#I’ve been obsessed with that game for the past like few days help

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review by @zyafics

ok i can't contain myself to write so i will be reading (sorry for all the tiktoks send over dms hahaha) ⬇️

He hated physical therapy, but what he hated more was sitting on the sidelines, watching his teammates on the ice while he was stuck on a cushioned table with resistance bands and an overenthusiastic sports medic, with hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail and a pair of blue scrubs that somehow still looked cute on you.

always obsessed with your descriptions and im grinning so hard knowing that's ME hehehe

It was kind of cute, the way you tried so hard to keep things strictly professional between the two of you.

NOT FOR LONG I READ THE WARNING

He liked the way you said his name—like you were in control, like you were the one calling the shots. It was refreshing. 

my dom girlyyy

You weren’t the kind of girl to fall for a player, especially one with a reputation like Rafe’s. Besides, you were already with someone. Logan—the clean-cut, dependable defenseman from a rival school. You’d been together for over a year, and things were great.

SCREAMINGGGGGGGGGG (muffled behind a pillow)

He grinned, like a stupidly in love sick puppy, unbothered by the jab. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

me rn: login who???

"Good guy?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone describe me like that."

im so giddily rn, their banter is TOP TIER

 “Logan’s a lucky guy.”

OH I SPELT IT WRONG LOLLLLL

He hated Logan more than he hated the pain in his knee.

🤭 im like a schoolgirl rn

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that he usually kept hidden. “Because if he did, I swear to God—”

imma be so honest i thought WE were gonna be cheating but i guess HE'S cheating that scumbag

“He’s not worth you,” Rafe said softly, stepping closer, his anger replaced by something gentler,  “You deserve better than that. Way better.”

I KNOW so give me that dick 😁

Rafe’s knee had healed remarkably well, and now the day had arrived: his first game back on the ice. As it drew near, a strange sense of anxiety creeped in. Your life had become so closely tied to Rafe’s recovery over the past few months that the thought of him no longer needing your help—or your company—left you with an unsettling emptiness.

i need him to SLAM into logan ohmygod

He skates straight at Logan, not bothering with any pretense. If Logan wants to play dirty, he is more than ready to play dirtier. Logan barely has time to react before Rafe drops his gloves, his intent crystal clear.

LET'S FUCKING GOOOO

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you grab the front of his jersey and pull him down to your level, crashing your lips against his with a force that takes him completely off guard.

ANGRY MAKEOUT SESSION LETS GOOO

You break away just long enough to breathe, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

“Been waiting for over an hour to do that,” you breathe.

oh im horny

“Then do it again,” he murmurs, “Do whatever the hell you want to me.”

oh HE'S horny

Rafe lets out a low, almost guttural sound as you rock your hips against him, the pressure making him tighten his grip on you, holding you in place as he grounds himself against you. The sensation makes your breath hitch, a needy whimper escaping your lips that only spurs him on. 

ok im at a cafe, reading this smut on my 14'' screen where everyone can surely see. let me pack up and go home and i'll be back to react.

“Fucking idiot,” you whisper again, your voice rough with desire as you nip at his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth before soothing the bite with your tongue. 

I'M BACK

Without another word, he pulls you toward the locker room, his grip firm and unyielding as he leads you through the maze of benches and lockers. Your heart races as he pushes open the door to the showers, the sound of the water echoing off the tile walls. The room is empty, the air thick with steam, and the second you step inside, he’s pouncing on you. Clothes are gone in the blink of an eye.

Oh. My. God. this is so fucking hot what the FUCK

Rafe nearly passes out from the sight. Watching himself disappear inside you has to be his favorite sight in the entire world. 

it's me, but THAT SHOULD BE ME!!!!!!

"Cameron? You in here, man?" Rafe freezes, his body tense, his cock still buried deep inside you as he glances toward the door, his breath ragged. 

IM GRINNING my favorite part of public sex smut is the fact they're almost caught hahahahaa

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he looked down at you with a mixture of affection and desire. "Yeah, but I’m your fucking idiot."

my baby my baby my babyyy

final thoughts—i'm obsessed with this. ur writing. you. ohmygod, as always, the first thing that comes to my head is your descriptions. when you were describing reader, the medical training, the equipment and the environment, i always feel so immersed by your vocabulary and imagery. next, the fucking BANTER, oh you got me clutching my chest, giggling in the middle of a cafe. thank god no one was looking over my screen. but truly, i love how lowkey smitten rafe is with reader. he's always in love with her before the story truly begins and i love how much softer this version of rafe is. don't get me wrong, he's possessive and a beast on the ice, but something about him is so baby girl. thank you, gigi, for doing my request justice, i swear i want more!!!!

looking like motivation - hockey!r.c (+18)

requested by my #1 @zya4lifers

warnings: meantions of cheating; SMUT.

Rafe’s day started the same way it had for the last two months: with a groan of pain that shot up from his knee and settled into his mood like a stubborn storm cloud. 

He hated physical therapy, but what he hated more was sitting on the sidelines, watching his teammates on the ice while he was stuck on a cushioned table with resistance bands and an overenthusiastic sports medic, with hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail and a pair of blue scrubs that somehow still looked cute on you.

At least that was what he thought when he first met you. 

But two weeks in, his hatred had morphed into something else entirely, something way more complicated. He wasn’t sure when it happened—maybe when he caught you singing quietly along with the radio while taping up his knee, or when you’d given him that first, honest-to-God smile that wasn’t out of politeness but genuine amusement at some stupid joke he’d made. And he made a lot of those. 

Now, sitting on that same damn table, Rafe found himself looking forward to PT in a way that had nothing to do with his injury. You walked in, clipboard in hand, looking as professional as always. It was kind of cute, the way you tried so hard to keep things strictly professional between the two of you. Rafe knew he got under your skin—hell, he made sure of it. He could tell by the way your eyes flicked up to meet his for just a second longer than necessary before you quickly looked away. You tried to be cool, but he knew better.

“Alright, Cameron. How’s the knee today?”

He put on his best wounded-puppy face. “Terrible. I might never skate again.”

“Shut up.”

“And I could be better,” Rafe drawled, his lips curling into that signature smirk. “But seeing you always helps.”

You rolled your eyes, but he saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time,” he shot back, winking at you.

You tried to ignore him, busying yourself with adjusting the equipment. “Let’s focus on your knee, alright?”

“Whatever you say, Doc,” Rafe said, stretching out on the table with a lazy grin.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched up. “We’ve got to work on your pain tolerance.”

He couldn’t resist. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to keep me on my toes.”

Finally, you looked up, your expression deadpan. “And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to avoid actually doing your therapy, Cameron.”

Touché.

He liked the way you said his name—like you were in control, like you were the one calling the shots. It was refreshing. 

The first few minutes of the session passed in relative silence as you guided him through the exercises, your hands expertly working his injured knee. Rafe winced, but it wasn’t all from the pain. It was from trying to resist the urge to say something that might actually cross the line. But resisting wasn’t really his style.

“So, what’s your boyfriend up to this weekend?” Rafe asked, his voice casual, but his eyes sharp, watching your reaction.

You weren’t the kind of girl to fall for a player, especially one with a reputation like Rafe’s. Besides, you were already with someone. Logan—the clean-cut, dependable defenseman from a rival school. You’d been together for over a year, and things were great.

You looked up at him, a little caught off guard. “Out of town.”

Rafe snorted, unable to help himself. “Figures.”

You frowned, straightening up to give him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rafe shrugged, feigning innocence. “Nothing.”

“He’s busy,” you said defensively.

“Too busy for you?” he pushed, his tone dripping with faux concern. “That’s a shame. If you were mine, I’d make time.”

You gave him an unimpressed look, “I’m sure you would.”

“You don’t think I would?”

“I think you’ve already got your hands full with the cheerleading team.” 

He liked to pretend you sounded jealous and not critical. 

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Cheerleaders are fun and all, but they’re not really my type.”

Okay, that was half a lie, but in his defense, he hadn’t slept with anyone on the cheer squad since sophomore year. 

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as you adjusted the strap on his knee brace. “And what exactly is your type, Cameron?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. “Complicated. Smart. Gorgeous.”

You didn’t miss a beat, even as your pulse quickened. “So, basically the opposite of you?”

He grinned, like a stupidly in love sick puppy, unbothered by the jab. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

You shook your head, trying to hide the smile threatening to break through. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Only when it comes to you,” he replied smoothly, his eyes locked on yours.

There was no denying the chemistry, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. But you were with someone else, someone who, despite his flaws, you cared about. Still, Rafe made it hard to remember why you were trying to resist in the first place.

“Rafe, we really should focus on your PT,” you said, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory.

“Trust me, I am focusing,” he replied, his tone suggesting he wasn’t talking about his knee.

You rolled your eyes, standing up straighter to put some distance between you. 

“Right. Well, you need to focus on this next exercise. We’re going to work on your range of motion.”

He sighed dramatically but didn’t argue, watching you with a lazy smile as you moved to demonstrate the exercise. He couldn’t help but admire the way you carried yourself—confident, knowledgeable, and completely fucking beautiful. It was a challenge, and Rafe Cameron loved a challenge.

As you guided his leg through the motion, your hands firm but gentle, Rafe couldn’t resist pushing a little more. “You know, you never answered my question.”

“What question?” you asked, though you had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“What you’re doing this weekend,” he said, his eyes locked on yours, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch.

You glanced away, focusing on the movement of his knee, your fingers brushing against his skin as you adjusted the angle. “I’ll probably just catch up on some work. Maybe relax.”

“Sounds boring,” Rafe remarked, though there was a playful lilt to his voice. “You should let me take you out.”

You looked up sharply, caught off guard by his directness. “Rafe, I’m—”

“Taken, I know,” he interrupted, his tone still light but with an undercurrent of something more serious. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun, does it? Just as friends.”

“Just as friends?” you echoed skeptically, knowing full well what his idea of ‘just friends’ probably entailed.

Rafe shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “We could get dinner, maybe hit up a bar, talk about something other than my knee for once. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“No.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second, before it came back stronger, more determined. He leaned back on the table, pretending to stretch as he tried to mask the sting of rejection. "No?" he echoed, as if the concept was foreign to him.

You crossed your arms, standing firm even though his eyes on you made your heart race. "No. We both know what you're trying to do, and it's not going to happen."

"And what exactly am I trying to do?" he asked, feigning innocence with a smirk that told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to get drawn into his game. "You know what. I’m here to help you with your injury, not to entertain whatever fantasy you’ve got going on."

"Who says it’s a fantasy?" he shot back, his voice lowering, taking on a more serious tone that caught you off guard. "Maybe I just want to get to know you better."

You paused, searching his face for any sign of sincerity. But Rafe was hard to read when he wanted to be, his playful exterior a well-practiced mask that he rarely let slip. "Rafe, you're a good guy, but—"

"Good guy?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone describe me like that."

"Fine," you conceded with a small smile. "Maybe ‘good’ is a stretch. But you’re not as bad as you want people to think."

Rafe’s smirk faded. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and it made you hesitate, made you wonder if there was more to him than just the cocky, relentless flirt.

But before you could dwell on it, he was back to his usual self, flashing you that devil-may-care grin that made it hard to stay mad at him. "You know, I’d actually take that as a compliment if it came from anyone else."

"Don’t get too excited," you replied, trying to keep things light. "I still think you’re a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, but I’m your pain in the ass," he teased, stupidly blinking his lashes up at you.

You shook your head, unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up. "You really don’t give up, do you?"

"Not when it comes to something I want," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

"Cameron, this isn’t going to happen. I have a boyfriend."

He shrugged, unbothered. "And? You’re no fun. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

You handed him a water bottle, expression neutral. “You’re just out of shape.”

“Out of shape?” He looked at her, incredulous. “Do you see this body?”

You didn’t take the bait. “I see a guy who’s been slacking off on his conditioning.”

He laughed, low and warm, as he took a sip of water. “You’re tough. Tougher than most of the coaches I’ve had.”

You shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

 “Logan’s a lucky guy.”

The hockey world was small, and word got around, of course he knew his name.

“Logan’s great,” you said, a little too quickly.

Rafe nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, I’m sure he is.”

He didn’t push it further, though. Instead, he fell back into his usual routine of teasing and flirting. Every time you guided his leg through a stretch or adjusted the equipment, he found his mind wandering, imagining what it would be like if things were different. If he were the one you were coming home to after a long day, if he were the one you smiled at without that guarded look in your eyes.

But you were with Logan, and as much as he hated to admit it, Rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to cross that line. Not when you were clearly trying so hard to keep things professional between the two of you.

As the session wrapped up, you handed him his schedule for the next few days, your demeanor as cool and composed as ever. “I’ll see you on Thursday. Make sure you keep up with the exercises over the next couple of days, and don’t overdo it.”

He took the paper from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest of moments. It was enough to send a jolt of electricity through him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be good,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

 “Can’t make any promises.”

He spent the weekend bored out of his mind, thinking about you—wondering if you were with Logan, if the guy was actually smart enough to know what he had.

He hated Logan more than he hated the pain in his knee.

The guy was too perfect, too dependable, too fucking boring. And Rafe had been praying, in a way he wouldn’t admit to anyone, that something would happen—something that would make you see Logan for the jackass he really was. It wasn’t that he thought he was a better guy; he knew his own flaws better than anyone. But he also knew that he could make you happier, make you laugh harder, make you feel things that Logan never could.

So when you walked in late to the next session, he was ready to make a joke, to tease you about finally deciding to show up. But the words died on his lips when he saw you. You weren’t looking at him, not really, just muttering a half-hearted apology as you dropped your bag in the corner. But when you finally met his gaze, his chest tightened.

Your eyes were bloodshot red, the kind of red that came from hours of crying, from tears that wouldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried. You looked exhausted, like you hadn’t slept in days, and your usual spark was nowhere to be found.

His first instinct was to make a joke, to lighten the mood the way he always did, but he couldn’t. Not when you looked like that.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice void of its usual cockiness. “You okay?”

You nodded, but it was the kind of nod that was meant to shut someone up, not because you actually meant it. You were far from okay.

“You’re late,” he said, his tone teasing, but even he could hear the concern underneath.

“I know, sorry,” you replied, your voice small, almost defeated.

Rafe frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. This wasn’t like you. You were always so put together, so in control, and seeing you like this was…so unsettling.

“What happened?” he asked, more serious now, the joking tone completely gone.

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze as you busied yourself with the equipment, but Rafe wasn’t going to let it go that easily. Not when he could see the pain written all over your face.

“Come on, what’s going on?” he pressed, his voice soft but insistent. “Did something happen with Logan?”

The way you flinched at his name told him everything he needed to know. His chest tightened, protectiveness swelling inside him. He’d always thought Logan was too good to be true, but seeing you like this confirmed it.

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that he usually kept hidden. “Because if he did, I swear to God—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice cracking slightly as you finally looked at him, “I mean, yes, but… it’s not like that.”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “What did he do?”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat as you tried to hold it together. But there was no point in pretending anymore, not when Rafe was looking at you like that—like he actually cared, like he was ready to go to war for you if that’s what it took.

“He cheated,” you finally whispered, your voice trembling as the tears you’d been holding back threatened to spill over. “I found out through a fucking DM on Instagram. Some girl… she just messaged me out of the blue and told me everything. And when I confronted him, he didn’t even deny it. He just—just said it wasn’t a big deal.”

Rafe’s vision blurred with red-hot anger. He wanted to find Logan and beat the shit out of him for making you cry, for being stupid enough to let you go. But more than that, he wanted to make you feel better, to make the hurt go away, even if he didn’t know how.

“That fucking asshole,” He growled, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage. “I swear to God, I’ll—let me get on that ice and I’ll wipe the entire ring with his face.”

“Rafe, don’t,” you said quickly, cutting him off. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it, okay?”

His heart twisted at the broken look in your eyes, the way your voice wavered as if you didn’t quite believe your own words.

“He’s not worth you,” Rafe said softly, stepping closer, his anger replaced by something gentler,  “You deserve better than that. Way better.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. It wasn’t like him to be so serious. But here he was, looking at you like you were the most important person in the world, and it made your heart ache even more.

“I don’t know what I deserve anymore,” you admitted, your voice small and lost.

He reached out, hesitating for just a second before he gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the tear that had finally escaped.

“You deserve someone who knows what they have when they have you,” he said, his voice steady, his eyes locked on yours. “Someone who would never make you cry like this. Someone who would never, ever cheat on you.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over at his words. “Rafe…”

“I’m serious,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re… you’re amazing, you know that? Any guy would be lucky to have you, and Logan’s a fucking idiot for not seeing that.”

You shook your head, trying to keep it together, but it was no use.

You started to cry, the kind of deep, gut-wrenching sobs that you’d been holding in all weekend. And before you knew it, you were collapsing into his arms, letting him hold you as you cried, his arms strong and steady around you.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to shush you or tell you everything was going to be okay. He just held you, his hand gently rubbing your back as you let it all out, crying into his chest until there were no more tears left.

When you finally pulled back, your face red and puffy from crying, you only uttered a small, “Thank you.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes soft as he looked down at you. “Anytime.”

And then, without thinking, you leaned up and pressed a soft, hesitant kiss to his cheek, lingering for just a second before pulling away. He blinked, a little stunned by the gesture, but before he could say anything, you stepped back, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

“Do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” you said quickly, your voice still shaky. “I’m not sure I-“

“Of course not.”

You breathed out in relief, “Thank you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He wanted to tell you to stay, to tell you that it was okay to not be okay, that you didn’t have to face this alone. But he knew you needed space, needed time to process everything that had happened.

“Yeah,” he said softly, nodding as you turned to leave. “Tomorrow.”

He wanted to be there for you, to be the one you turned to when everything fell apart. But more than that, he wanted to be the one to put you back together again, to show you that not all guys were like Logan—that he wasn’t like Logan.

