees block her way.

“Why are they doing that?” Y/N tugs anxiously at the sleeve of his jacket.

“She’s too close to the edge.” They need to turn her around, but the fire balls are for show.

“Not now.” The gamemakers have chased her well back into the tree line. “Why aren’t they stopping?”

“I don’t know.” Haymitch huffs, “I have as much control over this as you do.”

“We need a sponsor.”

“To send her what exactly? A fire extinguisher?”

Remember who the real enemy is.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/N shakes her head, “it’s fine.” Haymitch is direct and abrasive, he does not sugarcoat. There are times when she wants that, needs it even.

“I was dismissive.” For all she was his protégé, she is now his equal. Old habits die hard, the places where they are joined bleed into one another.

“No, you were right.”

Things in the arena have calmed down, Katniss nursing a burn to her thigh. Stumbling back to the river, finding a moment’s relief before the careers and Peeta spot her.

“I’ll keep an eye on things here if you wanna go work the crowd,” if they’re gonna kill Katniss, Haymitch doesn’t want her to watch.

“I’ll wait till it’s done.”

You stubborn thing, let me spare you; just once.

Despite her injury, Katniss scales her way to the top of a tree which the careers can’t seem to shake her from.

“Let’s just wait her out,” Peeta suggests, “she has to come down sometime. It’s that or starve to death. We’ll kill her then.”

Cato contemplates for a moment, “ok.” He shrugs, “somebody make a fire.”

“Now go,” Haymitch insists, “she needs something for that burn. I’ll man the fort. Go, be great.” He pecks her cheek in parting.

Y/N stands, dragging sweaty palms down the front of her dress. Passing the betting pool on her right. They smile and wave. The victor forces her best grin, spotting one of the more generous patrons and locking eyes.

The man shakes his head at the whistling of those beside him. He’s been chosen.

“How’ve you been?” Y/N plucks two champagne flutes off the serving tray as it passes. Their contents a dark blue.

He smirks, accepting the offering. “I know your game, little minx. Tell me what you want.”

“Something for my tribute’s burn.”

“You’d think the girl on fire would be used to it.”

Y/N huffs a laugh.

“How much is this going to cost me?” That’s the real question, isn’t it?

“Two thousand.” Play money for someone like him.

“Greedy, greedy.” He tuts, fishing for his wallet.

“You’ll make double that if you bet on her.”

The Capitol man cocks his head of green curls. Y/N is beautiful, not in the way his wife is. Understated, but never overlooked and though she dresses the part, she will never fit in. Standing out like a neon sign among the masses. A humming live wire. “You seem confident.”

“She’s demonstrated better survival skills than half the tributes from one and two. Besides, you’ve always been generous.”

“Because I like you. Dare I say, we’re friends.”

“We are friends.” You’ve been good to me, kind even.

“Most people here are looking for a bit more than friendship from someone like you. A few of my colleagues would so love to meet you.” It’s not meant to be an insult, but it stings all the same. “Do be careful, little minx. Take my money and run.”

————————————————————————

When Katniss receives the parachute with a note that reads ‘apply generously and stay alive. -Y/N & Haymitch,’ she wonders how far away the arena is from the tribute center. Is it just beyond reach, separated by a dome of tech?

What would her mentors say now, without all of Panem to see? If only she could talk to them, just one more time. To be comforted by Y/N, scolded by Haymitch even. Scooping a bit of goop from the container onto her wound, it soothes the ache. “Thank you.”

————————————————————————

Nights are the hardest, in and out of the arena. If a tribute needs something after hours, they’d have to wait until the viewing room opens the next day. Y/N insists the games stay on, the feed streaming to district twelve, broadcast over the exterior wall of their room in the tribute center.

“You gonna fill me in on what the hell’s going on?” Haymitch asks, keeping his distance for now.

“The kids are sleeping, no cannon for a while now.”

“I didn’t mean the games.”

She knows that. “Haymitch.” His name is choked, so different from the way he’s used to hearing it.

His tumbler clunks down on the bedside table. “Come here,” he clambers onto the bed, still fully clothed from the day. “Come here.”

She worms her way into his open arms and sobs. Wracking both of them with the force of it.

“I’ve got you,” he breathes, trying to absorb some of her pain.

