#its the one purpled is coaching

[bioluminescentfrog]

whenever i see new people trying to speedrun, or hell, even mccsr participants. im sometimes like. have you ever seen someone speedrun. have you ever watched a single mcc in you entire life. like my brain may analyze things too much. but you dont have this thing figured out? im not even judging the gameplay, my gameplay is shit, but the questions are sometimes so simple. like honey please do 1 (one) singular vod review and take notes.

[rosemariiaa]

00 ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ

𐙚—pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚—rosie’s note: merry xmas my lovelies, this is my gift to you! happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚—links: rosie’s bookshelf, series masterlist

𐙚—themes: time travel, angst (kinda)

𐙚— taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @juspeaks @sierrale8ne @bueckersbitch @pboogerswbb @lupinqs @makethemhoesmad @imaginespazzi @d3arapril @guesswhoitsn @xxloveralways14 @ashortyluvsports

enjoy!!!

The apartment is too quiet without her.

It’s been hours since Azzi left, her pink bonnet stuffed into her purse, the overnight bag she’d packed slung over her shoulder. She didn’t look back when she closed the door behind her, and Paige didn’t stop her.

Not this time.

Paige leans against the kitchen counter, staring blankly at the half-empty bottle of water in her hand. The sun is setting, painting the skyline outside her window in muted oranges and purples, but she barely notices. The air in the apartment feels heavy, suffocating in its silence.

Her knee aches from today’s workout—a reminder of the game she has in two days. She should be focused on that, but her mind is miles away.

Back to Azzi. Back to their argument.

The fight wasn’t about anything major. None of them ever were. But it was loud. Ugly. The kind of argument that feels like it’s about everything and nothing all at once.

“You don’t even try anymore, Paige!” Azzi’s voice had cracked with frustration, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You’re so scared of—of whatever this is that you’re ruining it before it can even work.”

“And you’re not?” Paige had snapped back, her voice sharp and cutting. “You’re the one with one foot out the door every time things get hard.”

Azzi had gone quiet then, her lips pressing into a thin line. It was the kind of silence that made Paige want to take it all back, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Instead, Azzi had turned on her heel, grabbed her things, and left.

That was three hours ago.

Paige swallows hard, setting the water bottle down on the counter. Her phone buzzes on the island, but she doesn’t check it. It’s probably her coach or a teammate, someone reminding her of the life she’s supposed to be living.

But all Paige can think about is the pink bonnet Azzi left behind. The one she’s worn every night since they were 19 and sharing cramped student apartments in Connecticut.

How did it get to this? How did they go from late-night talks in Paige’s dorm room to this endless cycle of arguing and leaving?

Paige sighs, running a hand through her hair as she drags herself toward the bedroom. Maybe Azzi just needs time to cool off. Maybe this is one of those fights they’ll laugh about later, the way they always used to.

She doesn’t even bother turning on the lights as she collapses onto the bed, burying her face in the purple blanket Azzi gave her their first Christmas together.

It still smells like her.

Paige closes her eyes, exhaustion pulling her under.

—

When I wake up, something feels… wrong.

It’s the light that hits my face first, warm and bright and all wrong for my LA apartment. Then it’s the smell—not Azzi’s perfume or the lavender candle that I keep on the dresser, but something familiar and distant.

My eyes blink open, and for a moment, I can’t seem to breathe.

This can’t be happening.

I blink again, but nothing changes. I stare at the spinning bookshelf, the neatly stacked trophies, the PS5 humming quietly on the dresser—it’s all there. The TV mounted on the wall shows the home screen I haven’t seen in years. My purple sheets are a little wrinkled, the fluffy blanket half spilling onto the floor, but it still smells like fabric softener and familiarity.

My eyes catch on the vanity across the room, where Azzi’s pink bonnet and my Bible sit side by side. My heart clenches. She always left them there.

My fingers dig into the mattress as I sit up, my knee protesting the sudden movement. This isn’t my apartment in Los Angeles. This isn’t my life now. This is… this is my senior-year room at UConn.