And as you disappeared down the hallway, he made a silent promise to himself: he was going to make you see that. No matter what it took.

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

The weeks passed, each session with Rafe seamlessly flowing into the next. What started as this totally professional thing, strictly business, slowly morphed into something way more personal. His cocky jokes and playful banter had shifted into these deep conversations that actually mattered, and somewhere along the way, you found myself getting closer to him than you ever expected.

Rafe’s knee had healed remarkably well, and now the day had arrived: his first game back on the ice. As it drew near, a strange sense of anxiety creeped in. Your life had become so closely tied to Rafe’s recovery over the past few months that the thought of him no longer needing your help—or your company—left you with an unsettling emptiness.

You had prepared yourself for the possibility that he might distance himself once he was back on the ice. After all, athletes had their own lives, their own routines, and you were just the therapist who had helped him get to this point. But when he invited you to his first game, the gesture came as a welcome. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, he’d slowly lurked his way into your heart. 

It was after a particularly intense session, where you’d pushed him harder than ever before, that he brought it up. You were finishing up, wiping down the equipment while he caught his breath, stretching out his legs on the bench.

“You know,” Rafe started, his voice casual but with a hint of something more in it, “I’ve got my first game back tomorrow night.”

You looked up, catching the subtle edge in his tone. “Yeah, I’ve heard. You must be excited.”

“Excited? Nervous as hell, more like it.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “It’s been a long time coming. A lot of pressure to perform, y’know?”

You nodded, understanding him. You’d seen how hard he’d worked, how much this comeback meant to him. “You’ll do great, Cameron. You’re more than ready.”

He smiled at that, but there was something else in his expression, something hesitant. “I was thinking…maybe you could come. To the game, I mean. It’d be nice to have someone there who’s seen the whole process, who knows what it took to get back on that ice.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. It wasn’t just the invitation—it was what it represented. He didn’t just see you as the therapist who’d helped him heal. He saw you as someone important, someone he wanted by his side as he took this next step.

 “I’d love to, Rafe. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Relief washed over his face, followed by a grin that was equal parts gratitude and something else— “Good,” he said, his voice quieter now, “because I’d hate for you to miss it. You’ve been a big part of this, more than you know.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you found yourself blushing under his gaze. 

“I’m just doing my job,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, but the look in his eyes told you that he saw right through your attempt to downplay it.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad it’s you,” Rafe said, his voice earnest. “I don’t think I could’ve done this with anyone else.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you as if you were the only person in the world at that moment, made it hard to breathe. This was more than just an invitation to a game. This was him telling you, in his own way, that you mattered to him—that you were more than just his therapist, that you were someone he wanted to keep around.

“I’m glad it was me too,” you whispered back, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

“Tomorrow night, then.”

“Tomorrow night.”

Now, as you sit in the stands, watching Rafe skate out onto the ice, you feel a nervous anticipation that has little to do with the game itself.

Just before the puck drops, Rafe catches your eye, giving you a confident wink that sends your heart racing. He knows what this game means, not just for him, but for you as well.

Logan is there, playing on the opposite team. You haven’t seen him in exactly two months. Whatever feelings you had for him disappeared the moment you found out about his betrayal, but your ego still hurts like hell.

The energy in the arena is electric, a buzz that makes his blood hum with anticipation. His first game back, and the stakes couldn’t be higher—not just because of his injury, not just because it’s a rivalry match, but because Logan is on the other side of the ice. Rafe’s jaw clenches at the thought of that bastard, the memory of your tear-streaked face still fresh in his mind.

During warm-ups, he spotted Logan, skating like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he hadn’t just thrown away the best thing that ever happened to him. Rafe’s grip tightens on his stick, his knuckles white against the black tape. The rage simmering beneath his skin isn’t just about the game. It’s personal.

His focus is razor-sharp, every movement precise, every play calculated. But no matter how much he tries to concentrate on the game, his eyes keep drifting back to Logan, who skates circles around the ice like he owns it.

The first period passes without incident, but by the second, the tension is boiling over. Rafe feels it building, that need to do something, to break Logan’s face in half. He doesn’t just want to beat him; he wants to humiliate him, to knock that smug look off his face once and for all.

Then it happens.

Midway through the second period, Logan makes a hard hit on one of Rafe’s teammates, sending the guy crashing into the boards. The hit is clean, but it’s the arrogance in Logan’s smirk that pushes Rafe over the edge.

He doesn’t hesitate. 

He skates straight at Logan, not bothering with any pretense. If Logan wants to play dirty, he is more than ready to play dirtier. Logan barely has time to react before Rafe drops his gloves, his intent crystal clear.

“You think you can just get away with that?” He snarls, his voice low and menacing as he shoves Logan hard in the chest, the force sending him stumbling back on his skates.

Logan’s eyes flash with surprise, quickly followed by anger. “What the hell’s your problem, Cameron?”

He doesn’t bother with a reply. 

He swings, his fist connecting solidly with Logan’s jaw. The satisfying crunch of bone against bone is drowned out by the roar of the crowd, but Rafe doesn’t care. He’s been waiting for this moment, waiting to unleash all the pent-up anger and frustration that’s been eating away at him since the day you walked into that PT room with your heart shattered.

Logan staggers back, his expression twisting with fury. He recovers quickly, launching himself at Rafe with a wild swing, but Rafe is ready. He dodges the punch and counters with another one of his own, this time aiming for Logan’s ribs. He can feel the impact reverberate up his arm, but it’s not enough. He wants more.

“Come on!” He shouts, face red from all the pent-up anger simmering inside him. “Is that all you’ve fucking got?”

Logan grits his teeth, struggling to keep his balance. “You’re fucking crazy, Cameron!”

“You haven't seen shit," He spits back, landing another punch to Logan’s midsection. “But at least I know how to treat someone right.”

Logan’s eyes widen, the realization of what this is really about dawning on him. “This is about her? You’re seriously going to throw down over some girl?”

Rafe’s vision goes red at the mention of you, the casual way Logan dismisses you as “some girl.” He doesn’t care that he’s going too far, doesn’t care that the refs are probably going to break this up any second. All he cares about is making Logan feel a fraction of the pain he caused you.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” He growls, grabbing Logan by the collar and yanking him close. “You don’t even get to think about her.”

Logan tries to shove him off, but Rafe is relentless, landing punch after punch, each one fueled by the memory of you crying in his arms, by the way your voice trembled when you told him what Logan had done.

By now, the refs are on them, trying to pull Rafe away, but he isn’t finished. Not yet.

“You don’t deserve her,” He hisses through clenched teeth, his fist connecting with Logan’s face one last time before the refs finally manage to separate them. “You never did.”

Logan stumbles back, his face a bloody mess, and for a brief moment, he feels a little satisfaction. But it isn’t enough to stop the anger, the frustration, the overwhelming need to protect you from ever being hurt like that again.

He sits in the penalty box, his chest heaving as he tries to calm the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He can barely hear the crowd over the sound of his own heartbeat, but he knows they’re going wild. The fight has been brutal, and he’s given Logan exactly what he deserved. But as the rush of the fight starts to fade, he starts to overthink: how will you react?

The game ends with a hard-fought win for his team, but the victory feels hollow. As his teammates celebrate on the ice, Rafe’s thoughts are miles away, fixated on you. What if you’re pissed? What if you think he’s overstepped?

After the final whistle, he makes his way to the locker room, his mind racing. He’s about to strip off his gear when he hears footsteps approaching, quick and determined. Before he can even turn around, the locker room door flies open, and there you are, marching straight toward him with a look on your face that he can’t quite read.

Shit. You’re mad.

“Hey, listen,” he starts, his voice low and uncertain as he holds up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I know that might’ve looked bad out there, but I swear—”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you grab the front of his jersey and pull him down to your level, crashing your lips against his with a force that takes him completely off guard.

His mind goes blank as all he can focus on is the way your mouth moves against his. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before—raw, heated, desperate.

His hands instantly find your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you flush against him, the heat of your bodies mingling in the small space between you. Your kiss is wild, all tongues and teeth, and when you bite down on his bottom lip, hard enough to make him groan, he realizes this is real.

You’re kissing him.

“Fuck,” he gasps against your mouth, his voice ragged with need. But you don’t give him a chance to catch his breath, your hands threading through his hair as you deepen the kiss, your lips moving with a feverish intensity that makes his head spin.

You break away just long enough to breathe, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

The way you say it, half-growled, half-breathed, sends a shiver down his spine, and he can’t help the sound that escapes him, somewhere between a moan and a groan. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he fights to keep control, but you aren’t making it easy.

You press yourself even closer, your body flush against his as you kiss him again, harder this time, more demanding. Your tongue sweeps into his mouth, claiming him, and Rafe is more than happy to let you take the lead. He’s never felt anything like this before—this urgency, this hunger that makes him want to lose himself in you completely.

You tug on his hair, tilting his head back to give yourself better access, and Rafe nearly loses it right then and there. He can feel his self-control slipping, can feel the primal need to devour you taking over, but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is how badly he wants you, how desperately he needs to feel more of you.

When you pull back, your lips are swollen and glistening, your breathing just as ragged as his. You stare at him, your eyes dark with lust, and Rafe feels his heart hammering in his chest, each beat echoing with the desire pulsing through him.

“Been waiting for over an hour to do that,” you breathe.

Rafe’s hands roam up your back, tracing the curve of your spine as he leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. When he reaches the curve of your ass, he doesn’t stop. His fingers grip you there, kneading the soft flesh with a pressure that makes you gasp into his mouth, your hips instinctively pressing against his.

“Then do it again,” he murmurs, “Do whatever the hell you want to me.”

His hands are everywhere, sliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts before moving back down to cup your ass again, pulling you even closer against him. You can feel him, hard and ready, pressing against your thigh, and it sends a wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You want him—more than you ever wanted anyone—and the way he’s looking at you tells you he feels the same.

Rafe lets out a low, almost guttural sound as you rock your hips against him, the pressure making him tighten his grip on you, holding you in place as he grounds himself against you. The sensation makes your breath hitch, a needy whimper escaping your lips that only spurs him on. 

“Fucking idiot,” you whisper again, your voice rough with desire as you nip at his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth before soothing the bite with your tongue. 

His reaction is immediate. He groans, a sound so deep and full of need that it sends a shiver down your spine. His hands flex against you, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he’s trying not to loseg control completely.

 But you can feel it—the way he’s trembling, the way his breath is coming in harsh, uneven pants against your neck. He kisses you again, hard and desperate, his mouth moving against yours with a fervor that matches the wild pounding of your heart

But just when you think you can’t take it any longer, the sound of footsteps echoes outside the door, snapping you both back to reality. You pull back, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, your mind spinning with the intensity of what had just happened. He’s just staring at you, his eyes glazed with desire, his lips swollen and red from your kisses. He looks as wrecked as you feel, and it takes everything in you not to drag him back down for more. 

But you know you shouldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Except there’s no fucking way Rafe is letting you go now. He doesn’t say a word. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and filled with a raw need that makes your breath catch. 

He doesn’t ask; doesn’t need to. He’s done waiting, done pretending he can hold back. 

Without another word, he pulls you toward the locker room, his grip firm and unyielding as he leads you through the maze of benches and lockers. Your heart races as he pushes open the door to the showers, the sound of the water echoing off the tile walls. The room is empty, the air thick with steam, and the second you step inside, he’s pouncing on you. Clothes are gone in the blink of an eye.

He presses you up against the cold tile wall, his body flushes against yours as his lips find yours again, hands running over your wet skin. His mouth moves from your lips to your neck, his tongue tracing a path down to your collarbone as he kisses, licks, and nips at your sensitive skin. You whimper, fingers threading through his hair as he drops to his knees in front of you, his lips trailing down your stomach. 

The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of the hot water and his hot mouth on your skin driving you insane. "If you don’t-" your voice trembles with need as he spreads your thighs apart, “Fuck.” 

He looks up at you, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

His hands grip your hips firmly. Without another word, he buries his face between your legs, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sudden, intense pleasure makes you cry out, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders as he licks and sucks, his tongue working you over with a skill that leaves you gasping for breath. It’s not fair. 

This man can’t possibly be real. The water splashes against your back, masking the sounds of your moans as he takes his time, driving you closer and closer to the edge with every swirl of his tongue. Your body trembles, your legs barely able to hold you up as he pushes you higher, his hands tightening on your hips as he holds you in place.

 "Oh my god," you moan, your voice breaking as you feel the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up until you are crying out his name, your body shuddering as your orgasm crashes over you, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure rips through you.

Rafe keeps his mouth on you, drawing out your release until you are trembling, your legs shaking as you struggle to catch your breath. 

Truth is, he doesn’t want to stop. He can’t get enough now that he has finally gotten a taste. He stands back up, his hands running up your sides as he kisses you again, the taste of you still on his lips. You can feel him, hard and ready against your stomach, and it only drives you crazier. Of course, this man had to be fucking huge. 

Without breaking the kiss, he spins you around, pressing you against the wall as his hands grip your hips, pulling them back slightly. You brace yourself against the tile, your body arching as you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. 

"Oh Rafe," you groan out his name, your voice low and needy and he growls softly in response, his breath hot against your ear as he slowly pushes inside you, filling you inch by inch until he is buried to the hilt.

Rafe nearly passes out from the sight. Watching himself disappear inside you has to be his favorite sight in the entire world. 

“So fucking pretty.” The feeling of him stretching you, filling you completely, is almost too much to bear, and you let out a long, low moan as he begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that drives you wild. The water cascades over your bodies as he thrusts into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucks you with a steady, unrelenting rhythm. 

Each thrust pushes you harder against the wall, the cool tile a pleasing contrast to the heat between you. You can barely think, barely breathe, lost in the sensation of Rafe moving inside you, his cock hitting all the right spots with every thrust. The sound of the water mixed with the wet slap of skin against skin, your moans and gasps echoing off the walls as the pleasure built higher and higher, threatening to consume you.

 "God, you feel so fucking good," He groans, his voice rough with desire as he leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear.

 "Faster," you gasp, your voice pleading as you push back against him, needing more, needing everything. He doesn’t hesitate. His pace quickening, his thrusts coming harder and faster as he drives you both toward the edge. The intensity of it is overwhelming, every nerve in your body on fire as he fucks you with a raw, desperate need that matches your own. Just when you think you couldn’t take any more, you heard footsteps outside the shower, followed by a voice calling out. 

"Cameron? You in here, man?" Rafe freezes, his body tense, his cock still buried deep inside you as he glances toward the door, his breath ragged. 

"Yeah, I’m here," he calls back, trying to keep his voice steady, though you could hear the strain in it. 

"We’re heading downtown to the bar. You coming?"

He looks down at you, all too pleased with himself, "Not tonight," he replies, his voice thick with lust. "Got something else to take care of." 

There’s a pause, then a chuckle from the other side of the door. "Alright, man. Have fun."

 The footsteps retreat, and the moment the door closes, he’s moving again, thrusting into you with a renewed urgency, the near-interruption only heightening the intensity of the moment. You moan loudly, your body quaking as he drives into you with a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending you spiraling closer and closer to another orgasm.

The combination of the heat, the steam, the feel of Rafe fucking you so hard is too much, the almost getting caught. You feel yourself losing it, your entire body tightening as you reach the edge once again.

 "Come for me," He growls, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you are sure there will be bruises tomorrow. His words push you over, and you cry out as your orgasm tears through you, your body convulsing around him as the pleasure crashes over you in waves.

Rafe follows right behind you, his hips slamming into yours one last time as he comes, his body shuddering as he fills you to the brim with a low, guttural groan. 

For a long moment, neither of you move, both of you panting, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all. The water continues to pour over you, washing away the evidence of your encounter as you slowly come down from the high. 

Finally, he pulls out, turning you around to face him as he cups your face in his hands, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender kiss that’s so different to the rough, desperate way he just fucked you.

 "You’re a fucking idiot," you whisper against his lips, a small, breathless laugh escaping you. 

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he looked down at you with a mixture of affection and desire. "Yeah, but I’m your fucking idiot."

He was fighting every fucking player on that ice ring if it meant having you again.

[apavlovs]

silly doodles ft an oc I was obsessed with for like 2 and a half years before Doc existed,, might start drawing him again

SOME INFO ABOUT HIM!!!

His name is Vaughn Delerio, he’s a detective and is a demon from my little heaven n hell universe thing!! He’s from wrath specifically, and is made of smoke and tar :] Also he has about 353749 different AUs because I went a little insane

His husband Enzo (the silly magnifying glass guy) belongs to @dexoro :]]]

[hetacon]

So you guys know how the most recent thing I posted was a Sidlink fic? That was because I actually got into BOTW about a year ago (it’s been one of the fandoms that kind of just simmers in the back of my brain at all times), and that was pretty much my only knowledge of Legend of Zelda, just that one game…

Oops, now it’s all of them!!

Somehow I wound up getting invested in Linked Universe because of a Sidlink fic and now it’s the only thing on my brain as of the past month and a half! Unsurprisingly given how I got into it in the first place, Wild is my favorite, but I must say that they’ve all weaseled their way into my heart, particularly Twilight and Legend (and outside of the chain, Ravio as well)! The LOZ mania has gotten so intense that I actually bought and am playing through A Link Between Worlds right now and am legit making a Ravio cosplay, help-

All of the poses I drew here were from @mellon-soup’s wonderful references, I love using them for inspiration when I’m not quite sure what to draw, and when I saw the first one, I just knew I had to draw Legend and Ravio!

I’ll put a few of my thoughts on the drawings under the cut if anyone’s interested in hearing about them

1) I love Ravioli so much, their dynamic brings me much joy. I’m very proud of how Legend’s expression turned out

2) I’m absolutely obsessed with the fairy Hyrule headcanon, there are so many cute pieces of art people have drawn of him! I’m surprised I managed to get so much detail on his face given how tiny he is. Also Sky is a total sweetheart and the thought of him protecting Hyrule from the rain was simply too adorable for me not to draw the two of them!