She cries herself to sleep, even as Haymitch hushes her. Breath hitching in her throat, the terrible way that turns his stomach. When she stills, the front of his shirt caught in her fist, Haymitch dozes off. Waking to the sound of her screams, pushing at him, desperate to free herself.

“It’s me,” he pulls back enough for her to see with her own eyes. “It’s just me.”

Y/N cups his face in her hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I love you.

She tells him of her conversation with Cashmere and the sponsor. How afraid she is that pay per views aren’t going to keep these people entertained forever. Eventually they will get tired of watching them, they’ll want to be with them; and neither she nor Haymitch will be able to say no. “If Katniss lives, they’d do it to her too.” Just like Finnick and Gloss and Cashmere, all the others before them. “They’ll do it to her too.”

Haymitch gentles her with pretty lies. ‘He’ll sort this out.’ They will have to pry you from my cold, dead, hands.

————————————————————————

Little Rue, from district eleven, is also quite the climber. Making her way to the tree closest Katniss and drawing her attention to a tracker jacker nest a few feet up. If she’s able to drop it down on the careers, she might take out one or two. At the very least, cause enough of a distraction to get away.

Y/N watches on bated breath as Katniss begins sawing through the branch with her knife. People of the viewing room hiss each time Katniss is stung. Letting out a collective cheer when the hive falls, sending the careers and Peeta scattering. All but Glimmer, who catches the brunt of their stings.

Haymitch shifts. I’ll be damned, you might actually make it out alive, sweetheart.

Peeta circles around, after the cannon sounds, leaving Katniss with the bow and arrow. “Katniss, go! Run! Get out of here. What are you doing?”

She blinks at him slowly, effects of the tracker jacker venom dulling her senses. Putting enough distance between herself and the tree with the body underneath before falling into the brush. Plagued by images of days gone by.

Part 6

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @officialjellydoughnut @whoreforfictionalpeople @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902

[motherofdragonflies]

The Elevator Game: A Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

Written by: @motherofdragonflies / bexgowen

Art by: @xfancyfranart

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 95,000

Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, Choose Your Own Adventure Style, Psychological Horror, Canon Divergent, Post 15x03, Case Fic

Summary: 

The game is simple.

Get in an elevator, alone, and follow the rules. If you follow them correctly, the elevator will rise and when the doors open, they will open onto a world that is not your own.

When his brother goes missing after investigating the death of a teenage girl in a hotel in St. Louis, Dean Winchester is dismayed to discover it involved an internet legend called “the Elevator Game”.

He’s even more dismayed when Castiel—who walked away weeks ago and hasn’t been returning Dean’s calls—shows up, also looking for Sam.

Dean doesn’t want to work with Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t seem thrilled about working with him, either. Can they put their differences aside when  they discover that Sam disappeared after playing the Elevator Game? Will Dean and Castiel play the elevator game and travel to the Other World themselves? Will they find Sam before it's too late? 

The choice, dear reader, is yours. You are in control of the story.

But choose wisely, for once you play the Elevator Game, things may never be the same again.

Excerpt:

“Where did Ali hear about the game?” Sam’s voice asked. 

“She, uh, she loved scary stuff. Horror movies, urban legends, that kinda thing. I think she found it on reddit, in one of those scary story subreddits? I don’t know, I don’t…I don’t like that kind of thing. But, um, she was always talking about wanting to try it but you need a tall building and we’d never been anywhere anyway tall enough until…”

“Until that night. Did you tell the police?”

Lilah scoffed. “I told them. They didn’t believe me.”

“Lilah…what do you think happened?”

“I... I think…I think it worked.”

The audio file ended, and Dean sorted through the rest of the papers from the envelope Lilah had given him. The first page was a print out from a true crime subreddit: Dean recognised it as one that Sam checked constantly. His brother had highlighted a post on the page, one consisting of a single line that was posted four days after Alison and the others had disappeared:

Ali Bleaker played the elevator game.

Frowning, Dean turned to the next page and found that it was an article from a website called “The Ghost In My Machine”, titled “The Most Dangerous Games: The Elevator Game Revisited.”

Dean snorted at the title but read on:

"Some people know it as ‘Elevator To Another World’. For others, it’s the ‘Elevator to Hell’... But no matter the name, this peculiar…game, I suppose—although there’s nothing playful about it—it always said to have the same outcome, as long as you follow its rules to a T: By riding an elevator alone, visiting a handful of floors in a particular order as you go, you can transport yourself to another world entirely."

