#it hits harder when the game was so much better

[seijorhi]

haikyuu ice hockey just ignited something in me (probably bc ice hockey is the only sport i actually understand)

but it offers so much room for yandere v yandere drama. like, you're actually allowed to FIGHT in hockey (well, not allowed, but it's generally considered to be part of the sport.)

idk, it amuses me to think of a yandere player(cough oikawa cough) who's so insanely devoted to his sport, almost ruin his career by cracking the jaw of a player from another team who his darling started fucking/dating.

like she very unexpectedly dumped him right before the season started (when he didn't have the time or focus to spare to get her back) bc he was being weird and posessive, and it just gets harder and harder to watch the gossip tabloids and sports magazines spread rumors about his ex girlfriend finding new love. of course he was gonna crack.

(bonus points if he knows this other player (maybe they were on the same team growing up) and the other player is half getting with yn to piss the yandere off)

sorry for the ramble! i love your work!

ooh see i can definitely roll with ice hockey captain oikawa's girlfriend getting so sick of his jealous, possessive bullshit that she dumps him.

there's no denying he's irritated as fuck that you chose to wait until the new season starts, but he's not going into panic mode or anything. it's fine.

you can go a few dates, have your fun. oikawa's pretty sure those assholes won't be sticking around long after he brings some of his teammates along to have a nice, friendly chat with them–

(they don't have to know that he won't actually follow through on those threats to beat their faces in. probably)

–just give him a few weeks to settle into the season.

—

this wasn't technically a part of the plan.

there wasn't even a plan, until the guy you'd spend a good two drinks flirting with suddenly realised why you looked familiar, and all but high-tailed it out of there like the devil himself was at his heels.

it hasn't helped matters that your annoyingly persistent ex keeps sending you flowers – at work, at home, day after day, just so everyone in your life knows that broken up or not, oikawa still considers you his.

bullshit. it's such bullshit.

you suppose you can't blame some random guy for not wanting to get on the bad side of an ice hockey champ.

it's then, somewhere around the bottom of your third drink of the night, that the solution to your problems occurs to you.

sure, a normal, average guy might be intimidated by your ex, but you know plenty of players who'd jump at the chance. not necessarily to fuck you (you're not looking for an honest to god relationship here), but to fuck with oikawa? an opportnity to put a crack into that asshole's attitude? oh yeah.

there's a few players oikawa hates more than the shirtless blond currently draped over your shoulder, snapping what is very clearly a post-fuck selfie of the two of you to upload to his millions of followers. admittedly, kageyama probably would've worked better, if the thought of using him like that – even with his knowledge and explicit agreement – didn't leave you feeling strangely dirty, and ushijima... just no. god, you're not sure you'd even be able to get the words out, much less hold your nerve to wait for an answer.

but miya atsumu? the cocksure, arrogant as fuck (hot as hell), loudmouth winger who's got a special talent for pissing off his opponents? he'll do nicely.

—

he's gonna kill him.

oikawa's gonna fucking kill him. he'll take the penalty, take the loss, the suspension, whatever.

the moment that puck hits the ice, miya atsumu's fair game, and oikawa's going to beat his stupid, smug fucking face in.

[aparticularbandit]

okay, so admittedly, i'm not completely through the ending of dr2 yet.

(hajime just went super saiyan etc. i stopped. i'll finish it later.)

but like.

dr2 was very ambitious in what it was trying to say particularly in its ending and i don't think it pulls it off because so much exposition happens at the ending (and i know that happened in the first game, too, and i didn't like it there either, but at least it didn't feel like all of this talk talk talking at me with junko occasionally oh, yeah, i should be asking you a question re: game rules - there was still a lot of talking at me, but not so much) - and like. part of the point of the game in the other trials is being able to puzzle out the mystery of things, right? but so much of this final mystery is just here at the end with - yes, there's lead up, there are threads, but not, like, stuff you could figure out over the course of the game? in a more frustrating way?

also the fuck with the loop i hated that i didn't know what i was supposed to do is that really just go through the loops so many times until suddenly you can do stuff because like i get the point but also i hated it i hated it so much because i didn't know what i was supposed to do and i was just stuck in this loop pressing every button i could and going through the buttons again and the cheat sheet and just stuck

and, yeah, i get that that's the point but. ugh i hate it.

and like? up to this point i was squarely on dr2 is significantly better than dr1, i'm loving what they're doing here, this is super cool - and i like what they were trying to do in terms of theme and stuff - and, yeah, the game mechanics of the loop to show what being stuck in despair looks like is cool - but like.

after literally an hour and a half of junko and makoto and fake makoto and monokuma etc. talking at me.

i'm bored. i'm tired. i'm ready for them to wrap it up. and i'm frustrated with the game mechanics because i feel like i'm doing something wrong when it's not that i'm doing something wrong i just have to wait more. when i've already been reading through so much.

and as a player, that's. just. frustrating.

i like the concepts and themes they're playing with here! but there has to have been a better way they could have done this that's not just info-dumping at the end for over an hour until i'm caught up to where they want me to be for the big moments.

[marinsawakening]

The problem with BOTW is that it's obnoxiously popular in the LOZ fandom to the detriment of other games but also unfortunately it's genuinely really really fun to write fanfic for.

[arolesbianism]

I've been playing the new cotl update and I generally like it but god do I fucking hate like all of the balance changes just let things be strong man

[transmasc-tabris]

More screenshots (bonus, managed to find Bull a shirt and don't know how to feel about that)

[nikkento-writes]

"Shhhh," you giggle wickedly against Choso's sweaty forehead. Your tits are stuffed in his mouth, muffling his slutty little moans as you ride him, bouncing your ass up and down on his lap, his cock hitting your g-spot with each deep thrust. "Your brothers are going to hear us."

He groans louder, drool wet on your skin, tongue hot on your nipples as you force another orgasm out of him, his second one in a row. It's too much now, way too fucking much, and still, you don't relent. Even after you're stuffed so full of his seed, you continue to ride him, desperate for more. He's such a fucking slut for you that he doesn't have the strength nor the willpower to stop you from using his oversensitive cock. All he can do is lie there and take it, lie there and act like he's at his fucking limit, when he actually is loving this so fucking much. Especially when you're fucking him inside his bedroom while his precious brothers are playing video games just outside.

He gets off on this shit, even he can admit that. Big brother Choso, who takes care of his little brothers, who dotes on them, protects them, caters to them hand-and-foot. Well, he needs to be taken care of too, and who better to do that than you, his horny little girlfriend. You, who smirks down at him as you pump more and more cum out of his cock while his moans get more high-pitched sucking on your nipples harder, trying to control the obscene noises being drawn out of him. "No more," he says weakly, not making any effort to lift you off him.

"One more, baby." You kiss him on the mouth, lapping at his tongue, wiping away the sweat and tears streaked on his face. "Just one more. Please?"

Sure, his balls are drained, his cock hurts from overstimulation, but how can he refuse you when you look at him like that? "Okay, baby. Just one more," he gives in, leaving it all to you yet again.

Yeah, he really, really likes being taken care of.