3) I am very emotional over Twilight and Wild’s sibling dynamic! The idea of Twi getting caught sneaking food while Wild’s cooking dinner was very funny to me and so I drew it! I really like all of the little details in this drawing, Wild’s scars are probably my favorite detail. And though I’ve never drawn a wolf before, I think I did pretty good! Originally I was just going to draw Twi taking a small piece of meat or something but then I thought “Nah, it’s gonna be an entire fish!” I headcanon that whenever he’s in wolf form, his metabolism increases and so he needs to eat more food to maintain his energy. Since he mainly transforms to fight, track, or comfort Wild, he’s earned an entire fish! Also it’s important to me that you know that the fish is specifically a staminoka bass :))

4) If you find the pose reference I used for Wind, you probably will notice that I actually flipped it so that he was holding the Wind Waker in his left hand. As a leftie myself, I really love it when characters I love are also left-handed!

Also on the topic of hands in general, can I just say how proud I am of all the hands in these 4 drawings??? They’re so good, we love good hand days

[gunnrblze]

pls yandere keegan hcs....🙏🙏

Sorry this took so long my dear! I’ve not written yandere shit in a millennia, so if it’s corny I apologize💀 also this turned into a little drabble rather than hc’s. MDNI, 18+, dark fic

big TW below the cut: obsessed,possessive Keegan, reference to violence/murder, stalking, manipulation, reference to sexual activity (no actual sex/assault), home invasion, kidnapping, drugging, mentions of being tied up/caged. it’s dark & fucked up, that’s the warning, please heed it don’t come for me

He sees you one day, his heart melting and his cock throbbing in his jeans. You’re so pretty, so precious, and he feels something light him up from the inside out. He wanted to have you. All to himself. He figured you probably didn’t even know how lost you were, not until he stepped into the picture. He was retired from the forces now, he’d been looking for a new project anyways. This would be your rebirth, that’s the way he saw it at least when he decided to follow you home that day.

Scoping out what he’d be working with, your home, how many entrances and exits there are. The neighbors, if you have any roommates/family, pets, alarm systems, etc. To his sheer pleasure, you lived totally alone. He’d change that soon. Don’t worry, honey.

You had a couple ring cameras set up, child’s play, nothing he couldn’t get past. Not that he really cared, of course. He’d have you any way he could get. He’d just hate to have to involve anyone else with his affairs, lest he need to find a more permanent solution. Cop killer isn’t a good look, but if they sniffed around, they’d get what they’d get, he figured.

Taking you would be easy, that wasn’t a problem. He was a silent, experienced man, you hadn’t even noticed how he’d been following you home for the past week anyways. How he’d sit in his truck across the street and watch your figure move around from behind those curtains that were way too sheer. Hell, if he wasn’t planning to rehome you, he’d have to get you new ones. People could see you like that, sweetheart. People that don’t deserve you. Ones that you don’t belong to.

It didn’t matter, really, when exactly he took you, you’d be living a new life with him anyways. He’d already set up such a nice, cozy little spot for you in his basement. He’d snuck in one day while you were at work, he had to know more about you of course. And he knows your favorite color now, so all the blankets and pillows he bought just for you will suit those tastes. He knows your favorite snacks and drinks, he’ll want you to be comfortable of course, especially when you resist at first.

He made sure to memorize all your products, too. So when he helps you wash your hair, you’ll be using the right shampoo. And when he lets you bathe, you can have your favorite scent of body wash. He loves the way you smell anyhow, that scent was wafting off you when he accidentally bumped into you at the grocery store a few days ago.

All the things you enjoyed, he made sure to make a mental note of them. Music, clothes, books, games, any and everything that you filled your space with. He couldn’t believe how lovely you were. Such a beautiful soul, no? You’d be the best addition to the new home and land he’d purchased after retiring, the acres and acres of property, free of any imposing neighbors.

He’d left your home in the exact condition it was in before he broke in, of course. He’d disabled your cameras through your WiFi router, not the best home surveillance, he reckoned, but he had something much more up to the task on his property. Thank god for military training, no? You didn’t even seem to be too concerned when he watched you come home that evening and check them out yourself. Going back and forth between the app on your phone and the camera near your front door in an attempt to figure out why the connection had cut out for a couple hours.

It almost killed him to watch you get so frustrated before finally giving up, going back inside to simply fix your WiFi. He wished he could tell you that sooner rather than later, you wouldn’t have a problem in the world. He’d take them all from you, give you any and everything you need.

He was expecting a fighter, of course. From what he learned, you had an attitude, didn’t take much shit. That asshole in the mall parking lot got an earful when he almost rear ended your car last week, fucker tried to blame it on you. Thankfully he didn’t, but Keegan took care of it anyway after you left.

Had you noticed the missing man on the news was that same guy? Did you realize what he’d done for you? Nobody would ever get to speak to you like that again, sweetheart. Not when he’s around to take care of you.

He packed extra rope in his truck just for you, just in case you were a smarter cookie than you looked. You can never be too careful, always underestimate your enemy, some of the lessons he’d learned during his career seemed to apply here too. Not that you were an enemy, god no, but you’d certainly consider him one for a while. He was just thinking logically, of course.

Thankfully you still had that spare key in the planter next to your front door from when he’d checked for one the first time he went to your house. He thought it was cute, really. How you figured putting it somewhere else, rather than under the mat, was safer.

He wasn’t stupid enough to take you during the day, but he could’ve. He just figured the darkness would hide his figure more easily. It was almost pathetic, how he walked right into your house without making a sound. He knew you were in bed already, part of your night routine. He felt a little bad for turning the WiFi off again when you were in the middle of your show, but it lured you out of your bedroom, thankfully.

Although it was for the best, he understood that you were scared when he silently cupped a hand over your mouth and locked an arm around your waist from behind. So he made sure to replace his hand with the rag very quickly before you fainted in his arms.

It took him a bit longer to get you into his truck than he’d initially planned. Finally getting his hands on you, laying your limp body down on the living room floor to brush the tears off your cheeks, he almost couldn’t stand it. The sight of his sweetheart, finally in his arms, looking too peaceful for words. He wasn’t one to get distracted, certainly not during a time like this either, but he didn’t account for the time it’d take him to get himself under control.

He had to excuse himself to your bedroom for a moment to jerk his rigid dick off into a pair of your dirty panties. He’d hate to drive with a hard on of course, especially when you’d be waking up around the time he arrived home. He didn’t want to be distracted while he brought you inside, considering you’d no doubt be more combative.

And it’s a good thing he knew how to think ahead, because your wrists were already raw against the rope as he dragged you through his front door. He hated to see you cry, hated the way the gag was soaked with your tears and saliva, but he tried telling you it was okay. You didn’t listen of course, flailing like a fish in his arms as he walked down the basement steps. But he’d wait. He’d wait until the day you thank him, until the day you reciprocate his love.

Until then, you can stay shackled to the wall. Please, just don’t make him put you in the cage again. Really, there’s no need to bite, sweetheart.

[morrowlegacy]

Honestly, the drama weirdly gave me the courage to finally make a Hogwarts Legacy blog today (and just an account on Tumblr in general) after debating it for months.

(Now, I’m not educated on what the drama is, so I’m just spilling my thoughts out of context)

I’ve been a lurker since September, which is when my obsession with the game started. A lot of the fandoms I have been a part of in the past have always had some negativity around them for various reasons, but in a way it always makes me more passionate about the fandoms I love.

I’m not saying the drama, hate, and shaming is a good thing, (That’s not what I’m saying AT ALL) but what I will say is that when people come around and try to bully me for my interests, it always inspires me to keep doing what I’m doing. Because at the end of the day, they’re my characters from my favorite media. If they don’t like it, they can just move on. And if not? Well, that’s why we set boundaries with the block button.

Fandom is meant to be fun, but there will always be people who try to ruin it. Taking a break from a fandom if you need it is always a good option if it will help you (and it’s something I’ve done a few times over! And recently too with other fandoms). But for those who decide to stay, let me be the first to say there will always be people out there who appreciate what you’re doing, regardless of how many likes or followers you have. Even if haters try to bring you down. And if the only person who is loving your work is you? Well enjoy that! That’s why we create after all. To have fun with ourselves and escape from the world for a bit. Just like OP said, this fandom is for everyone to brain rot together and just enjoy a common interest as a community. That’s why I made my account in the first place. To meet people and share my art because I love being creative and seeing others be creative too!

Again, I don’t really know what happened to make the Hogwarts Legacy fandom so divided lately, (the context escapes me), so maybe what I said here isn’t relevant, but regardless, here’s the bottom line:

Don’t be a jerk to people simply because they have a different perspective on canon lore, characters, etc, or because you don’t think their art, writing, and edits are not as good as yours. It’s not cool. Just block if you see something you don’t like. No need to start unnecessary drama. And if someone is being a bully to you because of your interpretation, then do what you need to do in order to make the fandom fun for you again. Whether that means taking a break, blocking a bunch of people, or continuing to post. You will always have the good side of the community to come back to, even if it takes time.

All of you are so talented and amazing. We will get through this together 💜

WHAT IS UP WITH THE HOGWARTS LEGACY FANDOM?????????????

I am so fucking fed up with this fandom & honestly it makes me lose any desire to post anything here anymore.

So many people here look at EVERYTHING as a damn competition and it’s NOT. It should be a place for people to brainrot together, talk about theories, and enjoy seeing what other people draw and write etc. Have I sometimes felt insecure bc I don’t get as many notes as other people?! Yes of course…but I always focus on the connections and the lovely people I’ve met and like talking to bc that’s why I post in the first place. I didn’t spend 4 months posting my fic to 10 kudos and 1 comment with basically no feedback bc I care about popularity😆😆

I’ve never been part of a fandom before this one but honestly everything feels so immature here, especially lately. Is it NORMAL to send hate to people who interpret the characters differently than you?! Or send hate to people who ship something you don’t like???? Is it NORMAL to start a confessions blog that’s for people to vague post about others & give everyone reading it anxiety??? (And NO, it’s not “leveling the playing field” wtf). Is it NORMAL to be so close minded, that you’re always trying to start shit with other people?!!??

It is SO FUCKING EXHAUSTING & honestly I try my hardest to NOT feed into any negativity and I’ve never posted the hate I’ve gotten because quite frankly, it’s ridiculous.

I genuinely love seeing what all of you post and always try to comment when I have the mental energy, because I love having a sense of community and you’re all very talented.

[schvmacher47]

venus | oscar piastri (preview III)

oscar piastri x fem oc

author's note: enjoy this little preview of my beloved best friends to lovers story, which i am currently uploading on wattpad! i would appreciate it so much if you would give my work a chance and i am 100% sure you'll love kaia as much as i do! feel free to share and also come over to my wattpad to enjoy the full thing. much love xx

read preview I & II here!

13 | how i obsessively adore you

»You know, I’m getting major flashbacks right now. This feels like the old Prema days all over again.«

»Oh really?«

»I’d call this a proper full circle moment.«

»Oh so you want the full Prema experience?«, I grinned, immediately turning on the camera and practically shoving it into his face. »How about this then?«

»And here I was thinking you were past the days of ambushing me with a camera.«, he complained. »You better cut this out!! I swear, if this makes the final cut…«

»Well, you did say you wanted the full Prema experience… So don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.«, I steadied the camera in my right hand, a grin still present on my lips. Oscar just shook his head at me, a smile tugging at his lips nonetheless as he finally fell back into the old habits of his Prema days.

»So we’re here in Monza..«, he began, stating the obvious. »Not so much in holiday mood this year. No thongs, all serious business.«, he added, grinning, referring to last year’s mishap. I rolled my eyes. »We get it Mr. popular F1 driver…«, I mumbled, shaking my head. Oscar chuckled, ignoring my playful jab.

»I’m being serious! Gotta be focused all the time. But yeah, it’s definitely great to be back.« I nodded in agreement. It all felt so familiar, as if it never really changed. As if it was yesterday, Oscar was still in F2, just about to win the championship in Abu Dhabi. I was experiencing a proper deja vu, it almost gave me the chills. 

»So what’s the game plan for today?«, I asked, getting back to our little made-up interview as we made our way to the gates of the F2 and F3 paddock.

»Well, this isn’t our strongest track this year. Low downforce, high speed. Not really suiting our car, but we’ve been working hard and my pace yesterday was quite good. So the main goal is to score some solid points, maybe even a podium… Monza can be quite chaotic so…«, he shrugged.

»Confident as ever, huh?«, I remarked, a smile playing on my lips. »It wouldn’t be a proper Italian GP without a bit of drama..«, I agreed, secretly hoping and crossing my fingers for another podium finish.

»Confidence is key and a little bit of luck here and there doesn’t hurt either..«, he quipped, shooting me a playful look. I couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

»Speaking of luck, any superstitious rituals this time?«, I asked, but definitely wasn’t prepared for the answer Oscar was going to give me despite him already mischievously grinning.

»You know I’ve added a few new ones since the Prema days. Can’t spill all the secrets though.«, he grinned. »Let’s just say there’s a lucky charm involved.«

»Intriguing.« That cheeky little bastard. He was clearly referring to Silverstone. My cheeks turned a faint shade of pink, growing suspiciously hot and I was just glad that nobody was there to witness it. Oscar’s mischievous grin widened as he noticed the subtle blush creeping onto my cheeks.

»She’s blushing.«, he mouthed, definitely not planning to stop teasing me anytime soon.

»Am not!«, I protested, already thinking of how I can best cover up this situation. He glared at me, a smile tugging at his lips as if he was trying to say ‘you sure are’. 

»But for anyone wondering, no I won’t go into further detail. I don’t plan on sharing my lucky charm anytime soon. I’m definitely not gonna favour any of my opponents, that’s for sure.«, he quickly added, closing off that part of our conversation.

I bit down on my lower lip, trying to control and stop the blood rushing to my cheeks. If people only knew what he was talking about. I gulped as I pulled out my passes just to press them on the scanner seconds later to enter the paddock area.

»You know it’s only fair if I get to film some bits too, I’m pretty sure people would love to see what you actually do behind the scenes.«, he said, pointing at the camera in my hands. If looks could kill, he’d be a dead man walking. I knew he was up to no good.

»Oh come on, you tortured me all season last year, just let me have fun this one time?«, he practically begged until I gave in.

»Fine…«, I sighed and handed him the camera. Internally, I already prepared for my own downfall. I knew that he would get back at me for every single bad angle and ‘torturing’ challenge I put him through. He was most definitely going to beat me at my own game.

Seconds later, I was the one awkwardly smiling into the camera.

»So folks, it’s finally my turn now. I’ve been waiting for this moment since last year!«, Oscar declared, dramatically gesturing behind the camera. 

»You better not make me look ridiculous. You know I still have unseen footage from last year.«

»I don’t care, your bribing won’t work today.«, he grinned, as we were on our way all the way to the back of the paddock.

»But let’s start easy, what’s your plan for the day?«

»Well, hopefully we can celebrate a championship.«, I said, shrugging my shoulders. »Apart from that, just the usual things, might start editing in the break between F2 and F1, depending on what mood I’m in.«, I added. »And I can’t wait to go home again tonight.«

»No books involved in your planning?«, he asked in disbelief.

»I’m here to work, and considering my plans for later, I actually don’t have the time to read.«

»I’m actually shocked.« I chuckled at his facial expression, pure disbelief visible on every inch of his face.

»Anyway, let’s stay with the books for a second. Last book you read?«

»Some random biography on the plane to Zandvoort.«, I lied, knowing that if I named the book I finished two days ago, we’d end up in the same situation as the morning after Silverstone.

»Lies. I call lies.« Shit. I was fucked. There was no way he'd skip this one now.

»How would you know?«, I tried to overplay it, not daring to look at him. I knew he had that smug grin on his lips knowing he caught me.

»Well I don’t want to break it to the world, why don’t you tell them about your reading habits like you told me?«, he asked, raising an eyebrow. I shot him a death glare. There was no way he was using that conversation from that morning against me right now.

»Ohw come on Kaia, it’s not that bad.« No, just ‘soft porn’ as he liked to call it. Just when I thought the red tint had finally left my face, I felt my cheeks growing very warm again.

»Fine, the last fictional novel I read was ‘The Cheat Sheet’.«, I gave in. »It was very good, definitely a recommendation worth.«, I added. »And no, not for the reason you’re thinking it’s recommendation worthy.«, I grumbled, shooting Oscar another death glare before he could even dare to say the ‘forbidden’ words.

»For anyone who's interested, it’s best friends to lovers, but both of them think they’re in the friendzone with the other one, but they’re both in love with the other. They’re so in love, it’s almost annoying. Like, why don’t you just tell each other.« I explained, glancing over at Oscar, giving me the ‘I see what you did there’ look. I grinned in so thought victory, until the mischievous grin spread on his lips again.

»So it wasn’t just soft porn?«

»Oh for fucks sake Oscar!«, I exclaimed, my cheeks blazing with embarrassment.

»Don’t blame me, you’re the one who made it sound so scandalous in the first place, if I remember correctly.«, he grinned, shrugging his shoulders. 

»So if I heard correctly, you’ve basically been reading about us, huh?«

»Oh my god, stop it, will you?«

»No, winding you up is too easy and easily my most favourite thing to do.«, he grinned.

»That’s it, I’ve had enough.«, I grumbled, closing the gap between us to try and get my camera back. »Can I please get my camera back? I think you’ve embarrassed me enough for the rest of this season.«, I added and let out an annoyed groan, when he held the camera far out of my reach. He just grinned, stopped in his tracks and held the camera above his head. I crossed my arms in front of my chest, shooting him yet another death glare, but he just grinned at me victoriously. I got on my tiptoes, trying to reach for the camera, but my arm just wasn’t long enough.

»A kiss and I’ll think about giving it back to you.«, he grinned, trying to bribe me.