Dean stared at the words on the page.

Another world.

“Jesus, Sam, tell me you didn’t.”

Once upon a time, Dean might have dismissed the claim of ‘another world’ as something out of a science fiction story. But having visited several other worlds, Dean knew that alternate realities, multiverses—whatever you wanted to call them— were real. He doubted that something as simple as riding an elevator could take you to another world, but the idea wasn’t as far-fetched as he once would have believed it to be.

Snatching up his computer, Dean quickly pulled up the phone tracking site that he’d bookmarked and searched for the location of Sam’s phone. 

He was not at all surprised when the map showed Sam’s phone was at The Millennium Hotel, where Alison Bleaker had died.

Going up at @deancashorrorfest this October!

[muwapsturniolo]

✯Malevolent PT.1✯

Black!reader

Summary: Turns out I'm living in a horror film Where I'm both the killer and the final girl. So who, who are you?

In the small town of Somerville Massachusetts, a bloodbath is brewing, and Y/N Lyoncourt is in the middle of it.

games played with cell phones, gruesome murders, and scary movies

how will she survive?

Warning: alchol, swearing, stalking, gore, stabbing, knives, mentions of blood as well as organs. cheating, death, killing. read at your own risk.

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It was a crisp fall night in the town of Somerville Massachusettes. Branches on the trees remain naked as their leaves wisp across the ground due to the cold wind. Street lamps casting a warm glow down the vacant streets.

A particular street was dimly lit, the only source of light being the moon. Right under the moonlight sits a house with only one member inside.

Kehlani Summers.

The head cheerleader of Somerville High, the popular girl, the bitch that most people couldn’t stand.

Her parents were gone, leaving her to her own devices. She chose to invite her boyfriend, Dylan Holmes, over and watch scary movies before they got in the real “action”.

He was the captain of the hockey team and the most popular boy in school. girls foamed at the mouth for him, even some teachers.

They were a classic match made in heaven.

The perfect high school couple.

A typical cliche.

The perfect victims

Kehlani had just put popcorn on the stove when her phone rang. With her AirPods in, she answers the call without thinking of checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

Kehlani frowns in confusion hearing the deep raspy voice, but carries on with her task of pouring a shot of her mother's alcohol. “Hello? Who's calling?” She says. “Oh sorry, I must have the wrong number! My apologies.”

Kehlani rolls her eyes in annoyance, "Clearly. Bye"

She double-taps the small bud attached to her ear and takes her shot. As soon as she slams the shot glass down, her phone rings again. Thinking it's her boyfriend, she answers it.

"Hello? Dylan?"

"No, it's me again."

Her face scrunches up, "You clearly have the wrong number, so why the hell did you call back?" Her voice clearly holds vexation.

"I wanted to apologize." She huffs and walks around her kitchen, ditching the shot glass and just carrying the bottle. "Well, apology accepted. Now stop calling" She goes to hang up once again, but is stopped by the voice begging her to wait.

"Hold on! Don't hang up!" She peeks outside into the dark abyss before walking towards the stove. "Why shouldn't I? You're being annoying."

The voice chuckles, "I want to talk to you."

"Why so you can jerk off to my voice like a perv? Go get your fap material somewhere else bozo." She hangs up and snatches her AirPods out her ear, putting them back in the case.

She feels her body slowly start to get warm from the Titos, her movements beginning to slow. Just as she checks the popcorn, her phone rings again. She looks at the caller ID and sees it says unknown.

"This guy is annoying as shit," she grumbles before picking it up once again.

Maybe she should talk to him until Dylan gets here? She is bored and Dylan is late.

"Hello?" She speaks into the phone, jumping on the kitchen island.

"Why don't you want to talk to me?" The man asks. His voice is laced with faux confusion. "Because you're being weird. Now who is this?" she says as she watches the popcorn. "Tell me your name and I'll tell you mine." She scoffs and hops off the island, standing by the stove.

"Don't think so buddy"

"What's that noise?"

she takes another swig of Titos before answering. "Popcorn"

"I love popcorn. It's best at the movies. Why are you making popcorn?" Kehlani finds herself smiling softly at the question. Maybe it's because she's intoxicated, or because the stranger on the phone seemed genuinely curious about her night. "I'm watching a movie."

