#but if your fun is making it dog awful for players to even stay in the field for more then a minute

[morguemaw]

ever since playing overwatch ive gotten a huge hunch they do not care about player comfortability and more about how many people can get into a game at once ive had MASSIVE issues where ive blocked/reached max people to avoid in a game, and when i remeet them i get the instant reason why they are blocked/avoided i get overwatch wants people to just play so yk you dont go into lobbies where backfill occurs and games just dont happen, but if i block someone/avoid them i DONT want to KEEP PLAYING !!!! ive met 2 people ive blocked and one i genuinely hate playing with and each time im reminded why i dont want to play with them and end up not playing for a hot second idk i would rather deal with backfill and take forever to get into a match knowing ppl i dislike/want to avoid arent there rather then get my teeth knocked in with waves of insults/targeted killing and end up just not interacting with the game imo

[recreationalfanfics]

Yandere Bachira/ Yandere Shidou + Obsessing Over Their Agent

Giving into their egos at the end of Blue Lock, they're used to getting everything they wanted and what they wanted next...was their cute little agent who handled their public relations and contracts♡

Characters: Bachira Meguru, Shidou Ryusei

Bachira:

"You're staring again."

Bachira blinks at your words, dazed as he slowly was brought back to reality. Huh, he must've zoned out staring at your face again. Your sharp (e/c) eyes focused on your phone, your stoic expression making his heart beat a bit more quickly in his chest, and your hair which was all fixed up and neat was just begging for his fingers to come through it with how it looked. He tilted his head to the side cutely and closed his eyes, flashing you his most charming smile.

"Can you blame me?" He chuckled, moving his way over to you. With lightning fast reflexes, you stuck your foot up in the air to stop him while still focusing on your task at hand as he whined and tried to pinch your cheek. He pouted after a few unsuccessful minutes and frowned, "Aw! You're no fun, (Y/n)-chan!"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes but you did respond to him.

"Sir, don't be misinformed; this relationship is purely professional. I am your agent, you are my client. That is all." You spoke sternly to him as if he were a child, "Now, let's get you ready for that commercial shoot."

Just a client, huh?

Bachira sighs and holds his chest where his heart would be and looks at you with his big yellow puppy dog eyes: "That hurts, (Y/n)! After everything we've been through!"

Again, his attempts were met with silence and he frowned, seeing that you were still focused on your phone. That's not fair, (Y/n), so many people would've absolutely killed to be in your shoes in this moment and you have the audacity to brush him off? Fine, he'll just have to make it clear that there was no one else but you.

- He makes everything difficult for everyone if it doesn't involve you, he's still likeable, but everyone just talks about how he's a bit too energetic to stay still. You can't tell how many times make up crews, directors, and training coaches or even other players had to shyly come up to you and make Bachira comply with their wishes because "he behaves when you're around".

- Many times Bachira tries to make it appear you two are a couple; telling you that he loves you as you do his foundation for his upcoming interviews, excitedly running at you in between commercial breaks to ask you if he did well, and often wanting to take you out for casual outings as celebration but you declined. You didn't want to feed into whatever delusion he had in his head about you two.

- You tried to be a bit personal and suggest he try out some sports modeling, casually mentioning how a current model heart throb was interested in collaborating with him in hopes that it'd be enough to get him to move on but he frowned and shook his head. NO! He's not posing for pictures with anyone, especially not for some random model, if its not you!

- Even though you're in charge of his social media; he will still post pictures of you to his own account, admiring how cute you are when you're in the zone, or just captioning the photo with a simple: "Mine♥️💕" and even though you tell him to delete those photos everytime, you feel a bit uneasy when you realize you didn't even notice him pulling out his phone and getting these photos until he tagged you in them. You just hope he doesn't have anymore photos of you that you didn't know about.

- Bachira is without a doubt obsessive, he gets giddy when you call him because he believes one of these days you'll wake up and realize you love him back just as much, only to be slightly dissapointed when you are merely calling him to discuss contract details. That's fine, though! One of these days you're going to have to face the reality that you two were meant to be together♡

- You're just like him after all! It's just that you want to dominate a different field than him. Your goals are similar, be the best that Japan has to offer, making sure that Bachira succeeds on and off the field helps ensure your own success, and while you didn't want to deal with his annoying behavior all the time; it'd be a foolish choice to quit working for him. You think that he knows that too because he'll always try to test the waters of your relationship, never really believing your threats of switching to a different player.

- Because even if you didn't love him, you needed him, just as he needed you. Surely you'll end up loving him back, though, after all: there was no one else in his eyes besides you. So he'll work hard to be the best, not just for Japan, but for you. Each goal he makes, he looks at you and sees the briefest smile on your face and it drives him wild the rest of the game to keep scoring and scoring.

- Don't think you've tamed the monster inside of him, though. Because it'll never be truly satisfied until it finally has you. All of you.

Shidou:

"Why're you buying flowers for that asshole?"

You felt a shiver go up your spine, feeling Shidou's sharp chin resting on your shoulder and feeling his warm breath on the back of your right ear, he was still a little sweaty from his daily drills and workouts...technically, he should've been working out still but his fitness coaches knew the moment you stepped into the room that he wouldn't be able to focus on anything but you.

"Technically, you're buying him flowers," You corrected, moving away from him. He raised an eyebrow but kept a deadpan face as you turned around to explain to him, "Shido, you're already controversial. You played way too hard and broke that man's ankle. Sending flowers is the least you could do."

Aw, give him some credit...he could've done a lot worse if he wanted too but he managed to restrain himself from doing that, all for you. Plus, it was entirely the other guy's fault anyways. That asshole was eyeing you up and down when you weren't looking and jokingly told Ryusei that he wished he had an agent that was as hot as you were instead of his current old and grumpy one. Shido knew he had the best things: the best cars, the best shoes, the best career a soccer player could ask for...but you were different. You were one of the things he had that made him the best, flipping his controversies into picturing him as this passionate player whose just motivated to represent his country, but you were meant for only him to admire. Everyone else is allowed to stare at you two with envy and jealously but that's ALL.

"I'm not sending him no damn flowers and neither are you." He scoffed, taking your phone from your hand and canceling the order. You frowned and tried to grab it back from him, he raised it above his head am to force you to reach for it and when you raised one arm and stood on both your tippy toes, he used his free arm to hook it around your waist and pull you close to him. Pining you against the wall, his pink eyes focused on you in a way that a predator would eye its prey.

"Quit thinkin' about some nobody player. You're MY agent."

- Before you, Shidou went through a lot of agents. Agents who quit on the spot because he was impossible to work with, agents who just stormed out of the doors because they couldn't take anymore, agents who still badmouth him to the public and feeding into his reputation.

- Then you walked in through those doors. Steely gazed, chin up and proud. You were cute, that's for sure, but you weren't gonna be any different then the rest of them. At least, thats what he had originally thought. You never lost your mind over the way he played, you never complained about how he was making your job impossible, and you never lost your cool.

- You were a professional at your job, you knew how to make him appeal to the audience and frame him in a better light while also making sure he didn't have to change too much...because he would never change. So you would work with what you had, how did the saying go? There's no such thing as bad publicity.

- Unlike Bachira, you just being there isn't gonna make him behave. If you're gonna make him do some lame ass photoshoot then he better be getting something out of it. At first it was just things like arranging a deal with a brand he liked, setting up a soccer match with some good players only for him to absolutely ruin them. He started to like you because of those things.

- However it escalated one day when he asked for something that took you off gaurd. A kiss. It was for an interview and he refused to let anyone touch him so they all ran crying to you, he instantly looked at you as you put a gentle hand on his shoulder and asked him what he wanted this time so you both could get through this.

- He didn't even really think about it either, he was a little shocked when he said it himself but he was just mesmerized by your lips that he wondered what it'd be like to kiss them. So he wanted to find out. You were flustered, rightfully so and tried to bargain with him but he was dead set on that kiss...oh well...it was one measly kiss. So you kissed his cheek and he frowned, not exactly what he wanted but you did give him what he wanted technically.

- But yeah, that just kinda sparked his obsession with you and his obsession isn't what you should be concerned about. It's his possessive nature, you work for him so you belong to him. He doesn't like you talking to other people most of the time, constantly grabbing your phone and hanging up important calls when the conversation goes somewhere he doesn't like or deems isn't as important as him.

- Shidou knows he doesn't love you but love isn't exactly on either of your radars since your focused on your career, which only does well as long as Shido's does well. It doesn't stop him from looking at you tying his tie for him, imagining you doing something more intimate than a mere kiss on the cheek, to take you out on fancy dates and buy you nice things and all the crap (he's tried before but you always refuse) and when he wakes up in the morning, he wonders how different it would be if you were next to him. He might love you but overall, it's a matter of possession. You belong to him. No one else.

[benedictscanvas]

pick me up at seven - roy kent x reader

pairing: roy kent x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k (they won't all be this long i don't think!!)

warnings: language of course, and this is a little steamy but with no actual smut. my favourite genre HA

request: I can’t find any good Roy fics until your recent one and I’m dying for more 😭 Anyway you could write something else for him? Maybe they’re at a bar and he gets pissed when he sees Jamie flirting w her? (Not a pre established relationship) - @kashee-h

a/n: your wish is my demand!! i'm so happy you enjoyed the first roy fic of what i hope are many to come. this one totally got away from me, i loved writing it so so much, thanks for a request that I really got to make my own! <3

---

Roy is the one who’s invited you here. Roy is the one who trekked over to your office at the end of the working day and told you that everyone was going out that evening. Roy is the one who suggested you come, even when you seemed reluctant to join in on what appeared to be an evening for just the players and the coaches. Roy is the one who convinced you that it would be fun, that he’d make sure of it.

All of this is making it very hard for Roy to accept that you are currently sat in a corner booth with someone else. The fact that the person you seemed to be having such an in depth conversation with was Jamie fucking Tartt was the icing on a very shit cake.

He knew he could be having a better night than just sitting on a barstool trying not to watch the two of you, especially when Ted and Beard arrived to get the next round and he didn’t even acknowledge them. They’d hired out a private room, so it was filled with people he generally tolerated the company, some he’d even go as far as to say that he liked. None of that was registering, however. 

Jamie leans in when you can’t hear something he’s said and he watches you nod solemnly, duck your head to stare at the floor as if flustered, and he wants to walk right out that door and never come back. Maybe he could get a job at Chelsea, or something.

“Now, what’s wrong, Jeremy Strong?” Ted asks, and Roy has to bite back a ‘fuck off’ so hard he wonders if his lip is bleeding, “You look just about ready to start wreckin’ the place.”

Out of the corner of Roy’s eye, he sees Beard lean in to whisper in Ted’s ear and points over at you. Ted looks surprised. Roy does not want to deal with this.

“You’re telling’ me our very own Mr Kent has his eyes on our very own Miss Y/L/N? Well, that’s just great! She’s sweet as anythin’, good for you, Roy.”

“She’s sweet on Jamie fucking Tartt, more like,” he says, even though he knows he’s being so fucking unfair. He hates it about himself. He knows how hard he’s worked on these feelings, on frustration and anger and jealousy, knows that a few years ago he’d be getting ready to fight Jamie down an alley further through tonight. Now he’s done that work, however, he can recognise the overriding feeling that he’s actually just hurt and that’s so much worse. It’s much easier to be jealous than upset.

“Does this call for an impromptu meeting of the Diamond Dogs?” Ted asks brightly and Roy is only able to stop him after his second howl. Higgins has looked over briefly but Beard signals him to stay where he is.

“Fuck no,” Roy blurts out, then reconsiders. Maybe he could at least talk to Ted, “I just- I was going to tell her. Tonight.”

“Tell her what?” Ted’s doing that thing where he bats his eyelashes like he’s in some sort of rom-com. Beard’s got his head resting in his hand, looking similarly up at Roy. They’re insufferable. 

“That I fucking like her, okay? Take those fucking looks off your faces.”

Ted and Beard scramble to look normal but come up short. Ted’s got the awful kind of shit-eating grin on his face that he gets when he sees Sam and Jamie hugging or watches Isaac doing his handshakes with everyone before a game.

“So, you’ve been spending time together? Or are you telling her out of the blue?” Beard pipes up.

Roy thinks that over. You’ve been spending a lot of time together actually. More than anyone at the club would probably even believe. He slips away to your office to eat lunch under the guise of needing a break from the American Circus downstairs. You text him when you’ve brought in ice cream because you know he’ll never say no to ice cream. You’ve met Phoebe. That one was by accident in the park, but you stuck around for four fucking hours and nobody made you.

Still, he wonders whether it would be completely shocking to you or whether you’ve been waiting for him to make a proper move. You’re incredibly difficult to read alongside being so stupidly pretty that sometimes he wants to swear less around you. He doesn’t manage it, of course, but he thinks it.

“Yes, we’ve spent time together. No, I don’t know what that means. Probably doesn’t mean shit to her, not that it would be her fault if she doesn't.”

Ted and Beard tilt their heads simultaneously at him and he wishes he could bash their heads together for a moment.

“But it means somethin’ to you, hey coach? I don’t think Miss Y/N sittin’ with Jamie should stop you from tellin' her how you feel about ‘er, hey coach?”

Roy’s lost track of which coach Ted is even talking to, but Beard chimes in.

“Surely her spending time with Jamie should be all the more incentive to tell her. Find out how she feels. Get that crushing disappointment out of the way now. It’s only downhill from here.”

Roy raises a brow at him as Ted gives him a look. Beard sighs, then picks up his drink and seems to disappear. Ted leans into Roy.

“Him and Jane are on a break again, I’m sorry. Look I’m goin’ to have to go find him but he was right, until he wasn’t. Go get ‘er, Ross Gellar!”

And with that, Ted’s gone too, weaving his way through crowds of people until he’s lost to them. When Roy glances back in your direction, Jamie’s got Colin and Isaac beside him instead and you’re nowhere to be found. He sighs and stands from his barstool, making his way to the exit. Maybe he’d think about what Ted and Beard had said tomorrow: for now, he just wanted to go home.

Except for the fact that when he finally managed to push his way outside to breathe in some fresh air, he found you. Leaning against the wall of the club, with definite tears in your eyes, even under the dim street lamp light. He was going to murder Jamie Tartt, slowly, with rope and paint and suffering involved.

But he knew to take a slightly softer approach with you. If at all possible.

“Hey,” he says quietly, trying not to startle you. You're quick to look up at him, startled anyway, and he grits his teeth as he asks, “Are you alright?”

He doesn’t make any comment about what the fuck Jamie had done to you. Doesn’t think it would be received all that well. Again, he’s biting the inside of his lip harder than ever.

“Yes! Oh god, yes, sorry,” you’re blinking furiously. He admires your resolve when the nearly teary face is quickly replaced by that bright smile that makes him weaker in the knees than he already is, “Fuck, sorry. I’m all good. I’m not sure this is my scene, I was just going to call a taxi.”

There’s an opening. He’ll be damned if he’s not taking it, even though confessing anything is the furthest idea from his mind - he’s much more focused on making sure you’re okay and nobody’s done anything to hurt you. If they have, he's already resigned to a short stint in jail if necessary.

“Do you want to walk?”

“Uh, I mean not really. It’s quite late, so…”

“With me, I mean,” he quickly clarified, wanting to bash his head against the brick wall, “I could walk you home, if you wanted. Or not. That’s fine too.”

“Oh, right,” you’re looking down at your feet as you contemplate it, “That would be nice, if you’re sure. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he insists, falling into step beside you as you begin to walk. He wants to give you his jacket and maybe his shirt too with the way you’re shivering, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s a fucking coward, but he will get to the bottom of what’s the matter if its the last thing he does, “You gonna tell me what’s wrong now?”

You huff out a frustrated sigh, at him, at yourself, he isn’t sure.

“I made a fucking fool of myself tonight,” you say eventually, and he can’t even imagine you doing that, “I thought…god, it doesn’t matter what I thought. Everything just feels worse when its…1:30 in the morning, don’t you think?”

You’d lifted his hand to check his watch before you said the time. Again, he wanted to hold on, but he let you drop his hand and it just went limp.

“It fucking does, yeah. Don’t think you could make a fucking fool of yourself if you tried though. Not around us lot.”

Your family, he heard Ted’s voice in his head. He was not fucking saying that. To his surprise, you let out a loud bark of a laugh at his words and he was staring at the side of your face as you spoke out into the dark air.

“I thought you were coming to pick me up tonight, you know?” you began, and his heart drops to his shoes. You’re upset about him?

“What?”

“Something you said earlier, when you asked me to come. You asked where I lived, then told me it would be a twenty minute walk to get there. Then you said ‘see you at seven’.”

He could have stopped walking. He had said that, but he was just trying to help you plan out your timings for the evening - you’d mentioned to him once that you were known for having some time blindness when you were getting ready for things. Of course he should have realised how fucking stupid that was, how much that sounded like he would come and walk with you.

He would have fucking loved to walk with you.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, far too loudly for the quiet night that surrounded you. You carried on undeterred, shaking your head. He could see your frustration was at yourself now, and he hated himself even more than he had earlier.

“My fault for assuming, I know. But that’s why I was so late. And when I arrived, trying talk myself into not feeling like a twat, you were already over with Dani and Isaac and Bumbercatch, clearly never intending to come pick me up. Which, why would you, of course. I just…felt shit. Jamie tried to help, bless him, but I just wanted to go home, honestly.”

Roy is the biggest idiot on the planet. He wants to go back into the club and hug Jamie for looking after you, then ask him to punch him in the face. Roy could punch something, anything right now, but he just grits his teeth.

“I’m-” he grunts when his voice comes out all strangled, “I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N. I’m the fucking twat. I was asking where you lived and that to help you with that fucking time blindness thing you told me about. Should’ve known how it sounded though. Fucking idiot.”

He directed the last comment at himself, kicking a stone he’d found on the pavement. He kept his eyes firmly trained on his shoes as the two of you continued walking, now at a significantly slower pace. Your eyes were burning a hole in the side of his face.

There was a silence that stretched on as you stared at him, until-

“Fucking hell,” you groaned, “That’s so fucking sweet. You’re the worst.”

He doesn’t know if he can remember being called sweet before. Phoebe was often excessively complimentary of him in a way that made him uncomfortable, but sweet had never come up. He didn’t feel sweet.

“I am the worst,” he grunted, spiralling, “Making you feel so shit. Ruining your fucking night. I was the one who convinced you in the first place and now you’ve had a shit fucking time and I’m the worst.”

He’s a little out of breath and loud again by the end of his rant. The two of you have stopped walking. You kick the toe of your heel against his shoe, placating.

“No, you’re the worst ‘cause you keep giving me all this hope. I fucking hate hope, no matter what Ted says,” you chuckle to yourself, and he’s not sure what you’re saying but he’s peering into your now smiling expression as he tries to work it out, “Look, do you like me or not? You’re a good guy Roy and either way, I’m grateful that you’re walking me home. I just think if I ask, maybe I can just feel like a twat for the night and get it over with by tomorrow.”

“Do I…like you?”

He sounds thick. He feels thick. Feels like his mouth is full of honey that his tongue is having to wade through to even speak to you. It’s stuck to the bottom of his mouth, heavy.

“Yeah. As in, do you just enjoy eating lunch with me or do you ever look at me and just want to kiss me? Cause I do that all the fucking time, Roy, but I can’t be arsed to dance around it anymore.”