The student apartment. The one I shared with Azzi, Nika, Jana, and Ice.

I force myself to stand, even as my chest feels like it’s caving in. The layout of the room is burned into my memory, down to the picture frame sitting on Azzi’s side of the vanity. The photo is of the two of us, taken back when things between us were still too undefined to explain.

The blanket she likes to steal is still folded at the foot of my bed. Her favorite UConn hoodie is draped over my beanbag. A pair of her sneakers sits in the corner, her name written in small letters on the tongue.

Her stuff is scattered everywhere, like it always was, because we spent most nights sleeping in my room instead of hers.

I look around, desperate for an answer. For anything that will tell me this isn’t real.

But it is.

It’s all exactly as I left it in 2025. My senior year.

The year I ruined everything.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I grab it like it might give me an explanation.

October 12, 2024.

I nearly drop it. My hands are shaking as I swipe to my texts.

azzi: workout in 20 paigey, be ready when i get there

nika: tell Ice if she clogs the sink again with her hair, I’m moving out.

My breath catches in my throat. I read the texts again, trying to make sense of it, but they feel too familiar. Too real. My hands drop to my sides as the phone slips from my grasp.

This doesn’t make sense.

I glance toward Azzi’s bed. I was always glad my room was the only one with a spare bed, her bed was perfectly made like always. Her per led lights cast a soft glow over the walls, and the scent of her body lotion lingers in the air.

Memories rush back like a punch to the gut. The year we tried to be “just friends.” The year we failed. The year I let fear ruin everything we had.

I drag myself into the kitchen, needing space to think. The student apartment is quiet, but it feels like a time capsule. Jana’s mismatched sneakers are by the door. Nika’s pink Hydro Flask sits on the counter. Ice’s protein shake blender is still sitting in the sink.

Everything is exactly as it was.

But why? Why now? Why this year?

I stare out the window, the view of campus just as I remember. The ache in my knee pulls me back to reality. I know this feeling. I know this time.

I press my hands against the counter, gripping it tightly as the realization sinks in.

I’m back. Back in my senior year. Back in the year Azzi and I were finally supposed to get it right.

And I have no idea why.

My phone buzzes again on the counter.

azzi: coffee or no? answer my texts don’t be weird

Her name on my screen feels like a lifeline and a weight all at once.

This was the year it all fell apart.

But maybe, just maybe, it’s also the year I can put it back together.

———

𐙚— rosie’s note: okay psa, the chapters for this series should take too long to post, as i mentioned before i really do like this plot and it’s good for me to work with so you should’ve have to wait too long :) also hope u enjoyed muah!

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

kiss and cry

summary | you’ve learnt to build your walls sky high in the wake of dick grayson’s abrupt departure from the world of skating. but one decade later, he’s back like nothing ever happened, and you’re back to square one. prompt | language of flowers event: a bouquet of purple hyacinths in blue wrapping paper with a pink ribbon ♡ pairing | dick grayson x gn!reader wc | 3.2k warnings/tags | pairs figure skating, childhood friends to strangers to ???, mutual pining, repressed feelings, angst, swearing, insecurity, no use of y/n, very liberal interpretation of how you’d qualify for the olympics ty @strangergraphics for the divider!

Brian Orser is a liar. 

“Oh c'mon kid, I had no idea. I thought this was a good kind of surprise! You might have a chance at the Olympics this time around!”

You should’ve known something was up when he asked you to stay after practice. The old man is annoyingly close to catching up with you, and if you weren’t wearing skate guards right now, you’d speed walk to the lockers faster. 

“Isn’t this good? You need a new partner, Dick finally decided to call me back, and anyways, I thought you l-”

You don’t need to hear the rest of his sentence to know what he’s about to say. “I didn’t. And I don’t anymore.” Neither of you seem convinced, but at least it gets him to shut up. 