"Movie? I love movies. Do you like scary movies?"

Kehlani nods only to remember the stranger can't see her. "uh-huh"

''what's your favorite?"

The girl ponders for a moment. She honestly wasn't big on scary movies, she only dabbled. "Probably Pearl."

The stranger scoffs, "Pearl? that's not even scary and it was boring!" The girl shrugs. "Well you asked my favorite and I told you...what's yours."

"House of A Thousand Corpses."

She frowns at the name, "Never heard and it sounds gory"

"Oh, it is. Lots of blood and violence." His voice almost sounds distant, like he was fantasizing about the movie. A small shiver runs up her body.

"So, you got a boyfriend?"

Kehlani smirks at the question "Why you wanna ask me out?"

It's no secret that the teenage girl wasn't loyal to her boyfriend. hell, he wasn't loyal to her either. They both found fun in cheating on each other and making the other mad.

"Maybe. Do you have one?''

"No." She lies through her teeth.

The voice chuckles, "You know, you never told me your name."

"Why do you want to know my name so bad?'' She takes another swig of the vodka.

"Because I want to know who I'm looking at"

She chokes on the burning liquor, spitting it out over the counter. She coughs for a few seconds before speaking back into the phone, her voice scratchy. "W-what did you say?"

"I said I want to know who I'm talking to." She stands in the middle of the kitchen confused.

Was it the alcohol making her hear things? Was she truly correct in what she heard?

"T-that's not what you said..." She catches what she thinks is movement in her backyard. She clicks on the light only to see nothing. She flips off the light and locks the patio door.

"What do you think I said?'' his voice begins to make her uneasy, his tone almost predatory. "I-I have to go now!" she exclaims as she becomes apprehensive about this whole thing.

"I thought we were going to go out?"

"Tough shit"

"Don't hang up on me!"

"Fuck off!"

"Don-click" She throws her phone down on the counter and chugs a bottle of water in an attempt to sober up. Her phone rings once again and she debates on answering it.

The constant ringing annoys her and she snatches the phone up,

"I told you not to hang up on me."

"And I told you to fuck off!" She hangs up once again, only for the stranger to immediately call back. A noise of frustration leaves her throat as she answers.

"Listen ass- NO YOU LISTEN YOU LITTLE BITCH! IF YOU HANG UP ON ME AGAIN I'LL GUT YOU LIKE A PIG AND USE YOUR ORGANS AS THE DUMB LITTLE POMPOMS YOU LOVE!"

Her blood runs cold at the lurid words. Her whole body is tense as the hairs on her arms stand up. "I-is this some kind of joke?" She whimpers.

"More like a game."

She swears she heard the front door jingle, so she rushes towards it and locks it. She maneuvers through the whole house, locking every entrance door including the windows.

"I'm two seconds away from calling the police!" She threatens. The voice laughs, "Do it, they won't make it in time. After all, your parents moved you to a house that's about 3 miles from the nearest neighbors and about 10 from town."

Tears form in her eyes when she realizes they do in fact know where she lives. "W-what do you want? Money? I'll give you money!"

"I don't want money."

"Then what do you want?"

"To see what your insides look like."

She quickly hangs up the phone and throws it across the room, trepidation flowing through her system. The doorbell ringing pulls a scream from her throat. She rushes towards the door but stops in her tracks.

Swinging open the door could be a bad idea.

"Hello?"

Silence.

"Dylan is that you?"

Silence.

"Fuck this! I'm calling the cops!" She rushes towards her phone that's on the floor. As she picks it up, it begins to vibrate in her hand.

unknown caller

Her hand trembles as she raises it to her ear. She says nothing, waiting for the stranger to speak. All she hears is loud and ragged breathing.

"Don't you know you should never say who's there? It's a death wish." The voice states. She clutches the wall and slides down as she begins to cry. "Leave me alone or- Or what?" The stranger taunts.

"M-my boyfriend will be here any minute! He will beat your ass when he finds out!" Usually threatening other people with her boyfriend works,

But not this time.

"I thought you didn't have a boyfriend."

"I-I do! He's big, and strong, and plays hockey! And he will beat your ass when he finds out who the hell you are!"

"Ohhh I'm so scared!" The stranger coos.