You look really tired as you stare up at him, but he feels more energised than ever. You’ve both just established that he’s the absolute worst, and yet here he is, with everything he could’ve wanted right in front of him. You, looking fucking gorgeous and looking at him like that? Even getting a job at Chelsea wouldn’t help him against you - he was gone.

There’s a smirk on his face that he can’t bite back as he takes your face in both his hands and revels in the gasp he can pull from you. He should have known you’d be the first to say something. You weren’t the coward he was.

“Let’s not fuck about then, yeah?”

Low and breathy. You respond with a nod so eager that he’s practically grinning when he pulls you in. It’s quickly replaced by a hunger he’s been keeping at bay, allowing his hands to slide into your hair as he deepens the kiss almost as soon as it’s started. He can feel your hands clutching at the lapels on his jacket, but he’s more excited when you throw your arms around his neck instead, tugging on the hair at the base of his head.

He growls and you actually whimper. It’s like he’s been set on fucking fire. Like he’s been struck by lightning.

When he pulls away for air, you stay close, peppering kisses along the scruff of his jaw, up the side of his face and back down again. He holds you to him tightly around your waist and feels wanted. He’s wanted you for so long, but to be wanted in return, so openly, it’s both hot and meaningful. He’s not sure anyone’s ever told him they liked him before. Most models he’d dated were pretty sold on the idea that he had to make all the moves.

Still, when you begin trailing kisses down his neck and there’s a hand on the top button of his shirt, he has enough sense about him to stop you. Even if he really doesn’t want to.

“I don’t know what street this is,” he breathes out, low voice little more than a rumble, “But maybe we don't give your neighbours a fucking show.”

You look thoroughly kissed when you look back at him, but he doesn’t think it’ll ever be enough. He leans in to kiss you once more to punctuate his sentence, watching as you duck your head, all shy, even though your arms are still around him. He knows now that when you ducked your head with Jamie, you were embarrassed. This is you properly flustered and it’s one of his favourite looks on you.

“Good call, yeah. Okay. I’m- I’m just around this corner, I think.”

“You think?”

“Shut up, you,” you whack him lightly on the shoulder, as the two of you resume walking, “Think you can make it all the way there?”

“I’d carry you if my knee wasn’t fucked,” he admits, watching you with a lopsided smile, “Really fucking like you, by the way. If that wasn’t proof. Thought you should hear me fucking say it.”

You close your eyes in a little half laugh - giddy, he thinks. 

“Well, I did wonder. We’ve spent a lot of time together the last few weeks for someone who doesn’t like spending time with people.”

“Your first clue,” he agrees, taking your hand with pride now as the two of you keep walking, turning the corner towards your house. The pace is a lot quicker than it was before. He hopes he knows why, “I’ll be less of a fucking idiot now. Promise.”

“Eh, don’t worry,” you shrug, letting go of his hand only to thread your arm through his and take hold of his hand again, even tighter, “Nothing sexier than fucking idiots. I like my men with no thoughts behind their eyes.”

He properly laughs at that, head tilted back, feeling your head against his arm as you laugh with him. You slow down, gesturing left. Your house. The two of you walk down the drive until you’re at the door, face to face again and Roy is having a small internal battle.

“Look, I know you said no show for the neighbours,” you begin, almost nervously, “But does that mean a…private show is totally off the table too?”

He watches you picking at your nails. Can’t help it. He pulls you in for another breathless kiss, just to watch you come alive again, confident and fucking into him, however much of a miracle it seems. You pull away this time, clearly keen for an answer, but he groans.

“Tryin’ to be a fucking gentleman, here. Why don’t we do dinner tomorrow? Proper date. And I’ll fucking pick you up.”

You giggle. Still, there’s a glint in your eyes, as you sigh melodramatically.

“That does sound nice. Only thing is, there could be an intruder in here, you know? So, and I’ll only ask once more and then I promise I’ll let you go if you say no, but maybe you should walk me to my bedroom? To make sure I’m safe, you know? And then you can pay for my breakfast in the morning like a good old fashioned gentleman, if you want.”

You’re looking up at him, all hopeful again. His resolve is dwindling. You spin your keys around one finger and its a simple gesture, but it’s the final straw.

“I’m paying for your fucking lunch too,” he growls, diving into you once again. He’s beside himself when he hears you mutter a faint ‘thank fuck’ as you fumble to unlock the door and all but drag him inside.

---

if you've read this far, i fucking love you, you beautiful sunflower <3 requests open for this angry man and his favourite jamie tartt if you're interested!!

[thedragonagebigbang]

Bang Creator Interview: Tumblr: @crabs-with-sticks  |  AO3: CrabsWithSticks

The Collaboration period has begun! In these quiet months before works are due, we want to foster a sense of excitement, camaraderie, and celebration among our participants. To that end, all participants were given the option of a formal interview by our mod, Dema, or an informal “ask-game” survey. We hope you enjoy getting to know our phenomenal creators as much as we have!

Found Family in Crisis!!!!!! How This Local Woman's Life Just Keeps Getting Worse!!!  

Jacs and Dema talk music, tragedy, DMing tabletop games, and OCs who won't follow the damn rules

Dema: Good morning! Happy Saturday. Are you writing today? 

Jacs: I'm hoping to! Though I might be taking a break from my actual project to do some fun oneshots. Give myself a bit of time away from the tragedy of my bang fic and write something happy haha

Dema: That is very fair! Especially with heavier fics. How do you get in the zone to write, regardless of the project? Or does it vary depending on the vibes of your fic?

Jacs: Normally it involves getting nice and cozy under a blanket on the couch with a good cup of tea. I'll sometimes put a playlist on to get into a particular vibe, I've got a bunch of character playlists which can help get into the perspective of whatever oc I'm writing that day.

Dema: I won't get too specific with this question but, if there is one song on your playlist that especially fits your bang fic, what would it be?

Jacs: Hmm, I'd say probably 'Sampson' by Regina Spektor. The song is based on a tragic biblical story and is all about what could have happened if things had worked out differently. If the love had been enough to save them, then they wouldn't have been remembered by history but they would have been happy.

Dema: Oh okay, arrow straight to the heart. I see, I see.

Jacs: Yeah, I'm a known tragedy enjoyer, just rolling around in the sadness like a dog in a puddle. In order to get optimal levels of tragedy you gotta have some happiness first just so that readers can really see that it didn't have to be this way (but they never could have changed it).

Dema: I can't wait to read it! I also love tragedy, and especially in that ratio. Is there a particular one-shot idea you have kicking around, to cleanse the palate?

Jacs: Not sure! Though probably something with my oc Luca Trevelyan with Dorian, though I haven't actually managed to get very far through that particular playthrough yet....I'm a bit of a serial oc creator who then never gets around to actually playing them in the game.

Dema: Do you always make your OCs in game? Even if you don't get around to the playthrough? 

Jacs: Yep! It’s probably my favourite part of Dragon Age, or any CRPG. I really like thinking up characters, with their conflicts and histories. I'm a forever DM in real life, so I'm fairly used to making up characters and then never playing them, although at least with Dragon Age I already know the events of the game they'll be going through, so I have a better idea of their development arcs. I am trying to do a re-playthrough of the whole series before Veilguard comes out, but we'll see how successful that is haha.

Dema: Do you find that DMing has informed the way you structure your stories?

Jacs: I'd say that it probably has. When I DM I'm always keeping a hand on the pulse of all the characters, their emotions and where they're at in their arcs, because my aim is really to tell a good story. So I think it can help me to see things from the big picture as well as a more mechanical perspective. Though sometimes I do need to tell myself to stop looking at the big picture and just focus on what is at hand.

Dema: I'm a bit in awe of DMs. To me it seems like being the conductor of an orchestra, except all your musicians are improvising. Do your characters sometimes feel like players? Or do they tend to stay within the lines?

Jacs: They do end up getting away from me sometimes, or they'll do something that leaves me going 'huh, why did you just make that decision', because I know it's accurate but I'm not entirely sure why. Though sadly there's no actual player to ask...just my brain. I was intending to make quite a whimsical and happy Brosca, but she just keeps doing morally grey things!

Dema: HAHA ah yes, relatable. I find it's such an interesting balance, for me, between wanting everything in the story to feel a bit inevitable (especially in a tragedy!) and embracing the realism of some things just not having a clear explanation, especially character decisions.

Jacs: Yeah for sure! It's great when characters are messy and contradictory, I just wish it wasn't so hard...I had a character at one point who was making a whole bunch of decisions I wasn't expecting or had planned for, and I'd try to think 'ok why is this character doing this?' and all she supplied in return was 'I'm lactose intolerant'...which honestly was a very in character response; just straight up ignoring the question. 

Dema: A character in writing, or a character in a campaign you were DMing?

Jacs: A character I was writing.

Dema: Hahaha, incredible.

Jacs: I sometimes have, I guess little 'conversations' with my characters in my head where I tap into the section of my brain that they live in.

Dema: That's a great strategy! Is that how your characters first come to be?

Jacs: Hmm, I think the conversation part comes a bit later when I have some context for them, either in their history or in the game itself. It starts off as a lot of collaging together different ideas until it makes a full character. Often I start off from a particular theme or emotional angle I'm interested in exploring. So one started off as 'religious trauma', and another from 'idealism in a cruel society' and so on.

Dema: Has that first theme or idea ever come from a really unexpected source? And related to this, do you tend to be primarily inspired by the source material itself? I know that's a big reason so many of us love DA in particular.

Jacs: I think the themes are usually all ideas that I'm already interested in, but it's super fun seeing the way it can connect to the worldbuilding and lore. I think it's really important for characters to have specifics which tie them into the world around them, so thinking about how their family might have lived in the particular part of the world they're from, how they and the people around them either adhere to or go against it, and what impact that would have on their story. It's really fun looking at how a theme can change based on where the character comes from, like a character with conflict based around religious trauma is going to be different if they're human, Dalish or a city elf, and the world will react to them differently because of that.

Dema: Now I simply must ask you if you ever write AU fics.

Jacs: I haven't written many to be honest, though I do have some ideas for some. It can be hard translating a story that is really rooted in the specifics of one particular world and translating that to another. So I'm always really impressed to see when other people do it so well! I often find you can find a good parallel for one aspect of a character, but then you have to try to fit a second aspect or character conflict in and it doesn't fit the new world at all!

Dema: I feel the same!

Jacs: Writing; it's hard man.

Dema: It is! So why do you do it!? And a follow-up question: writing is hard, and you're signed up for a Big Bang! What made you interested? Is it your first one or have you done this before?

Jacs: It's like a wonderful little puzzle; except it can be all wibbly wobbly and just like real life it doesn't always need to make sense- it's lovely just to embrace the humanness of character writing!

So a bit of context, I recently finished postgraduate studies, and realised I didn't have any hobbies! I used to love creative writing of any sort when I was but a young whippersnapper (they say, in their mid 20s), so I decided to embrace the cringe and get back at it. I've never participated in any fandom events, or even written something this long that wasn't academic! But I'm really loving the community around this event and getting to chat to other writers as we all write (and suffer) together!

Dema: In the last minutes, and just for fun: can you come up with a click-bait title for your fic? Without giving anything major away, of course.

Jacs: Maybe something like 'Found Family in Crisis!!!!!! How This Local Woman's Life Just Keeps Getting Worse!!!’  (To quote the venerable Sir Terry Prattchet: And all those exclamation marks, you notice? Five? A sure sign of someone who wears his underpants on his head.)

Dema: Ten out of Ten, would click again. Thank you so much for setting aside this time to chat with me!

Jacs: No worries! I had a great time!

[thepepsislvt]

Giggles i did it :)

god i want to figure skate so bad like its honestly one of my dreams

i also have some cool hockey sticks just chillin in my room :)

Hockey Player!Bartolomeo x Gn Figure Skater Reader

all growing up you had always wanted to be a figure skater. but due to financial circumstances in your family you never got the chance to take any kind of classes. When you turned 17 you got your first job, you used the money from that to pay for classes on the weekend. it was exhausting juggling school, work and classes but you knew that one day it would all be worth it.

Now that youre 19 and in college you have even less time to practice. One of your friends had helped you sign up for your first competition and you were terrified. At least entering the competition and doing well enough will maybe grab the attention of the judges and people who came to look for potential upcoming skaters. on the day of the competition during winter break, you spent all day at the local rink warming up and practicing. there was only usually only a few people on the rink during the morning so it was the perfect time to practice.

your practice went smoothly. the only hiccup you had was when you ran into someone else on accident. He apologized and told you to look out next time. other than that everything was perfect.

During the competition you tried so hard to stay out of your thoughts and focus on your movements. Your family and friends came out to watch it in support. You ended up in second place but that impressed you even. you didnt think you would make it in the top 3. you went out to celebrate with your friends and planned out more competitions.

Within the year you had won several competitions and now had a spotlight on you. News crews from the town you were in came and interviewed you. Your name was widely known in your college and throughout the state. most people were shocked when you tell them that you knly started skating for 3 years.

Now at 20 you practiced a lot more for upcoming competitions. You would see a lot of other skaters and hockey players go in the rink to practice in the morning before the rink became busy. one of the hockey players you had become close friends with. His name was Bartolomeo. He looked like your guard dog most of the time because of how “big and scary” he looked. He was really kind to you though.

He would attend your competitions and you would attend his games. He was a really good player. He started out as a goalie but soon his team saw him for the great player he really was. Celebrating a good game or competition with him was fun. It really consisted of raiding a Waffle house and then going back to one of your places to watch a movie or play video games.

You both had set a name for yourselves in your town. since you both were so busy you really didnt get to hang out with him outside of the rink. Regardless it was great to practice with him. You would race each other across the rink (he would always win unless he was showing you mercy that day) and teach each other moves. He let you try on his skates once and not only were they too big but they were way different than the skates you were used to.

Everything was just amazing. Every Time you spent time with Barto you would always be in the best mood even when your day was terrible. Over time you had caught yourself catching feeling for him. you didnt want to ruin your friendship or have your feelings get in the way of your compositions so you pushed your feelings down. On the off seasons when you would have more time to hang out with him this task became harder for you.

Eventually you decided to ghost him to hopefully get rid of those feelings. you would text him less and cancel plans. you felt awful doing so but you didn’t want to risk anything. Bartolomeo noticed this and didn’t appreciate it.

One afternoon when you both weren’t working he showed up at your apartment without texting you first. He stood at your door with pizza and movies.

“What are you doing here?” you asked him standing at your front door in your pajamas, obviously not expecting anyone to be here

“Going to watch some damn movies with you since i know for a fact youre just gonna rot in here all day with nothing to do” He says marching inside proudly

You shrug at him and close the door behind the two of you

“you’ve been ignoring me” He says turning to you after he placed everything down on a table

“I have? I didnt even realize” You quickly say, feeling your heart start to race. you had hoped he wouldn’t of noticed

“yeah, since the summer started I havent seen ya at all”

“oh my bad, been busy i guess” you really didnt want this kind of attention so you tried to push past him to do something else

Barto put his hands on your shoulder making you flinch from the sudden action. He made you look at him

“You know if somethings bothering you, we can talk about it. I just miss seeing you all the time”

You don't look him in the eyes. Feeling your own eyes water you look down and slump your shoulders. Barto took one of his hands off your shoulder and moved to hold your face, making you look back up at him

“Hey, talk to me”

“Barto, please. I like you I just dont want to jeopardize your career because of me. And i dont want you to hate me either” You let tears freely fall down your face

Bartolomeo pulled you in a hug and held you until you stopped crying. After you did you looked back up at him

“You good?” after a nod he continued “I honestly thought you were avoiding me because you caught onto my own feelings for you. I left ya alone for a while but I just really miss you and I dont want to lose you as a friend in my life. We can take things slow if you want to”

After another nod from you you hugged him again tighter than before

“It just takes some time, but everything will be alright” He head butted your head and smiled at you

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

What's your favorite kind of car?

Do you like video games? Which is your favorite genre? Specific favorite game?

Favorite dog breed?

What's your morning routine?

Favorite writing space?

Best fictional character of all time?

You have a microphone that makes you heard around the world. You can say one thing. What will you say?

Okay, I honestly don’t… care much, for cars. They’re just meh to me. I like bikes better :D

I used to play Mario Galaxy and Mario Kart and Super Mario Bros Wii alllll the time when I was little, and to this day they’re still incredibly nostalgic and hold a lot of good memories. I think I was… six, when I played Mario Galaxy for the first time. My dad played Mario and I played the little player two star—it was freaking awesome, and always something I looked forward to. One of my favorite things to do was collect star-bits for my dad, and freeze enemies. It was just… awesome. So much fun.

However, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve liked video games less and less. My brother is the video game guy, and he is a hekkin nerd about it XD

I don’t really play any video games now, and haven’t played any for years, BUT! Zelda Breath Of The Wild has amazing cutscenes and a great story and ZELDA IS VERY LIKABLE and LINK OH MY GOSH LINK MY BELOVED!!! HE EATS ROCKS FOR FUN!!!

I went through a phase a year or two ago where me and my sister came up with loads of fanfic ideas for BOTW, and I still want to write them!! I think it’d be really fun! I’m just preoccupied with DSMP at the moment :)

So long story short, I’m not a video game person, but I really really like BOTW for the story (and also Tears Of The Kingdom).

Favorite dog breed oh goshhhh

I love golden retrievers (special dogs, and also the same breed as Shadow from Homeward Bound, which is my Most Nostalgic Movie and I need to see it again) and I also like golden doodles (same breed as my dog Ginger <3) and I also like german shepherds (really cool dogs they look so awesome) and I also like great pyrenees (giant fluffy darlings the lot of them and they protect sheep)

But I also really really like wolves :D

I don’t have much of a morning routine, to be perfectly honest; I’m a night owl, and mornings haven’t ever been my thing 😅

I guess they’re… chill? I don’t know, not much happens. I don’t even eat breakfast, most of the time.

FAVORITE WRITING SPACE I LIKE THIS QUESTION!!! Okay, so until just a couple months ago, I didn’t have much of a writing space. If I wanted to write, I usually wrote on a very uncomfortable chair in the living room, or sometimes in my bed.

But at the start of this year, I (somehow) got into a writing routine; every day at 8-8:45pm, I’ll sit down at the tiny table in the kitchen, where I stay until 10pm. It’s been my writing place for a while now, and it’s gotten to the point where I feel wrong when I write anywhere else 😅

So definitely that! Actually here’s a picture:

Now you get to read part of my romance story ajsgajsvjav I honestly had No Idea what I was doing as I wrote it

I can and have written other places—a park bench, a cabin, the notes app on my phone—but I much prefer the kitchen table!

Best. Fictional. Character. Oh boy. Deathy. I will probably ramble. Oh boy.

I gotta start with Ghostbur, of course. My beloved, the ghost of all time, lover of the color blue and sheep, Innocent, weirdly relatable, wearer of yellow sweaters… the perfect guy <3

The way cc!Wilbur treated him is criminal. cc!Wilbur needs to be tried for his crimes and found guilty of malicious intent, murder, enjoyment in other’s sufferings, and Far More.

AND THE FANDOM!!! DON’T GET ME STARTED ON THE FREAKING FANDOM!!! People either see Ghostbur as an overgrown toddler who can’t understand anything, or they see him as this strange mystical Being who is serious all the time and never smiles and is always sad and depressed.

Neither are true! Stop it! It’s annoying and terrible! Freaking stop!

Ghostbur didn’t deserve what happened to him, and he doesn’t deserve the awful fandom interpretations.