What pains you the most is you can’t even be mad at the older man. You can’t cry, or scream, or throw a tantrum like you were 9 again, because at the end of the day, this is the coach you had begged to take you on. The one who has been behind so many legends and basically built your career up from the ground. Had this been any other situation, any other person, besides the Boy Wonder himself, you would probably be on the verge of much happier tears. But you know, just like last time, he won’t be here to stay. And you don’t know how much more heartbreak you can take.

Before you get the chance to talk him out of it, a pair of footsteps joins you. Speak of the fucking devil.

It’s like they had planned some flanked attack, with Brian herding you towards the front of the building and Dick stepping in to cut you off as you’re about to make your grand escape. No idea, your ass. Brian knew you wouldn’t be able to say no if they had you cornered like this.

“Dick!” he exclaims, pushing past you to wrap the black-haired man in bear hug. Normally, you think you’d be hurt by how his face is practically illuminating (he had never greeted you like that before). But you have your own worries to deal with: namely, a heart that is currently trying to claw its way out of your throat and lungs that have forgotten how to inhale air. You think Brian might still be speaking, but if he is, you’ve tossed that all to the side in lieu of studying the man in front of you.

You make it a point not to meet his gaze, even as you feel him trying to meet yours. Perhaps it’s pride, perhaps it’s fear, but either way, you know as soon as you look at him, properly look at him, any objectivity will fly out the door.

So you settle for the obvious things. He’s taller, and his face is sharper, no longer rounded by baby fat. Even the spiky haircut you used to tease him for is grown out now. He looks good—but nothing like the boy you have enshrined in your memories. This isn’t the boy who would stay behind to help you practice your jumps. This isn’t the boy who would pack an extra lunch for you in case you forgot yours. This isn’t the boy you cried yourself to sleep over for months, the boy who almost made you quit the one thing you loved most in the world because the thought of skating alone made you want to hurl.

This? Him? It’s just a bitter reminder that figure skating wasn’t the only thing he left behind all those years ago. 

You think you hear the two of them discuss the technical details. Practice schedules, song choices, choreography—it all goes in one ear and out the other. It’s a conversation you have with the older man at the start of every season. An annual promise that that year would be the year you finally earn the recognition you had worked so hard for. 

Technically, everything had been perfect. Technically, you were good. Enough to consistently land a spot at the Grand Prix Final.

But not good enough for a medal. It was never enough. No matter how much training you did, how many extra jumps you crammed into your programs, how many partners you had cycled through. There was no use in denying it: after Dick had left, you hadn’t been the same skater.

It’s pathetic. Your crush had not only abandoned you at 14, but any hopes of even making it to the podium had been crushed then as well. And you hate that 10 years later, you still haven’t moved on. Not enough to say no to his offer. Because like it or not, chemistry is everything in pairs, and there’s nobody like him. There is nobody like Dick Grayson.

It’s silent now. They’re waiting for you. 

You finally look up to meet his gaze. “Okay, I’ll do it.” 

—

It’s too easy to fall back into step with Dick. He always greets you with a smile, brings you snacks before practice (homemade ones at that), and carries your bag to your car for you, even though you insist that you’re more than capable of doing it yourself. He’s certainly trying, but the more effort he puts in, the more you can’t help but resent him. 

His kindness is all just a means to an end for him. He’s buttering you up so your movements are less goddamn stiff when you’re next to him, so you at least vaguely resemble an evenly matched pair. You know from Brian that he’s only coming back because of a stupid bet he made with his brother. He’s just here to prove he can make it to the Olympics. Your childhood dream, what you’ve decided would be the sign that you’ve made it—to him, it’s just another achievement he can use to inflate his ego. The worst part about it is he’s good enough that he could genuinely make it happen that effortlessly. And once he’s satisfied with that, he’ll waltz out of your life just as quickly as he came in. 

So when he offers you a hand as you step out of the rink, when he happens to have an extra energy drink, when he suggests a “team bonding” dinner, you don’t accept. You’ll let yourself entertain him on the ice for the sake of the skate. But nothing more. 