»You’re impossible.«, I muttered, already scanning our surroundings for the possibility of any prying eyes. Oscar’s mischievous grin widened, as he continued to hold the camera just out of my reach. It was clear that he was enjoying every single bit of annoying me.

»Fine..«, I sighed, ready to surrender. Getting on my tiptoes again, I pressed a quick kiss on his cheek.

»You know that’s not what I meant.«, he chuckled at my terrified expression.

»Feeling a bit risky, are we?«, I said, raising an eyebrow.

»If it means I get a kiss from you, then yes. Definitely.«

»Oscaaar…«, I whined as a laugh shot through his body. He put his arm, that was not holding the camera, around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. I could feel the warmth of his body radiate against mine, sending a shiver down my spine. I couldn’t help, but look into his eyes, getting lost in the infinite shades of brown. I was unable to suppress the smile that was tugging at my lips, as I felt my tummy doing turns again.

»If this ends up on the internet, you’re the one who’s gonna deal with it..«, I mumbled, as I brought my right hand up to his face and ran it through his hair.

»I don’t care.«, he whispered. His mischievous grin faded away as our faces drew closer. His lips were just mere inches away from mine and it felt just like the very first time. 

He was so close. So close, I could tell every little detail of his skin. Every little detail of his eyes.

[jhutchh19992]

Accidental Encounters

Plot: you meet josh futturman in a gaming store. you didn‘t know him until now, and you kinda feel charmed by his tipsy personality.

tags: no smut, fluff, getting to know him, gaming store

Josh Futturman was having a rough day. Between working his dead-end job as a janitor at a lab, and trying to beat the seemingly impossible video game, "Biotic Wars," he could feel the weight of the world pressing down on him. The only solace he found was in the glow of his computer screen, where he fought off waves of alien invaders and imagined himself as the hero he always wanted to be.

Today, however, Josh decided to take a rare break from his routine. His gaming equipment had been acting up, and if he was going to have any shot at beating the game, he needed to upgrade. That’s why he found himself at the local gaming store, Pixel Paradise—a haven for gamers like him. The walls were lined with the latest consoles, games, and accessories, all under the dim, neon-lit atmosphere that gave the place an almost sacred feel.

Josh was scanning the shelves, deep in thought about which controller would give him the edge he needed. He barely noticed when another customer entered the aisle.

That customer was you.

You were new in town, recently moving in to start fresh after a long series of life changes. Video games had always been your escape, and a new game shop was the perfect way to familiarize yourself with the neighborhood. Your eyes sparkled as you took in the variety of titles and the inviting glow of the screens.

Josh didn’t see you coming when he bent down to grab a boxed headset from the lower shelf. As he stood up, he bumped into you, causing him to lose his balance. In a swift motion, he tried to steady himself, but instead, he fumbled with the keys in his pocket. They slipped out, spinning in the air before landing in your open hand—completely by accident.

“Whoa! Nice catch,” you said, chuckling softly as you handed the keys back to him.

Josh blinked, clearly embarrassed. “Uh, thanks. I’m usually not this clumsy.”

“No worries,” you replied, smiling at him. “It’s not every day I catch someone’s keys like that. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Josh stammered, running a hand through his hair. He looked at you for the first time, noticing your friendly demeanor. “Sorry for, you know, almost knocking you over.”

“All good,” you said, waving it off. “What were you looking for, anyway?”

Josh hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. He didn’t want to come off as too much of a gaming nerd—especially to someone he just met. But there was something about your presence that put him at ease.

“I, uh, was just trying to upgrade my setup,” Josh finally said, holding up the headset. “My controller’s been acting weird, and I’m on this really tough level in ‘Biotic Wars’.”

“‘Biotic Wars’?” you said, your interest piqued. “That game is insane! I’ve been stuck on the third level for ages.”

“Wait, you play too?” Josh asked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

“Yeah, I do!” you said. “Though I’m not nearly as good as I’d like to be. Maybe I just need the right gear, like you.”

Josh felt a sudden surge of confidence. This was someone who understood what he was going through—someone who didn’t judge him for being a little too obsessed with a game. “You know,” he said, “if you’re having trouble, I could help you out. I mean, if you want. I’ve been stuck on the final level for weeks, but I’ve learned a few tricks along the way.”

You considered his offer, intrigued. “That sounds awesome, actually. I’ve been wanting to get past that third level forever. Maybe we can help each other out.”

“Yeah, totally!” Josh agreed. “How about we start with finding the right gear here, and then we can head to my place? We could try to beat the game together.”

The suggestion was spontaneous, and Josh immediately worried that he was coming on too strong. But your face lit up at the idea, putting his fears to rest.

“That sounds like a plan,” you said. “Let’s do it.”

The two of you spent the next half hour exploring the store together, comparing controllers, testing headsets, and sharing gaming stories. Josh found himself feeling more comfortable around you with each passing minute. There was a natural connection between you—one that made the normally shy Josh feel like he could be himself.

Finally, with your new gear in hand, you both headed back to Josh’s apartment. It was a small, modest place, but it had everything you needed for an epic gaming session. Josh set up the equipment, and before long, the two of you were immersed in the world of “Biotic Wars.”

The hours flew by as you strategized, laughed, and celebrated small victories together. Every time Josh managed to save you from an enemy ambush, you shot him a grateful smile that made his heart race. And when you figured out a puzzle that had him stumped, he couldn’t help but admire your sharp mind.

As the night wore on, the two of you found yourselves sitting closer together, your focus on the screen occasionally broken by playful banter. It wasn’t long before the final boss loomed ahead—an enemy that had been the bane of Josh’s existence for weeks.

“We’re so close,” Josh murmured, his voice tense with anticipation. “Just a little more…”

With a well-timed combo, the boss’s health bar plummeted. You and Josh worked in perfect harmony, landing the final blow together. The screen exploded with the words “Victory!”

“We did it!” you exclaimed, jumping up in excitement. “I can’t believe we actually did it!”

Josh stood up too, grinning from ear to ear. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Seriously, that was amazing.”

The two of you shared a high five, but when your hands met, neither of you pulled away. For a moment, you just stood there, smiling at each other, the thrill of the victory still buzzing between you.

“You know,” you said softly, “I’m really glad I bumped into you today. Literally.”

“Me too,” Josh replied, his voice equally soft. “Maybe we should make this a regular thing. You know, hanging out, gaming… whatever.”

“I’d like that,” you said, your heart fluttering at the idea. “I’d like that a lot.”

Josh felt a warmth spread through him—a feeling he hadn’t had in a long time. It wasn’t just about the game anymore. It was about you, and the unexpected connection that had formed between you.

[my-horniness-is-okay]

Hellooo, this is my first fanfiction so please go easy on me 🙏 not beta read so probably some errors. The character is obviously aged up, idk where in the timeline bc I’ve only played the first two games. I tried to keep him in character as much as I could, sorry if it’s not great. MC is supposed to be gender neutral, genitalia and appearance is not detailed.

Synopsis: the head of the Togami Corporation has his eye on the new intern. After hiring a private investigator, he discovers that the object of his affections is a sex worker; he has found his angle to get closer in a way he understands. Paying for what he wants.

Warning: unhealthy obsession, unhealthy power dynamics, nsfw content, graphic sexual content, Switch Byakuya, Byakuya gets pegged lol, oral sex MC receiving, sex toys, prostitution/dominatrix MC, edging and overstimulation, begging and slight dacriphilia, implied stalking, classism, asshole rich guy being conniving and entitled who could’ve guessed, MC is subjected to corporate bullshit, um tell me if I missed anything

Byakuya couldn’t help but feel just a bit awkward. It’s not like anyone at this kitschy cafe would really stare at him this late in the evening, even with him being the sole survivor of the Togami name and all; it was dark out and a weekday so most would be at home, not actively seeking out more caffeine.

This place was your recommendation, and after sending that private investigator after you a while back he found out that this is a place you liked to schedule meetings with clients, but this cafe was too low brow for his liking; tacky decor, shoe prints scuffed onto the floor, and a few too many frazzled college students damn near weeping into their coffee mugs as they furiously hammer away on their keyboards. Not to mention, his tea was a little oversteeped; Just awful, Byakuya thought to himself, clenching on the toy faithfully nestled inside of him, how long do I have to wait in this dump? In reality, it had only been a few minutes, but he had been waiting the whole day to get to this point, canceling his meetings and setting his work aside to get ready for this date.

Byakuya shifted in his seat, feeling himself throb and shiver as he remembered your instructions; clean himself up real nice inside and out, put on that nice new white shirt with the gold detailing that makes him look so pretty, and edge himself. Edge himself until he can’t stand it, until he is shaking and just wants to cry and be gifted release. Then get up, put himself together, straighten himself out, have his driver take him to this ridiculous cafe, and tell his driver to park the car in the alleyway and fuck off somewhere else until he is ready to go home.

Well he did, and now he waits sexually frustrated and irritated at everything, hands trembling slightly around the warmth of his mug as the bell tinkles above the front door and a cold breeze from the outside sends an electric current up his spine. He quickly takes a sip of his halfway full cup as the barista loudly welcomes in the newcomer, who’s murmured hello and approaching footsteps were all too familiar to Byakuya. He tried to ignore the pulse of excitement that shot to his cock, staring down at his drink nonchalantly, but he can’t prevent the quiet whimper that slips past his lips when he feels your gentle hand slide over his shoulder as you walk from behind him into view.

You’re as lovely as always, eyes captivating, smiling gently, and saying something in greeting he wasn’t listening to, far too busy drinking you in. You had all your usual luster but his heartbeat hammered uncomfortably loud in his ears as he gawked stone faced, just knowing you would be touching him, that he would finally be touching you. You look nice, but your clothes are notably non-constrictive. For easy access, Byakuya swallowed, just taking in your presence.

“Togami? Y’alright?” Your voice calls his attention as you sit down across from him, pulling your bag in your lap. He makes a little hmm? sound, face flushed and hands nervously stirring his tea. “Busy day, huh?”

His lips part as he pauses, wondering what to say. The last thing he wanted to do was dwell on small talk. “I’m here on time. What’s your excuse?” You had a quizzical look on your face; true, you were only about 10 minutes late, but that felt like centuries to Byakuya. He had wanted you for so many months ever since you had started interning at the Togami Corporation; You were all polite nods and smiles with uncaring sardonic eyes, bracing yourself for the lowly corporate job you signed up for. Even passing him in the hall there was something sarcastic in your bow, something joking in your tone- Oh yes what an honor Mr Togami, said with all the eagerness of a wooden board. Something about your frankness, your beauty, your humor- he hated it, hated how crazy you drove him.

“Traffic,” you dismissed lightly with a quirk to your brow. “Never knew you to be one for punctuality- in fact, I overhear enough gossip around the office to know that you’re never on time. Your meetings start and end according to your whims, right Mr Togami?” Byakuya swallowed, eyes trained on your fingers tap tap tapping against the tabletop. “And you came,” your fingers stilled, “right on time for me, didn’t you?” Clenching on the toy inside of him he glanced up to your gaze, quickly looked away as if he had been burned by the mere intimacy of the act, and nodded sheepishly. A tch aww left your smile as you tilted your head at him, your legs brushing against his under the table. “See, you can behave when you want to; you’re even wearing the shirt I picked out for you!” God, how your praises set him on fire, “Does that mean you did everything I asked of you?”

“Obviously, I’m not an animal.” He scoffed; he didn’t really know why he snapped like that when you already could tell how much he was enjoying being under your scrutiny, but what does a man like himself say to such a thing? Must he suffer the indignity of having his intelligence questioned? His hygiene? His physical endurance? His ability to follow simple fucking directions?

“Watch your tone.” You chided quietly, the sultry simplicity of those words made him dizzy, “How tragic it would be for you to have gotten this far just to have me punish you because you chose to be a brat. Wouldn’t that be sad?” He nodded once, his tongue darting out to wet the corner of his mouth as he took a nervous deep breath. “You gotta use your words, honey.”

He felt his pride tightening his throat in defiance to being spoken down to in such a manner, causing him to simply gawk once more. He ached for you, your touch and your simpering mockery and your confidence all had him throbbing with the need to finally feel your skin on his. All he wanted was to be worthy under your wry gaze, to impress you, to please, to-

Suddenly you stood, lifting your bag onto your shoulder and pushing in your chair. “Listen, if you’re not ready for this-”

“I am!” He exclaimed a little too quickly, face scorching hot with embarrassment. “I just- it’s hard! For me to-” Byakuya lets out a slow angry sigh as he averts his gaze, more frustrated with himself than you, “It’s difficult for a man in my position to- to trust someone with this.”

You blinked at him, unimpressed, “It’s understandable to be nervous, but we worked out the do’s and don'ts at our previous meeting, remember? And the NDA.” Something softened in your voice, “I see you hesitating. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. This is all at your own pace, remember? Let’s do this when you are more emotionally ready.” You turn, starting to take your first step away to the door when suddenly he snatches your wrist in his tight grasp. Looking down, you see that Byakuya’s eyes now lack the austereness they usually carry, replaced with an embarrassed yearning.

“I am,” he positively pleads, sounding more sure than ever, “I need this. Please- Please show me.” The depth of your eyes makes him breathless as you search his face for a moment, before slipping your wrist out of his grasp and gently taking his hand, smiling; your warmth against his uncalloused palm made him annoyingly giddy.

“Then be a good boy and put your mug on the counter so the nice barista doesn’t have to come all the way over here to clean it up.” You let go of his hand. “I’ll be waiting by the door.”

A burst of excitement shoots through his chest, full of relief as he gingerly stands up, the toy settling inside of him as he grasps the half full cup by the rim. He is so ecstatic at not letting you slip through his grasp, he only is slightly affronted at having to do the plebeian’s work and return the ugly mug of oversteeped tea to the sticky counter, where the barista is too preoccupied with their phone to even thank him for gracing the trash bin they called a cafe. As he gently sets the glass on the granite counter, Byakuya watches you across the room; you’re looking through your bag triple checking you have everything you need, glancing out the window and checking the time as he approaches you.

“Good boy~” You purr, looping your arm through his. The bell above the door jingles as you enter the autumn night air together.

…

If he knew about how all consuming you would become to him, Byakuya would not have left finding interns for the Togami Corp to his underlings; he would have vetoed their decision, thrown out your resume, and eradicated the problem like crushing a bug beneath his expensive boot. This passion, this weakness has ruined him he knows, but the secrets of Pandora’s box cannot be silenced, and dammit neither can he while he lays underneath you.

You had thrown down a towel on the plush leather of the backseat of the car Togami arrived in. With his trousers, coat, and boxers discarded haphazardly over the partition and on the cab floor, Byakuya laid facing up with his white and gold shirt partially unbuttoned. You said missionary so he is in missionary, you said to hitch his knees up to his chest so now his socked feet were brushing the ceiling, and you said you wanted to put him in a cock ring and well, here he was.

“You’re so pretty like this, baby~” You mutter between kisses. He can hear the grin in your voice but he can’t care when you’re playing with the plug he brought inside himself, teasing his entrance with one hand and the other trailing up his chest to his throat. Diaphragm rising and falling, his dark pink head was leaking with arousal, aching and needy to burst already as your strap on brushes against his length. The car was filled with the humidity of sweat and cologne as you both took shelter from the quiet alleyway.

Using the bottle of lube from your bag you prep the strap for him, the slick sound emanating in the small space makes electricity shoot throughout his body. It was finally happening, having you so close and so alone; it almost felt like a dream to Byakuya, staring up at you like he was in a spell. The light from the street lamps outside barely illuminated you, the enclosing shadows making the space seem smaller, more intimate. The thought that no one but him was seeing you in this moment had him damn near keening. This was all for him, he owned this hour with you.

The plug was set to the side and Byakuya shakily sighed at the loss of sensation. Teasingly dragging the tip around his entrance, the slippery silicone of the toy creates a quiet squelching sound that makes Byakuya throb. Watching you unblinking, his desperation emanates from him, his pink lips silently form the words please please please.

As you start to ease in the head of the toy, his lips press together, glasses askew and eyes closed in a relaxed focus. A quiet noise resonated from his throat as it slipped in, his flushed chest rising and falling under his half unbuttoned dress shirt. Under you with his legs hitched up to his chest, his head was thrown back in pleasure and a few stray tears wetting his lashes and trickling down his temples.

“You’re so pretty like this, pet,” you coo, and he really is, “doing so well. Take me a bit more, yeah?” He shakily nodded, so you gradually pushed the girth deeper, his lips parting at the stretch. “How’s that feel, baby?”

He takes a shaky deep breath, practically panting in arousal as his member twitches, and his smooth white thighs shaking under his vice grip. “More.” He murmured; It doesn’t sound like a command like he intends it to be, more like a whine.

You give his thigh a hard smack, and when he jolts he accidentally rocks back and forth on the strap-on, gasping and opening his pleading eyes.

“Is that how you’re supposed to ask?” You say, your fingers massaging the tender pinking flesh. The words have him clenching around the toy, a tingling sensation darting through his limbs.

He chuckles diverting his wanton gaze up to the ceiling of the cab, Adam’s Apple bobbing, he clings to his embarrassment a bit longer as his tongue darts out and quickly licks his bottom lip. “I, uh-“ he falters, not because he doesn’t know the answer, but because he’s not sure if his pride can handle listening to his own voice admit to what he wants out loud.

You strike him again on the same side, this time on his ass cheek. A sigh, almost a squeak, escapes him as he furrows his brow at you, his eyes misty with longing and bashfulness. You start to pull out and Byakuya’s mouth drops open at the feeling; the head of the toy catching on his entrance before pushing it back in shallowly, only as deep as you had gotten before. He nearly keens as you strike him again but harder, lazily dragging the toy in and out, shallow thrusts that do nothing but tease his entrance.

“Please.” His voice cracks, eyes watering as he stares desperately, trying to move his hips to pull the toy deeper, so he gets another spank. He hums a stifled groan, heart skipping a beat.