Ghostbur deserves the whole world, and all the sheep in the world, and the softest sweaters imaginable <333

I also really really like Wilbur, Tommy, Tech, and Maul :D

Oooh… hm. That’s a tough one.

I think I’d say…

GOSH DEATHY THIS IS HARD!!!

I’d want to say something about Christianity, but there’s so much to say, and I’d want to make sure people understood and didn’t get confused, and I wouldn’t want to say the wrong thing and give people wrong assumptions.

Oooh… maybe I’d share some of my story, like when I dealt with doubts about my faith. That might help people. Oooh :0

Thank you soooo much, Deathy!! This was quite fun to answer :D

[maxwell-grant]

Might I please ask if you have an opinion of DRACULA? (Either the novel itself or the adaptations); having read both this novel and FRANKENSTEIN, I'm tempted to agree with the reviewer who wrote that one of these is a Classic and the other is actually Fun to read ... (-;

(Art by Cinemamind)

I completely understand the sentiment of "one's a classic and the other's fun to read" and I don't necessarily disagree with it. I don't read Frankenstein for fun, I read it because it's the book closest to me and it's heartbreaking to think about and it's got one of my favorite characters ever in it and it's got a stake in my soul I gotta renew every year. Dracula, however? Dracula is a blast and it boggles the mind as to how every adaptation can be so crushingly lesser in nearly every aspect. My hardcover edition with annotations is one of my most prized possessions.

It's interesting that people tend to talk about Frankenstein and Dracula like Frankenstein was cutting edge sci-fi while Dracula was archaic and folkloric, when it's really the other way around. Frankenstein is the story of an arrogant dipshit rejecting modern science and thinking to unearth outdated knowledge soon blossoming into a vicious cycle of savagery, where as Dracula is the story of an ancient predator adapting and trying to take over current society and fought by a ragtag team of upstanding citizens using modern tactics to stave him off and eventually fight him, desperately struggling to stay ahead of the curve as he wisens to their tactics.

This book was really ahead of it's time in so many ways. I could easily see excerpts of it, particularly the Demeter journals and Renfield's story, taking off as internet creepypastas or found footage horror films. Dracula's a story about a group of characters playing detective as they update their blog entries about the coming of an initially incomprehensible horror taking over their lives. It's a story that could work regardless of Victorian or vampire trappings, and we know this because Blair Witch Project and Marble Hornets are some of the biggest horror successes of the past decades, all of which follow the same general idea, except in Dracula, they don't just discover the true nature of the horror, they also start fighting back and ultimately destroy it.

Dracula's obviously a great villain, that goes without saying. I don't actually tend to take Dracula seriously much of the time because I'm very fond of comedy takes on Dracula and vampires, but that doesn't at all diminish his impact in the original book. He's barely in the novel for much of it which makes his every appearence Count, and the atmosphere as well as the many, many forms he can show up or be suggested at really help solidify what an incredible presence he can be.

He's the strange ruler in a foreign country, he's the kooky old man with weird customs, he's the creepy house owner tormenting a hapless guest, he's a barbarian who lives in nostalgia. He's the wind on your window, a dog on the street, a bat in your windshield, a storm on your ship. He's a predator in every way possible, he's a handsome aristocrat, he's a tragic victim of his own monstrous nature, he's a demon who threatens to consume all mankind, he's the fucker who assaulted your loved one and has to go down hard by machete right now.

Even if we just threw out the 124 years of Dracula's history out, we'd still have enough material in the book not just for a great villain, but dozens of great villains and characters who could take just about any of these traits and run with them. And still, the thing that really, really stuck out to me about Dracula wasn't him, it was the other characters

Art by Kiwi

Dracula's cast is so, so underrated, so unfortunately sidelined as a result of adaptations that only care about The Count and try to give him all the dramatic weight and characterization and sideline all the other characters as merely bit players. Stories that twist Jonathan into a useless fop or an active jerk on the idea that he's the "boring" one, that diminish Renfield's story into just being a hapless and insane goon of Dracula, that make Van Helsing the only character who's even capable of putting up a fight and make him a generic badass, that completely neglect Quincy Morris even though he's great and everyone who discovers him is aghast at discovering "holy shit there's a COWBOY in Dracula?" like yes, there is, and he's incredible and everyone should love him and everyone WOULD love him if only the adaptations remembered he exists.

Adaptations that completely sideline Mina when, and I can't stress this enough, she is the most competent character in the book, one of the greatest pop culture detectives, a wonderful and compassionate and incredibly strong and intelligent character and the main reason why they even managed to win against the Count in the first place, and arguably the closest thing the book even has to a protagonist or hero. I'm not gonna go too into it here but, even putting aside the sheer awfulness of adaptations that try and force a romance between The Count and Mina, seriously fuck off with that, why is it that pretty much every "official" adaptation has had considerably less feminist interpretations of Mina than the source material written in the 1880s? It's a complete travesty (and yes, I'm including LOEG Mina in this, anyone who likes the book and character could have done that concept better)

I enjoy aspects of Dracula adaptations, mostly regarding certain actors's takes on the characters like Bela Lugosi (the only saving grace of that movie, honestly, but rightfully considered the iconic performance), or Peter Cushing as Van Helsing. I very much enjoy the Dracula adaptation Orson Welles did because it at least tried to stay faithful to the book. But regardless of their individual quality, I don't have much to say about Dracula adaptations that try to adapt the book other than "WHY in christ aren't you just sticking to what's in the book? Do you not see how GREAT it is, all the great things about it that are just waiting to be rediscovered and loved by new audiences? STOP WHATEVER IT IS YOU'RE DOING WITH MINA FOR THE LOVE OF GOD-"

So yeah I definitely got thoughts on Dracula. Utterly adore the book but thinking about how much of it's greatness has been lost in the adaptations kinda makes me a little angry. Of course, this doesn't extend to adaptations that tell different stories or just put Dracula into existing stories or reinterpret it. I love Nosferatu and Castlevania Dracula and Hellsing Dracula and Billy & Mandy Dracula and Sesame Street Dracula. Dracula's basically become a sub-category of monster in it's own right and there's no such think as too many monsters, or too many Draculas

I'm very glad that Dracula's public domain because it means not only can he just show up anywhere, but it also means that just about anyone can pen their own Dracula stories. Still, it would be nice if the other great characters of Dracula got brought along for the ride on a couple of those.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen 5

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, coercion, manipulation, trauma, sextoy, recording, anal.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: It was close but y’all wanted more Birch!Sam so here we go. This one is... porn. Let’s be honest lmao.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 5: Come on in, sit right down

💀💀💀

It was a pain you’d never felt before. It was more than physical, it was deep, it was like part of you was missing. Something taken from you. More than just that outdated concept of purity that you never bought into, more so your autonomy. You never felt very in control of your life, trapped in the small town with dreams but now your life was completely out of your grasp.

Sam left late, some time after midnight. It didn’t matter, you still felt him inside of you. You tried to rinse him off of you, out of you, but the shower only left you cold and hollow. You gave up on sleep just after five in the morning and you typed in a trance, barely thinking as your fingers fluttered over the keyboard.

Hours passed like days and you descended as you heard your nan below, the clink of her heavy cast iron pot on the stove. She cooked her oatmeal in it and it was heavy enough to hammer back in the loose floorboard in front of the fridge. She offered you some as you entered the kitchen and you sat at the table with a sigh.

“Is that man coming back?” she asked.

You tilted your head at her as she put a bowl in front of you and the bag of sugar just for you. You sprinkled the brown granules over your oatmeal and added milk, “you looking forward to it?”

“The only reason I didn’t spray Lysol in his eyes was because of you, girly,” she sat heavy with the jar of artificial sugar and the little cinnamon container, “you know I’d do anything to keep you safe even if you’re too dumb for your own good.”

You nodded and scooped up the thick oatmeal. You pushed your tongue through the oats and said nothing.

“I told you to stay away from that bar,” she huffed. The crotchety old lady was back.

“You seemed happy enough about the pie and wine,” you shrugged.

“You think I don’t know his kind. I’m an old lady, that won’t keep him from cracking my skull like poor old Mikey Rae,” she tutted, “that was the first biker I fucked with.”

“Nan,” you gasped at her language.

“Well, you’re an adult now. Gonna have to grow up quick if you messin’ with those boys,” she pointed her spoon at you, “but you say the word and I’ll twist his balls off. Being old only means I gotta be patient.”

You couldn’t help but snicker. You knew she was serious and you realised then that it was all a show. A cautious act that you’d mirrored for her own sake. But this was a problem you had to deal with yourself. The one thing you couldn’t live with was bringing harm to the woman who raised you.

“No ball twisting, nan,” you shook your head, “alright?”

“For now,” she returned, “but you be careful, girly. You’re in deep enough.”

“I know,” you bit the edge of your lip, “nan?”

“Mmm,” she grumbled as she swallowed.

“Mikey Ray, if he was one of them, who bashed him?” you asked.

“The second one, Colin,” she frowned, “cocky bugger, took what he wanted… until he got what he couldn’t handle.”

“And what happened to him?”

It was the most your nan ever told you about those days, more inclined to talk about her hippy festivals and protest arrests.

“I twisted his balls off,” she snickered, “in a manner of speaking.”

You drew your brows together as you watched her take another bite and she opened the pocket book of crosswords she kept on the table.

“In a manner of speaking?” you wondered.

“I plead the fifth,” she took the pencil from between the pages and adjusted her thick glasses, “but he wasn’t around to cause me any trouble.”

You shoved another spoonful into your mouth and sat back. You always thought your nan was a tough old bitch, you couldn’t imagine what she was like when she was your age.

💀

Sam showed up just after noon. You weren’t surprised but you weren’t happy either. You were only thankful he came in the back. You didn’t need Nan following through on her threats and you would rather she didn’t know about the visit. If you were fortunate, she didn’t notice him for her knitting.

He knocked on your door and you unlocked it. He made no move to enter as he twirled your phone between his fingers.

“Charged it last night,” he smiled, “thought we could have some more fun.”

“I’m working,” you said quietly.

“Did I ask?” his lips straightened and he tilted his head, “and it’s about time you came over. Kind feels off with the old lady just on the other side of the wall.” You winced at the memory of the night before. He noticed and chuckled. “Kinda hot too but… still,” he mused.

“You can’t come back later?” you crossed your arms.

“You were so good last night,” he said, “I don’t like this little game you’re playing so don’t make me give the old lady a show. Let’s go.”

You dropped your arms and grabbed your thinner jacket from the back of your chair and shoved your feet into your zip up Martens. He waited with his arm across the open door and you stepped past him as his other hand went to your ass and squeezed. He closed the door and followed you down the wooden steps.

The snow wasn’t as deep as the first fall and you crunched through to the sidewalk. He placed his arm over your shoulders as he ushered you along to the main road. You passed The Asp and cut through the lot as he waved to other members of the club.

“I talked to Bucky, let him know you won’t be an issue any longer,” he said, “right?”

“Right,” you echoed and hugged yourself against the bitter air.

“Aw, honey, don’t worry, we’re about to get you warmed up,” he led you down another side street and up the paved walk of a pale blue house, “this is my place, Chez, uh, Wilson.”

He let you inside and nudged you further in as he followed. You slid out of your boots and he helped you out of your jacket. His impatience showed as he unzipped his coat and tore off his own boots. He took out your phone and grinned.

“Today,” he held it up, “you can get this back… if you earn it.”

You stared at him and picked at the hem of your shirt. His eyes followed the movement of your fingers and he licked his lips.

“Why yes, you can take that off, that’s a great start,” he purred, “all of it.”

You clenched your teeth and gripped the fabric nervously. He shouldered past you and pointed across the front room.

“You can go wait for me in there,” he said, “I’ll be a couple.”

You nodded and made to pass him but he stopped you before you could enter the living room. The place was cozy even if you didn’t want to be there. He bent and turned your face up to kiss you sloppily. He tapped your ass again as he urged you onward.

“Gotta loosen you up,” he taunted, “in more ways than one.”

You continued across the room if only to get away from him, even if it wouldn't be for long. You pushed past the painted door and entered the bedroom. The wall was hung with a large framed diagram of a Harley and another of a bike engine. There was a large poster for the Godfather and a Marvin Gaye album leaned against a retro player. The bed was made and the carpet freshly vacuumed.

You went to the dresser and looked over the dog tags that hung from a miniature statue of David. You looked up at the large mirror over the dresser and you looked as scared as you felt. You gulped down your nerves as he entered and looked away from your reflection.

He had a stool in hand and kicked the door closed. He placed it between the bed and the dresser. He kept his hands on the top and his chest flexed beneath his grey henley. He watched you knowingly and tutted.

“You’re not naked,” he said, “don’t you want this back?”

He let go of the stool and revealed your phone once more. You murmured and lifted your shirt slowly. He went to the dresser and unfolded a small metal tripod and affixed the cell to it. He angled it then slid out the top drawer. You scoffed as he turned around with a large suction dildo and stuck it to the top of the stool, your hands frozen on your open fly.

“Um, what the hell?” you sputtered.

“I think you know what the hell but I’m more than happy to give direction,” he wiggled the dildo and let it wobble as he pulled away.

You gaped at it. You couldn’t fit that whole thing in you. How were you even supposed to get yourself onto that?

“Honey, quit stalling,” he warned as he put his hands on his hips. You blinked at him and scowled, “or we can make a special post for TikTok… but I think it might be against their terms of service.”

You glanced away and pushed down your jeans. You let your socks crumple in the ankles and stood to unhook your bra. He hummed as he moved to lean against the wall beside the dresser and crossed his arms over his chest. You hesitated before you shimmied out of your panties, shying away as you eyed the stool.

“Oh,” he pushed away from the wall and reached into the drawer again. He tossed you a tube and you caught it. Lubricant. “You’re gonna wanna get some of that on there.”

You inhaled deeply and flipped open the cap. You cringed as you hovered the bottle over the tip of the dildo and squirted it onto the silicone. You spread it down the length of the toy and your hand shook. You felt him watching you as embarrassment burned through you.

You finished and capped the lube and set it on the dresser. He nodded to the toy and lifted a brow. You hid your discomfort and approached the stool. You stepped up onto the crossbar and clung to the edge of the seat as you brought your knee up. You felt as if it would all topple as you brought your other leg up.

You shuddered as you felt the tip against your cunt and you reached unsteadily between your legs. You rubbed the head of the toy against your folds to spread the lube and peeked over at Sam.

“Go on,” he ordered, “if you can get that whole thing inside you, I’ll give you your phone back.”

You gripped the toy and pushed it back to your entrance. You lowered yourself a little so it stretched you just slightly. You scrunched your nose at the discomfort and slowly eased further onto it. You got halfway and stopped as you gasped. Your fingers curled around the seat and the toy.

“You’re doing good, honey,” his voice was smoky and you looked at yourself in the mirror. The phone blocked the bottom half of the toy but you could see your cunt around the top.

You bent your knees further and groaned as your walls strained around the dildo. Your eyes watered as it hit your cervix and you arched your back to take it as deep as you could. You cried out as you reached the base.

“Whoa, you really did it,” he mused, “fuck, you look good all stretched out.”

You whimpered and adjusted your legs as you tried not to slip.

“Well, you know what to do,” he motioned up and down with his fingers.

“Please,” you breathed, “I did--”

“Not done yet,” he said pointedly.

You huffed and lifted yourself carefully. You pushed back down and let out a moan as the toy grazed your walls. The fullness was overwhelming, a painful pressure laced with pleasure. You rocked your hips as you moved on your knees and gripped the edge of the stool, mindful not to shake the stool too much.

You closed your eyes as your breath hitched. You needed more. The toy could only do so much as your clit thrummed and the wetness spread down your thighs.

“Mmmm,” Sam came around you and snaked his arm down your front. He pushed his fingers between your swollen folds and circled your bud, “you like that, don’t you, honey?”

You whined as your nerves sparked at his fingertips and you sped up. He planted his foot on the crossbar to keep the stool from tipping and you rode out your orgasm as his touch spurred you on.

“Ah, fuck,” he pressed against your back, “I’m so fucking hard.”

You panted and opened your eyes. You looked at yourself in the mirror but quickly shied away. You were weak, so weak.

He stepped around you and reached for the lube. You watched him as you didn’t move from atop the toy and he rounded you again. He drizzled the lube between your cheeks and flung the lube away. He pushed his fingers along your ass and lingered on your tight ring. You winced and tried to lift yourself off the dildo.

He caught your shoulder and held you down.

“Again,” he ordered.

You glanced at him in the mirror and he gave you a stern look as his fingers tightened around your shoulder. You held your breath and began to fuck the toy again. He nuzzled the back of your head and poked against your ass until his finger slid inside. You cried out and his hand went to your neck as he urged you on.

“Ah, honey,” he whispered against your hair.

He drew his finger in and out of your ass as a burning pressure seared through you and added to that in your cunt. 

“You can touch yourself,” he uttered as his fiery breath encircled you.

You did so without thinking. He pushed another finger into you and a squeak escaped your lips. You couldn’t help but delight in how the sensations mingled and bloomed to a new climax. He sped up in time with your hips and your legs shook as you came in a series of strangled mewls.

He kept on until you slowed to catch your breath. He slipped his fingers out of you and your head lolled as he removed his hand from your neck. You heard his zipper and as you looked back, his hand stretched across the back of your head and turned it straight. He bent so his head was next to yours and grasped your chin as he made you look at him in the mirror.

“One more time, honey,” he pulled his dick out and his tip brushed along your ass.

You tried to lift yourself off the toy but he hooked his arm around your middle and kept you on it.

“Sam, no, please,” you begged, “I can’t--”

“You can handle it all, honey,” he purred, “I know you can.”

His tip pressed to your ring as he forced you down on the toy. You exclaimed and he pushed until you stretched around the head of his cock. You gritted your teeth and threw your head back against his shoulder. 

He pulled back and pushed in again. He got deeper with each slow thrust, an inch at a time, until you were filled by him and the toy. Your eyes welled and the tears trickled down your cheeks as you held onto the stool and grunted through each tilt of his hips.

He trailed his hand down between your legs and spread your folds as he flicked your clit with his middle finger. He moved you against him and on the toy. He pushed into as the dildo reached its limit and your voice grew louder and louder. 

Through the agony, you couldn’t help but feel the unyielding tingle in your core and it crawled down your thighs and up your spine. The stool rocked with his motion but he kept you flush to him as he fucked you from behind. Your legs slipped over the side of the seat and you were impaled on the toy.

He didn’t let up as you gasped and gulped, whining as your cunt twitched around the silicone and you came as you reached back to scratch at his open jeans. He rutted into you without relent as he kneaded your thighs and his breath seared down your flesh.

“Ah, honey,” he muttered through his delighted groans, “goddamn, god-- shit, I’m gonna fill you up.”

He slammed into you as deep as he could and you felt him burst. He gave several long thrusts as rode out his orgasm and groaned. When he stilled he leaned against you and sighed.

“You can have the phone back,” he rasped as he caressed your thigh, “tomorrow.”

[mentally-in-northern-italy]

Wrong Idea — James Potter x reader

***not my gif***

Summary: You have a big crush on James Potter but have to live with the ‘fact’ that James is smitten with your best friend, Lily. But is this really the case, or have you just got the wrong idea?

Word count: 2.9K

A/N: Hi! Second fic, whoooo! No one really requested this but it just came to me. Again, a bit too long for my liking, but it’s okay. Any feedback is very much appreciated. Requests are open, so feel free! Enjoy!!