[sadlazzle]

i hate tht in the beginning of my souls adventure i was scared to use sorcery n shit bc id never rlly utilised magic in games before, n then i finally did a sorcery build n realised id been depriving myself of easy mode

[puppys-rhythm-heaven]

me using this blog as my main is funny to me like. i'm not even really hyperfixated on rhythm heaven rn gfgffgggggfgfd-

[anotherlongstoryshort]

Things about the Wisdom Saga that have plagued me all damn day

Legendary

Whether intentional or not, Miguel's Telemachus really sounds like a younger version of Jorge's Odysseus. And that hurts.

"If I fight those monsters, is it you I'll find?" The layers. Could he go out and hunt for his father? Could he find his 'legendary' strength within himself? Or will Odysseus be the 'monster' he finds?

"Somebody help me, come and give me the strength" And his call is answered T_T

20 years.

Antinous fully interrupts this bop. Rude.

Ayron sounds legitimately scary and Telemachus taking a stand is so O.O

Little Wolf

I wanna fight this guy. Love that Athena agrees. (The beat of the song and sharp bursts of vocals really emulate blows.)

The quaver on "I don't know how".

Athena is immediately charmed by Telemachus' enthusiasm. She sounds so fond.

The fact she sees heart in him as an advantage when it was Odysseus choosing heart over mind that drove them apart. Guh.

Did she tell him to bite Antinous? XD

"Oh, maybe I pushed you a bit too hard." The change in her perspective is already so apparent - she wouldn't have admitted a mistake or miscalculation to Odysseus.

We'll Be Fine

"I had a friend before..." A FRIEND? FRIEND?!?!

An admission that she didn't fully appreciate what Odysseus was going through, that she feels guilty for having "missed it all".

It's unclear to begin with if she's come to Telemachus for Odysseus, or to try and replace him. Both are equally heart-breaking.

"I don't know who your friend is, I don't know what he's like" UNKNOWINGLY ECHOING HIS OWN THOUGHTS IN 'LEGENDARY'. NO IT'S FINE I'M FINE.

"The best day of my life because I got in a fight and I didn't die! :D" Telemachus, child, please.

"We'll be fine" using the same run as "this is my goodbye" T_T

Him immediately offering up friendship to Athena, like Odysseus once did, must hit her so hard. "You're a good kid." Yes he is - because he's more like his dad than he knows.

Love in Paradise

"Old friend..." FRRRRRIIIIEEEENNNNNDDDDD!!!!!

10 years.

The memory fragments sounding so fraught and chaotic together, hitting harder because they're hitting Athena all at once. She missed a lot.

"She's my wife." "Anyways..." Calypso, girl, please.

Love that they're singing completely different melodies through the first half of this song for two reasons: because Odysseus is revisiting previous motifs, once more trying to hold onto the man he was, and also because it shows Calypso is not willing to compromise on what she wants.

"Last I checked goddesses can't die." We'll come back to this later.

Then Odysseus realises he is truly trapped and he sings along to Calypso's melody in muted horror.

POLITIES OUT HERE STILL HAUNTING THE NARRATIVE.

Just the words "open arms" are enough to confront Odysseus (again) with all he's lost. All he hears are screams.

And the one he screams out for is Athena.

"He needs my help." NO KIDDING GO GET YOUR BOY.

God Games

"Father, God, King..." There's a lot to unpack in that fun family dynamic.

"To untie apprehensions that were placed on that Greek?" Zeus is like, nobody likes that guy, why do you care?

The gods being called out like X Factor finalists is everything.

So there's a great contrast against the previous song - unlike Calypso, Athena is matching each of her singing partners with their tone and beat as she convinces them. She isn't winning by 'imposing her will', she's meeting them where they are.

Rational arguments work until Aphrodite, where Athena says "please" for the first time. She softens to appeal to Aphrodite, which is why Ares has to step in.

The way she says his name XD

Ares' lines sound like as much of a fighting chant as 'Little Wolf' did, which makes it all the better that the mention of Telemachus is what gets her to 'fight back'.

"His son's my friend!" YES HE IS. And Athena of all people declaring "a broken heart can mend" is fascinating. Can't help but wonder if she's talking about herself coming around to forgiving Odysseus.

"Never once has he cheated on his wife." Handwaving the source material is worth it for this line ALONE.

Zeus is so pressed by everyone openly knowing he cheats on Hera. Stop doing it then my dude.

Ares sounding genuinely concerned for Athena is doing things to me. Goddesses can't die, huh?

Her time motif flitting in and out like a weak heartbeat.

The soft piano of 'Warrior of the Mind', touching on a whisper of 'Legendary', then rising to a triumphant crescendo as Athena regains herself. I will be forever haunted by visions of Odysseus and Telemachus helping her to her feet.

And then, finally, she faces her own father and begs. Because Odysseus and Telemachus deserve a chance to be father and child.

The parallel, by the way, of Athena entering this saga to help an outnumbered Telemachus, and now closing it with him/Odysseus unknowingly helping her win her own battle too. JORGE HOW DARE YOU T_T

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) simon loves you, he's just not the best at showing or saying it.

"no, simon. you don't-," you swallow thickly and forcefully pull your wrist away from his grip. "- you don't get to leave and come back when it's convenient for you." your lips are set but they wobble, teetering with the storm of emotions brewing within you. "i'm done trying. i can't do, whatever this…this twisted game is between us." [i’m sorry.]

he's been silent your whole talk, he seems so stoic as if the conversation is a hassle- like he could care less; and maybe he could. you can never guess what simon was feeling. he was like an impenetrable wall, unwavering— even for you; it left you feeling alone most days.

your eyes flit over his face, hoping to see something, anything that would make you second guess what you were saying. but as usual, he’s unreadable; and tears well up in your eyes as you continue, your voice trembling with a mixture of something akin to pleading and sadness. "i've given you countless chances, simon. i've allowed you to come and go as you please, hoping that one day you would realize the love i have for you. but i can't keep living in this constant state of uncertainty, never knowing when you'll decide to leave again." [no more, never again will i leave you. i swear it.]

you take a deep shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself, but the pain in your chest hurts fiercely. it steals your breath away, and flushes your cheeks with heat. "i deserve better than this, simon. i deserve someone who will be there for me, someone who won't treat me like an option. i can't keep waiting for you to change, to finally see my worth." [i see you. i love you with every breath that i take. until my lungs give out.]

your words hang heavy in the air, you wait for him to say something, to tell you that he loves you, that he’ll do anything to get you to stay. say something, you think. "i've spent too long trying to make this work, trying to convince myself that your attention is enough. but it's not. it's never been enough." [say something! tell her you love her, that you'd die for her. say something, simon.]

a singular, angry and furstrated tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek. "i deserve a love that is whole, that is unwavering. i deserve someone who will fight for me, who will choose me every single day. and if you can't be that person, then i have to let you go." [don't say that, please. i love you.]

your brows furrow and your chin sets, your hands coiling into fists. tears flow in rivulets down your cheeks and you lift one fist and hit his chest weakly. “say something, you coward.” you utter, your other fist raises to hit him once again. “i hate that i love you so much, i hate you for being the only thing that i think about. i hate you simon.” [i love you, so much that you're the only thing i think about. i love you _____.]