“Please, what?” You demand with a shit eating grin, watching his obstinance melt under the pain and pleasure.

You, You, You, maddening beguiling You with your razor sharp smile somehow draining him of his dignity. He never signed up for this religion of his, but he found his new god in You whether he liked it or not.

“Fuck,” he grunts, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head away; his mouth is rosy and a little swollen from being kissed so much, and you can’t help but feel like there is something a bit Adonis-like to his face when he isn’t being so cold.

You grip him by his disheveled hair and force him to look at you; his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and squeaks under his breath. “C’mon, pet,” You smack his hip hard, so much so that he bleats, his brows knitting together as he looks up with humiliated pleasure, “use your words.”

“I-“ As he falters a quiet whine resonates from the back of his throat, “I need it, please. Please fuck me. I- Master, fuck, I-“

He’s cut off as you finally thrust in deeper; his eyes roll back as he lets out a shrill ecstatic sigh, giving him what he so desires as we ease up to the hilt of the toy, your pelvis snug against his, the tip of the toys nestled snugly against his prostate. Dropping your grip on his ruffled blond locks, you caress up and down his soft thighs, letting him get used to the length.

“Better, sweetheart?” He jerks his head in a vague nod to the question. His breathing is ragged as he savors the stretch, lost in his own world as he trembles excitedly. His cock pulses, dripping and twitching on his abdomen.

“‘M ready. Please, master.” His tone is a little childish, a petulant whine to beg for his reward. A choked sob escapes him as your hand rubs his balls and you start to gently rock back and forth inside of him, admiring his flushed cheeks and focused expression.

“See, baby?” Your voice chimes with an undertone of mocking, pulling out a bit more for some real thrusting, “see how easy it is when you just behave? Get you everything you want.” As the toy gets pushed back in he lets out a small cry of pleasure, “Everything you want.”

Setting a slow pace, low drawling moans reverberate in his chest as people pass by at the entrance of the alleyway, just a few paces from his begging and debauchery, just a few meters from witnessing this young man’s dreams coming true. Byakuya reaches up to pull you in closer and kisses you feverishly, and when his lips open begging to taste you his noises are freed from his throat; between each lick and thrust he vocalizes, he can’t help it, filling up the tiny space. In this moment he is a thing to be owned, nothing else exists.

“Doin’ so well, being used like this. So perfect for me aren’t you?” He moans an ardent affirmative, “This what you want, baby?” You ask between kisses, a hand teasing his head.

He’s breathing heavier now, holding back his shrill panting in the back of his throat as the toy massages deep within him, grinding his hips flush against yours. “Please,” it’s a barely contained whisper, he has tears in his eyes and he looks like a dog begging, “please- I just need it. Fuck me hard. Please.”

Byakuya bites your lip and he grinds his hips in tandem to yours, his hands releasing their hold on his thighs, his feet planted firmly on the ceiling of the cab now as his hands grip your hips pulling you into practically lay on top of him. “Hmm?” you breathe, the sound almost a moan as his long elegant fingers grip like a vice into your back, into your skin. He can feel arousal of your own dampening your inner thighs at this point; Byakuya smugly wondered if you got this worked up for all your clients. Jolting him out of his thoughts you reach down and start to fist his straining cock, leisurely dragging the foreskin back and forth causing him to gasp and tense up, unconsciously pushing the strap out by an inch or two.

“No, please, not like this, I-“ he whines in a panic, gripping the wrist that has a hand on his dick; Byakuya stills you entirely, his fingers massaging your skin as he tries to relax and slow his breathing. Sighing, he plants kisses along your jaw over to the hollow of your ear, “I want- master, god fuck- just, please fuck me for real already, I- Oh~” Cutting him off as your hand lifts from his cock and grips his throat, you draw the length out and when you quickly snap your hips forward, his voice cracks he cries out so loudly and suddenly. Back and forth, you keep the steady rhythm, gripping his white hips and pounding into him hard, watching as he comes undone. For a moment his hands scramble for purchase against the leather seats, desperate for something to ground him as his loud moans filled the cab, a sensation he had never felt before spreading over every inch of his skin. Pleasure trickles through his nerves like a tsunami, pleasure that for the first time stretches beyond his cock, throughout his whole body.

Like the air is being punched out of his lungs, he rocks up against the seats, the crown of his blonde head brushing against the door behind him, his feet dragging on the ceiling, his long gangly legs framing your shoulders. Removing your hand from his throat, you grip the headrest of the front seat and give him deep powerful strokes that seize up his limbs painfully and have him shaking. Each cry melds into the last, quickly becoming a stream of moans each as loud and undignified as the one prior. The toy hits too deep, persistent and punishing and unbearably good. He doesn’t know how long the feeling lasts, but he remains on the edge of an orgasm like the ebb and flow of the sea; closer and closer still and then receding back into himself again. Weeping openly he begs, he has never felt this good before and that scares him, not knowing if he wants the sensation to end or go on forever.

Falling suddenly silent, Byakuya cums much quicker than he would have liked, gripping you hard in shock as his rigid limbs thrash at the sensation that he had never felt quite like this; like you had lit a flame in his feet and he felt it creep all the way up his body, slowly moving through his torso and making him shiver.

Even after his cock had stilled, his head was still spinning, his heart hammering. Keeping one hand on your hip to keep you flush against him, his other hand reached up and brushed his hair out of his eyes, bumping his glasses clumsily. He shudders as you carefully remove his cock ring. You were certain that for once not a single thought was in that beautiful head of his as he blinked his wet lashes slowly and dreamily.

When he glanced down at himself, he was surprised to see that there wasn’t any cum on him. He had cum dry, his cock a bit more relaxed after removing the cock ring but still stiff. He almost couldn’t believe that you made him feel that good without the external release he was so accustomed to; he might’ve described it as witchcraft if he was a superstitious man.

“I want…” Byakuya says much too slowly, much meeker than he would have liked, “I want to make you cum. Can I?” His heart soars when you chuckle. “Sit on my face, please? I want- I want to please you too.”

“You are a good boy, aren't you?” Leaving the toy inside of him, he watches you as you unbuckle the strapon from your hips. “Damn near read my mind, baby~” You sound delighted as you crawl over him, his awkwardly long legs cramping up against the door by his feet. His heart melts when you gently remove his glasses from his face with a laugh, setting them off to the side somewhere as you saddle up to his face, gripping his hair and pulling him forward to your heat.

He is shocked by how the smell of your sex drives him mad, incapable of stopping himself from breathing in frantically like a hound as he grips the fat of your hips. After one tentative lick he is hooked, burying his face between your thighs and devouring you feverishly like a man starved. His cock throbs at the taste, his heart leaping out of his chest at your quiet groaning and your firm grip on his hair. He needs this shit on tap, he realizes, Byakuya can’t live without this. Your taste at the back of his throat, swirling his tongue passionately along your slit while groaning in excitement makes him feel high. He is thrilled when you really start to get into it, moving his head back and forth and humping his face like he’s your toy, making his jaw ache. You need him so badly as you grow swiftly closer to your climax, your voice rising and your pace speeding up. Your arousal starts to ooze out of the corners of his mouth as he eagerly works his tongue to your pleasure.

Byakuya’s hips leap when you reach back around and start playing with his throbbing cock; Much to his embarrassment he ejaculates immediately with a loud grunt, pleasure overtaking him once again. The orgasm this time does not keep him in limbo like the last one did, instead it is reliable and easy, though notably more intense than normal. Semen paints his stomach, shooting out of him hot and fast, leaving him trembling ferociously once again. Even after his cum soaks your hand you don't stop stroking him, riding his face harder as you gradually come up on your own release, overstimulating him in the process.

His throbbing pleasure transforms into an aching numbness. Hungrily, he grips you fiercely and yanks you forward, forcing you to lean against the door above his head and suffocate him with your weight, grinding on his mouth. It’s heaven when he finally makes you cum, filling his mouth with you and making you shout. He needs this, Byakuya thinks to himself, he needs this warmth between your quivering thighs forever. It’s where he belongs; It’s where you belong.

After a few minutes, when you come down from your high, you ease yourself off of him with a shaky laugh that reignites his pride. He made you feel like that. Byakuya was the one who summoned the relaxed expression on your face as you straddled his waist, carefully brushing his bangs out of his eyes. You say something but he is so zoned out he doesn’t hear you. “Hm?” Byakuya breathes out, squinting up at your blurry form dreamily.

“Feeling good, huh?” Your chuckle and teasing grin melt his already relaxed self. “All I said was that you did well.”

Byakuya had a hard time thinking of a response. He was so blissed out, so at ease as he absentmindedly massages your now bruising hips. After a long pause he sharply chimed, “Our hour isn’t up yet.”

“Still got more in you?” You sounded surprised.

“Just-” Byakuya slowly shook his head, face heating up. “Just reminding you.” After removing the toy from inside of him and putting it in a ziplock baggy along with the plug and ring, he sat up with his back against the door and with you straddling his lap. “Where are my glasses?” He asked in an annoyed tone. After you retrieved them from under the driver’s seat, he donned them again, blinked at you, and sighed at the sight.

“So what do you want to do now?”

“Um,” Byakuya hesitated, his fingers clutching your soft waist possessively, not knowing how to ask for something more affectionate without embarrassing himself. He swallowed, avoiding your gaze. “I think I- well, let’s just relax for now.” He drawls sheepishly.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you lift your hand and bring it up to his head; his scalp was thrumming from having his hair pulled a few minutes ago. As your deft fingers card through his blond locks, he admires the way you smile mockingly as he unconsciously leaned into your touch. “You’re cute~” He found something demeaning in your tone that sent a pulse of excitement to his spent cock; how the hell do you do that, he marveled.

“Do you… usually cum like that? With your clients, I mean.” Byakuya cleared his throat nervously, his jealousy ravenously clawing him apart from the inside out; he didn’t want to ask it but it came out anyway.

“Why do you ask?” You challenged teasingly, “I do have to be confidential about my clients, you know.” Anger tightened Byakuya’s throat, making him feel hot. Didn’t you know how special this was? How honored you should be that the Byakuya Togami has fallen for you? His own feelings disgusted him, but as your gentle fingers combed his blond locks from out of his eyes and back out of his face, he felt the rage melting out of him again. “Silly boy.”

His deft hands massaged your hips tenderly as he stared at you, watching as you gulped under the intensity of his gaze. You seemed uncomfortable, and some part of him liked it; seeing you squirm and glance away as he stared you down. “I want to schedule another appointment.”

The sound of your surprised laugh made his heart swell in a way he found particularly vexing. “Well I do love good business, but how about you pay me for this one first?” You snapped.

He grinned sleazily, feeling for the first time you were speaking a language he knew how to speak back. He grabbed his trousers from the floor and fished his phone out from one of the pockets. Ordering you a ride home, sending you the thousands of dollars straight from his personal account and pulling up his calendar with lightning speed, he breezed through to your next day off and canceled his meetings for that day with barely a glance in your direction. He knew your schedule inside and out from what the private investigator told him, so it was a breeze to find a day you were open.

Those measly thousands meant absolutely nothing to him; if they want to earn real money they’ll have to actually work for it, go where I want us to go and wear what I want them to wear! Byakuya thought to himself, not that trash cafe and these cheap rags for mere pennies to pay for that little hovel you called home.

He knew that if he eased you into the lifestyle of his caliber, gave you a taste for the finer things in life and got you attached to easy living, he would have you begging to be his lifelong pet- a modern day concubine all for himself. His smile was sinister as he watched you blink at his phone screen with great interest, gawking at all the pretty numbers. With the Togami fortune at your leisure, how could you ever deny him? Eventual mistresses and bastard children be damned, you’d be eating out of the palm of his hand in no time, an empty headed little bird trapped in a gilded cage. And the thought alone had his cock pulsing with excitement again.

——-

Yandere Byakuya smut! Please leave a comment and constructive criticism! I hope you enjoyed <3

[odetodilfs]

Can you write a bottom male reader x top Joel miller where since they’ve met maybe they were neighbors and after the pandemic they’ve just been bestfriends but also flirts one day the reader got Joel a hard on from his words? And when they come back inside a home..you can choose how they lead to having sex? Maybe they’re in Jackson or found a home if u want

Neighbors

Hey anon!! Sorry for taking so long but I've had to work a lot for these past few days!! Enjoy!!

Pairing: top Joel Miller x bottom male!reader Warnings: Smut, Joel being in love with you

Ever since the outbreak started, you had started to get closer with your neighbor Joel, you went from merely saying hi to each other to becoming very close friends. You were the one that helped him cope with Sarah’s death, becoming close friends in the process. Eventually when you two left Jackson and found a home somewhere else you decided to start living together, to keep Joel safer so he could sleep well, not having to worry about being too deaf to hear anything.

Joel at first merely saw you as a friend, but over time, the times you’d saved him and how you cared for him made him start feeling things beyond friendship, he focused on your eyes, the way you immediately asked if you could help when something happened. He couldn’t deny it any longer, he wanted to grab you and kiss you hard on the lips to ensure that you’d be together. You on the other hand, had had a crush on Joel ever since you knew him, you tried to be with guys that weren’t him, but it was no use… the one you wanted to have was Joel, and nobody else would do, and spending so much time with him only strengthened what you already felt for him.

One night, Joel was playing the guitar, he’d found one and had become almost obsessed, playing it into the early hours of the morning, for the past few nights, he’d even sung lullabies to you so you could sleep better, you were starting to love him so much, too much for your own good, you need to make a move, so for the next couple of days, you started flirting with him more and more, he got flustered each time, but eventually he started to flirt back, it had become a game of who could say the most subtle comment, but you said something that caused more than just a fluster,

“I’d slap your mouth if it wasn’t so pretty” Joel said after you told a lame joke, “Well, you can see anytime what sounds you can pull from it” you flirted, Joel sat there, you looked down and saw how he got a hardon, “Oh-” you said, “I’m sorry-” he apologized, “No need to” you said, getting closer to him, “Joel, we should cut the games, what do you feel for me?” you asked, he didn’t reply, “because for me- I see you as more than a friend-” you almost confessed but beat you to it, “I love you” he blurted out, hiding his face in his hands, “You mean it?” you asked him, “Yes, yes I do” he said with a worried look on his face, “Well, same here, and I think you’re the prettiest man ever, the way you have those brown eyes, the way your lips look so soft and tasty…” you started, you smiled at each other and you leaned in and kissed him, tasting him for the first time, his lips felt like velvet on yours and the way his mustache felt against your skin was making you feral.

As you whimpered and moaned into each other’s mouth, and grinding against each other, you finally pulled away. You smiled at each other, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long” he confessed, “I win that, I’ve loved you from afar for a full 3 years” you told him, 

“Love..me?” he asked, not being able to believe you loved him,

“Yeah, love you,” you held his face as you said that, “I do too,” he smiled, you kissed him again and then started grinding each other as the kiss became more and more heated, “Joel-” you moaned as he took off your shirt, “I want you” he said, he put on puppy eyes, you couldn’t say no to that, “Please?” he begged you, “I want you too, Joel” you smiled at each other as he looked around and found vaseline in a drawer, “You knew” your mouth agape in shock, “Well, when I didn’t have you here I had to pleasure myself somehow” he smirked and started putting it on his fingers, “Joel-” you moaned as he started to go inside you, his fingers stroking your walls.

As soon as his hand grazed your prostate you let out a low scream, “You like that baby?” he asked “F-fuck- yes-” you cried out, “I’m gonna make you feel good baby, gonna make those 3 years you couldn’t have me worth it” he promised you as he put another finger in, “Joel-” was all you could moan, your brain felt like jello, “Good boy, taking my fingers so well” he praised you, “my sweet love, my beautiful boyfriend” he kept saying, you just threw your head back, it was pure bliss.

Soon enough, his fingers were replaced by his cock, nudging through your tight walls, stretching them open, “Oh my god- it feels so so fucking good” you moaned, 

“I’ll make it feel better in a bit” Joel whispered as he started thrusting into you, hitting your spot just with the right angle to make you squirm, “Joel-” you just kept moaning his name, his cock in your ass was making you absolutely feral and by now there were tears down your eyes from the pleasure. Joel was also lost in pleasure, he hadn’t felt so good in forever and each thrust just got him closer and closer to orgasm, he grabbed the back of your head and kissed you hard as you moaned into each other’s mouths, there was sweat running down your heads. The way Joel’s dick hit the right spot and how his mustache felt against your upper lip made you lose it. You started screaming into his mouth instead as he continued fucking you as you came all over your bodies, your cock twitching. The way your ass clenched around Joel’s cock and he moaned loudly as ropes of cum sprayed inside you. You laid there panting after the pleasure you’d just gone through, you looked at each other with a smile as Joel took out his cock and laid down next to you, “Can I do something I’ve wanted to do for ages with you?” you asked him 

“I’m all yours” he said, so you moved next to Joel and scooped him up in your arms, “There, that’s what I’ve wanted to do” you smiled at him, you laughed when you saw he was already half asleep, “everything alright in there, love?” you asked him “This is the best moment in my life” he said as he smiled, “goodnight baby, I love you” he said as he finally rested, you eventually fell asleep too.

[scarlet-traveler]

Whenever Katsuki came to Izuku’s door waving his Switch with an invitation to play a game long after his bedtime, it was always clear that something was bothering the blond. He worked through whatever was causing him duress by kicking Izuku’s butt at a video game of his choosing—better than the alternative of literally kicking his butt and risking them both having house arrest again, or worse.

Sometimes they would even talk about it. Not always; sometimes Katsuki would just stew in his feelings, and over time they would dissipate as he got lost in the game, but other times the thoughts would be too much and he would end up venting to Izuku about whatever was on his mind. He was proud, knowing that their relationship was at a point where Katsuki trusted him with his innermost thoughts.

So when his rival/friend showed up at his doorstep with a challenge of Puyo Puyo Tetris of all things, Izuku didn’t pry. He just let him in, grabbed his own console, and waited to see what Katsuki had to say this time.