_________________

“He is totally staring at you, Lily,” you whisper to your friend as you stand beside her, both pretending to be overly concentrated on finding just the finest box of Chocolate Frogs that Honeydukes has to offer. 

“He is not,” Lily whispers back, acting as if this prospect sounds ridiculously unbelievable but you could see her small smile as she tried her best not to glance at his direction. She continued to act as though she was very carefully examining a box of Chocolate Frogs as you chuckled quietly, trying to ignore the faint pang in your chest.

James Potter. Star Quidditch player. Self-appointed ‘mom’ of the Marauders. Personification of the very cliche, but fitting phrase, “messy hair, don’t care”. And, of course, a very famous lady’s man.

And, lastly, your ‘former’ crush who was now seemingly smitten with your best friend, Lily.

You weren’t sure when it was exactly when you had realized that you were inordinately conscious of how you looked whenever he was around, how you stole quick glances at him throughout your shared Potions class, hoping he wouldn’t notice, or how much the thought of the raven-haired boy consumed your mind. Slowly, but surely, your crush on James had developed into something so strong and overwhelming, you couldn’t even think of confiding in anyone else. Not even your best friend, Lily Evans. 

When you had heard about the rumours and gossip circulating around the school, about how James was supposedly head-over-heels for a certain red-head, you had tried your very hardest to force those feelings out of you. You couldn’t have a crush on James. He liked Lily. End of story.

You felt even worse when Lily would blush mildly, her cheeks turning as red as her hair, whenever James stopped you two to talk in the middle of the hallway. How Lily would talk your ears off about how much she hated James, and how annoying and arrogant she perceived him to be, but you knew better. You knew Lily liked James too, maybe not as outwardly as James liked her, but enough to make you feel like a terrible person for liking the same guy as your best friend of five years.

And now, you couldn’t help but notice the way James’ eyes seemed to follow you two, as he stood by a shelf at the entrance of the shop, watching you both weave around the shelves stocked with sweets and treats in Honeydukes, talking quietly amongst yourselves.

“Lily, you like him, he likes you,” you try to tell her once again, ignoring how it made your heart sting a little every time you thought of them together, “why, in Merlin’s name, are you acting so oblivious?”

“[Y/N],” she scoffed, feigning offense, “I’m not acting oblivious. And I don’t like him. I just don’t… mind him.” 

“Mhm,” you hummed as you picked up a cauldron cake off the shelf, “I totally believe you, Lils.” 

“Believe what you want, [Y/L/N],” she retorted with a clever smile but the smile started to falter as she started to look more nervous, looking steadily at something behind you.

You turned around to look at what it was exactly that had her looking so alarmed and were just as alarmed when you saw James approaching you two, after abandoning the display he was previously taking a close look at, with a confident smile set on his handsome face. 

“[Y/L/N],” he greeted as he smiled at you for a millisecond too long, sending butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy, “Evans.”

“Potter,” Lily greeted him back curtly, her face set into a smile that conveyed politeness but not necessarily obvious interest.

Maybe it was your failure to repress your intense feelings for James, but you could’ve sworn that he was looking intently at you, perhaps in the hopes that you would also acknowledge him in some way. But, you didn’t trust yourself to be able to speak without melting into a stuttering mess so you stayed quiet, averting eye contact, and fidgeting with the packet of the cauldron cake in your hands. 

“Did you need something, Potter?” Lily questioned, raising a single eyebrow. James’ gaze still hadn’t left you but he was forced to tear his eyes off of you to address Lily. 

“Oh, no, I don’t need anything,” he remarked, regaining his confident (bordering on arrogant) composure as his eyes involuntarily shifted to you once again, “I just wanted to ask something.”

This captured your attention as your eyes jumped up from the cake in your hands to the sly smile that James was sending you and Lily. This is it, you thought, he’s going to ask her out and--

“Is there any chance, [Y/N],” James started out, sending you a sincere look, making your breath hitch in your throat, “that you could give up that Cauldron Cake?” 

“Huh?” you say in surprise. Cauldron Cake? 

“The one you have in your hand,” he smiled, “Uh, Padfoot, apparently, has been craving one for a few weeks and, unfortunately, that’s the last one they have. I looked all over.” 

“Oh,” you said, a bit awkwardly, evidently struggling to find the right words for this unusual sort of situation, “yeah, I guess you can…” 

“Y’know, I told him that’s not how cravings work,” he tried to crack a joke as you handed the cake to him, his hands slightly brushing against your own, making you weak in the knees, “but he claims I wouldn’t get it. It’s just a dog--, uh, a Sirius thing, I guess.” 

He laughed an incredibly awkward laugh, while you and Lily stood there, clearly unsure of what to do. It would not be correct to say you didn’t laugh because  you thought what James had just said was unfunny… no, it was more about the fact that you hadn’t understood it at all. This wasn’t like James. Sure, James’ jokes weren’t hilarious but they certainly weren’t as… dry as the one he just told. If you could even call it a ‘joke’. It sounded an awful lot like he just winged it -- came up with a half-assed joke just for the sake of coming up with one. Not a typical James Potter move, that much you knew. 

Lily was watching this exchange occur with weirdly curious interest. She wasn’t sure what was happening but she also couldn’t tear her eyes away from darting back between you and James. It didn’t take her too long to get a general gist of what was going on… she was the brightest witch in her year, after all.

“Right,” you say, attempting to swiftly leave this incredibly strange conversation, “I’m afraid Lils and I should get going now. Enjoy the… cake.”

“Oh,” James looked down at the cake, as if he had entirely forgotten he had it in his hands and then back up at you, “yes. Thank you, by the way, for the cake. I’ll see you back at the common room, [Y/N]. Evans.” He nodded in Lily’s direction, while he mentally cursed himself for acting so awkward.

Before anyone could say anything else, you took a hold of Lily’s gloved hand and started to lead her towards the exit of the shop, ignoring whatever it was she was saying to you. You shook your head a little as ridiculous thoughts started flooding your brain. Why did he use my first name and not Lily’s? Am I reading into this too much? Am I going crazy? 

You had decided that the latter two were more likely to be the case when the corner of your eye caught an entire shelf in front of the entrance of the shop, stocked with Cauldron Cakes. And the display wasn’t too far away from where James originally stood. In fact, that’s the very display he was checking out when you had noticed him staring. 

________________

You groaned as Marlene and Lily dragged you out of the dorm room, against your will, mind you, insisting that it was absolutely crucial that you abandon your History of Magic of homework and follow them.

“We have a test coming up!” you tried to reason with them, “Lily, Mar, come on, we should be studying!”

“Studying can wait, [Y/N],” Marlene said to you, matter-of-factly, “Quidditch cannot.”

They dragged you by the arm, through the Gryffindor common room, to the Quidditch game, which was just about to start. Today was a big day; the first Quidditch game of the season, Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff. 

You, of course, knew what this meant. 

James Potter. Flying around on his broom. Being a brilliant chaser.

You had never been a particular fan of the game, but when you had started liking James, you found yourself going to the Quidditch pitch quite often. That is, until you deemed your feelings for James to be forbidden. Now, Quidditch games were just about the same as rubbing salt to your, very deep, wounds. 

The way he would look over at Lily, who stood right beside you, and wink at her made you angry. And not angry at Lily or James, but angry at yourself. All the glances he would send her way only made you get mad at yourself for ever feeling this way about someone who was so far out of your reach.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Lily said as you snapped out of your thoughts, leading you through the hallways in the direction of the Gryffindor stands.

“Yeah,” you mutter under your breath, with a twinge of sadness, making sure she wouldn’t hear, “for you.”

_______________

Gryffindor had won the match. Hufflepuff played exceptionally well, but it was no match for the Gryffindor’s brilliant offensive tactics. 

As the Gryffindor seeker had caught the snitch, the cheering in the stands rang out. You, Lily and Marlene jumped up, screaming and clapping, overjoyed at this brilliant win. 

“Come on,” Marlene said excitedly, “let’s go down to the pitch!”

“What?” you asked, alarmed. You did not want to be in close proximity to James right now. Not when his jersey would be clinging onto his body and his hair would be all sweaty and his face all red, making him look even more hands-

“Yes! Let’s go,” Lily agreed instantly, dragging you by the arm. 

You groaned once again but you knew they wouldn’t listen. As you three, no, as you two were walking down, -- Marlene was practically skipping -- thoughts of the Quidditch match in action flooded your mind. James sent so many winks and smirks in Lily’s direction that you could’ve sworn by Merlin that some of them were to you. Or this was just wishful thinking. After all, Lily was sitting right beside you. You decide that this is just you getting confused -- but then again, why did Lily always glance your way after James smiled at you, as he scored a goal, expecting you to react in some way? And why did she look genuinely pleased, instead of having even the hint of jealousy in her eyes? 

There’s nothing for her to be jealous about, you told yourself repeatedly, he was looking at Lily. 

As you three reached the Quidditch pitch, you could see clumps of students, crowding the Quidditch players, congratulating them excitedly. 

“Lily, I came to the match,” you tried to whisper to her as you two stood there, unsure of where to go, “can I please go study now?” 

“No, [Y/N] [Y/L/N]!” providing special emphasis on your full name, yelling loudly, capturing the attention of everyone on the pitch. Everyone’s head turned to look at you as you seemed to shrink into yourself and Lily wore a proud smile on her face, looking at you slyly. 

The mention of your full name had attracted a lot of unwanted attention. But it also, almost immediately, seemed to attract some wanted attention as well. 

Well, not wanted, that wasn’t allowed as per your rules, but appreciated, nonetheless. 

James’ head turned to you as he diverted his attention from some excited first-years to you and Lily. Your eyes had widened remarkably, your face had started to heat up and the butterflies in your stomach who had seemed to be asleep previously, had now woken up. 

“Oh, would you look at that,” Lily said quickly, “Thomas Lee looks dashing, I’m going to go tell him congratulations!” And with that, she walked away from you and towards Lee, the Gryffindor keeper.

James had started walking over to you as you stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do. Do you meet him halfway? Do you keep standing there? Merlin, why did this have to be so difficult? 

“[Y/N], so glad you could make it,” he smirked at you as he pushed his sweaty hair back. 

“Uh, yeah, congratulations,” you said, trying to keep yourself from looking at his figure, “you played really well.” 

“Thanks!” said James, with, what looked like, genuine gratefulness, before the look in his eyes turned cocky again, “Although, I’ve played better. This game was a piece of cake.” 

“Of course,” you couldn’t help but smile softly at his words. This is the James you knew. The James you liked. The James you shouldn’t like.

“Speaking of cake!” he exclaimed suddenly, trying to salvage this conversation from turning awkward, “Thanks again for that cauldron cake! I was so bummed when I found they had run out.” 

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it,” you told him politely, when you remembered something. 

They hadn’t run out of cauldron cakes. In fact, they had them all piled up on the shelf right in front of the entrance. Before you could say anything, James started speaking again.

“Y’know, there’s a Hogsmeade trip coming up,” he started out confidently, but the slight shaking of his hands and the easy-to-miss quiver in his voice indicated otherwise.

“Yes, I know,” you told him, quietly. Was he telling you to ask Lily for him? Godric knows you would never be able to do that. “Lily knows too, so… you can ask her. I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

“What?” he looked very surprised, his eyebrows had furrowed as if he had no idea why you had mentioned that. 

“The Hogsmeade trip. You should ask her. She might seem like she would say no but she’ll say yes.” You ignored the feeling of your heart sinking. 

“But, I don’t want to.” he said with a slight shake of his head.

“What?” 

“I wanted to ask you.” his voice had gotten unusually quiet.

You were in absolute shock, to say the least. James Potter wanted to ask you? To Hogsmeade? What about Lily? 

“What about Lily?” you asked, confusedly, “I thought-- everyone thought--”

“I like you, not Evans,” he told you with no hesitation, “who said I liked her?”

“Literally everyone thinks so.”

“Well, they must have gotten the wrong idea.”

“But--”

“[Y/N], for someone so bloody smart, you are incredibly oblivious,” James said, with the slightest bit of his irritation showing through, “Didn’t you see me staring at you? Winking? For Merlin’s sake, there wasn’t a shortage of Cauldron Cakes back at Honeydukes! I just wanted to talk to you.” 

“But you were staring at Lily,” you say defensively, “not me. Why would you do that?”

“Because… I like you?” 

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do!” 

You shook your head in frustration. You couldn’t do this to Lily. This is not what best friends do. No, there is no way you would act on these feelings.

“Lily!” you turn away from James and make your way over to Lily, “we need to go.” 

You drag Lily away from Lee and start making your way off the pitch, leaving Lee and James staring at you both in confusion.

“So, did you say yes?” she asked you as you tried to walk as fast as you could without making it seem like you’re running away.

“What?” you turn to her. 

“To James? He asked you out, didn’t he?” she asked eagerly. You were surprised to see she wasn’t sad. At all. In fact, she seemed happy for you. 

“But you like James,” you tried to tell her, trying to work this whole situation out, standing only a few feet away from James and Lee, who were watching this interaction intently. Didn’t she?

“I thought I did,” she told you, “but I think I only convinced myself that I did, because I thought he liked me. To be honest, I really don’t. And all those times you tried to tell me he was staring at me? It was always you, [Y/N], I just happened to be standing right beside you every time.”

“But, I--,” you struggled to find words. 

“Look,” Lily said as she put a hand to your shoulder, “I know you like him. I also know he likes you. Why, in Merlin’s name, are you acting so oblivious?” she said, imitating your words from that trip to Honeydukes.

“You really don’t like him?” you asked, unsure of what you wanted the answer to be. On one hand, you would love to go out with James, on the other, you never wanted to hurt Lily’s feelings.

“No! Not even one bit,” she reassured you, “I’m a bit relieved, really, plus, I think I’ve found myself a keeper.” She turned away from you to face Lee, still stood a few feet away from you two, and smiled. Lee winked back. You laughed at this and reluctantly turned your head to James, also stood a few feet away from you. He stood with his confidence a little diminished, looking defeated. But he still gave you a small smile and waved awkwardly.

“Go! Say yes,” Lily told you, chuckling, “We can even go on double dates together.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully at Lily before you took a deep breath in and started to make your way towards him. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Um.”

“Let’s start over,” you told him as you straightened your posture and fixed your hair. 

“Start over?” he asked, regaining the arrogance.

“Ask me out again, Potter,” you told him, having found confidence yourself after your talk with Lily. You no longer felt bad about liking James. And you felt even better knowing he liked you.

“Oh, yes!” James plastered his smirk back on his face, “There's a Hogsmeade trip coming up, [Y/N].” 

“Yes, I’m aware,” you nodded and smiled, stifling giggles from erupting.

“Let’s go together.” he said cockily, his eyes twinkling.

“That was pathetic, James,” you said as you started to laugh softly.

“Hey!” 

“But yes. Let’s,” you told him with a mischievous smile, “Maybe this time, I can help you find the very noticeable, hard-to-miss Cauldron Cake display.” 

“Deal.” He sent you his infamous James Potter grin at which you grinned back.

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Small Actions (Create Big Ripples) CC!Plat!Ranboo x GN!Reader

I've been thinking lately about this little drabble and it makes me a bit upset? Like.. I'm in this position high key but theres nothing I can do about it...

(R/R/n) stands for Ranboo's real name. Also if you're really tall.... No you're not. Shhhh. For plot purposes

You stayed away from social media as much as possible. Now, don't get me wrong, you used to love watching Youtubers play their games and happily interact with their fans.. But growing up, you never seemed to have enough money to donate when they streamed, or go to events where they were.

You had always wanted to tell them how much they've helped you through life, or shaped your personality.. Or saved you. But... They get told that every day by over hundreds of people.. So there would be no real sentiment behind it..

You'd probably just get a simple, "Aw. Happy I could help." Before turning back to their game without blinking twice.

So, you just watched silently. It hurt, you know? Wanting to thank them, or send them something to show your appreciation.. But you never seemed to be able to send it, with the thought that 'it won't really matter to them after five minutes.. You'll just be brushed over. It's pointless.'

Eventually it hurt too much to keep watching the content creators that raised you, so you just stopped and went on with your life.

It was hard, but at least you didn't have to deal with the fact that you would never be able to thank the people you watched for making your life that much better.

As time went on, while you still heard about the creators, it was just... less. Now people were non stop blabbering about these people from something called the DreamSMP?

Your sister was obsessed with it to say the least, and you always heard her mumbling about strange people like Technoblade? Or Sapnap? And apparently some people had children with inanimate objects?! Like a Samsung Fridge and a salmon?! Yeah you didn't even bother trying to understand what she was rambling about most of the times. It just spun your head in circles.

"Okay, I gotta take my mutt to the vet," Your sister and closest friend, (S/n), tilted her head towards the backseat to her dog as you sat in the passenger seat. "You think you'll be good to do the shopping for two or so hours? I'll call when I'm finished, and plus I know how you can get distracted with looking at some things."

"Yeah, I think I'll be good." You nodded slightly, going over the list in your hand of things to get for your classes, food and just some clothing for the changing seasons.

(S/n) pulled into the parking lot and looked you over briefly, "You forgot your mask didn't you?" She watched as your hands flew up to your face to feel for the fabric, but you didn't find it so you fished through the pockets of your sweater before smiling nervously at the driver. "Uuugggggggghhhh. Of course. Okay, I got a new one from the merch store that you can use, but do not damage it! I spent a whole $30 on it!"

Scoffing as you rolled your eyes, you snagged the half white and half black mask away from her, "You and your merch. Honestly, (S/n), your obsession scares me. But anyway, thanks. I won't get it damaged, I swear." You pulled the mask onto your face after giving her a smile and walked into the store as she drove off.

Sighing slightly, you walked in, sanitized your hands, and set off on your journey to find the things you needed. Surprisingly, today seemed to be a good day as you miraculously pulled the card that didn't have the busted wheel!

Humming a soft tune to yourself, you paced up and down aisles in search of (S/n)'s favourite coffee. Pausing for a moment as you scanned the shelves, you finally spotted it and made a noise of anger as you realized it was on the very top shelf. "Oh, I hate it here..." You mumbled, a phrase you had picked up from your sister who was really big on trends like that.

Grumbling to yourself, you stood on the tips of your toes, jumped up and down, even climbed the shelves a small bit, but it just seemed to brush by your fingertips every time. Apparently it had been long enough to the point where someone had wandered into the aisle as well.

"Hey... Uh.. Nice mask? You need help?" A male voice asked very hesitantly making your head turn towards him. He was t a l l and literally could tower over you if you got close enough. He had fluffy dirty blonde hair possibly? It looked a little damp so you couldn't really tell. Rain had been in the weather report, but guess it couldn't hold off long enough. Oddly enough, he was wearing dark sunglasses and the exact same mask as you?

'Maybe he's a fan of one of (S/n)'s fandoms?' You stepped back with a sheepish smile and a blush. "Oh! Yes please! Uhm.. Also, could you tell me about what these masks represent? This is my sister's... And I kinda want to make sure I'm not looking like I'm part of some gang or something."

The tall boy reached up for the coffee before pausing midway through and looking at you in surprise. "You don't know who... Oh, it's just from a Twitch Streamer.." He murmured rather softly as he got the coffee down for you.

With a cheerful "Thank you!" You placed the container in the cart. "Oh? Yeah that makes sense. My sister loves that kind of stuff. Are they... A good person?"