your punches get heavier but he's unmoving, a tic starting in his jaw. in a sudden burst of frustration, you shove at him, your lips pressed tightly together, and your cheeks burning. yet, he remains motionless, his gaze steady and unwavering. “say something, damn it!” you wail, preparing to hit him again, however, his large hands swiftly seize your raised fist before you can and he pulls you into his chest, cupping the nape of your neck and engulfing you in…him. "i love you."

and you know you shouldn't but you melt in his arms, go completely slack, and cry harder. “then say that.” simon presses a kiss to your temple, and you freeze at the tremble of his lips, his chest rumbling as he speaks again. “i love you so much.” and just like that, he reeled you back in, just like he always does; and it felt like coming home. the familiarity of his touch, the warmth of his embrace, it all felt so right, as if you were finally where you were meant to be.

but you knew that as soon as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, that the cracks in your situationship would begin to show. and part of you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, you were fated to live this exact bittersweet cycle with simon until the end of time.

my eyes were sweating a little when i was writing this ngl

[yandere-romanticaa]

Thinking about a popular playboy type of yandere falling for someone he'd never take seriously on the regular... But oops! He fell first AND harder!!

I'm just imagining a scenario in which you go to a party with some friends, all is good and you're having fun. The guy is all over the place, he's cheerful, he's carefree, all the ladies love him and all the men want to be him and boy, does he know it.

Being the social butterfly that he is, he approaches you, naturally. And you humor him, perhaps you even play along a little, flirt back and just match his energy. You hit it off so well that people even start talking about how you two go so well together, that you'll be dating in no time.

You laugh at the absurdity of those claims.

He is charming, he is sweet, perhaps even gentle.

But you would never date him, not in a million years.

Perhaps you're still not over an old ex, or you're just not looking to date someone. Maybe you're the hopeless romantic type, someone who wants to make a proper connection in order to date someone.

Let's not play games and waste time, yeah?

In turn, you keep him at a safe distance.

You are not rude or snide, you say hello to him when he greets you, sometimes you might even laugh at his corny jokes too!!

But you never stick for longer than necessary. You never say yes to any of his proposals, you never even acknowledge his advances.

He thinks you're just playing hard to get. Ah, how precious. He loves a challenge! Time passes, he has made no progress. His confidence is wavering and it's all your fault. Life has no purpose and there are no colours in the world. The air is dead, his food is stale, his heart does not function properly.

He can only come to life if you acknowledge him. He doesn't care how, just as long as you look at him. Him. Him only. No one else. Him.

If he can't be your lover, perhaps he can become your pest.

He ties your shoes together, he purposefully puts salt in your drink, he constantly teases you about everything and anything. People are freaking out with how much attention he's giving you, no girl has ever managed to keep him so focused in so long.

None of them understand just how horrible he is. He's no better than a termite, the harder you try to squish him, the stronger he becomes and he always comes back with a pep in his step.

In his mind, any attention is good attention, as long as it comes from you.

Although, who knows for how much longer that ship will stay afloat.

He's only human after all.

[hyewka]

—what a loser! | c.bg

୨୧ synopsis. hearing rumours of your sex life travel around your campus for the first time has you standing in front of the very person that you’re convinced is responsible. your secret fuck buddy.

୨୧ warnings. stoner!gyu, bratty sub!beomgyu, mean femdom, humiliation kink, VERY public, hair pulling, hate sex kind of, cunnilingus, use of pet, fuck buddies, reader has a priest dad, bit of a toxic dynamic

“Why’re you here?” he mumbles casting his eyes down to his feet as he idly skates around, not paying you even a little bit of eye contact or actual acknowledgement.

“Can we talk somewhere else? More private?”

He ignores you.

You huff, rolling your eyes, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. The sun had already set, there were even less people out—no one was skating around at this hour but Beomgyu. “Why—" you take a breath, already feeling yourself get emotional and angry, “Why did you go around telling people about us?”

There’s a few reasons circling your head. Attention, bragging rights—attention was a big one but you hoped, no, a part of you believes it was an accident. That he let the information slip from his lips when he was drunk, or out of his right mind. But with the way he’s acting, it’s getting harder to hold on to the belief that Beomgyu was misunderstood and not just a fucking asshole.

Too much time goes by with silence and you think hes blatantly ignoring you again, but then he halts his skating, taking the time to run a hand through his hair. Hair that you’ve regretfully played with days on end, twirling strands around your finger, giggling as if the foundation you’ve built your relationship on wasn’t such a fragile fire that could be snuffed out in seconds if not the tiniest bit careful.

Look where you are now.

“Dunno, ‘cuz I can.”

His eyes are on you, bangs parted, looking straight at you. You can’t get it out of your mind, how the ends of his lips twitched up as he said that. Bitch. Fucking bitch.

He finds this amusing. A game. Your reputation was a game to him. Of course it is. He never took anything serious, not his career, not his relationships, not his future—he never cared.

Your nostrils flare as you stomp large strides towards him, charging and shoving his chest, having him stumble backwards off his board, dryly laughing. “The goody two shoes about to commit an assault?”

“Oh fuck off, you wouldn’t dare try suing me. God, I hate you so much. You’re such a—such a fucking loser!” you yell.

That wiped off the cocky demeanour.

“Here’s some two cents for you, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about whatever this is between us. I really couldn’t. But you—” your face gets heated up, pointing a finger at him. “You will never find anything better than what I gave you. And you’re going to live with that.”

He scoffs like he’s unbothered but it’s so clear with the way he clenches his jaw afterwards he’s pissed—it hit a spot. Good. Good, let him be hurt.

“What do you even—what did you gain by telling everybody my sex life? Having people call me a slut? Some sick pleasure from being superior to me for once? Attention? Huh? Why’re you acting out now?” Your eyes are narrowed as they implore answers out of him, searching his face and eyes, anything, anything that you can read from his unbearable silence.

“Yeah.”

You blink confused. “What?”

“Yeah, I wanted the attention. Happy now?” He walks to shoulder you but you let out a scoff, holding him back by his arm and pushing him in front of you again.

“You can’t for one second act like a man can you? You just run away from everything!” you feel like you could rip out your hair with how frustrating hes being.

“If you’re just going to stand there and insult me like a bitch I might as well just go and do something fucking productive.” he spits.

Your cheeks heat up and you think for the first time you understand the phrase of seeing red. Hes been poking and poking and poking with his nonchalance then later smugness then going onto just straight up disrespect—he was really pushing you. So he should’ve expected the hand that goes to strike him against his face—your chest rising up and down, brows furrowed deeply.

A faint red hand print blooms across his cheek, and his jaw falls slack, eyes blown out and wide. You suddenly grab him by the back of his hair, no doubt burning his scalp with the way he lets out a loud hiss. “I fucking hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”

You’re so close to his face and everything about the way he’s looking at you gives you the chills. You hate him. You do. He’s insane, he’s selfish, he’s rude, he’s—

A shaky lopsided grin still manages to break from his face, “No you don’t.”

And that was your last straw.