"Hey Kehlani, I have a question for you." She clenches her eyes shut hearing the stranger state her name. "Your boyfriend's name wouldn't happen to be Dylan, would it?''

"How do you know our names?!"

The stranger doesn't answer her question, simply telling her to look at her back patio.

Terrified of what she would find, but still intoxicated enough to listen, She hesitantly makes her way to her kitchen to look at the patio.

"I-I don't see- Turn on the light and stop acting like a dumb bitch!" She flinches and turns on the light.

The sight she's met with is frightening.

Her hockey player boyfriend is bound to a chair with rope, his mouth gagged and taped shut.

His face is bloody, but he's alive.

She lets out a loud sob at the sight and tries to run out to help him, but stops when the voice stranger speaks to her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He clicks his tongue three times and the girl can only imagine him shaking his head.

"Who are you?!" she screams in frustration.

"let's play a game."

"No!"

"Then your boyfriend dies!" She quickly pleads for the stranger to leave him alone.

"Then play the game or he dies." She quickly agrees.

"Turn off the light and go into the living room." She looks at Dylan as he pleads for her to save him. She turns off the light and makes her way to the living room.

"Here's the game, I'm going to test your knowledge on scary movies. if you answer correctly, Dylan lives. If you answer wrong... well I suggest you start writing your will."

She clenches her eyes at the thought of her death.

She tries to think of a way around this. She sees a lamp in the corner and quickly yanks it out of the socket. They can't kill her if they can't see...Right?

"Let's start.... name the killer in Halloween."

She rakes her brain trying to find the answer but she's drawing a blank. There's too much going on for her to think clearly.

The stranger knows that.

"Oh come on! it's easy! I'll even give you a hint! He had a white mask and stalked babysitters!"

"I-I can't think!" she's panicking.

"Yes you can! Use that pretty little head of yours!"

Finally...a godsent

"M-Michael Myers!"

"Yes! See? You should do fine! Dylan should live. now, name the killer from Friday The 13th!" She shakes her head, she's only on the second question and is tired of this game.

"P-please stop.." She begs.

"Answer the question"

"Jason?... it's Jason!" She remembers the movie because Dylan made her watch it.

The stranger imitates a buzzing noise, "Wrong! It wasn't Jason." She frowns in confusion. "Y-yes it was! I remember!' she urges.

"No"

"I saw the movie like twenty times! It's Jason!"

"If you say the movie like twenty damn times you would know that Ms. Vorhees, Jason's mother, was the goddamn killer! Jason didn't show up until the sequel."

She stands in the living room, stupified. Maybe she should have paid attention to the movie instead of trying to fuck her boyfriend.

"Y-you tricked me... You cheated!" she yells in anger. The stranger laughs. "Oh like you? You remember all the times you cheated on your boyfriend?" she freezes at his words.

"That doesn't matter anymore, he's out of this round and the rest to come. Lucky for you, there's a bonus round."

She's in hysterics at this point, her whole body shaking and her vision blurry.

She rushes to the kitchen and flips on the patio light.

A gut-wrenching scream leaves her mouth when she sees her boyfriend.

Blood is pouring out of his throat, coating his whole body. The mouth gag he has on is also coated, a clear indication that he is choking on his own blood.

And the most gory part,

His stomach was sliced open, his organs lay in a heaping pile on the ground, steam rising from them as if they were being cooked.

She covers her mouth and quickly rushes towards the trashcan, throwing up the alcohol in her stomach. She collapses to the ground. sobbing in fright. The image of her lover engraved in her mind.

"I have one more question for you princess."

"N-no! Leave me alone!" She pleads helplessly. She's tired of this whole night. What was supposed to be a chill evening, turned into her being hunted like prey.

She sits on the floor, knees to her chest as she rocks back and forth like a child.

"Come on pretty girl, answer the question, and i'll let you live."

She doesn't say anything.

"What door am I at?"

She sobs even harder.

"Come on. There's two main doors to your home. The front and the side door. pick "

"I- can't!" The voice sighs out in what seems like boredom. "You will. now answer."

Kehlnai shakily stands up and grabs a sharp knife from her mother's chopping block. She holds it close as she stands in the kitchen.

"The side door?" She questions softly.

The man laughs making her freeze.

"Wrong! I'm not there but he is!"