"I-I'd like to think so." He nodded quickly. "Are you not.. Like, a fan of content creators? Like.. Uh.. Dream or (P/F/C)?" (Past favourite creator)

"Well... I mean I used to really like (p/f/c) when I was younger. But it kind of... Saddened me, you know?"

He looked at you again and tilted his head a bit, "Saddened you? Did they do something bad?"

"No no! It's just... I try to avoid joining fandoms, even if they make me really happy while in them despite the toxicity. I really enjoy the people who create content, and I like watching them have fun... It's just.." Were you really gonna spill some personal stuff to some stranger who showed you the slightest bit of kindness? Not originally. But he kept watching you, patiently waiting for you to continue the sentence. "They'll... Never know.. How much they saved me."

"Oh.. I see. Yeah.. I've had that happen a lot. When, I watch this guy's streams," He pulled at his mask for a moment, "People always donate money and tell him how much they appreciate him for getting them through rocky times.. It's heartwarming to say the least but he does sound genuinely thankful."

"Oh that's sweet.. What does he do? Or what's he like?" You asked with a smile, although he couldn't see it, as you crouched down to get something from the sheleves. "Unless you have places to be of course!"

He looked a little surprised at first, "Ah... I got time. It's just.. Kinda nice being able to talk to people again after quarantine..." He trailed off briefly before taking something off the shelf as well and putting it in his basket, "Uh.. The streamer is a popular minecraft player. He recently hit a record during a stream and everyone lost their minds. He's a little painfully awkward at some points but he enjoys playing the games and interacting with his chat."

"Oh he sounds nice! I would definitely want to friends with someone like him!" You chuckled softly before frowning and glancing away. "Oh.. Popular.. So I'd be another comment in the flood of a chat.. Damn. I got a little excited. Oh! My bad, I'm (Y/n). Nice to meet you!" You laughed softly in an attempt to brush off the sad atmosphere you made.

"(R/r/n). But everyone just calls me Ranboo. Nice to meet you too." He sounded as if he was smiling but there was a soft sadness in his tone. "Do you not like popular streamers then?"

"No, it's just... that I had always wanted to tell them how much they've helped me through life, or shaped my personality.. Or saved me.. But... They get told that every day by over hundreds of people.. So there would be no real sentiment behind it.. I suppose it just left me feeling a bit hopeless and like a broken record of every other fan of theirs. So, I just watched silently. It hurt, you know? Wanting to thank them, or send them something to show appreciation.. But I never seemed to be able to send it, with the thought that 'it won't really matter to them after five minutes.. You'll just be brushed over. It's pointless.'.."

Ranboo seemed slightly more upset and he shifted his basket into his other hand, "I don't think it's like that at all.. I believe that streamers and creators truly cherish anyone who even interacts with their videos, and even though they know there's some people in the world who can't say anything or buy their merchandise, the creators still know that they're there. They appreciate everyone who comes along their path, whether they support them by giving them money, criticism or their attention!"

You blinked at how... Passionate your new friend was about this topic before smiling softly. "I guess... It never passed my mind.. Thank you Ranboo.. Hey, you wanna be friends and get to know each other more?"

His expression was unreadable due to the fabric covering his mouth and nose, and the glasses covering his eyes. "Oh! Sure!" He sounded quite happy, so you were guessing that you weren't being too awkward. "Here's my number, as long as you promise to never give it to anyone. Even if someone wants to get to know me, okay?"

You took out your phone and looked at him with a strange expression, but quickly nodded. 'Maybe he is just really strict about his privacy.' Once he gave you the number, you sent a quick text to him to give him your contact in return. "Great! It was wonderful meeting you, I hope we can hang out more often! After.. covid of course."

Eagerly nodding, Ranboo finished writing your contact into his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. "Oh yeah definitely! I'll see you soon, (Y/n)!"

Parting your separate ways, you looked down at the newly added contact, 🤍Ranboo🖤 (Platonic hearts), with a smile.

Maybe small actions weren't as useless as you thought...

[wandering-travesty]

Off To The Races

 Zeke’s life wasn’t supposed to be like this. His father would have a spontaneous brain aneurism if he saw the daily goings on of the younger Yeager’s household on his days off. Horrid amounts of smoking outside, snow or shine, day-drinking without a second thought, and lonely, not by choice. He had honest-to-god tried to live the life his father wanted for him. He married a woman straight out of law school and knocked her up a few months after. They raised that kid for a year then repeated the process. They lived, laughed, and loved for a few years, then, as a surprise to no one, the divorce came along. His wife had run off with a lump sum of money and started a new life out of state. He got left with two kids, substance abuse issues, and a law firm to run. He was stressed, depressed, and by the holiest powers above, was he horny. 

 Ignoring the horniness for a moment, everything changed when you came around. Every inch of his world brightened, almost like a light at the end of a tunnel. You gave him some form of hope, and reminded him that life wasn’t all doom and gloom. You were still in college, looking for some extra funds to help pay your tuition; a lawyer that doubled as a father of two was the perfect target. You had shown up in your prettiest outfit, almost as if you were showing off for him. Being the kind of man he was, Zeke couldn’t help but hire you. Some sweet, fetching little thing coming up to his decadent doorstep in a tiny little tennis skirt and begging to take care of his kids? That was something he could never turn away. 

 So, you became the official caretaker of Zeke’s little angels. You truly adored looking after them while their, admittedly handsome, father slaved away at his big, important law firm. You rang the doorbell right as the kids were waking up, Zeke greeting you at the door already dressed in one of his repulsively expensive suits. You talked over scones and coffee and made the kids just about anything they wanted. He would leave, and you would get the kids dressed and out the door with ample time to catch the bus. You’d clean the house, make yourself some lunch, play with the family dog. The golden retriever was just another cliche. But you still loved the mutt, especially since every family member loved him, too. You could tell because Zeke had named him after some long-dead baseball player, meaning he would be enamoured with the thing no matter what.  

 It was fun, picking up on little details about Zeke, or Mr. Yeager, as you called him. He loved baseball and would talk about it for hours on end if you let him, and he hated strawberry icecream for some unexplained reason. He was the face of success for his entire life, from being a star pitcher on his little league team back home to captain of the debate team in high school; he had never really failed at anything or gotten robbed of what he wanted. He was a winner in everything he had ever tried. He had mentioned how high-strung his parents were, and how they’d gone through a divorce of their own when he was young. He and his step-brother never got along that well, and had actually turned out to be very different people. His family life was anything but smooth, and he feared his kids would look back on their childhood in the same light. You guessed that’s why tonight was happening. 

 “Alright, I’m entrusting my children, dog, house, and painfully expensive belongings to you for the night.” He was dressed to the nines, hell, the tens. He wore an umber sport coat, mustard turtleneck sweater, a thick black belt, grey slacks, chestnut oxfords, and the most expensive golden watch you had ever seen. His flaxen hair shined perfectly in the low light of the entranceway; it was official: you wanted to fuck him. Rather, you wanted him to fuck you. You wanted him to fuck you stupid and make you squirt all over that pretty watch, and his even prettier face. 

 “I’ve got it covered, Mr. Yeager.” His youngest son wrapped his arms around your legs as the dog rubbed his head into your palm. “Knock ‘er dead!” You gave him your cheesiest smile and thumbs up. He chuckled at you as his eldest son grabbed your free hand. 

 “You’ve got this, Dad!” He cheered, starting to drag you to the living room. 

 “Thank you, Atticus. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gave a weak smile, turning to leave through the large oak door. It was awful, how badly he wanted to stay there with you and the kids. He wanted to chase Atticus down the hall as the rest of you ran after him, laughing all the way. He wanted to put on some old, boring movie only he wanted to watch and feel your breath on his neck as you fell asleep just after the kids and dog sitting on the floor below you. He wanted to feel your warmth in his bed. He wanted to see what you looked like backed up against a wall. Heaving after an especially passionate kiss. With your legs over your head, screaming his name. The sweat dripping down your face as you came undone beneath him. The little whimpers you’d make as he pulled out of you and cradled you in his arms. He wanted you, not this random woman off of some shitty dating site. He didn’t really want the booze, or the men, or the women, or the money, or the white picket fence, or his father’s approval; he just wanted - no - he needed you. Your game of cat and mouse, seeing which playful “sweetheart” or coy little “Mr. Yeager” would be the one to tip you over the edge of more than friends.  

 “Zeke? That’s you, right?” The tall blonde woman in a sleek black suit walked towards him with an outstretched hand. She could’ve easily been a full foot taller than him. Interesting.

 “Yes. Yelena, correct?” But she wasn’t you. He just wanted to get this night of false wining and dining over with so he could come home to you. You in his big, expensive house. Better yet, his big, expensive bed.

 - 

 You sat and watched the clock after the kids went to bed. It ticked and tocked, back and forth, over and over. It had been about an hour since you’d put them down for the night. You couldn’t wait for Zeke to get home for much longer. Butterflies buzzed through your stomach when you heard the doorbell ring.

 “Mr. Yeager?” You opened the door to the sight of your employer with his shirt halfway unbuttoned, glasses falling off his face, and hair an absolute bird’s nest. 

 “Hey, beautiful.” He purred, slumping onto your shoulder, trying and failing to be smooth. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in my house, huh?” He looked up at you over the rim of his glasses. The way his eyes glimmered a dark shade of teal lit your entire body on fire. Feeling his full weight on top of you only made it spread farther.

 “Babysitting your kids, for starters.” You maneuvered your bodies to have his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you dragged him back into the house. “Apparently I’ll be babysitting you, too.” You mumbled, just then realizing exactly how muscular he was. You sat him down on the leather couch and started to walk to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. You didn’t have much experience with alcohol, but you believed water helped with it somehow.

 “Damn. Loving the view from back here, gorgeous.” He leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees, licking his chapped lips. You jumped at the sudden compliment. You couldn’t remember him being so…dirty before. You walked a little faster than you already were, wanting to get away from him before you made a stupid decision. You poured a tall glass of water, walking back to the couch where Zeke was now lounging, legs spread far enough to leave barely anything to the imagination.  

 “Hey there, doll. Got somethin’ for me?” He giggled, lowering his head from where he had been resting it. His eyes were something to behold, and the deep rooted confidence and downright cockiness behind them only served to make you shiver. You shuffled closer, a bit skittish at the sight of the beast before you. 

 “It’s just water.” You sat down on the table in front of him. “It’s supposed to help with your metabolism, I think.” Your voice was a higher pitch than usual, feeling an odd pressure in your throat every time you spoke.

 “What a smart little thing you are.” He praised. It felt genuine, and you started to feel hotter. You handed him the glass, trying your best to avoid eye contact. He took the glass, and almost as if he had sensed your intentions, took your chin between his fingers and forced you to look into his deep, ocean eyes. He leaned back a bit, giving you a better view of his exposed chest. There was a light layer of golden hair overtop of his expansive chest, and it seemed to trail down the rest of his body. You wanted to find out if that was true. Still holding eye contact with you, he tipped the glass and send the water spilling down his shirt. You knew that wasn’t just drunken clumsiness, but a calculated measure to get in your pants.

 “Whoops.” He said, eyes cold and emotionless as his words. “You better clean that up, sweetheart. We both know I can’t take care of myself in this state.” You moved closer to him, hands unsure of where they were going. You were shaking a bit, and you didn't have a towel on you. You decided the best course of action was to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way. You felt down his chest, gently tugging on his nipples. He let out a soft groan as you continued to feel him up. 

 “You’re gettin’ a little handsy there, baby. You want something from me?” He pet your hair as you moved further down on his chest. You kissed and gave kitten licks, appreciating every inch and curve of his muscular form. You couldn’t get enough of him, try as you might.

 “I fuckin’ knew it.” He pulled you by your hair to force you to look at him.

 “Filthy little harlot.” He squeezed you cheeks, forcing your mouth open. You looked confused until you felt a glob of spit hit your tongue. You swallowed like it was second nature. 

 “You’re just here for my dick, huh?” You continued to kiss and lick down his abdomen, savoring every ounce of him you could; the smell of cinnamon, menthol, and saltwater hit your nose, intoxicating you further and further the more you breathed him in. “I bet it’s all you think about. Especially when those fingers rub that pretty little cunt until you cum all over yourself.” You let out a whine, signifying exactly how right he was.

 “Yeah.” You dragged your tongue up his six-pack, savoring the slightly salty taste. “Think about you every night.” You licked a stripe down the same line you had just gone up. “Only way I can get to sleep.” He smiled the warmest smile you had ever seen him produce. Such a sweet little thing for him, getting off to thoughts of him railing you silly in order to have a good night’s rest. Your submissive, horny mind was so focused on him you couldn’t get to bed without him. You were perfection in human form. Truly a goddess sent from above. He would worship you in the most degrading way possible.

 “I knew you were dirty, I just needed to force you to show me.” He continued to pet your hair like you were some kind of beloved family pet. You felt so small under his touch; so fragile, as if one touch could blow you away forever. You loved the feeling more than life itself. You felt like you could never live without it again. Touching yourself while thinking about him wouldn’t do the trick; not after you had felt the real thing.

 “That’s it, honey, kiss me like you mean it.” He teased, knowing exactly what was running through your head. Sure, he was no master of seduction, but he had bedded plenty before, and he knew exactly how talented he was. He had learned from years of experience; years you hadn’t yet lived. You would learn it all from him. Those little college boys he could smell on you every so often wouldn’t cut it anymore. He was meant for you, and you for him. He knew he already had you trapped, but playing with you was so fun. Poking and prodding and mocking you all while you worshiped him like he had hung the moon in the sky.

 “You love this body, don’t you, slut?” He pulled your hair suddenly, earning a yelp that went straight to his aching cock. “You know, I’ve only been keeping in shape for you. I knew from the moment you saw me that was the main appeal, and lord knows I’d go through hell to keep you around.” That was true. He knew others would settle for mediocrity, but a flawless little angel like you deserved better than mediocre. You needed someone to match your talent, beauty, and wit. He didn’t believe he equaled you in anything but maybe wits, but still, he was good for you. At least, you seemed to think so, considering you were giving tiny kitten licks to the tip of his recently freed dick. The tip was red, swollen, and leaking a sinful amount of precum. You sucked it all up, taking the engorged head between your plush lips. You felt like heaven, but the ache in your pussy felt like hell. You slowly began to go the full length down his cock. Zeke was right: you had messed around with college boys before, but none were as big as him. Your gag reflex wasn’t prepared, causing you to choke and sputter on it. Zeke grinned slyly.

 “Say my name, sweetie.” He wanted to treat you right, but it was so enjoyable to indulge his sadistic side.

 “Mr. Yeager.” You choked out. You knew how much he enjoyed that title; the feeling of authority it brought him made him hard as a rock every time. He groaned in pleasure, sending shivers down your spine. That knocked him off his rhythm for a moment, but he was right back on you the minute he regained some sense of self.

 “The kids are right upstairs, peacefully sleeping, while you choke on my dick like a dumb little slut.” The thought made you feel so dirty. You shifted on the ground, squeezing your thighs together and trying to get some friction. “And you do it so well, baby. I couldn’t ask for better.” He sighed.

 “That’s it, pretty girl, don’t hurt yourself down there.” He slowly pulled you off his cock by your hair. He didn’t want to admit it, and really didn’t show any signs, but you had him on the verge of cumming down your throat. But he didn’t want his precious seed there. Hell no! He wanted you stuffed to the brim and properly bred.

 “I’ve wanted you for so goddamn long, you don’t even know.” The look on tour face was something beyond pleasure or pain. It was a mix of both with a side of...fear? “What, scared of taking something this big, doll?” You shook your head.

 “Don’t worry, daddy’ll get you nice and wet for him.” He slowly came to hover over you, lifting you up and sitting you down on the couch. He spread your legs, undoing the button of your shorts with his long, thick fingers, bringing his mouth to your zipper and pulling it down with his teeth. He pulled them down your legs, bringing his face to your core. You felt hot on his mouth and nose. He licked a wet stripe up your clothed core,

 “God, you taste like honey, sweetie. I’m so fuckin’ lucky.” He pulled your panties to the side, relishing in the sight of your puffy pussy. You were beautiful in the murky yellow light of the room. You folds shimmered with slick and he could see your cunt clench around nothing, so obviously desperate for his dick. That’s right, his dick. Only his. From now on.

 He dove into you, savoring your tangy flavor. Pussy was a taste all its own, each having new, intense, rich tastes he could barely describe. To be perfectly honest, Zeke was a sucker for a wet little cunt in his mouth, and you were the perfect subject. Every suck to your clit, every kiss and lick to your folds, every darting flick of his tongue into your aching little hole; it had you moaning and whimpering like a ditzy little slut. Your mind was hazy with ecstasy.

 “Don’t get too loud now, dollface. Don’t wanna wake the kids now, do you?” His words brought you back to Earth, forcing you to remember you were being eaten out by a father of two. It felt so filthy to know you had been bringing up his kids, acting as a faux wife, and now you were being treated like one, eaten out of your mind and promised a thorough breeding.

 “Not that I don’t believe you would get off on being watched. I bet you love that idea, huh?” You jolted at the words and the sensation of another kiss to your cunt. “It might sound a little sick, but I could invite my brother over, see if he has as good a taste as mine.” He’d be willing to invite Eren over for a test run of…you? You knew they didn’t get along, so it was surprising, but that only turned you on even more. Imaging them fighting over you like hungry wolves on the hunt. They’d ravish you without even thinking. If this was Zeke, held back, on his own, you could only yelp and whimper at what kind of monsters the two of them would be together.

 “Nah, that little shit doesn’t deserve you.” He smirked into your sopping wet core. Eren never appreciated the finer things in life, still to young to understand the joys of pussy eating. No, he was more for the fuck and chuck kind of lifestyle. You deserved better aftercare than a point towards the door. “Some of the guys at my firm, however. Bet they’d turn you out real nice. They’re all just about as big and pent up as me. We could all show you a real good time." That would be about…three, four, even five of him? All fucking you at once with the same vigor and deep seated intensity. You head buzzed at the thought. "You’d like that, wouldn’t you, whore?” You couldn’t keep up with him in this state. You were completely fucked out without even being fucked at all. Before you knew it, you were cumming all over his gorgeous face and beard. He was taken slightly aback, but he licked it all up in five seconds flat. He was a professional.

 “Answer me, doll.” He delivered a harsh slap to your thigh. He enjoyed the ripple it gave and the red mark his hand had left.

 “Yes, Mr. Yeager.” You stuttered out, barely above a whisper. Torturing you would be fun, but not tonight. No, he needed to be thorough with your pleasure and ensure you would never leave his side again. He gave a few light slaps to your slippery pussy, making your thighs shake and mouth move without making a sound.

 “That’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He slowly stood up, giving you a perfect view of the shining god before you. His body was something sculpted by the old masters; a true work of art. Before you could fully appreciate the image of perfection in front of you, he bent down just a bit, pushing your thigs back as far as they could go, squishing your tits under them. He enjoyed the way your pudgier parts stuck out, giving him more parts of you to pinch and suck on as he fucked into you. His was no doubt the biggest cock you’d ever taken, and it wasn’t easy to have inside of you at first. Your walls clamped down on him so tight it was almost painful. But as he slowly pushed in and out, pleasure began to overtake the pain and you started to loosen up just a bit.

 “Just relax, sweetie. Daddy’s got you.” Of course he had a daddy kink. It made perfect sense, as did yours. Hearing him say that in that truly comforting tone made your head spin with pleasure.