The addictive nature about Beomgyu is what kept you coming back over and over again—he never lead, he just let you…take him. And sometimes, at a point of your life where you feel like everythings being controlled for you, not having the choice to make the decisions you like, this somewhat served as an outlet.

That’s the more…reasonable explanation.

The other explanation is simple. He’s so fucking sexy.

The way he still melts into a kiss so harsh and mean, attempting to cup your cheeks, but immedietely dropping it when he feels your disapporval, his whimpers already picking up, not taking any incentive to breathe as if this kiss was enough to keep him alive; it’s those little things that have you up in the middle of the night thinking about him. Him.

Beomgyu, the stereotypical bad-boy stoner hipster outcast—the antithesis of everything present in your picture perfect life—he keeps you up at night. The mix of weed and his hilariously bad attempt at covering it with febreeze and cologne wafts your scent, it overwhelms you, but you still can’t get enough. Everything annoying about him disappears when he’s touching you.

“Why? Why do you keep doing this?” you say, finally being able to pull away from him—only after you had jerked on his hair harsher.

His lips are swollen, red and glistening—he looks pretty like this. He really does. But those lips always end up saying something to piss you off. “Keep doing what? Letting everyone know how you really are? Not actually the good girl you pretend to be, huh.”

You don’t know if he’s goading you on purpose because he likes it rough, or if he’s just being an asshole in general. It doesn’t matter. If he’s going to act like a brat, he’ll get treated like one.

Your knuckles had turned white with how hard you were gripping his hair so it feels relieving when you finally let it go. He tries to lean in to chase after your lips again, but you have your hands on his chest to stop him.

The flash of panic in his eyes when you step back from him is hilarious, it really is. It tells you everything you need to know. He wants you. He really wants you. He doesn’t care if you hit him or ruin his life, he wants you.

If his next words are any indication. “Hey, hey what are you doing? Where are you going?”

You walk to sit on a step of the stairs. “Do you think I’m a slut? Is that why you thought you had the audacity? Surely because otherwise if you respected me you wouldn’t have spread those rumors about me.”

He huffs out a laugh, the biggest reaction you’ve gotten out of him so far. He also walks to get closer to you. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You haven’t even come up with one single reason that would paint me in a better light. You really do see me as a fucking douchebag loser.” He’s clearly getting emotional with the way his voice gets higher pitched, the nonchalant front cracking, his lips slightly trembling.

“Because that’s what you are. Douchebag. Loser. You’re. A. Loser. Choi Beomgyu.”

You can see his fists clench at his sides, tight lipped. If you knew any better, you think he might’ve just started crying, but you’re not interested in tears. You angle your feet to point to the ground, “On your knees.”

He only hesitates for a second, he only stands there staring at you for a second, only a second before he crumbles and does as you say, getting on his knees in front of you, between your legs. “Closer.”

“But-"

“But what?” Your skirts already half way ridden up and you stare him down, keeping your eye contact intense.

“We’re in p-public. Anyone can see.”

You know hes blushing when you see the tips of his ears peek out, bright red. Aw, he’s nervous? Embarrassed? Shy?

“You’re never seeing me after this Choi. Make of it what you can or piss off.”

His eyes widen comically at that. “What? What does that mean? Are you leaving me?”

You can’t decipher or understand why exactly hes so surprised but you shake it off, you don’t want your good time to be spoiled. Not when your underwears’ already sticking to your pussy seeing him on his knees, on the ground, with his ripped baggy jeans, no doubt a pavement burn getting to him. “Are you going to eat me out or should I get up and leave?”

He shakes his head vehemently, hands on your knees spreading your legs. “Sorry, ‘m sorry. Don’t leave. Gonna make you feel good, promise.”

He’s already rambling like he’s dumbed out, like he’s about to be a goner. But he’s still hesitant in his actions and you groan, throwing your head back. “What the fuck Beomgyu?”

A pout rests on his lips, “I—…I don’t want anyone seeing you..”

You think he’s giving a fuck for your decency, you think its about you for once. But then another thought pops up in your head and your lips twitch. It’s not for you. It’s for him. He doesn’t want any possible pedestrian to see what only him so far has been able to see.

This isn’t worth it.

You make an attempt to get up before Beomgyu immediately has you sit back down, wasting no time to press his face between your legs, skirt over his head. His tongue pokes out to lick on over your panties, gradually wetting it and you sigh, the tenseness of your body evaporating. “Yeah, thats it. Be good for me pup.” He whines at that.

Beomgyu doesn’t tease any longer the moment your hands go to grab his hair because suddenly he bunches your panties to the side and you feel the contact of his hot tongue on your cunt, already lapping away like a dog. Dumb dog. Dumb dog. Dumb dumb dumb—but shit he’s having you curl your toes at the speed he’s going, the way he moans against your pussy like hes somehow enjoying eating you out more than you are.

“You’re my toy, nothing else. But you just keep—you keep irritating me, you keep being a dick, you keep provoking me.” you breathe out, tightening your fistful of his hair in your hand, making his moans even louder, nuzzling closer in your pussy you think he might genuinely suffocate at this point. But knowing him, he’d probably like that. “God, you absolute loser.”

He whines something intelligible, wet eyes looking up at you with his brows pulling up—it makes you gasp as you bite down on your bottom lip. He’s so pretty it’s unfair. Why’s such a sinful person so pretty? God must really have the time of his life making this hell for you.

You take it upon yourself to lift yourself a bit, grinding on his face harder, trying to reach your high, obstructing your view of his face—even with the anxiety of doing this so out in the open resting at the pit of your stomach. He’s practically mewling in your pussy, and the sounds send vibrations, his nose bumping up your clit every now and then. He lets you use him, he just lets you.

When Beomgyu fully submits like this to you…you see stars, you come hard. “More…more”, he groans, licking up your arousal. It’s so dirty, it really is, but you can’t help but nod.

Having the skater eat you out till your legs were jelly at a skatepark late at night would surely guarantee your place in hell.

“You’re such a whore, letting me fuck your face like this baby—don’t soil your pants yet, I know how you get. Probably getting off at the fact that we’re out l-like this…h-hah—dirty, dirty boy.”

He shakes his head, the glistening sweat of his forehead and the matted strands on his temple proof of how hard hes really going at it. “Not dirty. Just wan’ your attention..”

The second you tut at him for stopping he immedietely dives back in—you don’t know if it’s more him being afraid of a punishmet or because he himself doesn’t want to stop. Never mind that, because now hes wrapping his pretty lips around your clit and you’re fucking losing your mind with how quick your head clouds.

There are so many things circling your head right now. And this always happens whenever he starts talking during a hook up. Yes, it helps you get to an edge even faster but its for all the wrong reasons. He’d dirty talk for a bit before switching up, and suddenly all of his words are loving and cute and adorable and, and that’s bad. When you see him other than the image he’s curated for himself—that’s when you start feeling the unfamiliar butterflies fluttering.

You don’t like it. He’s not good for you.

“Stop thinking, only focus on me.” You gasp, your fingers digging into his tangled hair, disheveling it even more. Only him.