“What do you think of Kirishima?”

Except that wasn’t what Izuku had been expecting at all. A random student who had particularly annoyed him during the day, poking fun at his past? Sure. An assignment he was nervous about? Maybe. But this?

His thumbs fumbled over the joystick, and the long piece he’d been about to place slammed down on the wrong spot, not getting the Tetris he wanted and also blocking up his next few moves. Next to him on the bed, Katsuku gave a derisive snort before sending several rows of garbage to Izuku’s screen.

“Aw man…” Izuku worked to clear some of it away before addressing the previous question. “What do you mean, what do I think of Kirishima?”

“I mean, what do you think of him?”

Izuku gave him a look. “That doesn’t clear anything up, Kacchan.”

“Just answer the damn question, nerd.”

“Well…” He ruminated on the question for a moment, the only sound between them the click of tetriminos slamming down and their characters’ battle cries. “...he’s a really nice person, and an amazing hero. I’ve noticed he’s been getting better in terms of his self-esteem in regards to his quirk, so he’s been able to push himself farther than he has before when he’s creating new ultimate moves—there was one I saw him trying out in training the other day and it was so cool! I forgot to ask him about it, I should do that tomorrow-”

“Deku,” Katsuki cut in, voice dripping with exasperation. Better than the fury he’d often aimed at him at the start of the year.

Still, Izuku flushed in embarrassment and muttered out a “sorry” before continuing. “But yeah, he’s a very capable hero, he’ll make it into the top ten for sure, especially since he’s so compassionate and gets along with pretty much anybody…but what do you think of him?”

Katsuki didn’t immediately answer. He also started making mistakes as he played, ones he usually wouldn’t. Izuku snuck a glance over; Katsuki’s eyes were locked onto the screen, but he looked distracted, his thumbs fumbling over the controls. What was most damning though was the bright red blush that stained his cheeks, illuminated by the flashing lights of the game.

Interesting.

Izuku paused the game, and that got Katsuki to snap out of his daze as he glared at the younger boy. “Oi, what the-”

“Kacchan, do you like Kirishima?”

Katsuki sputtered, “The fuck? Why the hell would I like that shitty-haired bastard?”

Izuku might have believed him if not for the flush spreading to the rest of Katsuki face and ears. Izuku cocked an eyebrow, looking at Katsuki in disbelief.

“I don’t!” Katsuki said, his voice rising a pitch in defense. “He’s a dumbass and a fucking himbo that I gotta help with class every goddamn day, and he always calls me ‘manly’ and shit whenever I do anything, which doesn’t make sense because all I did was explain basic fucking trig or some shit! And he’s always obsessing over his shitty hair and making sure his roots don’t show, and he makes me check them to make sure they’re not—which I do, otherwise I’m gonna hear his whining for the rest of the day. And he’s fucking smiley at anything that movies, like at the dogs he sees on patrol and when I make him something he likes for dinner and it’s fucking annoying! So no, for you information Deku, I don’t like that bastard.”

Katsuki’s chest was heaving from exertion after his miniature tirade, the red still ever present on his cheeks. Izuku just hummed, nodded, and with complete confidence said, “You know, that’s a lot of stuff to note about somebody you don’t like.”

Katsuki balked, opened his mouth, closed it, glared at Izuku with the power of a 100% Detroit Smash, before averting his gaze with a frown that looked more like a pout. “Fuck you.”

Izuku held back a snort, instead turning to fully face Katsuki. “I think it’s okay if you like Kirishima, you know. And I think you two would be a good match for each other! You’re already really good friends, and you balance each other out.”

While a small part of Izuku was a little envious of the friendship Katsuki had with Kirishima when their own had been shaky for the better part of ten years and was only starting to get better recently, the rest of him was glad that Katsuki had somebody like the redhead. Somebody who cared for him wholly, not for his quirk or his intelligence, but for him, rough edges and curse-riddled sentences and all.

“Whatever,” Katsuki mumbled shortly, but Izuku didn’t miss the soft look in his red gaze as he stared down at his lap, the small smile tugging at his lips. It only lasted for a brief moment before he was snatching his Switch back up, competitive smirk back on his face. “C’mon, lemme beat your ass real quick so I can go to bed.”

Izuku rolled his eyes but complied anyway. “You can’t beat me that easily, I’m good at this game t- how did you already send trash over?!”

Katsuki’s cackling could probably be heard across the entire second floor of the dorms. But he seemed better, so Izuku didn’t complain about the absolutely insane amount of garbage he had to clean up now. Not much, anyway.

~

“Hey, Midoriya!”

Izuku looked back, pausing in his walk back to the dorms as he saw Kirishima jogging up to him. “Hi Kirishima! Is everything okay?”

The redhead stopped next to him, slightly panting. Still, he had his usual bright smile as he nodded. “Yeah, everything’s fine! But um-” His smile turned sheepish then, his hand going up to scratch the back of his neck like he tended to do when he was nervous. “Is it cool if I talk to you for a minute? Alone…?”

His eyes flicked up to look over Izuku’s shoulder, and he looked back as well; Uraraka, Iida, Todoroki, and Tsuyu, who he had been walking with, were all still there, watching the exchange unfold. “Oh, sure. I”ll meet you guys back at the dorms.” He waved after his friends as they continued walking, and Izuku and Kirishima fell into step a ways back, trailing behind the rest of the class. “So, what’s going on?” It was a little strange for Kirishima to be coming to Izuku for help with something. Not that he minded, of course not! He was honored that his classmates felt that they could come to him in times of need, a far cry from middle school. But usually Kirishima would go to Katsuki, or Kaminari, or any of the rest of his own friend group.

“Nothing much.” Kirishima still looked nervous, and there was also a light pink tint to his cheeks now. “I just wanted to ask you something about Bakugou, since you’ve known him the longest and all.”

Ah. That made a lot more sense. It made Izuku more curious, though. “Okay…what about him? I don’t think he’d be very happy if I gave you embarrassing stories from our childhood.”

“Nah, it’s not that!” Kirishima laughed, before gaining a thoughtful expression. “I wouldn’t mind getting some of those, though, just between the two of us. But no, uh, I-I wanted to know how to impress him.”

Izuku blinked up at him. “Impress Kacchan?”

“Y-Yeah! Just, y’know, out of curiosity.” By his darkening face and the skin visible between his fingers that were still over the back of his neck, Izuku could deduce that Kirishima wanted to know for more than curiosity’s sake.

Izuku’s gaze drifted ahead, finding Katsuki near the front of the group. He was with Kaminari and Ashido, and even from this distance Izuku could tell that they were purposefully annoying him, Katsuki’s shouts heard several feet away, though the words were indecipherable. It wouldn’t have been as bad if Kirishima were up there with him instead of back here with Izuku, the redhead possessing a gift to mollify even the loudest Baku-rages without making Katsuki feel like he was in the wrong.

And that was the thing. Throughout their first year Izuku has seen the depth of Kirishima’s influence on Katsuki, their influence on each other. There was a hard-earned trust formed early on, an understanding of each other that Katsuki might not have initially noticed but it was still there. It was how they got along so well, how Kamino had ended in the best outcome imaginable. They just got each other. And after his talk with Katsuki the other night…

Kirishima was wanting to impress Katsuki, but he was the last person who needed to. Because he already had.

“Why don’t you try being yourself?” Izuku said aloud.

“Myself?” Kirishima’s head tilted, confusion evident on his face. “Why would he be impressed with just myself?”

Kacchan was right, he really is a himbo, Izuku thought.

“Well, Kacchan already likes you enough to call you his friend—not that he would use those exact words since he still acts like he’s allergic to friendship—and he seems closer to you than everybody else, so…” Izuku shrugged. “Yeah.”

Kirishima stared at Izuku with wide eyes like he’d told him the secrets of the universe—or maybe even those aforementioned embarrassing Katsuki stories—his mouth slightly agape, before his gaze was drawn to the boy in question. Katsuki had finally managed to fend off Kaminari and Ashido, and he was stomping up the stairs to the doors of Heights Alliance. Before he went inside his gaze turned out to the school grounds, narrowed eyes sweeping the class before they landed on the redhead. They held each other’s gaze for a brief moment, but it was long enough for Izuku to see the happy grin on Kirishima’s face as he waved, the softening of Katsuki’s eyes and the reddening of his cheeks as he gave a little wave back before hurrying inside.

Kirishima lowered his hand, staring after the closing door with a look Izuku could only describe as positively lovesick, drooping eyes, dopey smile and all. “Yeah…maybe you’re right.” He turned a giddy smile Izuku’s way. “Thanks, man! I really appreciate it!” And with a hard clap of a hand on Izuku shoulder Kirishima was running off toward Heights Alliance. Chasing Katsuki down, no doubt.

Izuku shook his head as he watched him go, but he couldn’t help but smile. Katsuki and Kirishima really would be good for each other. Izuku just hoped that their conversations with him would help them confess their feelings for the other sooner rather than later.

~

Fic written for @krbkevents KRBK Month 2023 Day 29: Mutual Pining! Also on AO3, let me know what you think!

[xoniarainforest]

Got tagged by @kiki-shortsnout and this seems fun, so let’s do it!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Great question! None! Mainly because I started using AO3 last year and I have natural anxiety towards the publish button.

(You may not understand, but that button… that button scares me.)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

I have a very prideful zero. My goal this year is to try publish at least a 1k word count fic? I think it’s a fair step towards conquering my fear with that publish button.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Various Minecraft YouTubers (MCYT). I’ve been in this fandom for years, wrote about lots of peeps, but my current obsession is GeminiTay o/ (and maybe a little bit of Ethoslab. I never watch the guy before and I’m finally discovering his charm whoops)

DanganRonpa. As in writing OCs in the killing game aspect. I barely written anything about the characters other than my top 5 favourites though.

Undertale and its AUs. Especially the AUs, I remember being so crazy about it. Still do, but a bit more tone down in these past years. I write them during my need of comfort days. I have this one incomplete story from the fandom that I intend to finish it one day.

Marvel. This is my current biggest obsession. Specifically FrostIronStrange, following up with the Avengers.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I’m gonna answer this based on other websites that I’ve published since my AO3 page is empty. I don’t normally publish my fics cuz I’m a bit awkward in sharing, but amongst the ones I do share to public (they are mostly taken down at this point):

Méng Yǒu

Five Nights at Team Crafted

Three Peaks Castle

Colours

Dream. Glitch. World.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Most of my comments are from my friends so yes!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably that one Marvel series about an immortal child entity who travels through the multiverse determined to help solve the universal problems/threats in every universe/dimensions that they visits. It’s a series of never ending one shots because she never stops travelling. Obviously there are bound to have some very angsty endings where they fail to save the whole universe. Or she saved the universe, but she had to make hard decisions that affects them deeply.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Uhm… the world is saved from not being converted into a coded game? If you don’t consider fluff fics about typical daily life. Now that I think about it, there’s never a ‘true’ happy ending with my fics. I usually write the ‘to achieve the ultimate win, you lose something along the way’.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope. My fics typically don’t get discovered by people. Let alone by haters.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

When I’m feeling horny. I write very questionable porn with plot fics. Don’t ask. I swore to never share them.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Yes! I love writing crossovers between two of my favourite fandoms! I think the craziest would be MCYT x FNAF. Cuz it’s my first ever crossover fic and it holds a special place in my heart.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope. I think people prefer stealing works that are both great and completed. Sadly I’m neither great nor have I ever publish a complete fic to the public.

12. Does not exist apparently

Like my works? I have a ton that I have completed but never share to anyone.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Does co-writing a comic counts? I’ve co-written a short comic series with an irl friend before. It was only shared amongst my group of friends.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

FrostIronStrange is definitely at the top. It’s one of the very few romance shippings that I do since I normally do platonic or familial ships like Gemtho, SansxToriel, CharaxFriskxAsriel, Grian and Pearl etc.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Most of my long fics. Don’t get me wrong, I love all of them and I’m not abandoning them, but I have this problem where once I finish outlining the plot of my fics, my brain automatically files them as completed and places them at the easily forgotten corner even though I didn’t finish writing them. Plus I have a habit of jumping around between different stories… listen, I write for fun okay? I enjoy writing for the sake of writing so I don’t really care if it gets complete or not. Thinking about ‘must complete’ gives me stress and I don’t think it’s worth carrying that pressure when life itself is already stressful.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Worldbuilding, plot making, character backgrounds.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Grammar, dialogue writings, endings.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I constantly writes in both English and Chinese, so that’s not an issue for me.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Team Crafted from the very old MCYT fandom

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I like all of my fic. Case closed.

(You are never gonna force me to pick one. NEVER)

Who to tag next for the game?

I’m tagging everyone who has seen this post and hasn’t done the answers yet. So TAG, YOU’RE IT!

[shmowder]

ok here are some songs with lyric examples that I think represent certain pathologic characters (or at least make me associate the song with them)

sorry it took me a while to do lmao- you can tell i’m biased towards daniil (though I even threw in a song for georgiy for you!!!)

(woah you can totally tell I like björk and of monsters and men guys who did that-)

daniil dankovsky:

- obsession by ok go

a look so quick, a movement so slight, you could almost imagine it didn’t just happen. but everything will change, with just one look, one little glance. it’s not passing fascination, now. it’s obsession.

- hold on tight by aespa

situation critical, it’s heavy. a million blocks of obstacles, you help me see a different pov, (giving back all my) faith in a catastrophe (it’s alright). keep on moving, beat the system, autopilot, cruising. tunnel vision, victory, no losing. heaven knows it’s one hell of a ride. better hold on tight, better hold on tight, for your life.

- destroyer by of monsters and men

I want to be the king of my body and mind. gravity, let me go. before it bruises and blackens me and you, bury me in the glow. and I find sorrow in idle minds, and solace in being heard. (you better run, boy, run, but be afraid. cry, boy, cry, don’t play the game. gravity holds me down.)

artemy burakh:

- visitor by of monsters and men

let’s not make this complicated, I know you. last night I had the strangest dream that you knew me too. but you need to wake up, I can’t have you disappear. just like my parents' house, i’ve become a visitor.

- your bones by of monsters and men

awaken by the sound of a screaming owl, chasing leaves in the wind, going where we’ve never been. said goodbye to you, my friend, as the fire spread. all that’s left are your bones, that will soon sink like stones. so hold on. hold on to what we are, hold on to your heart.

georgiy kain:

- i’ve seen it all by björk

i’ve seen it all, I have seen the trees, I have seen the willow leaves, dancing in the breeze. (i’ve seen a man killed by his best friend, and lives that were over before they were spent). i’ve seen what I was and I know what i’ll be. i’ve seen it all, there is no more to see. — (what about china? have you seen the great wall?) all walls are great if the roof doesn’t fall.

peter stamatin:

- dandelion wine by gregory alan isakov

summer days were just a magazine, a magazine. cutting grass for gasoline, for gasoline, so I can see ya soon. fall swooned, left me drunk in a field. dandelion wine for a year.

- hallucinogenics by matt maeson

pushing past the limit, trippin’ on hallucinogenics. my cigarette burnt my finger ‘cause I forgot I lit it. rippin’ with my sinners, ‘cause fuck it, man, I ain’t no beginner. and then I crawled back to the life that I said I wouldn’t live in.

eva yan:

- hidden place by björk

and the littlest of his movements. hides himself, invents a charm that makes him invisible, hides in the air. can I hide there, too? hide in the air of him? seek solace, sanctuary. in the hidden place, in a hidden place, we’ll stay in a hidden place.

- it’s not up to you by björk

I wake up and the day feels broken. I tilt my head, i’m trying to get an angle. ‘cause the evening i’ve always longed for could still happen. how do I master the perfect day? six glasses of water, seven phone calls. (if you leave it alone, it might just happen, anyway.) it’s not up to you (oh, it never really was), it’s not up to you (well, it never really was).

these are just some songs, it just took me a while to format it all hahaha. let me know what you think!!! maybe every once in a while I can add a few more or something!! you don’t have to listen to these but I thought you might find the lyrics or music interesting!! (still working on that response to the longer ask, promise!)

love, -🥀

I just clicked on the first song and ohmygodohmygod the vibes are fucking perfect.

Imma link the songs you mentioned below bc these are some good picks.

Daniil Dankovsky

Kinda imagining Daniil and Reader in a room filled with people, a professional setting, and you notice him glancing at you. The whole "A look so quick" sparks obsession at first sight rather than just love at first sight.

Adding this one to my personal playlist actually lemme just yoink it. Enemies to lovers energy.

Assigning the prickly prick who will doom us all a song called "Destroyer" is more amusing than it has any right to be. The lyrics are really fitting in some poetic irony

-

Artemy Burakh

"Just like my parents' house, I've become a visitor." Ouch, my heart.

I'm adding this one to my playlist, too. It embodies yearning for what once was in a beautiful way. Mourning the future as well.

-

Georgiy Kain

You included him for me? Just for me?? What a beautiful thing it is to even be remembered. I'm so touched <3 that's very thoughtful of you.

The song is absolutely perfect for my personal taste. It's my favourite one so far! I adore the mix of classical "musical like" instruments with the whispery vocals, the violin slow descend into madness, the greiving, the sparks of hope that fizzle out as sudden as they appear. The whispery voice becomes louder and louder as the song goes on. I love songs that tell a story, that use everything from the rhythm, beat, instruments and even pauses between each word to tell a tale.

I see your vision with the judge, It paints a morose scene of him going through memory lane one last time before the soul of his twin–Simon kain–completely takes over.

Reminiscing over his life, all the greateness, and what did it serve him now? All the things he has seen, the miracles he witnessed. Memories slip past his fingers like fine sand grains, he's losing what it means to be him, his brain doesn't beling to him anymore, the focus is ready, his time is up. The world slows down with courtesy, and his soul gives a final whimper before it's torn out of his flesh.

He goes out with one last scream.