At the very least, you can admit that your performance aspect has definitely improved since skating alongside Dick. You breeze through Eastern Regionals, then Skate Canada, then Skate America, and in no time at all, you’re at the Grand Prix Final: the one barrier you’ve always hit. 

The short goes even better than you imagined it would. Too good. You’ve seen the posts that the fans have made about the two of you, digging up old skating clips to support their theories about the two of you. There’s a poorly worded interview by Brian that does nothing but fuel the flames, and even some of the commentators have been talking about how good the two of you look together. All signs seem to be telling you that you have nothing to worry about; the two of you are perfect. They don’t understand that that’s exactly what you’re worried about. 

You don’t catch yourself until it’s too late. You’re slowly getting consumed by him—by his soft smiles and whispers of encouragement and stupid, stupid puns. You’re back where you started, feeling weightless as the two of you skate your free program, actually losing yourself to the music. There’s nothing to prove anymore; this isn’t a performance—this is just how it’s always meant to be. It should feel right. But it doesn’t, because you’re terrified that if you let yourself get comfortable in his embrace, you won’t be able to skate like this ever again.

You pop the triple Lutz. Then you go into an Euler and a double toe loop that’s under-rotated too. You don’t understand, your jumps have always been pristine, especially your doubles. You haven’t made a sloppy mistake like this in a while. The last time was when–

Shit, you’re too early into the step sequence, the turn too sharp at the corner. You meet his gaze repentantly, like that will absolve you of your guilt. You don’t know what emotion you’re expecting to find in eyes. Maybe anger? Frustration? That’s certainly how you feel at the moment. Whatever it is, it’s certainly not adoration. 

You want to ask him what the hell is going on, but there’s no time. Last move. Death spiral. You have to hold hands, and the contact makes your skin burn. You don’t have the heart to look at him again. You’re afraid of what you’re going to find.

Suddenly everything feels too tight: the rink, your chest, the skates around your feet. You have to get out of there. One revolution, two, three, four. You can hold on, it’s almost over. Another four. He pulls you back towards him. It’s your final pose. The two of you are chest to chest. 

You just have to hold this for a second, and then you’re free. You can do it. You can do it. And then he’s leaning in even closer, until his forehead is pressed against yours and your lips hovering over each other. 

You can’t do it anymore and all you can think about is how to get out of there. You don’t even bother to wait for your score; you’ll deal with Brian’s scolding later. But you know if you stay out there any longer, you won’t be able to scrape together what little sanity you still have left. 

You’re leaving. You have to leave.

And as you run back to the lockers, you realize somebody’s been calling out your name.

“Hey, wait! Is everything okay?” Of course, the one person you don’t want to see would follow you. “Why did you leave like that? Did I do something wrong?” His hand hovers over your arm for a moment before he pulls it away and you don’t know whether you should laugh or cry. He used to do it with practiced ease back when you were kids, when you would joke that he had cooties but let him do so all the same. Now, you’re not sure if you can stand his touch, and from the look on his face, it seems to break his heart.

”Nothing, let’s just forget about this.” You feel like you’re being strangled and it takes all of your energy not to burst into tears at the moment. 

”No,” he says softly. “No, I know you, I know you’re not okay. Please, let’s talk about this.” 

And suddenly, everything’s just too much. He’s acting too nice to you, like he actually cares. Like maybe the fervent glances and lingering touches on the ice mean more to him than just pandering to the judges. But you know he doesn’t, because then he wouldn’t have left.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “No, you don’t know a single thing about me. So don’t act like you care about me now.”

”I do though!” 

“Bullshit. We’re not anything to each other.” 

His face crumples immediately. He takes a step back. This is the closest he’s ever been to tears.

On a kinder day, you’d take it all back. You’d apologize and beg for his forgiveness and he would be disgustingly kind like he always is and you could both forget about this. But you’re tired of dancing around the issue and you think there’s a sick part of you that revels in his pained expression. 