He makes you orgasm again, and when you catch your breath you gently push his head away, then harder when he can’t seem to stop kissing your inner thighs. He sighs, dropping it, but not without giving you one last puppy plea. You avoid his eyes, pulling your panties up and scoping around the area, all of a sudden feeling exposed. Did you really just let this punk eat you out on a staircase?

You stand up, dusting your ass, taking note of the redness of his knees and the large wet patch in between his crotch when Beomgyu follows, getting up from his knees, wiping his ridiculously wet lips. You tuck a strand behind your ear as you awkwardly stand, thinking over what you’re going to say now.

We’re over, bye.

I’ll go home now, don’t call me.

I hope you know how bad you messed up. Bye.

I’m blocking you on everything so don’t even think of contacting me.

“Don’t leave me.”

…That has you snap out of your reverie.

His voice is low, no doubt vulnerable. This is the worst. This is bad. Shit.

You clear your throat. “Why? Why shouldn’t I? Even if I didn’t want to I’d have to…my dad knows about you now because of the little stunt you pulled and he definitely doesn’t approve of you.” You mumble the last part, crossing your arms and keeping your distance. But that’s not of any use when he steps forward every time you take a step back.

“I’m—” He runs a hand through his hair again, clearly frustrated. And you don’t understand why, does he really operate life thinking there aren’t consequences to his actions? If he didn’t want to stop this so bad why’d he tell people about your relationship when you explicitly told him not to? “We can—we can do it in secret like we did this entire time. He doesn’t have to know.”

You sigh, also frankly frustrated. “Beomgyu! Why can’t you just-"

Suddenly you’re in his embrace, engulfing you so gently and yet the desperation in it couldn’t have been any more tighter. “Please, please don’t leave me. I’m sorry. I’ll—I’ll really do everything you want, I’ll be your toy, your pet, whatever shit you’re into—just don’t leave me."

You really shouldn’t give in. You really, really shouldn’t.

But then he nuzzles into your neck, mumbling with that slight whiny drawl in his tone, “I’ll be your good boy, I promise. Won’t misbehave anymore.”

Of course you give in. Again.

୨୧ note. honestly don’t know where this came from, i was just making up backstory as i was writing. literally only had one thought and one thought only, what if sub!bad boy x dom! good girl? and that was the small attempt made here lol, i love hearing any feedback or even a theory or two concerning the story’s world as i might explore these characters again 🙏

[solelifauna]

Yandere Batfam & Neglected Reader Prt. 2

Okay, so I didn't realize how much building I was gonna do around (Y/n's) social life so this chapter is honestly about knowing (y/n). Anyways, the next chapter will be from the batfam's pov and focus more on the yandere bits! Hope you enjoy this chapter tho!

Tag List!: @sitepathos @ferakillia @uknowimdumb @shycreatorreview @niggrrooo @dhanyasri @cantfindmelol @space1crow @earth-to-mee @rosecentury @yuyuzi-ling @simpingfor-wakasa @bat1212 @sheepintherain @person-from-daaaa-voidddd @resident-cryptid @cupids-pretty-boy @danni1323

The change started slowly on a normal evening, an evening like every other. It was a football season game day, the big match between the Gotham City High Bats and the Gotham Prep Knights. For the rich prep kids, this was nothing more than another game, but for your school, this game was everything. This would help your school get the recognition and funding it deserves, and allow some students to be scouted and rewarded for their talent.

Not only that, but Gotham Prep always, every season goes to state, beating out all the other public schools in the city. They haven’t lost a game since the early 80s so there was a lot riding on this game. 

Your role, funnily enough, was representing the school as one of the Gotham City High school cheerleaders. Turns out that the gymnastics classes you took before were actually useful for purposes other than trying to impress Dick. You surprisingly took to cheerleading like a fish to water, liking the competitiveness and sense of belonging that came from joining the team. 

Anyways, you, the cheer team, and the football team were on a bus headed towards the bigger, better Gotham Prep football field. The bus was loud with music and schoolmates hyping each other up for the big game. Ethan, a friend of yours on the football team was nervously shaking his leg and squeezing his helmet so hard you thought it would crack.

Both you and your friend Arya noticed.

“Ethan, the game hasn’t even started yet and I already see a crack forming on your helmet.” You said jokingly, a gentle arm on his shoulder.

He startled, “Jesus Christ (Y/n) warn a guy next time.” Ethan spoke, offering a nervous smile.

“You need to stop freaking out bro. When you do, it freaks out the others on the team.” Arya gently said.

“I know, I know but— but there’s just a lot riding on this game. For a lot of us, this is our only way to get out of Gotham, and if we screw up the finals, we’ll be stuck here forever.” Ethan said solemnly, looking around at all his teammates.

“Well then good thing you guys aren’t gonna lose. Y’all have spent two years training to make this comeback, to make sure that Gotham City High finally gets this win. I promise you’ve worked harder than those assholes at Gotham Prep, so just go out there and put your training to use. Don’t let your nerves get to you, you have no reason to.” You calmly said.

“Yeah—yeah, we have trained harder, haven't we? Yeah, you’re right! We've just gotta go out there and play like we've practiced.” Ethan exclaimed, as if suddenly realizing why he should have confidence in himself and his team.

“Exactly!” Arya said, matching his enthusiasm and hitting Ethan playfully on the shoulder. 

The rest of the bus ride to the stadium was louder than ever, the coach and other teammates taking turns to hype up the more nervous members, to get them confident for the field. Everything was about normal once everyone made it to the stadium. The band was set up, and people were flooding the bleachers. It wasn’t until the last ten minutes before the game when normalcy died.

“Hey (Y/n), isn’t that your family?” A girl, Maya, says.

Lo’ and behold, Bruce Wayne and his entire gaggle of children were sitting on the home side of the bleachers, sporting Gotham Prep t-shirts. 

“What—oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. What the hell are they doing here, they don’t even like football like that!?” You shout in frustration.

It was then when you remembered a conversation Dick, Bruce, and Damian had at the dinner table. Something about how it would help Damian out if he started going to school events and games, getting him acclimated to what being a normal teenager was like. That was all fine and dandy, but you didn't think the entire damn family was going to show up. Oh, the gossip columns are gonna have a field day with this. You could already imagine the headlines, “Bruce Wayne openly isolates daughter (Y/n) Wayne” or even, “The Wayne Family once again publicly shows dislike for daughter (Y/n) Wayne.”

You rolled your eyes at the thought, you had bigger things to worry about right now.

“Are you good (Y/n)?” Arya questions softly. 

She was one of the only people who you spoke your sorrows to, one of the only people who actually knows of just how lonely you were. Of course everyone knew that Bruce Wayne and his family didn't really like you very much– thank you Vicky vale– but nobody but Arya and Ethan really understood the crux of your situation. 

“Yeah, I'm all good bro, don't worry about it. Just focus on the game.” You said dismissively. It didn't bother you anymore, sure it hurt a little bit, but this was expected.

“Alright, its time to shake hands with the other team, everyone line up!” the football Coach, Coach Daniels, all but yelled.