She screams as the glass behind her shatters, a lawn chair landing close to her. She takes off running from the kitchen as a shadowy figure creeps through the broken glass, the knife in her hand long forgotten. She rushes through the foyer, fleeing to the side door in an attempt to escape the big home.

She creeps around the house, trying to see where the killer is, and get away from him to safety. She comes up on the side of the house where three curtainless windows sit. She crouches down and begins to crawl along the concrete, her knees burning at the rough pavement. She peeks her head through the first window and sees the killer walking into the foyer.

She ducks back down before getting to the second window. This time, the killer is looking in the foyer closet searching for the girl.

She gets to the third window, hoping he's nowhere to be found.

Unfortunately, when she peeks into the window, she comes face to face with her reflection and a white mask.

A blood-curdling scream is pulled from her throat as a hand shoots through the glass and wraps around her neck, attempting to yank her inside through the window.

She fights, swinging her arms and pushing them away, her bare feet stepping into the glass. she manages to break free and takes off towards the front of the house, tripping over her own feet as she maneuvers through the wet grass.

In the distance, she sees a set of headlights turning up her driveway.

Her parents!

She begins screaming, waving her arms vigorously in an attempt to flag them down, hoping they can save her from the masked killer.

Unfortunately, they can't.

She's tackled to the ground, her phone flying out of her hand and landing a few feet away from her. Her body is violently flipped over, her back being pushed into the mud as the killer straddles her. She attempts to fight back, not giving up just yet.

The masked killer gets irritated with her fighting and raises their arm, the blade of the knife glimmering in the moonlight.

it happens so fast, the killer's arm swinging down expeditiously, the blade plunging deep into the girl's chest.

Her jaw drops open in pain, nothing but a croak leaving her throat.

He removes the knife, both of them looking towards the crimson color blossoming through the threads of her sweater.

She spots a rock by her legs and takes her chance.

Just as the killer raises his blade once again, she snatches the rock and slams it against his head. He falls off of her, grabbing the side of his head in pain. The girl manages to rise to her feet, snatching her phone from the ground, and staggering toward her parent who are now exiting the parked Cadillac.

She opens her mouth to call for help, but it seems as if her own vocal cords fail her, no sound coming from her mouth.

Her parents remain oblivious to their bloody daughter. Even though she is only 10 feet away from them, they fail to see her reaching out, longing for them to save her.

A sharp pain emerges in her shoulder blade, sending her to the ground. She begins to heave in pain, her whole body aching from all the fighting she has been doing. She's turned back over, her ankles being grabbed as she dragged through the yard.

Her once-cream sweater was now covered in blood and mud.

Her hearing is going in and out, a loud ringing in her left ear while her right ear is filled with the pounding of her heart. The cellular device still in her grip begins to vibrate.

Oddly enough, there isn't any more fright in her body.

She knows this is the end for her.

She's come to terms that she will die tonight.

She declines the call, welcoming death with open arms.

The masked figure drops her legs, making her look up at him.

It feels as if her eyes are playing tricks on her as two killers stand in her field of vision. They look at each other, nodding, before dropping to their knees and proceeding to stab the girl repeatedly.

She begins to choke and sputter on her own blood, her body lurching at each mutilation being made to her body. Her blood coats the masks, splotches of blood dripping down onto their already bloody gowns.

They each land one final blow into her chest before they watch the light leave her eyes.

The two killers move silently and quickly, one wrapping rope around her neck as the other throws the end around a tree branch. the one killer stands up and helps yank the rope over the branch.

The dead girl's body begins to drag through the grass, eventually lifting into the air, swinging back and forth.

They work fast in securing the rope around the tree, before admiring their work.

"something's missing."

He moves forward with his knife raised.

He plunges it deep into her abdomen, dragging the knife across her torso. Her blood splashes into the dirt, creating a mud-like consistency. He reaches his gloved hand into the wound, pulling out her intestines, and scattering them beneath her.

He steps back toward his accomplice.

"It's perfect."

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FIRST CHAPTER OF MY NEW SERIES!!! LET ME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK!!! PLEASE BE HONEST!!!

DUE TO THE FACT THIS IS AN INTENSE BOOK THAT HAS A BUNCH OF GORE, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE OFF THE TAG LIST FOR THIS BOOK!!!

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