You take a step forward. “You’re just a coworker. This? This act where we pretend like we can stand to be in the same room as each other? This isn’t real. So stop acting like it is. You didn’t care about me when you left. So why the change now? Do you know how fucking hard it was for me to move on? I couldn’t even skate afterwards. I thought my career was over. And I’ve had to fight every single day to prove that—that I’m still a capable skater, that I have a place in this sport.” 

Your voice trembles, and it takes all of your strength to swallow the lump in your throat. “I had to fight to be able to skate without you. To have the courage to stand on the ice alone. So I’m sorry that I’m not willing to welcome you back with open arms, because I know this is just some stupid game to you. You’ll get to the Olympics, because of course you will, and I’ll get to ride on the coattails of that. And that will be the greatest moment of my career, but to you, it’s just another thing on your checklist. Then you’ll go back to whatever you decided is more worthy than m–” You choke on your own words. “Than skating. And I’ll have to pick up the broken pieces again. But frankly speaking, I don’t know if I can do that a second time.”

It’s dead silent, save for your panting. You feel like you just ran a marathon. And Dick? You can’t read him, and that’s what scares you the most.

”Forget it.” The silence is driving you insane, and you just start running your mouth. “Fuck, forget it. I should just be grateful you’re even my partner this season. It’s the only way I’ll make it to the Olympics. I know you’re thinking it, you and Brian—”

“Don’t say that.”

“—that’s why you left, isn’t it? Didn’t want to be tied down to a pathetic fucking loser.”

“I never said th—”

”I can’t blame you. I’d leave me too—“

“I DIDN’T LEAVE YOU!” 

Now you’re both silent. You’ve never heard him raise before. You’ve never seen him this desperate either. He’s shaking as he stands in front of you. “You’re right, I didn’t care about skating. It was always just a hobby to me. But I stayed because of you. Because I was young and stupid and in love and the only way I knew how to show you that was to skate with you. And it killed me when I had to quit, but I just…I saw how much passion you had for skating. Like it was the air you needed to breathe, but I knew I couldn’t dedicate myself to the sport like you could.. And you deserved a partner who would love skating as much as you do.”

You think your brain short circuits after “in love,” and if he says anything else after that, you certainly aren’t processing it. “…You loved me?”

Dick laughs like you’ve just asked if water is a liquid. ”Of course I did. Everybody knew it too. Brian used to tease me about the way I would look at you. And I figured I would finally tell you after I quit, in case it would make things awkward, but then…”

“I blocked you.” You whisper in horror. 

“Yeah, so I figured you didn’t want anything to do with me after that. I didn’t realize quitting meant I would lose you too.” 

And suddenly you’re 14 again, watching the boy you’ve had a crush on for over half of your life tell you that he doesn’t want to skate anymore, and you feel so small and so stupid. “Oh god. So all of those years…”

He nods, “I lied about the Olympics thing. Or well, I really did have a bet with Jason, but when Brian told me that you needed a new partner…I came back hoping it would be a chance to make it up to you.”

You’re still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that maybe Dick had genuinely been trying to make amends with you. “So you being nice wasn’t just for show or team-building or whatever?”

“Team-building? God, I don’t think there’s a world where I can love you in any other way.”

The first realization that he had loved you in the past had been enough to nearly give you a heart attack. But to hear love? In the present tense? You think back to how he’s been acting for the past few months. All of the weird incidents that you can’t just explain away by saying that he’s making fun of you or being civil to you as a teammate or just being nice because that’s how he is. 

Because there’s no other explanation for why he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, why he lifts you with a reverence that could rival the likes of Keats and Byron, why he lingers on the ice after every practice, like he’s chasing the last vestiges of your warmth. 

And you have so many words dancing on the tip of your tongue, ways in which you can lay down your heart for him as he has done for you. But both of you know that even this stolen moment is just that: stolen time.

”Shall we go back?” He offers you his hand evenly, but there’s a tremble in his voice that gives him away. Like he’s worried that even after all of this, there was a universe in which you still don’t reciprocate his feelings. 