You sighed, moving to the front of the line for the cheerleaders; you were team captain after all. Both the football teams and cheerleaders made their way to the center of the field where they met. You looked back at the rest of your team, you all knew that this was going to be an unpleasant interaction, it always was. The Gotham Prep cheer captain walked up to you, disdain and poorly concealed disgust on her face. You all quickly shook hands, trying to get this exhausting ordeal done and over with, but of course the other captain had to open her mouth.

“You lower end city girls sure have your own sense of style.” Darla, which was basically code for calling you and your team sluts. Wow, how original.

“You should see what’s underneath the jacket.” You replied, giving her a sharp smile.

She floundered, clearly expecting her insult to rile you and your team up. 

“Ugh, as expected of Bruce Wayne’s biggest embarrassment. You sad Daddy doesn't like you? Or maybe she’s just glad she gets to mooch off of him before he ends up disowning her.” Another girl pipes up, drawing mind grating giggles from the rest of their team. You recognized her, she was the daughter of some hot-shot CEO.

You just tiredly look back at your team, a few of them getting angry on your behalf while others looked to you in concern. 

“What, not going to say anything?” The other captain haughtily questioned. 

“I mean, what exactly is the response you’re expecting? Yeah, Bruce Wayne doesn't like me, but at least I didn't have to buy my way into the cheer team or have my daddy pay to make sure I wasn't held back.” You stated boredly.

She was silent in shock, right before the anger came bursting through.

“You whore! I’m going to fuck you up, take you to court and sue you!” She shrieked.

“You’re going to sue me? You mean sue Bruce Wayne?” You snorted, “Like that’ll ever happen. And bitch, you couldn’t fight if your life depended on it, so next time you threaten me remember–I can and will beat the ever-loving shit outta you.”

That must have sparked some fear in her because she just turned around and led her team back to their side of the field. You’re sure others noticed your altercation, obviously having no idea what was being said, but it was clear to both sides of the field that nothing good was said. You’re ready to turn back to your side when you accidentally make eye contact with Tim. The cold, calculating look in his eyes has you shifting in discomfort, you quickly look away as the cheer team and football players head back to their respective sides.

The players took their place onto the field while your team got into formation.

“Aright guys, this’s the big one! Give it all you got, just like we practiced!” You yelled.

Just like that, the whistle blew signaling that the game started. 

By the time you reach half time, Gotham Prep is fifteen points ahead of Gotham High. Your school does its low budget halftime performance which pales in comparison to the extravagant Gotham Prep performance. Your side of the stadium grows louder, louder in support of the football team. Before you know it, the boys are lining up for the second half of the game. Thankfully, Gotham High shoots up in points, the score now becoming 34 to 29. The issue is, the game is starting to come to an end with only two minutes on the clock. The crowd is loud, but everyone knows it'll be damn near impossible for Gotham High to win now. The only way to win would be to score a touch-down, which would bring Gotham High to 35 points.

It isn't until the 36 second mark when Ethan sees an opening and makes a run for it with the ball. The crowd is booming, your own voice adding to the mix of cheers and shouts. 

“Come on Ethan! Come on!” You yell, voice undoubtedly hoarse.

There's 5 seconds on the clock when Ethan dives over an opposing player and rolls into the other team's touchdown zone. The score board changes, the numbers now showcasing 34 to 35. Gotham City High with 35. Everyone goes crazy. You and Arya are holding each other jumping up and down. Holy shit, yall won! The football team was celebrating on the field, as they’re announced as the winners, a big trophy being handed into Ethan and his team's hands. And by tradition, you, Arya and the coach go grab the large gatorade barrel and proceed to soak the football team with it. There are yelps and laughs but everyone knows what it means, it means “you’ve won”. You and Arya run up to Ethan launching into him, uncaring of the gatorade now soaking your uniforms. 

It was a good day, a happy day. Everyone started loading up into the buses, starving for the victory dinner at Taco Bell. You honestly, truly forget that the Bats were even here. Shit hits the fan however, when you're in the middle of messing up a chalupa and Bruce Wayne and the rest of his brood walk in, making awkward eye contact with you. You promptly proceed to choke, Arya hitting your back to get you to stop. You do, but holy shit was that embarrassing. Also, what in the ever-loving fuck were they doing here!? 

Before you could voice your utter disbelief, another familiar face barrels into your table. Oh great.

“Hey ladies, how’d you like the game? Betcha I looked good on the field.” The voice of Adrien, a freshman player on the team, made itself known. 

He even made it a point to flex his arm muscles, hoping to impress you and Arya. You both just looked at each other before bursting out laughing. This poor freshman has been trying to get with y'all all year, despite you and Arya being sophomores. His god-awful attempts at flirting were absolutely adorable and downright hilarious. 

“Guys please don't laugh, I promise I have better pick up lines.” he begs, his demeanor that of a kicked puppy.

“I'm sorry man, you're just too adorable, we can't take you seriously.” Arya says amused.

“Why don't you go talk to one of the freshman cheerleaders? I'm sure I heard Hiba and Darla talking about how good you did on the field.” You pipped in.

“No way! Are you serious!? Oh-uh, gotta blast ladies! See ‘ya around!” Adrien stutters, excitedly scrambling off to go find the girls you mentioned.

You and Arya broke off again into a fit of laughter.

“Were you guys teasing Adrien again?” Comes a lighthearted scold from Ethan.

“Not anymore than usual. Plus, I think we finally got him to pursue girls in his own grade.” You responded, a smug smile on your face.

Ethan just chuckled before sitting down with you and Arya. You all talked and laughed some more, your mood only being slightly soured by the Wayne family’s presence at the table across from yours. You did your best to avoid their not-so-casual glances in your direction. Why they were here is a can of worms you had to marinate on later. But for now, you'd just enjoy the rest of your night.

It didn't take long before everyone started getting ready to leave. Some students had their parents come pick them up, probably to go celebrate the school's victory with their families, whilst everyone else was getting ready to load back up into the buses and head to the school where parents would be waiting for their kids. You, however, would be biking back to the manor on your own. Sure both Arya’s and Ethan’s parents had offered you a ride, but you had declined. There was no need for them to go out of their way for you, especially when they should be spending their time celebrating with their children. You’d honestly just ruin the mood with your shitty circumstances.

So as you threw away the last of your trash and started walking to leave the restaurant, you were not expecting to be stopped, let alone stopped by Bruce Wayne. You froze, not knowing what to do. What did he want?

“(Y/n),” He started, voice lacking any tell-tale emotions, “no need to get on the bus, you’ll be riding home with us.”

You noticed immediately how he didn't really give you a choice, just an order meant to be followed. You swallowed nervously, you did not, under any circumstances want to be in a car with any of them.

“There's no need for that Bruce, I–um actually left my bike back at the school and I can't just leave it there so…yeah. I’ll–I'll see you back at the manor.” You said nervously. You weren't used to talking to him and to be quite frank he scared you.

Bruce of course took note of the fact you had not called him “dad” or “father” and had called home, “the manor” instead. This is when Dick decided to chime in.

“What, you're not going to bike all the way back home, are you?” Dick jested sarcastically.

“Uh, yeah? It's how I get back home everyday.” You mention abashed. Did they seriously not even know how you got home? Whatever, you’re too tired for this.