"God, you are so fucking tight." He continued to fuck into you at a savage pace, not seeming to care if you screamed or cry, rather relishing in the fact that you were. You were so young and tight and sensitive, it drove him mad. He was sure he could never go a day without your pussy again.

"You fit me like a vice, sweetheart. You trying to milk me dry? Huh?" Your mouth was hanging open, drool spilling out. It gave him ample opportunity to spit in your mouth once again.

"Swallow it you filthy slut." He lightly tapped your face.

"This is exactly how I wanted you." You could barely hear him, blanking out at the intensity of his continuous pounding of your poor little cunt. "Been thinking about this for months."

"Might just knock you up, sweetie. You already take care of my brats so well, what's one more?" You squealed at the thought. He wanted you to have his babies. He wanted you to be his new, permanent play thing to fuck and fill up every night.

"Yeah. I wan' your babies." You slurred your words, inebriated by the feeling of his cock filling your tight little cunt. He gazed down at your fucked out form, finding a sick sense of pleasure in how far gone you were all thanks to him. You moaned far too loud for someone in a house full of kids. You couldn't hold back, he just felt too damn good.

"You gonna cum, little girl?" He had almost a mocking tone when he asked that. You nodded your head, squeezing your eyes shut. He kept up the pace, abusing your g-spot, not letting up for even a second. He set out to make you feel incredible; like the perfect little plaything he knew you to be, and he wasn’t going to let his slightly aged stamina get in the way.

"That's it, you look so pretty, baby. What a good little slut." He looked down at you with heated intensity. "My little slut." He continued his brutal pace almost as if you had never cum at all.

"Oh, 'd you think I'd quit just 'cause you finished? No fuckin' way." You squealed as he continued to thrust inside you, still drunk on the idea of being full of his cum. You wanted him more than you had wanted anything in your life.

"'M gonna make you squirt all over me. Ruin this nice, expensive couch." You were screaming his name at that point, unable to form a thought that wasn't Zeke and his perfect dick.

"Such a fuckin' cocktease all these months. This is what you get for it. Tummy full of my cum." He slowed his pace as he looked into your eyes with the intensity of a man drunk on desire.

"All those times you flipped your skirt up so I could see your cute little panties." He thrusted into you harder than he had before. "All those times you called me Mr. Yeager in that innocent tone that drove me up the wall." He thrusted harder than you had ever thought possible. You felt him hit your cervix. "Every time you acted like you didn't know what you were doing. Like you didn't know what I wanted." He continued to pound into you. You felt so full, so good.

"You're getting tighter, baby. You gonna squirt while daddy fills you up, huh?" His pace was brutal and you were seeing stars.

"That's it, pretty baby, cum all over me. Let me fill you up." He humped into you a few final times before shooting his load into your cunt. You screamed at the feeling of your cum squirting out of you as his cum squirted into you. You were so dizzy and so full. You were happy. You were safe and taken care of and filled to the brim by the man you loved most.

 “Hey.” You saw Zeke’s stunningly handsome face look down at you. His cheeks were flushed, forehead sweaty, sculpted chest heaving. But his eyes were transfixed on you with a look so filled with love and passion it made you feel like you were floating. “How you holding up, princess?” That was a new name…not that you minded. “Didn’t go too rough did I?” He panted in between his gentle words, the main drawback of giving it your all.

 “Actually.” You huffed a bit, just then realizing how difficult it was to talk, or move, or breathe. “Think you coulda’ gone harder.” He chuckled, the same look of complete infatuation lingering in his oceanic eyes.

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah.”

 “You sure?”

 “I’m tougher than you’d think, old man.” He laughed at you, appreciating how you could still be the sweetest little thing he’d ever met after being pounded half to death.

 “Alright, I’m not even thirty, you little minx.”

 “Calling me a minx isn’t helping your case, Zeke.” His eyes lit up with recognition.

 “First time you’ve called me that, angel.” He smiled like an idiot in love, because he was one.

 “Maybe it’ll be the last, if you keep acting like such an animal around me.” You slapped his shoulder with as much strength as you could muster, which was basically none.

 “Well, if you don’t like the rough treatment, how about I treat you like the perfect angel you are? Treat you to a nice, warm shower and a cuddle session with yours truly. How about that?” He gently rubbed your cheek, taking in how wonderful your afterglow was.

 “Sounds nice.”

 “Alright, let’s go, angel.”

 “Okay, Mr. Yeager.” You giggled at how quickly his face darkened and lips tightened into a frown.

 “Ever the tease, you are.” He carried you to his shower bridal style, no doubt a sign of things to come.

[imaginethathaikyuu]

kinktober - day sixteen

osamu miya - hungry 

kinktober faq  kinktober prompt list

NSFW warning featuring: service top osamu, oral sex (reader receiving), fingerng, motivated by jealousy, he wants u bad, no aftercare other tags: osamu is very jealous, reader is a Player, their relationship is confusing and is never openly explained lol, months of osamu pining over u, mentions of reader using other men to make osamu jealous, potential ooc osamu but i dont care  fem reader

word count: 3377

p.s thank u @closetedweeb01 for beta reading the beginning and helping me get this story in the right direction it was so helpful<3! and thank u @natsuonii for helping me basically the entire time i was writing this fic up until like ten minutes ago LMAO ily thank u sm sophie muah thank u <33 and also to everyone else who reached out to help or gave advice :) much appreciate

-

“Look up.” 

Osamu did, and you grinned, laughed in disbelief as you stood over him. 

“What?” he asked, squinting eyes dark with intent to stay looking at yours until you asked otherwise. 

“You listened.” 

“I already told you,” he started, and even as your hand moved to hold his face, even as you squatted down to straddle his lap, he didn’t break that eye contact and his baritone voice didn’t falter, “I would do anything you told me to do.” 

“Anything?” 

Osamu knew that you were testing him, but this was a game he was always ready to play. “Anything.” 

“Why’s that?” you asked, only teasing - you already knew his answer. “You got so jealous at the bar earlier, watching me dancing with Hinata. You know… you don’t own me, Osamu.” 

His only response, “I’m better than him,” and all you could do was laugh. 

The look in his eyes was all too familiar - seeing it was almost comforting. That hunger he only had for you was burning hotter than ever, now mixed with competitive passion and a need to win. 

“Shoyo’s pretty fit,” you hummed, a playfulness laced through your voice in a way that Osamu didn’t like. “I think he’d be a good time… I’m still waiting for him to text back.” 

With his hands on your hips Osaumu pulled you closer, slotting right between your legs, the center of you perfectly aligned with the peak in his jeans. 

“I’m better,” he repeated, and still, his voice was strong. As if you couldn’t break him no matter how hard you tried. 

But this teasing would only be fun for so long, and although Osamu could take it for as long as you’d give it, you were growing tired. You hadn’t given him so much as a crumb and still he was waiting for you to hand him a full meal - somehow his interest in you had only grown despite your snide teasing and better-than attitude. 

You were sure he would have lost interest by now, and yet he still acts as if the two of you hadn’t been in this exact position dozens of times before. Your plans to make him jealous never fall through even though everything he’s jealous of isn’t his, but he never fails to remind you that he’s the one you run back to. 

And he does do everything you say. He listens and complies and obeys and yet he’s never seemed as submissive as moments ago when two words had him looking up at you like a begging dog. 

You thrived on it. 

“Kiss me.” 

At any moment he could turn this around on you. He could leave you wanting, needing, begging; he could deny what you were asking of him and make you feel how he’s felt. And yet, he doesn’t. You told him to kiss you and so he kissed you, and he wouldn’t stop until you pulled away and gave him more instruction. 

It wasn’t like him to be so behaved, to exist by someone else’s word, but, really, he was only doing what he wanted to do; the gratification he felt from doing as you told him was unmatched, and the look of pride in your eyes despite any taunting words you’d say was addictive. 

And he’d take any chance he would get to show you how much he thrived on it. 

He was being eager and you liked it. His hips were rocking up against you in minutes; both of his hands were holding your face and keeping you in place so he could kiss you as long as he wanted. 

Maybe you were letting him get away with too much, and maybe this was going to go much faster than you ever intended, but he was finally showing you just how deeply hungry for you he was - and maybe you couldn’t get enough of it. 

You matched his rocking with a thrust of your own and you felt him shiver, and you pulled out of the kiss to take this chance to tease. 

“Too much?” 

“Not enough,” he groaned, chasing your lips for more. You only gave him a short taste before pushing him back again, and he hit the back of the couch with a thud. 

“God, you’re so fucking desperate,” you taunted. “Already this hard from one kiss?” 

“All for you,” he admitted, throwing his head back as he wondered why the hell he let himself do this with you. How many times had he watched you dancing and flirting with another man all while your eyes were on him? How many nights had you left him with nothing to do but fuck his fist while trying to remember the way your lips tasted? How much longer before he’d finally have enough? 

What was it about you that he was so addicted to, anyway? What did you give him that everybody else lacked? Maybe it was just the chase of it all - maybe when he finally got a piece of you he’d be able to get past the wave of emotions you send over him any time you were around. 

But he knew he’d never get enough. Even if all of you was only his, he wouldn’t be satisfied. 

“What do you want, Osamu?” 

“Whatever you’ll give me,” he answered without looking up. 

You eyed the expanse of his neck before latching your lips onto his skin, pulling a reaction out of him that had you shivering this time. 

“That’s not a good enough answer,” you hummed. “Tell me what you want.” 

Like he’d come to the end of his rope and had no other option but to blurt out the truth, he said, “I want to fuck you,” and he had to swallow another moan before he could think of continuing. “Wanna stuff you with my cock and fuck my cum into you and show you how much fucking better I am than anyone else who’s ever tried to make you feel as good as I can - fuck, stop moving your hips like that, baby.” 

While he was mumbling descriptions of daydreams, sounding like he was making a wish to some god or star above, you were left wondering how far you would take this. You always knew you’d eventually come to this point, and yet the answer isn’t as clear as you once thought it would be. 

What happens when you give Osamu what he wants? Your fun with him would end, this cat and mouse game would be over. He’d get a taste of what he’s needed and maybe he would realize you weren’t all that. And he’d be off chasing someone else while you were left looking behind, waiting to see his needy eyes on you. 

Still - perfect moments like these don’t come often. And you were done toying with him, weren’t you? 

“You think you can make me feel good, ‘Samu?” 

“I know I could.” 

“Better than Shoyo could?” 

Every time you think you’re pushing just the right buttons, Osamu’s patience shows out. He should have thrown you onto the couch and had his way with you by now - you’d have no complaints if that’s how it panned out - but he held back. Even though his eyes said everything he was thinking, he stopped himself. He waited for your exact word before making any decision. 

He was avoiding your eyes and you didn’t like it. “Look at me, Osamu.” He did.

“You’re gonna stop saying anyone else’s name, sweetheart - it’s not as cute as you think it is.” 

Your next two words, “Make me,” were punctuated with a dramatic shift in your position - he pushed your body onto the couch and came towering over you, just like you’d been expecting him to do. 

“That’s all I needed to hear - I will.” 

You watched in awe as the man finally seemed to crack; he pulled his shirt off and the mask he seemed to be wearing all this time came off with it. His pristine control was thrown across the room, and all that was left was a hungry man tearing your clothes off like he was preparing his last meal. 

“Are you finally gonna have your way with me?” 

He grinned and said, “No,” and for a second you naively thought he was giving you a taste of your own medicine. He’d never dream of doing that, though. “I’m gonna take you how you deserve, baby - gonna show you how to feel good.” He kissed you without permission this time, too sweet to be so short, and followed it with the biting whisper, “I’m yours to use - tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Use me.” 

You’ve always had this much control over him, but it was never this apparent. And you had never used it for much benefit, because you really never knew how tight of a hold you had on him. You could tighten his collar until he couldn’t breathe and he’d let you; he would take any pain you inflicted as long as you kissed him better afterwards. 

And he was begging you to tell him what to do, waiting patiently and staying eager, and only now were you realizing how badly you needed to be served by no one but him. 

Maybe that realization is what had your act of confidence dissolving; maybe that’s why you could hardly wrap your tongue around your next words, “Your mouth, Osamu,” because just the thought of getting what you wanted had your stomach fluttering and your underwear soaked. You’d spent so long pushing him to the edge that you ended up right there with him, teasing yourself more than you ever teased him. 

He asked, “Where?” with a daring flirting edge posed to be a genuine question, like he was trying to see how commanding you would be. 

You pushed his shoulders down and said, “You know where,” and as he finally moved lower down your body, you stripped yourself of the clothes he’d left behind. 

He watched in desired awe as your pretty bra fell to the floor; seeing you bare underneath him for the first time felt like a bigger test of temptation than any time you had ever teased him on purpose. 

But he knew where you wanted him, even if you wouldn’t say it, even if it’s not where he wanted to be yet, even if he couldn’t take his eyes off of your neck or chest or stomach - there was no need for him to do anything you didn’t ask for. 

You’d already kicked your pants off and all Osamu had to do was take off your underwear, which he noted weren’t a match to your bra, and he’d add that to his list of endearing things about you. It was something so normal that nobody else would notice while he’d remember forever, something he’d tease you for later, something he’d stroke himself to the thought of. 

It’d go to the back of his mind for now, though, as he pulled your underwear down your shaking legs while you watched him. 

And he was convinced he was going to wake up any second now, so he rushed to make himself comfortable between your legs before his alarm clock woke him up - because there was no way this could actually, finally be happening. “God, you’re a dream.” 

“Hurry.” 

He could’ve listened, but he had to treat you right - this was only worth doing if he took his time. 

“Just relax,” he told you as he left kisses along your hip, “can’t rush these things.” 

“I would have came three times by now, if Sho - shit!” 

You were cut off with a rough spank to your thigh as well as Osamu’s tongue just barely tracing your clit, and it was enough to have your words stick to your throat. 

“What was that?” His voice sounded as dark as the look in his eyes, and it showed you that you’d finally found a button you shouldn’t press.  

“Go on - finish that sentence. I dare you to.” And he smacked your thigh again, just to prove his point. “You think anybody else would take their time with you? Would anyone else give this pretty pussy the attention it deserves, baby? Or do you know I’m the only one?” 

You had to swallow any excess pride just so you could voice a shaky reply, “I don’t know - show me.” 

Instead of voicing a response, he knew the only thing he had to do was what you asked. But he was sure if you pulled another stunt like that he’d end up leaving bruises with how brutally he’d show his ownership of you - that was one thing he wouldn’t let you get away with. 

But in that moment all he had to do was hook his arms around your thighs, hold you against his face, and devour you like he’d been dying to do for months now. So that’s what he did, and he watched as you threw your head back, listened as you moaned out for him, held you down as you rocked your hips against his face - and that was it. He felt like he’d just gotten a ticket into heaven. 

“That’s it,” he hummed, and you hardly noticed he’d pulled his mouth off of you because he didn’t break for long. He left with his teeth barely grazing your clit before he let himself speak again, and you had to reach down and grab his hand just to keep yourself grounded. “Just come undone for me, baby.” 

He groaned loud into you when you got a hold of his hair, and you felt those vibrations from his throat to your toes. 

And he needed you; he had his name on your lips and your legs around his head and his tongue inside you and still, still it wasn’t enough. He wanted more even though he had it all, and he wanted to push you further even though you were right where he needed you to be. 

But you kept pulling his hair and squeezing his hand and moaning his name - you were begging for him in every way you could and Osamu could hardly keep going without completely devouring you. 

You seemed to be getting close and he was filled to the brim with pride, but he had to stop to see just how much control you had slipped into his grasp. 

“Look down.” 

You did; for the first time, to Osamu’s recollection, you listened to him. 

You opened your eyes and saw him looking up at you, with the same look in his eyes as when you gave him that instruction, messy hair and flushed cheeks making him look as fucked out as you felt. 

Finally, suddenly, eagerly, he gave you more than just his mouth, his fingers exploring until he sunk two of them into you, and your head fell back. 

“Look at me,” he demanded, the sharpness of his voice matching the bite he left inside your thigh. “Don’t look away, or you’ll finish yourself off. And you’ll be moaning my name when you do, I’m sure.”

“Osamu, please.” 

“Just like that,” and he was laughing at you, grinning and happy to be the one teasing. “What is it, sweetheart? You wanna cum for me?” 

You pulled his hair and forced his mouth onto you, “Please, ‘Samu,” and he let you take the reins again because, despite how much he loved toying with you, all he really wanted to do was give you what you wanted.  “Fuck, just let me cum.” 

The curl of his fingers pumping into you and the warmth of his tongue lapping your clit and the obscene moans coming from his throat, with the look in his eyes and how tightly he was holding your hand and the way he was listening to your every command - it was all too much. It was all the realization of what you’d been missing, teasing, and leaving; it was something you didn’t know if you’d have again but you sure as hell couldn’t go without. 

He could see the way your body reacted to every single touch, and maybe that’s why he was giving it to you exactly how you liked. And he wanted to cause a scene; you were moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear and still not loud enough for Osamu - he was pleasuring you like he had an audience watching him and he’d be damned if he disappointed. 

He was made for this, you were sure - he was right where he belonged and both of you were loving it. 

“Come on, baby,” he taunted, “wanna see you cum for me, sweetheart, wanna feel this tight cunt cumming around my fingers - I know you’re holding back, just let it go.” 

He tried pulling his hand from yours but you only tightened your hold and pulled his mouth back down to your clit rather than giving him his free hand or a moment to breathe. So he squeezed your hand, endeared at the feeling of you holding on to him. 

Osamu felt it as you started to do as he told you and let go - he watched as your world started to amplify as you chased for more of him, begged to reach that peak, focused on getting there. Your eyes squeezed shut and Osamu just didn’t have it in him to punish you for it, especially when you looked so pretty being absolutely unraveled. 

Teasing words were caught in the back of his throat but he couldn’t stop tasting you long enough to say them. Your thighs were shaking and your moans were screams and he could hardly keep pumping his fingers with how tight your walls were pulsing around them and that was it - Osamu was close to cumming himself just at the sight of you cumming for him, and the ache in his pants was more apparent now than ever before. 

But he couldn’t care about his own pleasure, not while he was so absolutely focused on you and yours. You were the only thing on his mind and he could only hope you were thinking about solely him. 

“So fucking hot,” he said, not even thinking anymore as he kept you cumming with his fingers. “My good fucking girl - that was all for me, wasn’t it? Look at you, making a fucking mess, all for me. All mine, aren’t you?” 

He couldn’t stop, he wanted to draw this out and take you there again, he wanted to push you farther. He didn’t want you to catch your breath or take a break, he only wanted you to keep moaning, begging, cumming for him. 

But, as he was ready to add a third finger inside of you, “Too much, ‘Samu.” 

“Not enough,” he reminded you. “You’ve got one more for me, sweetheart, try for me.” 

But you pulled on his hand you’d been holding, trying to pull him up to you, and he had to give in. After pulling his fingers out of you, careful and slow and too attentive to the way your body seemed to resist, he let you tug him up. 

You clinged to him, your legs coming to wrap around his waist and your hand holding his jaw to bring him down for a kiss. 

“You’re a mess,” you said with a laugh upon noticing his glossy lips and soaked chin, all caused by you. 

“It’s your fault,” he said. “I’ll go clean up - you need anything?” 

You shook your head, “Stay,” and hooked your legs together across his back, as if to lock him into place. 

“Look who the clingy one is now,” he remarked, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love it. 