-

Peter Stamatin

It's calm, soothing even. Dandelion Wine, what a beautiful title. Fitting for the Twyrine. A facade that mends the soul, a slow poison that makes you feel whole.

I like how the song switches between the main vocalist singing alone and then with a chorus, only for them to disappear as quickly as they appeared. Peter is a renowned famous architect and yet spends most of his time alone confined to a single room, how his brother is his only friend, how the crowd never lasts long.

-

Eva Yan

God the background chorus, the angelic high voices that follow her. The anxiety inducing beat reminds you of time running out, you're running out, and you're running.

"the evening I've always longed for could still happen" Hoping and waiting and hoping and waiting and hoping and waiting and hoping and waiting and hoping and wa-

It's not up to her how the spindle of fate spins.

-

Thank you for sharing this, genuinely. They fit the characters perfectly, from the melody to the lyrics and even distinct instruments at times. It's amazing how you could make connections out of two separate pieces of art that were never made for each other yet still compliment one another all the same.

I want to share my music with you too as well! When it comes to Pathologic, The seed by Aurora resonates with me the most.

I really enjoyed listening to them <3 take care of yourself. I'm still on a happiness high from you including the judge ngl.

[fizzzyz]

so I'm making a tmc au that I'm becoming more and more obsessed with.. I haven't really read any other au, so idk how good this will be but I'm taking a lot of inspo from ofc tmc but also stranger things, horror movies, murder documentaries, some games etc.

I hope you all will like it :]

cw: Vulgar language (Gore, suicide mention, violence etc. in other parts)

Mandela Calamity

Volume 1: Hiraeth

Part 1

Rain slowly started to pour harder and harder every minute and the storm seemed to grow stronger. The sky was covered with dark fluffy clouds and the air was cold and misty. Marilyn stood on the porch, leaned against the wall as she just threw away her cigarette and stomped on it, squeezing it out. The smell of rain brought back memories. Of the days before everything went to hell. Mary sighed as she watched the moving company move her older sister’s belongings into the truck, box after box, furniture after furniture. She couldn’t believe she was moving back to that place, she thought they had made an agreement, to leave all memories behind. She was finally beginning to forget some now, or at least to stop thinking about them, but they would all run her over now when she’d be returning to that place.

The wind started to blow harder and colder, as the rain became more violent. Mary glared into the ground as she pondered. She understood why her sister had to quit her job, if she continued, she would have a mental breakdown and get fired anyway. But she didn’t understand why she had to look for a job in Mandela, and that she even had to move there. It made her upset, but she had to support her sister’s decision. “Mary, are you ready to go?” Marilyn looked up when she heard her sister. She nodded slightly and followed her from the porch to her sister’s car. As she opened the door and sat down, she felt her stomach tied in knots and anxiety overtook her. She felt tense. Like as if she was stuck in place.

 She took a deep breath when her sister got in the car after her. “I still don’t understand why you have to do this, Anna.” Her sister looked at her and sighed, thinking for a bit before she responded. “I’ve told you this a million times, I need a new job, and there’s nothing for me here.” Mary got irritated by that one same reply she had gotten every time, she was like a dumb robot that couldn’t explain something properly. Her sister, Anna, started the car, having to turn the key a few times before it eventually started. “And out of all places you choose Mandela County!?” Mary burst out as she got more frustrated. She tried to hold in her anger, but it was difficult. “Because it’s a place I’m familiar with! It’s easier to get a job there.” Anna replied and started driving out of the driveway onto the road. “Can’t be that damn hard to get familiar with a new place!” Mary muttered as she crossed her arms and looked outside the window to her right.

Anna’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as she drove towards the highway. They both felt tense and tired of each other, but there wasn’t much any of them could do. “Please Mary… I already bought this house, it’s too late to change it.” She said, trying to cool down the situation a bit. Mary sighed again as she kept looking out the window. She just wanted to shut out all of her feelings and thoughts, and just relax. She felt so stressed and frustrated, this conversation only drove her more insane.

The trees went flying past them as they were getting closer to their destination. The storm had calmed down, and the rain had stopped. A sunset started to form into warm pastel colors as the clouds started to break up and reveal the sky. It had been about an hour since they left, and there was only a bit left. Marilyn just wanted to get this done, she wanted to get home already. She didn’t even know why she followed in the first place, it was her decision to go or not. She only did it because she cared about her sister and knew she’d need some help. But she felt like there was something else to it… that last bit of hope to find her daughter again, or to at least know what happened. She knew it was impossible, she disappeared 12 years ago, it would be a miracle if she was still alive.

Mary felt a shiver down her spine when she saw that sign she hadn’t seen in years, “Mandela County”. A sign had never made her feel so disgusted and anxious before. They quickly went past it, but the image was stuck in her head. It made her feel a sense of dread that brought back all the trauma. She tried her best not to think about it. It was not a good time to have a breakdown now. As they drove past stores, apartments, and other buildings, they started to get closer and closer to the new house. She noticed some new stores in town, and new buildings as well. She never thought she’d set foot here again, but here she is. Mary sighed quietly when they reached the suburbs. The streets didn’t look too different, everything just looked more depressing now after all that had happened. Anna finally found her new house, and she drove onto the driveway, parking the car. “Well... here we are.” She said before pulling out the car keys and getting out.

Mary didn’t want to get out of the car, she never wanted to be here in the first place, but she had to. She got out of the car and turned around to look at the house her sister had bought. It was small and a few decades old, but it was still nice. The walls were painted white, and the roof had dark red brownish tiles. The porch was small and built out of stone, the door was brown but most of the color seemed to have faded away. The house definitely needed a new paint job, but neither Mary nor Anna could afford it right now. Anna opened the trunk and started unpacking smaller boxes and other stuff. She didn’t have that much stuff with her as she sold most of it, but she didn’t need much for her new and small house. Mary opened the door to the back seats and started to unload the stuff that had been put there. She tried to put all her focus into helping her sister and not to overthink the situation too much. She hated this place so much, but she had to deal with it.

After about 10 minutes the car was empty, and all of the stuff had been carried onto the porch. Anna reached for the keys in her pockets and searched for a while before eventually pulling them out. Mary had never seen the house before, so it was interesting to see how it looked on the inside. Anna put the key in the lock and turned it before she opened the door. The entire house was empty. All that was left was old and plain wallpapers. The sisters stepped inside, carrying some of the things with them. It didn’t smell very good in there; it smelled like as if someone had poured spoiled milk over a rotting carcass. Mary understood now how Anna could afford this house. It was old, greasy, small, and simple. Yet she still had to work so much and sell so many of her things to buy this house, she even had to take a loan. Since Mary was completely against the idea of moving back to Mandela, she didn’t help with any of the costs. She was worried for Anna. What if she couldn’t find a good enough job to pay back her debts? What if she had to live in this junk for the rest of her life?

After she put down the things she was carrying she took a look around, to see if there was at least something positive about this place. Most of the wallpaper had seemed to shift from its original color to a greasy brownish yellow. It must’ve been a long time since anyone has taken care of this house, it looked like a complete mess. There was no furniture anywhere, even if there were there would’ve been no idea to keep them considering the condition of this house. Mary walked through the empty doorframe to the left. She seemed to have entered the kitchen, but it looked like a junkyard. The countertops were covered with dust and other nasty stains, there was no fridge, some of the cabinets had missing doors, and the sink needed to be repaired. The cost of repairing all this would probably be more expensive than the house itself. It would’ve been smarter to just buy a house that isn’t rotting.

She continued on into the living room, which also had an empty doorframe, to the right in the kitchen. The windows still had curtains, with what was probably a flower pattern. Anna hadn’t said anything about the condition of the house, just that the house was small and close to the city. Mary felt her heart sink to the bottom of her soul. She regretted not helping her. She was pissed that she had moved to Mandela, but she didn’t want her to live in an absolute nightmare. It was too late now. She had already bought the house. All she could do now was to help her fix it. She went on through the next door, which led back to the hallway. There were 2 doors on the wall to her left. They seemed pretty beat up as well, but they were good enough. She slowly opened the door closest to her. It had one window in the middle, and the rest of the room was empty just like the other rooms. There wasn’t much to see there, so she continued on to the last door.

The door creaked as she opened it and a cloud of nasty smells hit her. She squinted her eyes and backed away a bit as she slightly gagged. It smelled like feces and expired food mixed together. She covered her nose and mouth with her hand as she peeked inside. The room was small, with a toilet, bathtub, and sink. The tiles on the floor were greasy and so were the rest of the stuff in there. This place was horrible, not even a rat would live here. Mary felt even more frustrated and confused with Anna’s decision to move here, why would she want to live in this dump!? She already had a pretty nice home back in Bythorne, but she’d trade that just for a job. She quickly closed the door as she stepped away from it and stopped by the wide-open front door.

Anna was carrying the last stuff inside and placed them in the hallway. “I... Anna. What is this?” Mary said, the disappointment clear in her voice. Anna sighed and looked into Mary’s eyes. “Do not get upset. I didn’t waste all of my money on this house, I’m using the rest to renovate it. It might look bad right now but when I fix it it will be perfect and look brand new, I promise.” She explained and tried to convince Mary that it was a good idea. Marilyn couldn’t understand what her sister was thinking, was she out of her mind? “Annette. A normal house would’ve been worth it even if it costs a little more. You’ve made a mistake. It might work in the end, but this house will need years before it’s fixed.” She responded. Her voice was strict and harsh. She was really disappointed of her; all of this was making her reach her limit. “For god’s sake it’s too late to change anything! Can’t you see how hard I’m trying!?” Anna yelled and gestured with her hands. “If you actually tried your best we wouldn’t be standing here, I thought you were better than this!” Mary yelled back and grunted.

She was so tired of this. She never wanted to be here. She hated this place. She hated it with all her gut. This place already made her feel like she was at a breaking point, but her sister only made it worse. Anna seemed to get pretty upset as well, she really just wanted Mary to understand her. “Can’t you just fucking listen for once!?” Anna lashed out, with her voice becoming trembly, like as if she was about to cry. “Why can’t you listen!??” Mary yelled back at her. “I can’t stand you!!” Anna screamed and ran into the kitchen. Mary watched as she fled the scene. She grunted and walked outside, grabbing her lighter and cigarette pack from her pocket. This day was already too much. She wished she could just get into bed and sleep already.

[anamazingangie]

I feel like the last few days I’ve been working “a little on a lot” and though I’ve written a bunch, I don’t feel like I’ve made any progress. Hoping this will help and serve as something to compare against next week. 

I’m not really popular enough for ask games to work but uh, feel free to send me a title your curious about and I'll respond with an excerpt. I’m also going to tag some folks in case they would like to do the same!

The only “rule” is to post the names of every doc you’ve worked on in the last...week, I guess? Tagging people and including word counts is optional. Feel free to reblog this post or make a new one. 

Okay! 

All of mine are Daemon x Rhaenyra Targaryen because i’m still obsessed. 

shield extra : 553 words, sort of HotD meets HTTYD, original idea for the “shield” prompt in my event but I liked another idea better. probably abandoned.

Copy of Copy of silk: 4640 words, chapter two of Handpicked 

Ink: 3714 words, modern AU in Westeros where Daemon is a recluse living on Dragonstone and Rhaenyra is sent to interview him for a women’s magazine. Why? Because his company created the dragon dildo that reinvented the adult toy market. Crack treated very seriously. 

Winggg: 3674 words, prompt fic for my summer snippet event, the prompt being “wing”. Using some elements from “shield extra” in that it’s a viking age AU. Daemon is a Dragonlord. Rhaenyra’s village worships the seven and does not believe dragons even exist. War prize/kidnapped Rhaenyra.

Copy of shield, 4900 words, second idea for “shield” and one i’m pursuing more seriously. Mostly Cristin POV, Rhaenyra sleeps with him after returning from the brothel, but Viserys agrees to marry her to Daemon the next day. 

vampire demons, 377 words, chapter two of ‘a myth to most’

Wing, 3042, original idea for “wing” based on the life of Toby Wing. it’s turned into more of a nonspecific starlet AU with stage mother Alicent, sex symbol Rhaenyra, and famous pilot Daemon.

rough / arranged marriage WW1, 4572 words, original idea for “rough” but it got too long:  When Viserys dies Rhaenyra discovers she is betrothed to an old family friend whom she has never met. They have a wonderful night together—but that is all they have before he is called away to war. Rhaenyra learns about him through gossip from jealous women alone, and excitement for his return is tainted by how was it said to roughen even the best of men.

Bonus: a random sentence from my notes app and my current selfs guess at what my past self meant by it because that girl does not provide a lot of context. 

TAGGING: @ar-feyniel, @luthien-under-bough, @grandlovescheme, @calenlily @rainbowslinkyy

[sherlock-meta-collection]

SHERLOCK S5 IS ALREADY OUT!

I don’t have time to explain everything right now, and I don’t think you guys want me to, because that’s half the fun.

Season 5 of Sherlock hasn’t been released in the way that we were all expecting, the usual three episode run with Ben and Martin, but if you’ll let me explain, you’ll see it’s something even cooler.

I know we have all been sitting here losing hope that S5 will ever come out. But a few of us obsessives are still here kicking around with meta, hoping to find some clue or cipher that will finally make sense of all the symbolism and strange coincidences that just don’t make any sense in Sherlock.

Well, I have the cipher for you guys, watch The Devil’s Hour.

When you do it, pretend as if you are Lucy and Moffat is speaking to you through Peter Capaldi’s character, Gideon Shepard. I’ve pieced together the conversation over two episodes from transcripts. This isn’t the complete story, just a teaser to get you to see for yourself.

A Conversation between You and Steven Moffat

Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: The things I'm gonna tell you tonight... are going to sound unlikely. I'd like very much for you to listen and then I want you to lie to me, I want you to tell me, convince me that you don't believe me.

Lucy [You]: Why?

Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: If he thinks you believe what I'm about to tell you, he'll decide that you're unstable. If you say you don't believe me, he can't prove that you're lying. Look at me, look. He can't prove that you're crazy.

Lucy [You]: But what if I am? Crazy? ....

Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: You're not crazy. You must never think that. I know it's hard. I know that everything seems irrational. Impossible. But you're completely sane. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. ...

Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: I can help you understand.

Lucy [You]: You're just playing games.

Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: No, this is not a game. What we're doing here is more important than you know.

Lucy [You]: What I know is they're gonna lock you away. And we are never gonna speak again.

Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: Please don't do this. What about your son? Isaac [Sherlock]. That's why you're here. You still have questions. I can help you answer them.

... Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: I can't imagine how you must have felt. I'm sorry, I'm sorry that you had to go through it.

Lucy [You]: Shut up!

Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: All right.

Lucy [You]: Just tell me why.

Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: 'Cause it's, it's, it's not... it's not what you think.

The Devil’s Hour is teaching you how exactly to understand the world and mind of Steven Moffat and how he thinks about symbols and stories. He is also explaining to you his larger plan for the Sherlock stories.

All the things we have been discussing over the past 5-6 years are completely spot on, but we didn’t have quite enough information or hope that what we were talking about was true. I’m not just referring to Johnlock in this case (which is part of the story for sure), but a much larger story going on beneath the surface narrative. It involves Mycroft and “Moriarty” largely in a way that some have already discussed with M Theory and The Game Theory. But it’s even bigger than that, and even more exciting.

Season 5 of Sherlock hasn’t been released in the way that we were all expecting, but Season 5 of Sherlock is being released RIGHT NOW and it has been going on since at least Dracula. Start with the media that Hartswood Films have produced following S4 and you’ll see.

The big important ones for S5 alone are Dracula, it starts out by explaining what happened to Sherlock after he jumped from Bart’s and goes up until the present day.

Then comes Inside Man, it is hard to explain why, but this is Mycroft’s “confession” to Sherlock. Sherlock is Jefferson Grieff and Mycroft is the vicar character Harry Wattling. The show is so bullshit and eye rolling, because we are hearing the story from the perspective of the criminal, of course nothing makes sense, because they are lying to make themselves look good.

Finally comes The Devil’s Hour, which tells you not to give up and makes the symbolism and message clear as to what Moffat is trying to accomplish.

I think the story actually started with Jekyll. All of these stories are actually telling one great story, inside what is essentially Steven Moffat’s marvel universe!! He is being Alan Moore and playing with all the Victorian superheros (in addition to Doctor Who), just in a slightly different way. Instead of telling one story where all the characters are in the same world together, you tell one story which takes place across the different worlds of the characters.

He has been teasing us about it for a long time with Doctor Who and Sherlock crossover references. Well, those weren’t references my friends, THAT’S THE SHOW.

I only realized all of this after watching The Devil’s Hour a few days ago, so I don’t have all the details to prove it. For now, it all sounds like crazy nonsense, but if you are still here reading, you must be convinced at some level. Give me a chance. We really weren’t crazy after all guys, just didn’t quite get as far as we needed to go.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Thanksgiving reruns 2023--Day 5: Black Friday (3/3)

It is crazy to me that it’s already time for this, but the holidays have officially arrived!  I would like to wish all my followers who celebrate it a very happy Thanksgiving.  As a thank you to you (as well as my followers who DON’T celebrate), I present you with 3 Thanksgiving related stories I’ve written in the past.  Enjoy!

Title: Black Friday—Chapter 3 of 3

Rating: G

Words: 4002

Summary: CS as single parents AU. As the holidays approach, Emma’s son Henry and Killian’s daughter Alice ask for a specific storybook which will ONLY be available for purchase on Black Friday.

 Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4

Black Friday—Chapter 3

Emma got the book for the first week, and it warmed her heart to see how unbelievably happy it made Henry.

She'd been afraid he'd be disappointed about the arrangement she made with Killian, disappointed that he'd have to share the storybook that he'd wanted so desperately, but she needn't have worried.  Far from being upset at the arrangement, he'd been delighted, assuring her that he liked Alice Jones and her dad and he was glad if he had to share the book that it was with them.