Bruce and Dick glance at each other, their shared look holding a meaning you couldn't understand.

“Well, it doesn't matter. You’ll just ride home with us from now on.” Dick stated, faux cheer in his voice. 

“Wha–what? Hold up, I can’t just leave without my bike! It’s gonna get stolen or–”

“We’ll get a new one, now stop fussin' and get a move on,” Jason grumbles, cutting you off.

You just sigh in defeat. Why the hell are they doing this? Why now? In the end, your questions don't matter as you get marched over to the waiting Rolce Royce Limo. That was when Arya and Ethan noticed you walking away from the bus, not even noticing the Waynes in their hurry to catch up to you.

“Hey (Y/n), why are ‘ya–oh.” Arya yells out before going silent after noticing the intimidating figure of Bruce Wayne and the even more intimidating figure of Jason Todd.

“Oh, hey guys. So–uh, I actually have a ride back to the manor now so I'm all good.” You say awkwardly.

“That's–that's great! But, what about your bike bro?” Ethan questions worriedly, the awkward and almost tense energy affecting him.

“I'm just going to pray and hope that it's still there when I come back for it tomorrow.”You answer tiredly.

“Damn, well, get home safe and get some sleep. We’ll see you soon girl.” Arya says, hugging you.

You hug her back.

“You too guys, get home safe. And Ethan, good job on the field bro, we’re all super proud of you.” You voice, a small smile on your face while you give him a hug.

“Thanks (Y/n), couldn't have done it without y’all hyping me up.” He says.

“Alright, alright no more sappy, corny lines. Now get on the bus before Coach Daniels pops another blood vessel.” You joke.

“Shit, I didn't even realize that was him yelling! Ethan, we gotta go! See ya (Y/n).” Arya exclaims, practically dragging Ethan to the bus with her.

You wave at them, your smile slowly disappearing as you realize you're about to have the worst fifteen minutes of your life on this car ride. The staring you were trying to ignore when talking to your friends was more prevalent now, making you anxious as you entered the car, squirming and fiddling uncomfortably in your seat as everyone else piled in.

You internally sighed as you heard the door shut and the car engine start. Perhaps it’d be better if you drank acid and died instead, but alas, it was too late for any of that. 

You’d just do your best to stay quiet and avoid the eyes boring into your very being.

[hitomisuzuya]

hellooo, how are you? <3

this is my first ever request, so i'm a bit hesitant with how to word it 😶

i've been thinking about reverse isekai wanderer x reader, where reader has to like, teach him how our modern world works and how to blend in!

i did think about how to make it nsfw, but i have absolutely no idea how it would lead to it 😭

maybe like, he learns how to film videos and takes advantage of it, idk 😶

anyways, no rush and absolutely no pressure to write it!

love your fics, have a nice day 🫶🏻

Wanderer (Scaramouche) x fem!reader. Reverse Isekai. Smut. Consensual recording. Worship. Biting/marking. Creampie. General head canons in beginning.

Hello, dear❤️ Your wording was just fine.

Being transported into your world was something of a shock to Wanderer, and he was very good at hiding it. But, he supposed being dropped in on someone who is already hopelessly in love with him, worshipping him entirely in every way made the transition easier.

You soon became one big distraction for him.

Wanderer enjoys a lot of things in the reality. Coffee makers, video games, cell phones, YOU, to name a few. And trashy, reality TV shows. The trashier the better, he ate that shit up. When he discovered what a DVR was, most of your storage went to recording reality TV shows.

It'd been easy for him to find an image to fit in. A lot of dark clothing.

However, cellphones, web cams, and in particular the recording feature was what he enjoyed quite frankly abusing. And this time, Wanderer was getting two angles.

One angle your laptop was recording every thing on it's web cam. Another angle Wanderer was recording on his cellphone.

You were on your back on your bed, naked, your legs spread as you looked up at him. One of his hands was holding his cell phone, the other was wrapped around his cock. His cell phone was recording the perfect view for him, his cock rubbing your pussy into a wet mess.

What made this twice as erotic for Wanderer is that two of your fingers were holding your rapidly drooling folds apart to give him a better view. The head of his leaking cock rubbing against your throbbing clit, his phone recording your soft moans loud and clear as you grinded up against his cock.

"You know, when I first saw you, I never would've guessed you were such a slut," He loves how his degradation made you moan louder, a new coat of wet soaking onto his cock.

"Oh, but see, here is the thing, Scara," You said shakily, reaching up with trembling fingers to caress his cheek. Wanderer angled the phone up. He was able to see the fast forming bruises and bite marks all over your body. You were utterly and possessively bit up.

As much as he would've loved to have recorded marking you on his phone, he needed both hands to hold you down while you squirmed and writhed, rubbing your pussy needily on his hard cock. Your webcam recorded everything perfectly though.

"I am one, for you," You continued. Your arm was above your head in a submissive manner, slowly grinding your clit on his cock.

Wanderer groaned, pushing the tip of his cock at your entrance. Your cunt immediately tightened around it. He always craved this type of worship. He turned his cheek into your hand, his cock pulsing and aching to be buried inside of you.

You skimmed your thumb across his cheek. "Promise me something?" You asked, rolling your hips up to push his cock inside of you more.

"Y-Yeah?" Wanderer moaned shakily. He would promise you whatever you want if it meant he got to record you falling apart for him.

You looked up at him, your image with all your possessive bruises on display, and said, "Cum inside of me." Your eyes were filled with desperation, and deeply welled adoration. It only made his cock harder.

"Fuck, I wouldn't have it any other way," Wanderer moaned, his finger swiftly hitting the stop button and tossing his phone aside. His beautiful fingers found tight purchase on your thighs, holding them apart.

He masked soft whimpers behind his moans as he pushed his cock inside of you, bottoming out with a harsh, needy snap of his hips. You cried out in pleasure as the head of his cock nudged into your sweet spot.

Wanderer couldn't wait to have your pretty lips wrapped around his cock while he watched this with you, sucking him off while he degraded you about what a slut you looked and sounded like.

Your breasts bounced from the harshness of Wanderer's thrusts, your hands fisting your sheets tightly as pleasure burst white hot behind your eyes. Your legs shook in his grasp, a shiver sending a extra jolt of pleasure through you as he caresses the insides of your thighs with his thumbs.

Wanderer mocked your moans to hide his whimpers, your cunt tight and warm on his cock, sucking him in with each thrust. "Good fucking girl, cry for me, worship me," He laughed shakily, amused by how fucked out you looked, moaning and twitching as he impaled you dumb on his cock. Drool pooling from one corner of your mouth, your eyes getting glassier the closer you got to cumming.

He got off on knowing your poor little brain was so far gone, you couldn't grasp how to form coherent words. He let go of one of your thighs to give your clit a light smack, ushering in your orgasm.

He groaned as you creamed on his cock, giving him ample lubrication to to fuck his cock deeper into you. You were limp and pliable in his grasp, your body shuddering in pleasure as his cock pulsed cum inside of you.

It was so satisfying for Wanderer knowing your webcam recorded the perfect view of his cum leaking from your cunt.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Boys

Magdalena Eriksson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Boys are the worst

When kids are little, football teams are usually mixed.