Your heart is screaming at you to assure him, promise that yes of course, you would accept him. But the words evaporate from your mind before you have a chance to grasp onto them. So you hope that at the very least, your actions can convey a fraction of your feelings. Hand in hand, you make your way back to the rink. No matter what the result is, you think it’ll be alright if you have Dick’s shoulder to cry on after this is all over. 

—

“And with a free score of 129.44 and a final score of 205.57, that puts America’s own duo from Gotham at third place in the Grand Prix Final!” 

Third, the word echoes in your head, taking you a few moments to process. Third, and there were no other American teams on the podium. Sure, it isn’t exactly the most fairytale ending, but it’s better this way—more real. You turn to look at Dick, who you’re sure has the exact same look of astonishment that you do. You remember Brian doing the math before you guys had even made it to the venue. Based on this event and the rest of your results this season, it was clear that the two of you were the uncontested pair in the whole country. 

“You’re going to the Olympics!” Brian whoops, hugging the both of you and jumping for joy in a way you think only he can get away with. You’re grinning so hard your muscles are starting to twitch but honestly you could care less about that. All of the training, all of the sleepless nights had finally paid off, and you felt like you had really, truly made it. And the fact that you did it with Dick makes it all the sweeter to you. 

You got a medal, a boyfriend, and that day, the kiss and cry finally lived up to its name.

more dick skating hcs | event m.list | main m.list | navi

[authorhjk1]

Hi writer-nim, I'm no detective, but since checking out and enjoying your colour series I'll take a wild guess though I may be wrong lol but the one with the * has to somewhat be RV related since the first two stories about it are connected but the secret lies in the characters mentioned during the first one with Irene and since Seulgi showed up in the second one I guess the remaining members would show up then (I hope) but since Yeri was already written in black I hope you could make another one of her in this? She looked amazing here I guess this counts as purple even though she has a white dress inside lol but the outfit sure is tempting since it looks so easy to rip off everything from her, I mean who doesn't want to see maknae tiddies being cared for while bouncing up and down all over your face. But its ok if you can't make one more of her, however you can make this for a future piece if you feel like it. Have a nice day.

https://kpopping.com/documents/c9/4/1200/240405-Red-Velvet-Yeri-Coach-Pop-Up-Opening-Event-documents-4.jpeg?v=c62fd

https://kpopping.com/documents/36/1/1200/240405-Red-Velvet-Yeri-Coach-Pop-Up-Opening-Event-documents-2.jpeg?v=3cf88

Purple

(Kim Yeri X Male Reader)

You take your tie out of Yeri's hand. The bottom part is already soaked. Looking down on her, you see her phone in the other hand. A picture of you is on the screen.

"Are you going to punish me?"

Yeri's mischievous grin awakens something dark within you. Punishing her is something you've always wanted to do. To wipe that satisfied smile off her face, by totally ruining her body.

"Or are you gonna rat me out to Irene unnie?"

But then again, that's exactly what Yeri wants. And you don't want to give in so easily. Her cheeks are still showing a hint of red, after you've just caught her in the act. Of course you knew what was going on inside her room, when you saw her thong dangle on her doorknob.

"Do you think Irene would like it, if I told her you touch yourself to a picture of me?"

You hold up your tie.

"And use this as well?"

"You don't have any proof."

Her victorious, teasing smile makes a fire burn inside of you. She manages to piss you off and turn you on at the same time. After Seulgi, Joy and Wendy all slept with you, you expected Yeri to eventually follow in their footsteps. You just didn't expect she would actually touch herself, thinking about you. It turns you on more, thinking about how often she could've already done this.

"So what? You want to pretend to be a bad girl?"

Yeri stands up, the top of her head barely reaching your chin.

"I am a bad girl. And what do bad girls like I get.... daddy?"

She whispered that last word. And she watches you with amusement in her eyes as she waits for a reaction.

Just like the other three, Yeri doesn't know that Irene is allowing you to sleep with them. She really wants to be a bad girl. To seduce someone else's boyfriend. Even if it's Irene. The thrill of finally getting what she wants rushes through her veins.