If she hadn't known better, she'd think he was happier things had worked out this way than he'd have been if she'd gotten the book outright.

In fact, he was so alright with the arrangement that he badgered her about setting a date for the exchange...and he insisted they have the Joneses over for dinner.

Emma stirred the pasta sauce, feeling like she needed to do something with her hands.  Killian and Alice would be here any minute, and Emma felt the nerves bubbling up as strong as the water she was boiling for spaghetti.

She hated herself for her reaction--for the fact that she was so nervous about something as simple as having a couple of people over for dinner.

Not to mention the fact she'd taken special care with her hair and make up, and she'd spent far longer than she'd like to admit selecting a sweater and a pair of jeans for the evening.  If anyone asked, she'd gone to the extra effort simply because she was feeling festive.  It had nothing to do with the fact that she was having a handsome single dad over.

But if Emma was being honest with herself she knew the truth.  Killian Jones had invaded her thoughts more, much more than she would have liked, and every time he did, her heart skipped a beat, her breath caught, her stomach swooped. 

 It was all so cliche that it made her want to groan.  She was not cliche.  She was not a love-struck teenager.  She'd done the whole falling in love thing, and it had bitten her in the ass in a major way.  She knew how this went.  She'd have a few months of breathless excitement with her new infatuation, and then it would all hit the fan, and before she knew it the pain would be nearly unbearable.  No thanks.  The highs were not worth the lows that would follow.

Nope.  It didn't matter how hot Killian Jones was.  Didn't matter how charming.  Didn't matter how much his love for his daughter warmed her heart.  She would keep her wits about her and fortify the walls around her heart that had kept her safe all these years since Neal.

But when her door buzzed ten minutes later and she opened it to see a rakishly handsome Killian in a deep blue button up, short leather jacket and tight black jeans--smiling knowingly as he held out a bottle of wine to her–her heart lurched, and Emma acknowledged to herself the fact that she might be in real, serious trouble.

*****

Two hours later Emma was beginning to wonder if it was already too late for her.  Dinner had been surprisingly enjoyable.  The Swans and the Joneses alike had talked and laughed and generally enjoyed each other’s company.

After dinner, Henry had pulled Alice toward the living room to try out a new video game he was rather obsessed with. 

"Let me help with the dishes, Love" Killian offered, gathering up plates from the table and heading toward the sink.  "Least I can do after such an extraordinary meal."

Emma felt her cheeks warm at the compliment.  Generally speaking, whatever talents she had did not extend to the kitchen, but pasta was one thing she could make and make well.  In the secret recesses of her heart--in the place she barely even acknowledged to herself--she'd wanted to impress him, and his praise warmed her like a blazing fire on a cold winter's night.

Together they cleared the table and set to work washing and drying the dishes.  Working together like this, he was so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body.  His scent of leather and a hint of rum invaded her senses and it made her want.

Not just on a carnal level.  That she could handle.  That was something she could take care of.  A quick scratch of an itch and he'd be out of her system, but no it wasn't just the physical want.

She wanted all of it--the conversation, the companionship, the family.  She wanted this little domestic situation to be real, to be permanent.

As Emma closed the door behind the Joneses--after making arrangements for the next book exchange--and as Henry wandered off to bed  Emma felt the tears at the back of her eyes.

She didn't want to want this.  Didn't want to want him.  The pain when this inevitably went south was going to be terrible.

She had a week until the next book exchange.  She needed to use that time fortifying her defenses against Killian Jones before she reached the point of no return.

*******

"Just a little more to the left," Alice said, taking a step back to look at the giant fir tree in their living room the following week.

Killian made the requested adjustment, and then got an enthusiastic "It's perfect" from his enraptured little starfish.

Seeing the holidays through the eyes of his daughter was magical.  She was such a sensitive soul.  She found delight in the beauty around her--and she had the unique ability to see beauty everywhere she looked.

Every holiday was a time of exceeding joy for Alice, but this particular Christmas season seemed to hold a special place in her heart, and Killian suspected he had Emma and Henry Swan to thank for that.

They'd only had the one meeting for dinner a week ago, but just the memory of it warmed Killian and made him smile.  Emma Swan was such a contradiction.  She'd been so prickly, so standoffish at their first meeting at the bookstore, but he'd seen a different side of her at home with her son.  She'd been relaxed, happy, smiling and laughing and delighting him with her witty banter.

She intrigued him more than any woman had since Milah.  She'd been beautiful at their first meeting, but at dinner--dressed in a red v-necked sweater that hugged her curves in all the right places--she'd nearly taken his breath away.

He sensed it would be quite a challenge to win her heart--should he choose to pursue it--but he rather liked a challenge.

At the end of dinner last week they'd decided to meet today for the next exchange, and Alice had started in right away to plan the next Swan-Jones get together.

"We need to decorate the tree together," She'd insisted on the way home from the Swans' abode.  "Maybe even get a start on some Christmas cookies."

Never one to deny his daughter anything if he could help it, he'd agreed to her plan.  Accordingly, they'd spent the ensuing week digging Christmas decorations from the attic, testing twinkle lights, and making multiple trips to the store for tree-trimming essentials.  

This morning was the last piece of the puzzle--the tree itself.  They'd made their way to Tiny's Christmas Tree Lot and been fortunate to find and cut down one of the handsomest trees Killian had ever seen.

Now all that remained was to wait until Emma and Henry arrived.

*****

Reaching up on her tiptoes, Emma placed the final ornament--a ceramic candy cane--on what was surely the only bare branch of the entire Christmas tree, and then she stepped back to survey her work.

"Pretty, isn't it?" She asked.

Killian looked over at her, taking in her cheeks flushed with exertion, her glossy blonde curls falling gently over her shoulders, her green eyes sparkling with happiness and felt his heart turn over.

"Beautiful," he breathed, never taking his eyes from her. "Absolutely stunning."

She looked over at him, hearing the adoration in his voice, and her breath caught as she noted the intensity in his eyes as he looked down at her.  Their eyes locked, and the color on her cheeks deepened.

He couldn't look away.  Wouldn't want to if he could.  She was so bloody gorgeous it almost hurt to look at her.  Slowly, inexorably he began to lean down, his eyes focusing on her lips.

For a split second she leaned toward him, and briefly, oh so briefly, he thought she'd allow him to sample those ruby-red lips, lips that he was sure would be far sweeter than the mulled cider he had waiting for them on the stove.

But then she seemed to come to her senses, shaking her head slightly and taking a step back.  She chuckled a bit nervously. "We did a good job on the tree, if I do say so myself."

For a moment the disappointment flooded him, but ever the gentleman, Killian took his own step back, muttering an agreement with her statement.  He knew enough about her history with Neal Cassidy to understand her fear, her hesitancy, but he was a patient man.  He could take all the time she needed to convince her that he was in this for the long haul and that she could trust him to cherish her heart should she one day give it to him.

"Aye, that we did," he replied genially.  "What say we adjourn to the kitchen to see what those two young scamps are up to?"

*********

Emma scooped up a fist-ful of snow as she hid behind a large oak tree.  Forming it into a ball, she stepped out and took aim.  

Bull's eye!  Her projectile made contact right between Killian's shoulder blades.  The man himself turned on her with a delighted grin that belied his growl of outrage.

"You'll pay dearly for that Swan!" He promised in a low, menacing voice that made her shiver in anticipation.  

She imagined him using that tone of voice under different circumstances.  What would it be like to hear him growl at her like that without their children present?  In a far more private setting?  With a lot few clothes between them?

She blinked and shook her head.  What was she doing fantasizing about Killian Jones?  Bad enough they had to see each other every week without her way-too-fertile imagination helpfully supplying images that made her want to fan herself, even in the midst of a polar vortex.

The next snowball hit her directly in the forehead, and Henry bent over amidst gales of laughter, pleased with the hit he'd scored for the boys' team.

Emma smiled at her son's antics as Alice pulled her back behind their oak tree home base.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll take care of Henry.  You go get my Papa again."

Get him, drag him someplace private, kiss the daylights out of him…

Her inner voice really wouldn’t shut up today!

"Sounds good, kid," Emma said.  "Let's go show them what Team Girl is made of!"

Three weeks after Thanksgiving, with Christmas fast approaching, and with six inches of new snow falling overnight, the Swans and Jones had decided to take their book exchange outdoors.  Together they'd made a little snow family and then decided to commence a snowball battle for the ages--Killian and Henry versus Emma and Alice.

Emma had no idea who was getting the best of the battle--each side had managed to log several good hits, but what she did know was that she had no idea when she'd had nearly this much fun.

Gathering up another huge handful of snow, Emma stepped from behind the tree...and right into the path of a snowball, lobbed with unerring accuracy, by a man who was grinning ear to ear, clearly quite pleased with both his stealth and his prowess on the frozen field of battle.

Gods, that grin did things to her.  Terrible, terrible, delicious things.

"Oh you did not just ambush me!" She said, gripping her snowball more tightly.

"Aye, that I did," his grin impossibly widened, "What are you going to do about it?"

The way he popped that final "t" made her stomach swoop.  Emma's breathing quickened. "You're about to find out!" Emma said, beginning to advance on him.

The force of Emma's next snowball knocked Killian to the ground, and the momentum carried Emma forward as well--until she landed directly on top of him.

His breath left him in a whoosh at the contact, and Emma meant to roll off of him, she really did…

But then her eyes met his.  Green eyes connecting with a sea of blue.  It was as though she was frozen in place, drawn inexorably to him like a moth to a flame (gods, another cliche!).  He didn't move, merely looked up at her with eyes filled with surprise and desire.

Almost against her own will, her gaze drifted down to settle on his lips.  It was too strong, too much.  She could no more stop what was about to happen than she could have stopped the snow from falling last night.

Lowering her head, she took his lips with a hunger she hadn't felt in years...maybe ever. He groaned and then surged up to meet her, lips parting, hand tangling in her hair.  It was too much, and not enough.  Far from quenching the fire, this kiss seemed to only be fanning the need into flame.  Her hands gripped his collar pulling him even nearer.

"Did you get her, Killian?"

The sound of Henry's voice was as effective as a bucket of ice water poured over her head, and Emma got to her feet so quickly her head swam (or was that from the mind-numbing, toe-curling kiss she'd just shared with Killian?).  Behind her, she heard the rustling sounds that told her Killian had done the same.

The children came into view just as their parents got to their feet.  Oh gods, how much of that did they see? Emma wondered as embarrassment covered her like a cloak.

"Aye, that I did," Killian said in a voice that was far from steady, "but then she returned the favor with interest.  I suspect we'll have to call this particular battle a draw."

"That's okay!" Alice said, bouncing on the soles of her feet in her excitement.  "It's getting cold anyway.  How 'bout we all go to Granny's for some hot cocoa?"

She'd kissed him.  Oh gods she'd more than kissed him.  She'd full on made out with him right there in the snow with such wild abandon she'd lost all sense, all awareness of where they were and with whom.  If Henry hadn't interrupted she legitimately had no idea what might have happened next.

Her embarrassment morphed into shame and disgust with herself.

And fear.  So much fear.  

Killian and Alice both were becoming so very important to her, she knew it would hurt like hell when they left her.

No, far better to nip this in the bud before she got in any deeper.

Emma took a step back.  "Sorry, kid," she said Taking in both Alice and her father as she continued backing away.  "We've got to get going."

"But mom!" Henry protested.

"Give Alice the book and let's go!" Emma answered in a tone that brooked no argument.

Turning, she nearly sprinted back to her bug, hoping Henry would follow quickly behind.

What had she done?

She'd ruined everything, and now all she could hope was that she'd make it to the privacy of her own room before she broke down.

********

"What happened?" Alice asked on the other end of the phone later that night.

"Don't know," Henry answered miserably. "Everything was going so good, and then…I just don't know!"

"Didn't you say they were kissing when you found them?" Alice asked. "Why would your mom get so upset?"

Henry shrugged before remembering she couldn’t see him over the phone. "I don't know.  Sometimes I don't understand adults at all."

"All I know is my dad has been sad ever since," Alice said. "Somehow, you've got to make sure your mom comes over on Christmas Eve like we planned!"

******

"Mom, come on! We've got to go take the book to Alice!" Henry said.  "If we don't hurry we'll be late for Christmas Eve dinner with them!"

Emma groaned.  She forgot she'd agreed when Killian asked them over for tonight.  But that was before. Before a certain kiss for the ages, one she simply couldn't stop thinking about while she was awake or dreaming about when she slept.

His lips were so warm, firm yet gentle. The wet smacking sounds their mouths made as they turned one way then the next trying to go deeper, get closer, meld into each other. The taste of coffee and mint on his tongue. The way her body burned at every point of contact.  The way she wanted more, so much more.  The way she wanted EVERYTHING.

And that right there was the crux of the problem.  She didn't just want his body.  She didn't just want a quick roll in the sheets.  She wanted a white picket fence life. She wanted their kids growing up together. She wanted him, and it hurt so much she didn't know how she would deal with it.

"I'll drop you off there, kid," Emma said, "but I think I'm gonna have to pass.  I'm just...I'm just not up to it, okay?"

"Is it 'cause I saw you kiss Mr. Jones?" Henry asked with a frown, "'cause you're afraid I'd be upset?  I'm not upset!  I promise!  I like Mr. Jones and Alice.  I'd be happy if you went on dates with him and stuff."

Emma closed her eyes, feeling the pain well up again, and then she sat on the couch patting the seat next to her, waiting until Henry sat.  "It's not because of you," she assured. "It just….wouldn't be a good idea.  These things just don't seem to work out for me."

He was silent for a minute and then he took her hand. "Mom, not every guy's gonna be like my dad.  Not every guy's gonna leave us.  I know Killian really likes you, and I know you can trust him."

Emma wanted to believe that, wanted it more than any Christmas gift she'd ever gotten, but the fear was so strong, like a living clawing at her. "I don't know if I can take that chance."

"Please, Mom?" Henry pleaded.  "It's Christmas!  You can't just drop me off! We need to spend Christmas together!  It's what families do!"

And really what could she say to that?  How could she deny her kid his family at Christmas?

"Fine," she said on a sigh. "We'll go to the Jones's, but I don't want you to get your hopes up about anything happening between me and Killian."

****

Killian more than half expected Emma to cancel their Christmas Eve plans.  He felt as disoriented after that kiss as he would if he'd gotten whiplash.

They'd been having such a nice day--talking, laughing, flirting, playing.  And then she'd kissed the life out of him, leaving him feeling somehow both weak and boneless...and on fire with need for more.

And then the kiss was over and she was running away from him as quickly as she could manage.  He wasn't stupid; he understood her like the open book she was to him.  She was afraid. Her past had scarred her so badly he didn't know what it would take to heal her again.

Not for the first time, Killian wanted to hunt down Neal Cassidy and pummel him within an inch of his life.

Of course he was frustrated on his own account--his and Alice's, but even more so he ached at Emma's wounds, the ones that had yet to heal, the ones that were holding her back from happiness and love in her life.

She deserved better, she deserved so much better, but Killian knew she was afraid to reach for it.

He'd wanted to call her so many times over the past week, but he was afraid she wasn't yet ready to speak to him.

No, Killian certainly didn't expect her to keep their Christmas Eve date.

And so when he opened his door later that night to reveal not just Henry but Emma as well, his heart lurched in the pleasantest possible manner.

"Swan! Welcome!" He stammered as Henry pushed past them and the two children went off to amuse themselves elsewhere. "I was a bit afraid you wouldn't show up."

She glanced aside, everything about her looking uncomfortable. "I almost didn't.  Henry can be very persuasive, though."

"Swan, can we talk about the elephant in the room?" He asked after a moment.  Was it better to dance around the subject or attack it directly? He didn't know, but what he did know was that their kiss had sealed it in his mind.

He'd fallen deeply, passionately and irrevocably in love with Emma Swan.  What manner of man would he be if he let the love of his life out of his life without even a fight?

"Killian, it was only a kiss," she said, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. "How is that an elephant in the room?"

"It's what the kiss exposed," he answered, looking at her earnestly, willing her to see his sincerity. "I never thought I'd be capable of letting go of my first love, my Milah, to believe I could find someone else. That is until I met you."

Her eyes widened and she sucked in a deep breath as the impact of what he'd just said hit her.

"Killian…" she said warily.  She wanted to run; he could see it in her eyes.  He stopped her with a gentle hand to her arm.

"Emma, I don't say this to make you uncomfortable or to trap you into something you're uncomfortable with."

"Then why do you say it?" She asked, the anger heavy in her voice.  He knew her well enough to see the fear and pain beneath the anger.

"Because you deserve to be loved," he said simply. "You deserve a man who will cherish you with every beat of his heart.  If you don't wish that man to be me, I'll of course honor your wishes, but don't close yourself off from love, Swan.  It's worth it."

"Is it, though?" She asked in a voice that ached. "I can't fall for you and then lose you.  I can't.  I can't lose you too."

His heart hurt at the pain in her voice, and almost unconsciously he rubbed at her shoulders. "I don't know what the future will bring," he said "no one does.  What I do know is that I'd never leave you.  I'd never willingly hurt you.  Search me out.  See if I'm lying to you."

He forced himself to stay still, open and honest while she stared into his eyes.  After a moment she shook her head, something suspiciously like hope coming into her eyes for the first time all night. "No, I don't think you are."

"I'm not," he said firmly.  "So what do you say, Emma?  Will you take a chance on me? Take a chance on us?"

For a moment more she merely stood there, looking at him, and then she stepped forward kissing him slowly, gently.

From behind them came the sound of cheering.  They broke apart, laughing at the sight of their two kids standing behind them jumping up and down and high-fiving each other.

"I told you it would work!" Alice said.

"You aren't mad at us for being sneaky, are you?" Henry asked.

Emma laughed before reaching down and threading her fingers with Killian's. "Nope.  I think we are all gonna be so happy together there won't be any room left for anger, kid."