Boys and girls.

Girls and boys.

Magda knows this. She doesn't particularly care that they're not separated. It's not really needed at this point when kids haven't gone through puberty and there's not much of a difference physically between them.

She has no problems with that.

She does have a problem with the parents of boys who think the team shouldn't be mixed.

"Good girl!" She says as you make another save.

It's been nearly a year since the move to Germany and it had taken that amount of time for her and Pernille to find you a little football team to join.

They don't want you at the Bayern academy. In fact, they don't want you at any academy until you're a bit older, when you're absolutely sure that football is what you want to do.

But this is a nice compromise.

You still get to play football but without all the pressure to perform that academies provide.

"Just push her over!" One of the dads from the opposite team yells," Are you really letting a girl beat you?!"

Ordinarily, Magda would have seen red but after the humiliating time she had the last time this happened and was subsequently told to wait in her car, she's not eager for a repeat.

So, Magda just starts clapping louder and yelling out her praise as you pass the ball off to one of the other kids.

This is a kid's football match so she can forgive a few moments of physicality. Kids can get a bit aggressive and it's clear, even to Magda's own biased eyes that you're leagues ahead of all of your peers.

In fact, that makes her puff out her chest a bit in pride.

Of course her little girl is the best one here by miles.

Your talent is obvious and your clear idolisation and perfect listening to the goalkeepers in your life has you more than prepared for a bunch of untrained kids trying to play a game of football.

So, all in all, Magda can forgive a bit of physicality.

What she can't forgive is the little boy who tugs at your hair after you save his weak shot on goal.

"Ow!" You yelp and Magda's hands clench into fists.

"That's got to be a red!" She heckles the ref, who looks to be barely out of puberty and not paid enough to deal with the yelling of parents. "Give him a red!"

"Pull her hair harder, son!" The boy's father says and while Magda can't hit a child, she can definitely hit an adult.

She shoves him back, crossing the field in quick strides to catch him off guard.

He stumbles a little before his face twists into outrage, spitting right at Magda's feet. "Watch it, bitch!"

The resemblance between you and Magda is uncanny so it's clear he knows which child is hers.

"If your kid can't take a bit of hair-pulling then maybe she should stop playing a boy's game and go back to doing her nails."

"Watch it!" Magda snaps back," Or your son is going to watch his dad lose to a girl as well."

"Go back to the kitchen!" He says back and Magda rolls her eyes," Football's a men's game!"

She expected a better insult.

At some point, they've started yelling at each other and the poor teenage referee has to slide between them to make sure no one starts swinging.

"Go to your cars!" He says," You-You can't argue in front of kids!"

So much for Magda not getting sent off again.

"Yeah!" The dad clearly doesn't know how to take a hint. "Come back when you learn how to play the game!"

Magda stalks away, throwing over her shoulder," Come back when you've won a league title!"

Magda stews in her car, arms crossed over her chest. She doesn't even turn on the radio, split between anger and working out how she's going to avoid telling Pernille she got sent to the side-lines again.

You practically skip over to the car, escorted by one of the parents that Magda's yet to learn the name of.

"Hey," She says as you pull yourself into your seat, leaning back so she can buckle your seatbelt up," How was the game?"

"You got told off," You say instead.

"I did."

"You should have punched him in the nose."

"Violence isn't the answer to arguments, princesse."

You frown. "Georgia told me that the only way to deal with mean men is to prove you're better or punch them in the nose. I proved I was better. You should have punched him in the nose."

"Of course Georgia told you that," Magda mutters under her breath before raising her voice again," But how was the match after I was sent away?"

"It was good," You say, rifling through your bag for a snack," I saved a penalty."

"You did?!" A pang of disappointment stirs in Magda's stomach. "I'm sorry I couldn't see it."

"It was the boy that pulled my hair," You say, trying to stab your straw into your juice box," He cried."

"Good."

"Yeah and then before Miss Sophia brought me over to you, he gave me a flower and told me I was cool."

Magda nearly slams on the breaks then and there. "What?"

"Yeah. It was kind of weird because he was still crying. Boys are weird."

"Yes. Yes they are."

"Are you going to get sent off next match too? Because if you are, can Momma come to my matches too? I want someone to be able to watch me."

[mountainficss]

!! mentions of: cockwarming, unprotected sex

keep having this sick nasty dirty unoriginal thought of cockwarming wonwoo while he’s playing his lil computer games.

gamer!wonwoo that would just look so gorgeous in the dim lighting of his room, his features illuminated by the light of his computer. you’d stand behind his chair and watch him play, massaging his shoulders and pressing the occasional little kiss to his cheek which would make him smile and blush. he’d even abandon the game and swivel around to face you, the overwhelming feeling of missing you hitting him like a truck as he wraps his arms around your torso to pull you close to him. you were wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties underneath and he still thought you were the most breathtaking human on earth. he’d gaze up at you lovingly through his glasses and ask you in the quietest voice ever if you’d sit with him while he plays. and how could you say no to sweet wonwoo ;( so you sit on his lap while he plays, facing the computer while his arms wrap around you from behind to tap on his keyboard. it would start off innocent at first, but feeling the warmth of your thighs and your ass pressing against wonwoo’s cock would make him needy underneath you. he found it harder to focus on his game, but he didn’t even want to. didn’t care that his friends were in his ear giving him the most shit for his declining game performance, because all he can think about right now is you. he wants to be closer, wants to feel your warmth but is sooo shy and will have trouble even thinking of how to politely ask you to sit on his cock and absolutely ruin him. you’d sense a shift in his behavior and his distracted playing, so you’d just ask him instead, the sudden request making him blush but eagerly nod his head. you’d stand up, pushing his chair back slightly so you can untie the strings of his sweatpants and pull them down just enough so his cock smacks onto his stomach. you’d sit on his lap facing him this time, pulling your panties to the side and slowly sinking down onto him. he’d let out a relieved sigh, feeling your tight warmth around him and distracting him even more from his game. you’d shush him gently and press kisses to his exposed skin, licking up his neck to his ear and nipping it lightly. you wouldn’t move, forcing him to refocus and try to play better and win like he usually does. only after a few rounds of his game would you start to harshly bounce on him when he least expects it, drawing a loud yelp of surprise from him. he’d completely forget about his game, his hands ditching the keyboard so he can wrap them under your (it’s his but that doesn’t matter) shirt and around your waist. you’d scold him slightly for not being able to play properly and he’d let out little mumbled apologies, telling you how he tried so hard to win for you but he just wants your touch more than anything :( just wants to give all of his undivided attention to you because he loves and misses you so much. you wouldn’t stop bouncing on him until you both are out of breath and satisfied <3

won’t be a one time thing either, would definitely be reoccurring. most days you’d let him mute his mic so he can moan and whine as loud as he wants, but sometimes you’d make him keep it on and hide all of his disgustingly lewd sounds from his unsuspecting friends. you’d make him keep conversations with them just so you can hear him struggle to hold back his pretty sounds. all while his face is super red and he’s doing his absolute best to win for you and please you :( i love shy wonwoo so much.