He didn’t know what all of it meant. He didn’t know how you had gone from dancing with another man mere hours ago to clinging onto Osamu like he was the only thing keeping you sane, but it didn’t matter. He had you and you were his, at least for the night, and he’d gotten a more than good enough taste of you. That was all he needed to know it’d never get better than you - and he’d keep waiting for more. 

[cleoirvine]

♡It was his arrogance. The way he spoke with a slight drawl, his words dripping with narcissism. It was how he walked, his back straight from years of holding himself upright, believing he was better than everyone else. Or maybe it was the way his eyes glistened with unbridled determination, the want, no, the need, to be the best. He was selfish, manipulative, and quite frankly, had his head shoved so far up his own ass that you-

“Maybe you should take a picture, it would last longer.”

Atsumu looked at you with a slight smirk, a volleyball tucked beneath his arm, a bag slung across his shoulder.

“Maybe you should try a different hair color, that way people won’t call you piss boy behind your back.” You said with a snort, averting your gaze elsewhere.

He had half a brain to spike that ball right at your face. But he simply rolled his eyes and brushed past you, making his way into the gym where the rest of his teammates sat stretching. Slipped between the clasp of your hands was a clipboard, the stats of each player displayed on clean even lines. Your notes took up the margins of the pages, your job as manager for the boys volleyball team becoming more of a hassle with every snarky comment that left the older twins mouth.

“If you’re going to be manager, then ya should at least pretend to make yourself useful.” Atsumu had said halfway into practice. As you passed around water bottles and reviewed upcoming plays, he had snatched the clipboard from beneath your elbow and dangled it above your head.

“Are you a 12 or something?” You retorted, crossing your arms over your chest. The blonde had grinned, a devilish smile laced with ill intent rolled over his features.

“Come on, manager. All ya gotta do is reach. Not up for a little fun?”

“Keep it. I have everything on there memorized anyways.”

But Atsumu was never one to give in easily. Golden boy, whether that name was a play on his hair color or not, was a powerhouse of a player; he was loved by many, adored by more, and envied by most. He was capable, and overwhelmingly diligent in his plays and his teasing mannerisms, and so what if his manager of all people didn’t give him the time of day? Why should he care that you were able to shut him down so easily, with the wave of your hand, the roll of your eyes, the quirk of your eyebrow. There were hundreds of other people who would love to be in your position. Thousands of people who would love to be acknowledged by someone like him.

“So ya wouldn’t mind if I ripped it up? Or maybe if I poured water all over it? How about that?”

Your movements were deliberate. The way you stood with one hip jutted out just slightly, the tilt of your head and the crease in your eyes to signify your annoyance. You tapped your foot on the hardwood floor of the gymnasium, the sound echoing off the walls around you. In your head, you weighed your options. 1) You could give in, beg him to hand back the clipboard, and return to your seat like a humiliated dog with its tail between its legs. No, you couldn’t give him the satisfaction. 2) You could get the coach involved. There’s no way Atsumu wouldn’t give it back then. But did you want to risk sounding like a cry baby? Like a snitch, even? 3) You could do the only reasonable thing you could think of- treat him like the child he is.

“I’m going to count to 5, Miya. And by the time I’m done, that clipboard better be back in my hands, or else.” You extended a hand, fingers firmly stuck together, face stoic and void of anything other than impatience. Like a mother with her toddler in a grocery store, you waited for him to stomp his feet and curl his hands into fists as he always did when he was embarrassed.

“Or else what?”

You paused. You hadn’t thought that far ahead. Atsumu sucked in a breath and gripped the notes a little tighter. He knew he had you cornered.

“Or else I’ll quit. And you can find yourself a new manager. How would your team feel, knowing that you’re the reason they no longer have me around?”

“Why should I care? Leave if ya want, no one’s stopping ya. Door’s wide open, sweetheart.”

You felt your heart beat erratically in your chest. Were you really going to quit over something as stupid as a clipboard? But if you stayed, Atsumu would win, would he not? Was winning and losing all that really mattered at the moment? No, your pride was on the line. Your dignity. Maybe, you had just as much of an ego as him. You couldn’t stand to see that smug look on his face for just one more second. You hated the way he laughed, as if he knew how much the bickering truly got to you. As if he could hear you physically swallow each time he called you sweetheart or when your shoulders brushed against each other on the way to practice. You feared the way his eyes watched your every movement, as if predicting and calculating exactly what you were going to do next.

But right now, Atsumu sat still, arm extended above both your heads, contemplating what exactly was going on inside your mind. Would you actually leave right now? Walk out that door, turn in your resignation letter and never return? He tried to picture it without you- the bus rides void of your terrible singing, the benches empty of your presence. You wouldn’t be there to comfort him after a loss, or praise him after a win-them, he thinks. The team, not just him. But god does he want it to be him. So bad. He knew you hated him. He knew you despised him down to the very atom. And maybe this was the only way he could get you to look at him, even if it was for only a second.

“Is that what you want?” You ask, voice uncharacteristically quiet. Your eyes drop from his for just a second, and you feel yourself inching towards the door. Atsumu doesn’t even take a moment to think before replying.

“No. Not at all. I want you to stay right where you are.” His mind is yet to catch up with his mouth, and his hands are moving before he can process it. He tosses you the clipboard, and dips beneath the net to prepare for another practice round. It’s only moments later does his face begin to grow red from embarrassment, with the realization of his actions settling on him fully.

He waits for you outside the gym doors. Kita helps you put away any stray balls and stacks the chairs against the back wall for you, before making his way into the late afternoon. As you find yourself stepping out as well, Atsumu’s hand grips at the junction of your wrist, his touch light, desperate, far from his usual demanding demeanor. He pauses, scratching at the back of his neck and running his hands through his hair as he glances at your shoes merely inches apart.

“I’m sorry-about today. I got a little carried away.” His voice is small, and you can see the apples of his cheeks glow pink in the fading sunlight.

“It would really suck if ya quit on us. Not for me-but for the team, ya know.” The silence between you is deafening, and you feel your heart hammer against your rib cage as you watch him remove his hand from where it was positioned on your arm. The loss of touch has you chasing him back, gripping his hand tightly in your own, before entwining your fingers together.

“I’ll stay for you too- I-I’m staying for you, I mean.” He looks up at you then, eyes wide in shock, before they turn to amusement.

“Oh really? Good to know-” You retract your hand from his, moving to walk ahead of him up the street.

“Nevermind, I take it back.”

“Noooo where are ya going? We were making progress!” His hands slip around your sides as he twirls you back towards him, his grip on the front of your backpack straps keeping you secured in place.

“Does this mean you like me, manager?” He asks with a playful lilt to his voice.

“I mean I don’t hate you-”

“Aw come on, can’t ya just say it? For me?”

You pretend to act oblivious, struggling against his hold.

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about-”

“I like you, ya know.”

You stop then.

“I tease ya because I think your reactions are cute. Especially when you go from slightly annoyed to angry, cause then you look super hot-”

“Miya-!” “Astumu. Please call me Atsumu from now on.”

He releases his hands from around your bag, and turns you back towards the road. In front of you, you watch as it forks down the middle, Atsumu usually taking the right to get home. But as you hurry on, you feel his presence behind you. “Your house is that way.”

“I know, I’m walking ya home.” There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.

“At least tell me you like me a little bit. Come on, it ain’t fair to leave a guy hanging-”

“And what if you’re lying. What if tomorrow you don’t feel the way you do now?”

Atsumu shook his head with a laugh.

“I liked you yesterday. And the day before that, and the day before that. Trust me, I can’t get rid of ya even if I tried. Not that I would want that, though.”

You stop, and in the dimness of a dying sun, you catch his stare, eyes holding yours with careful assurance.

“I like you, Atsumu.”

He moves quickly, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest as your voice is muffled in his shirt.

“But I swear to god if you ever try that with me again-”

“We were having such a good moment, why’d ya have to go and say that!” there's a pout on his lips as he pulls away for just a moment.

“But you look really pretty right now, so I’ll forgive you.” You can’t help the smile that spills over your features. You clutch him close to you- the boy who’s overwhelming arrogance caught your attention. The boy who teased you too much, pushed not just the right buttons, but all your buttons, until his presence was nearly impossible to ignore. He was yours, and only yours. His image was shared with hundreds, but you were the only one who could hold him in such a way, the only one to see him crumble beneath your touch. He was yours, and yours only.

[suchalonelysunflower]

The Next Chapter (c.h)

Pairing: Calum Hood X Reader

Requested: yes!

Summary: A family gathering has you and Calum thinking about the future

Warnings: Fluff. I used the word vagina once. Maybe some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, sorry)

Word Count: 1.7K

Author’s Note: Loving these request 🥺❤️ a little fluffy piece for my favorite boy ✨ Remember that Reblogs, comments, feedback and likes are very important and appreciated ❤️ I love to hear from you guys and you don’t know how much that helps me and motivates me! Hope you like it and Happy Reading🦋✨🌻

My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

Anon: omg can you do one ab asking if cal wants to start a family

“Babe! Hurry we are going to be late!”

You were standing at the front door, looking inside of your bag in case you have forgotten anything.

“Y/N, you do know I went to the bathroom five minutes before you were done getting ready, right?” Your husband, Calum, said as he walked up to you.

You had to admit, you married the hottest guy on the planet. How can someone make a pair of jeans with a simple white shirt look so good?!

“But I still beat you at the door, didn’t I?” You asked with a grin that Calum easily reciprocated.

“That you did” He smiled, placing one hand at your side, kissing your template, and whispering in your ear “But that doesn’t mean you can beat me at the car” And with that, he started sprinting towards the driver’s seat.

It amazes you how after almost 7 years of relationship you never got over the honeymoon phase. You have met Calum when both of you were young, reckless, and stupid; and not looking for a relationship. But it only took one look at those brown eyes and you were hooked.

You still remember how he came to you with a lame excuse to talk to you at one of the many parties you used to crash with your best friends.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” He said, and you almost thought he discovered you and was going to call security “I’m pretty sure god will wonder where all of their angels went”

He quickly apologized once he realized the words that fell out of his mouth, but you just stood there giggling at this cute attempt of flirting. And, as they say, the rest was history.

The next couple of years came and went and it almost seemed like you were in some kind of an alternate reality where everything played out as it was supposed to. Yes, of course, there were rocky times, especially when distance came to play, but all those times just made your relationship stronger.

Neither of you knew why, but being together just felt right. Which ultimately came to him proposing one eventful night in August after visiting his parents in Australia. And that then leads to your wedding just a few months later, you still recall that as one of the happiest moments of your life.

That was 3 years ago, and you were proud to say that you got to marry your best friend. Every day felt like a never-ending slumber party with new adventures and dreams to fulfill. And you wouldn’t change it for the world.

You were thinking about it as of now, looking at Calum with a smile as he drove to your cousin’s place to celebrate the birthday of the newest addition to the family: your baby niece.

Going to these kinds of parties became pretty regular for you, given that you came from a really big family and all your cousins were almost the same age as you, so they started popping babies out like it was nothing! And you were so thankful Calum was always happy to come along “I love your family, Angel!” He said “And you have to give it to them, they know how to throw a party”

It was true. If there is something your family doesn’t take lightly is parties. You still get a headache every time you remember the stress of convincing them to do something lowkey for your wedding. And as you parked outside your cousin’s house you wonder how you actually did it.

“Wow,” Said Calum as he looked at all the balloons decorating the front door “They really went all out on this one” He laughed.

“Sabrina is one year old!” You laughed, unbuckling your seatbelt as Calum opened the door for you “She won’t even remember this!”

“Yeah.. but at least Aunt Bridget will get to brag about having real mariachis playing at the party”

“Real maria-?” You asked, but Calum was already trying to hold his laughter as he pointed to a mariachi band getting out of their van “Okay, that is new… We are not even from Mexico!”

“No… but mom went to the wedding of Mr. Gómez’s son and she insisted we hired the same band for little Sab’s birthday” Your cousin answered as she opened the door.

You and Calum hugged your cousin before making your way inside the house. You stood in awe as you walked up the backyard and everything was decorated in different shades of pink and purple. Even the family dog had some sort of ribbon around his collar.

“This looks…” You began

“Like if a vagina exploded?” Calum finished for you. You slapped him in the arm playfully, trying so hard not to laugh along with him and be serious.

Your cousin came back a few moments later to hand each of you a drink and inviting you outside to join the party.

*

The mariachis were actually really good, especially when they made Calum have a dance-off with one of your uncles to the chicken dance song. And the rest of the party was also really fun for kids and adults alike.

Now the sun was starting to set and most of your family members decided it was time to call it a day after so many games and dancing. You and Calum, however, decided to stay a little longer since most of your cousins unofficially agreed to have a ‘family-friendly after-party’

You were sitting next to your cousin as you held her baby in your lap, making her dance along with the music.

“You are good at this,” Your cousin said, looking at you and baby Sabrina.

You laughed “It’s not too hard of a job to entertain a baby” And to prove your point, you started making faces at your niece, who started laughing right away.

“It’s not that! You, my dear, have the touch”

“The touch?” She nodded.

“You have that motherly essence, it’s easy for you to engage with the children - they all love you by the way, which is a fact I’m extremely jealous of - And you just have that capacity of love only a parent can understand. C’mon, don’t tell me you and Calum haven’t thought about having a family?”

You drifted your eyes to find Calum amongst the crowd of adults and children.

He was playing soccer with your older nieces and nephews, laughing as he threw himself to the ground on exaggerated acting as the kids scored goal after goal, laughing at your husband’s antics.

And just like that, it was like an image of your future passing by You and Calum sitting in the backyard with Duke running around with your child, playing all sorts of games with you, swimming in the pool, and eating ice cream. Reading bedtime stories as Calum sang them to sleep, him teaching them how to play different instruments and sports, always encouraging them to follow their dreams and passions… Yes, you could get used to that.

“I- I haven’t thought about it” You finally said with a light blush on your cheeks. You didn’t know if it was because of the question, your daydream, or the way Calum was looking and smiling at you.

*

You couldn’t stop thinking about what your cousin said even when you were already in the car and on your way home with Calum humming along with the songs on the radio.

Once you reached your home you started looking around, thinking of all the places you could share with your potential future family; cooking dinner together at night or watching frozen one thousand times on movie night or creating a playroom just for them so they could have their own space to create whatever comes into their minds and-

“You are really quiet, Angel,” Your husband said, interrupting your train of thought “Is everything alright?”

You pressed your lips together in a tight smile and nodded as he came to hug you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder “Did you have fun with the kids today?” You asked cautiously.

Calum chuckled “Yeah… Matthew almost threw me off at one point, he’s getting good at soccer”

“I hope so! His dad told me he started going to practice cause he wants to be a soccer player and a musician like his uncle Cal” You said, pecking your lips in Calum’s red cheek. You could see that he was slightly embarrassed but in a good way. You wonder if your future children will be like that as well.

Maybe they’ll have his cheeks, or your eyes… oh, please let them have Calum’s curly hair.

You smiled to yourself at the thought of little chubby-cheeked curly-haired heads running around your house. They will be perfect and they will be so loved…

Calum hummed next to your ear, placing a little kiss to the shell of it “I know what’s got you all wrapped up in daydream land” He said, hugging you tighter.

You turned your face to look at him “You do?” He nodded and placed his head on your shoulder again.

“Knew it since I saw you looking at me when I was playing with the kids” He placed a kiss on your cheek and made you turn around completely while still holding you by your waist. You swore you could hear the beating of your heart thundering louder and louder.

“And to be honest, I’ve been thinking about it since the first time I saw you hold a baby”

You blinked at him, confusion written all over your face “What?”

“Well… I knew from the moment I saw you that I wanted to start a family with you. I just confirmed it the day you took me to Matthew’s birthday party to meet your family” He said as a matter-of-factly.

“Yo-you want to start a family with me?” You asked with a flash of hope in your eyes.

Calum smiled at you, his eyes filled with pure adoration “I want to start everything with you, Angel. As long as you let me”

“Do you think we’re ready?”

“I love you, you love me” He said and you nodded with a smile “We’ve been together for 7 years, married for 3; we both have steady jobs, I’m not leaving for tour anytime soon so I’ll be home through every step of the way, we live in a nice house and Duke is more than ready to have a new partner in crime, so… what do you say, love?” Calum said with a cheeky smile.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer into a kiss.

“Let’s do it”

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @theshyspy @talksoprettyjjx @sarcasticallywitty15 @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @Yeah-and69 @mystic-232

*if Your @ is crossed it means I can’t tag you for some reason, please send me a message so we can fix this ✨

[black-dragon1998]

Stoic keeper and  sick girl

Summary:(Y/N) is a goalkeeper for the USA woman national team who at one of their games sees a girl in the stands who catches her eyes. The girl makes memories from the past resurface and secrets are revealed.

Also, COVID19 doesn’t exist in this fic! 

warrnings: Talking about cancer. if this is a trigger don’t read. Everything mentioned is from my own experience as may not apply to everybody. 

Part 1/?

Around the soccer world, you are known as a stoic and collected keeper, even more than Alyssa. People would even call you cold when you had a bad day. You know the reputation you have and you’re okay with it. That all didn’t take away from how efficient you were on the field and your teammates have learned to take your stoic expression in stride, the girls had learned to leave you alone when you weren’t in the mood of being social. At least they learned to do it most of the time.

other times Carli and Alyssa forced you to interact with the rest of the team and even for how threatening you are those two still scared you.

Alyssa was the first person you bounded with at nationals. the woman was, even more, broodier than you at times. Turns out she liked to wake up early and do Sudoku’s so one morning you joined. The other people you bounded with are Ali and Ash. The first time you had seen Ashlyn you were mesmerized by her tattoos and asked where she got them. The pair was surprised at how enthusiastic you got over them but Ash matched your enthusiasm and during the conversation found more topics the two of you had in common.

The couple found out you turned into a whole other person when you talked about the things you loved.

The others didn’t believe them when until they saw you in a heated debate with Ash about your favourite dog. Since then the veterans went easier on you when you were in a bad mood. Well, the veterans were not the once you had problems with.

The younger players were a tight nit group that liked to have fun. It just seemed that their kind of fun wasn’t your kind. They liked to go out and get drunk, you liked to stay indoors and play videogames or read a good book. At first, you had tried to bound with them but after Sonnett called you a buzzkill when you tried to explain why you liked to read you stopped trying.

Ali and Ash picked up on it but you reassured them to not worry about it and told them you were used to people looking at you like you were weird. You knew they wanted to ask questions but those were memories you didn’t want to explain.

The match against Canada had just ended, which the USA had won with 1 to 0 when a harsh wind picked up and caused you to pull the beanie closer over your ears. The sun may be shining but it was still the dead of winter so it was cold as hell.

Sadly you hadn’t been able to play this match but Alyssa had killed it out there, you couldn’t wait to tell her how amazing she had done.

A girl that couldn’t be older than twelve at the front of the stadium caught your eye. She was bundled up in a thin-looking sweater and a thin-looking bandana on her head, her skin was sickinly pale with a distinct sunburn on her cheeks. The other thing that stood out was the facemask she was wearing. You frowned when you heard kids around her gossip and point at her. Kids could be brutal if they wanted too.

Instead of calling the out you made your way into the stands and made your way to the girl. As you were walking toward them you just knew that you were going to get a reprimanding from Alyssa when you got back about walking off without telling anybody.

The girl hadn’t noticed yet you and was still looking out at the field where the rest of the team was celebrating.

“hello.” You put a hand on the girl's shoulder to get her attention. That scares her a little but you smile at her when she turns around to reassure her.

You see the moment she recognizes you under your beanie.

“you… you are (Y/N) (L/N).” you think it’s kind of cute how the sentence comes out like a question or how flustered she got about it.

“yes, I am.” You respond with a small chuckle.

“ (Y/N) (L/N) is talking to me!” you see the euphoria morph into confusion.

“Why?” she asks after.

“why what?” you ask her in a soothing tone, picking up her distress.

“Why are you talking to someone like me?” the girl questions while looking at the ground.

“I saw all alone in the crowd and wanted to make sure you were okay. Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you?” you keep your voice soothing not to stress her out even more. She mumbles out something under her breath you don’t catch.

“what was that?” you crouch a little so you are eye height with her to hear her better.

However, before she can repeat herself you see a security guard coming up to you and calling out to the girl. What you understand from his yelling is that she snook into the stadium. You felled the little girl stiffen next to you and kind of got the conformation there.

“did you sneak in?” you whisper to the girl. She gave you a small nod.

“What is your name?” you ask her in the same hushed tone. The girl looks up at you with wide eyes but answers non the less.

“Lexa.” Her voice was as small as yours. You nod and stand up turning toward the guard. You keep your face neutral as you talk to him.

“it’s okay, she is with me.” You tell him not referring to the sneaking in. you take advantage of the surprise on his face when he realizes who you are and motion for Lexa to stand up. As you grab her backpack. After basically lying through your teeth the guard leaves and you turn back to Lexa.

 You saw her knees buckle when she tried to walk and you quickly scooped her up so she wouldn’t fall. She is also feeling too cold for your liking and quickly put the coat over her that was lying next to her.

“it’s okay I got you.” You feel Lexa snuggle into your warmth and decide to take her somewhere inside. You opted for the trainer's locker room, it should be empty by now and is an environment you can control.

  You set her down on one of the benches and place her backpack next to her. Trying to give her a sense of security.

“You can take your mask off if you like. I know how stuffy it can get.” You tell her, taking a seat on the opposite wall. Lexa eyes you curiously, you smile at her to put her at ease.

“Why have you taken me here? Why are you being so nice to me?” she asks, taking off her mask and breathing in deeply. Making you shrug.

“I figured you would be exhausted by now being around so many people especially with that face mask.” You respond not emphasizing how pale and sick she looked. She swallows hard and stares at the ground for a while.

“The doctors say I have to wear it outside because my immune system is to low or something. I don’t really know what that means.” Lexa confesses and you can imagine that is hard to understand for someone so young.

“It is to prevent you from getting sick. Your body is too weak to fight any sickness you might catch from bacteria or viruses.” You elaborate, hoping it makes it a little more understandable for her.

Lexa looks with a certain awe, nobody had ever tried to explain it in such simple words.

“Lexa if I may be blunt can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to but what else did the doctors tell you?” Lexa looks a little bit surprised at your question but when she looks into your eyes and sees nothing but kindness she relaxes again. Taking a big breath she speaks.

part 2

[nessinborderland]

Be Mine (04)

Pairing: Niragi x Reader / Chishiya x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Omegaverse

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You were able to stay unbounded throughout your life. You didn’t want an Alpha; you didn’t need one. You would rather die than to give yourself to some random male. But the man that saved your life thinks differently.

Warnings: Alpha/Omega, Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Finger fucking, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Drama, Developing Relationship, Past Abuse, Scars, Death, Blood and Gore, Animal Death

Notes: Okay so, not much to say about this chapter. You'll find out why :) Please mind the new tags :) we don't want anyone getting triggered here. Fun fact: every time I write "x growled" I imagine Perry the platypus from Phineas and Ferb doing his signature growl lmao. Cracks me up every time :D

AO3 Link        Masterlist

Game, “Akazukin: Red Riding Hood.”

Everyone’s eyes are locked on the screen.

“Red Riding Hood has to run from the Big Bad Wolf while being protected by the Huntsman,” starts the robotic voice. “One person will be Red Riding Hood, while the others will be divided into two groups: the Big Bad Wolf and the Huntsman.”

“What the- “

“Clear conditions,” the voice continues, “Whoever manages to bring Red Riding Hood to the final checkpoint, wins. The time limit is thirty minutes. After thirty minutes, the losing group dies. If after thirty minutes no one is in possession of Red Riding Hood, both groups die. Is instant Game Over if Red Riding Hood dies or refuses to follow the rules.”

You were terrified of this tale as a child; you had nightmares of an actual wolf coming in the night and devouring you and your mom. Then you had grown up and realized how the tale could be interpreted as a warning to Omegas when it comes to Alphas and their manipulative nature. That hadn’t changed your opinion on the story.

The screen changes to white.

“Now for the groups,” says the voice once again, “Red Riding Hood- “

You gasp; it’s you. It’s a picture of you. You’re Red Riding Hood.

“Big Bad Wolf- “

Your eyes go wide again; Niragi and Chishiya.

“How unoriginal of them,” you hear Chishiya remark with a huff.

“The Huntsman-” and it shows the faces of everybody else in the game. There’s a pregnant pause where everyone just stares down at their phones as it dings.

“Rules,” reads the voice, “No outside weapons allowed. There are axes, as well as other useful weapons hidden throughout the area that are only to be used by the Huntsman. The Big Bad Wolf is not allowed to use any weapons besides the ones already in their possession.”

“What weapons?” you ask no one in specific as you look at Chishiya and Niragi.

They both raise their hands as Chishiya simply replies, “Claws.”

You make a surprised sound, “How are you supposed to protect yourselves like that!?”

They both look at you, and this time is Niragi that says, “I don’t know about this dog but I can do a lot with these.” You don’t fail to notice the threat in his voice as he looks down at Chishiya. The other man just huffs out a laugh.

“The game will commence in five minutes,” says the voice in a cheery tone, “Use that time wisely.”

A commotion erupts as everyone starts realizing what the game consists of. You can’t believe it yourself; you’re nothing more than a pawn in this game. Shouts of “We have to fight two Alphas to death?” and “We can do this, there’s a lot of us.” start all around you. Someone is crying. Some people just run into the dark. You ignore the loud voices around you and focus on your phone as it lights up.

If you stop running or hiding, it’s game over. If you show yourself to the Wolf, it’s game over. If you try to cheat in any way, game over. 

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump. Niragi is looking at you with that expression you hate; betrayal and pain. But now there's also serious determination.

"No matter what you do, you can't stop running," he says. "This seems way too easy for a Ten of Spades, so watch your back."

"What about you?" you ask, eager to cover his hand with yours.

"Oh, so now you worry about me?" he retorts with a bite to his words. You can't help but flinch when his hand drops to his side and his expression changes to a mean smirk. "I'll live so I can kill that motherfucker and make you regret the moment you fucked him." 

"Niragi I- " 

"Save it," he turns your back to you. "I don't wanna hear it." 

You see him walk away, approaching the two other militants that came with him. At least the imminent game made him pause his murder attempt. You take a glance at Chishiya, who is still focused on the screen. You wonder what is going through his head; if you know something about Chishiya is that he always catches details others don’t.

"You!" someone pushes you in the back, and you fall to your knees before you can balance yourself "Who the hell are you?”

Two different growls sound at the same time someone lunges themselves to whoever pushed you. You look up to see Chishiya in front of you in a protective stance. You take the hand he offers you and stand up to see Niragi, currently on the ground punching a man.

“Niragi stop!” you scream. He either ignores you or doesn’t hear you. No one else tries to stop it either; Chishiya simply because he doesn’t care, and everyone else out of fear. The man being beaten tries to fight back but is clearly at a disadvantage. You gasp when you see Niragi’s fingers take the shape of claws. You jump, grabbing his arm before he can slice the man right in the face. “Stop!”

Niragi looks back at you with yellow eyes, and you see as his hand takes a human form again. You pull him out of the crying and bleeding man on the ground. He doesn’t make any effort to stop you. His eyes are locked on you, still animal-like.

“You- you’re part of the game, aren’t you!?” coughs the man Niragi had punched. He sits down holding his nose, quickly dragging himself away from the other man. “You- you have to be!”

“E- Excuse me? you shakily ask in a confused tone. 

“You’re not even a player, you’re just part of the game!” the man continues, “Are you gonna tell me that is a coincidence that this game is the way it is?! All you have to do is follow some rules! You live either way!”

You shake your head, “I- I am not sure what you’re implying, but I have nothing to do with this!" you reply. You confess that yes, you think it’s a big coincidence you got the role you got, but you’re not involved. You had no idea.

The man takes a step in your direction, but Niragi puts himself in the way.

“Watch it,” he says in a commanding tone. “Remember who you’re talking to.” The man holds his stare for a moment, before looking down and taking a step back. Niragi turns to the rest of the group. “Whatever you shitheads are thinking, she’s not involved in any of this. So, unless you wanna die before the game even begins, I advise you to shut up and focus on the game.” The corner of his lips pull up in a smirk, and you see the glint of fangs. “May the best wolf win.”

He then turns to you and your eyes lock. You want to talk to him, explain how and why things happened the way they happened. But you can’t say anything, not when he steps closer with a look in his eyes you can’t quite place.

“You’re wasting time, go!” Niragi orders as he pushes you forward. You stumble a little as you start walking into the dark park. You look back at him and Chishiya, and you nod to each other; they will be able to find you. You’ll be alright. They will be alright.

You bolt into the night. You can barely see anything in the dark, except for the shadows that the moonlight helps casting. You just know you have to run, or you’re dead; they’re dead. The conversation from moments ago keeps playing in your head; could it be possible that this game was made specifically for you? But how would they know that the three of you would be in the same game? It sounded so far fetched; but also...possible.

Hunting horns blast through the air, making you jump and cover your ears at the awful sound. You know what it means.

Game Start.

You start hearing rustling and footsteps behind you as the other players soon follow in your steps; if to catch you or find a weapon, that you don't know. You keep running until you’re out of breath, stopping for just a few seconds behind a large tree. Your legs are shaking and your lungs are burning. The area around you is silent though, and that gives you some peace of mind. You close your eyes and sniff the air. Nothing. 

You’re about to start running again to look for an actual hiding place when a sound makes you freeze in your tracks.

A howl.

And not from a regular wolf. You recognize it instantly.

Never in your life had you heard a werewolf howl until now. After the war, an Alpha fully transforming very rarely happened. The ones that did only transformed in extreme situations, usually to protect a loved one. The regular individual would not transform not even once in his lifetime. And here you are, hearing two of them. It awakes something primitive in you, and every single hair on your body stands up in a shiver. You have an impulse to howl too, but control it at the last second; you’re not doing that. You’re not an animal, as much as the wolf inside you likes to prove you wrong.

You’re startled when a hand covers your mouth, something cold pressing against your neck. You try to move, but the blade nibs at your skin. So you stop, trying to control your breathing.

“Don’t you dare to make a sound.” whispers a male voice. “I’ll chop a finger for every sound you make.”

You give a trembling nod, letting yourself be dragged by the unknown man. He’s way taller and stronger than you, so you don’t even try to fight back. You notice he’s not alone. What seems to be two young girls walk behind you, whispering in agitated voices. 

“Kai, are you sure the checkpoint is this way?” asks one of the girls in a low tone.

The man grabbing you, Kai, shushes her and stops. You can hear him sniff the air, probably looking for signs of an Alpha close by. He suddenly pushes you against a nearby tree and locks eyes with you. You’re surprised to see that Kai is not much older than a highschool boy.

“Mira, press this against her neck,” he whispers to one of the girls. She approaches you, trembling hands holding the small ax against your skin. The boy stabilizes her grip before nodding, “Don’t let her move or make a sound,” he says looking into the girl’s eyes. “If you do and those Alphas hear us, we all die.”

If you’re honest with yourself, you would stay quiet either way; the last thing you want is the blood of those kids in your hands. You watch as Kai takes a map from his pocket, opening it and analyzing it for a few moments.

“If this map can be trusted I’m pretty sure the checkpoint is this house right here,” he points at a place on the map and then ahead on the path, “About three kilometers that way. We can do this.” he checks his phone. “C’mon, we only have about twenty minutes.”

You have been walking for a short moment when the smell hits you.

One of them is close; Niragi, you’re pretty sure. The others smell him too, and you notice in the dark as their eyes widen in a panic and they start running, pulling you with them. You can hear him as he gets closer, like a monster in the night. You try to ignore the exhilarating feeling that goes through you at being chased by him; it’s just like the first time you met.

One of the girls trips and falls right behind you. You flinch at hearing her screaming get louder until it abruptly stops. The other two kids hesitate before Kai stops, pushing you and the other girl to keep running. The girl, Mira, grabs your hand as you both run, and you can hear her crying.

A far away whimper of pain makes you stop in your tracks; one of the Alphas was injured.

“We have to go, please!” begs Mira as she pulls your hand, “Please, we have to-”

Mira’s words are cut short when she falls and you’re pulled down with her. You gasp in pain as you hit the ground, arm stretched into whatever hole the girl fell into. You hear a scream, then silence, as you hear a sound you can’t quite place. It’s dark and you’re not sure of your surroundings, but you could swear that hole on the ground wasn’t there seconds ago.

You’re about to ask if she is okay when the metallic smell of blood hits your nostrils. You squint in the dark, trying to see something in the black hole. The moonlight appears out of nowhere, and you can finally see. You gag when you notice the contorted body of the girl, now impaled in wood spikes. Her eyes are wide, mouth open in a permanent scream.

There are traps.

There are traps everywhere and you can’t see them.

You drag yourself away from the hole, feeling a panic attack start to form as you struggle to get air inside your lungs. You try to shake the image of the dead girl from your mind, shakily rising to your feet. Your phone gives an alarming beep, and you take a look at the screen to realize you have been in the same place for too long. You have to keep moving.

You shake the tears from your eyes and walk by the hole without a second look. 

A scream far behind you snaps you out of your stupor, and you immediately take off running again. You don’t want to think about what might be happening. Despite their numbers, you can’t imagine how Betas can ever win against two fully transformed Alphas.

You’re running through an open field now, surrounded by flowers that you can barely see. A noise to your left makes you look at the line of trees, but you can’t find the source of the sound. 

You’re so distracted that you don’t notice the open trap right in front of you.

You scream as the dented iron snaps around your ankle, pain sparking up your leg. You fall to the ground like a bag of potatoes, and immediately try to open the trap up. But you’re not strong enough, and the iron teeth just dig deeper into your skin. You control a sob as the pain and panic grow; you have to keep moving. You have to hide. A sound, now closer, makes you stop whimpering, and you hold your breath as you see them.

No, not Niragi and Chishiya.

No, not the Huntsman either.

Wolves. Real, wild, one hundred percent animal wolves. A pack of them. No more than twenty meters from you.

You stay still, hoping that they won’t take an interest in you.

But no. Of course that’s not what happens. 

You look around for something to defend yourself with, but you’re defenseless. Here you are, trapped, wounded, on the ground, and without any means of defending yourself. The wolves approach you slowly, like they know you have no means of escaping. They start surrounding you.

“Stay away!” you scream, shaking your arms in hope that the movement will scare them away. “Shoo!”

It does not.

One of the bigger wolves prepares himself to jump. You close your eyes with a sob, waiting for the moment they will tear you apart. 

He’s here.

You feel the air shift as a big dark form covers you. You’re now completely involved in his scent; cinnamon and wood. You keep your eyes closed and brace yourself. The air is filled with the sound of growls and whimpers and teeth ripping flesh. Something warm and wet splatters on you and you know it’s blood. A loud whimper of pain, a strange mix between a wolf and a human, makes you snap your eyes open.

In the moonlight, he’s huge. Terrifying. Beautiful. Bodies of wolves are on the ground. The survivors try to fight the much bigger werewolf. His fur is black as a raven’s feathers, thick and glossy and matted with blood. You can’t look away until he’s done.

Niragi is clearly tired and injured. Saliva drips from his open jaws as he takes labored breaths. He turns to you, and you notice one of his paws is practically mangled, a shine of white bone contrasting with the black fur. A big oozing laceration runs down one of his flanks, and you’re not sure if it was done by an axe or a wolf.

You snap out of your freezing state and make a move to go to him. You scream when the trap still around your ankle makes itself known. He’s on you in less than a second, hovering over you as his snout touches your leg lightly. You can’t resist the temptation to touch him, grabbing the fur of his neck and pressing your face against him.

You feel him when he suddenly changes back into a human, and your face is now pressed on his bare skin. You notice he’s naked, pale skin now almost fully covered in blood and dirt. A cut you haven’t noticed in his wolf form now clearly shows on his forehead, making blood run down his face like a waterfall.

“Niragi-” is all you manage to say. You want to cry, ask him if he’ll be okay. You panic again when you notice how much time you have left; probably not more than ten minutes. Niragi says nothing as he focuses on opening the trap with a grunt. You let out a cry of relief as the thing leaves your ankle. The wound bleeds profusely, so you take off your top, tying a makeshift bandage around the injury with the help of Niragi.

He finally looks you in the eyes as he helps you to your feet, supporting you against him.

“Y/N we-”

That’s all he manages to say.

The next moments happen so fast you can barely process it. 

An arrow comes flying out of nowhere, burying itself into Niragi’s chest. His eyes go wide as he looks at you, a surprised expression in his eyes. You watch him with an open mouth as his eyes turn to gold for a moment. Then he falls to the ground. Rough hands grab you and pull you. Someone is screaming; you realize later that it’s you. Other voices laugh and they sound...excited? Happy? You can’t understand why. You trash around in an effort to get free. Whoever grabbed you punches you right in the face. For a moment, all you see is black with sparks of white. You hear a faint, “We only have five minutes!”. No. Niragi and Chishiya have to find you. They promised. They can’t die. Then you’ll be alone again.

Someone screams again. Loud voices. People running all around you. You hit the ground with force enough to take the air out of your lungs. Someone tries to grab you again, but their grip disappears like they have been pulled away. Tears are streaming down your face, but you can’t open your eyes. You can’t stand up. You hear the familiar sound of a wolf growl.

Niragi? 

No; peppermint and rain. 

Then you feel something warm touching you. You feel soft fur under your skin. Then it’s like you’re flying. You grab onto whatever is moving under you out of instinct. You know you have to hold on tight. You try to focus, but it’s too much. 

Then nothing. Darkness. You’re not sure if you lost consciousness or not. A loud sound, similar to a siren, is what makes you open your eyes. You’re on the ground, stone cold under you as you try to sit up, covering your eyes from the sudden bright lights. 

A cheery tone comes from your pocket. You stare at the phone; Game clear.

You finally look around, and there he is.

A big white wolf. 

Not as big as Niragi, but still impressive. His white fur is covered in blood; if his or someone else’s, you can’t say. Your vision turves as you try to stand up and lose your balance. He catches you before you can fall, teeth gently grabbing your jacket. You stare at him in confusion; what the hell just happened? A spark of pain makes you look down at your ankle. Memories come rushing back.

You gasp. No. It can’t be.

“Chishiya, where’s Niragi?” you ask in a trembling voice. His cold eyes stare at you for a moment too long. You’re about to make a move to find Niragi yourself when the white wolf changes right in front of you. Like Niragi, the man is naked and mostly covered in blood. There’s a cut on his arm, still bleeding. A wave of concern runs over you, and you feel yourself panic even more. He sighs before his eyes lock on you.

“He’s dead.”

Next Chapter