"No."

Yeri's face falls, when she hears your rejection. She expected you to kiss her, or to grab her by her throat and and tell her how bad she really is, or run to Irene and tell her about this. She didn't expect a cold rejection.

"But-"

Before she can finish her complaint, you grab her shoulders and turn her around. You push her onto the bed and Yeri hits the mattress she was sitting on just now. With her face buried in her sheets, you straddle her legs and place your hands on her ass.

"You're not a bad girl, Yeri."

Using your tie, you first put both her hands on her back, before tying her wrists together.

"You're just a pathetic brat."

You hear a muffled moan at your words. Seems like you hit a nerve.

"I will punish you. And then, I'm gonna make sure you won't act up again. Understood?"

Yeri slightly lifts her head to give you a nod. When you reach for the purple fabric, you lick your lips. Time to claim the last Red Velvet member. You can't believe you're actually getting to fuck all of them. With new found strength, you rip Yeri's dress off her body. Another moan into the sheets follows a surprised gasp.

You expose her ass by tearing the purple dress open further and bunching up the white one around her waist. Her white cheeks instinctively make you deliver a hard slap. You don't even take your time to properly admire her body.

Moan after moan leaves Yeri's mouth as you strike her again and again. Within a matter of minutes both her cheeks show a fiery red. Her moans start to turn into sobs.

"Do you want me to keep punishing you?"

You slowly place a hand on her right cheek, which makes her flinch, before you slowly let it travel inside the gap between her thighs.

"Or do you want me to use you?"

You don't give her another option. Yeri's doesn't deserve just sex. The way she acts makes it clear that the only way she is useful is by being used.

"D-Daddy,"

Her voice is still shaking a little. Especially when you let your fingertips graze her wet labia. Her breath hitches.

"P-Please use me. I promise I'll be a good toy."

You squint your eyes in suspicion. It seems like you managed to turn her around faster than you expected. Or she is just putting up an act.

"Turn around, little brat."

Your mocking tone makes Yeri listen and she quickly does what you tell her. She is now lying on her back and you can see her face now. A mixture of satisfaction and anticipation. As if this is what she expected, but she didn't think you would go this far? You don't really care at this point. You only care about that cute pussy underneath her purple dress. Since it's almost completely see through, you can already see it. And because you ripped open her dress earlier, you can now just push the useless fabric to the side, revealing her pink lips.

Usually, you would've leaned down and started to eat her out. And she does look delicious, no doubt about it. But you want to make a point. That you are the one who controls her and not the other way around.

You gather some of your saliva in your mouth, before you spit onto her pussy. Yeri gasps at your lewd, almost rude, actions and you push yourself inside of her.

Soon, she is a mewling mess. Her loud cries echo through the dorm, which Irene is probably able to hear. By now, you've basically folded her in half, her ankles to her ears and your face close to hers as you drive yourself into her depths again and again.

"D-Daddy! I-I-I'm-"

Your powerful thrusts and her incoming orgasm makes her tongue and mouth useless. Her brain can't comprehend what's going for a second, before the climax rushes through her. Her body shakes underneath you, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

You grab a fistful of her hair, once she is finished. You manage to stay inside of her as you lie down on the bed yourself and make Yeri straddle you.

"Alright, little brat. Ride me and make me cum. Or I will only punish you from now on. Without the sex."

Yeri's eyes grow wide with fear and a moment later, she starts bouncing on your cock. Her hands hold onto your chest, her eyes are closed as she takes as much of you as she can. She still feels to well dressed for your taste. You reach upwards and grab the purple fabric once more. Yeri watches with big eyes as you tear her dress open again, right above her chest. You only need to pull at the white one a little bit and suddenly, Yeri's tits bounce freely to the rhythm of her riding. You use both hands to play with her soft flesh, enjoying her slick pussy around your cock and her mounds in your hands. When you start to play with her nipples a little more, Yeri throws her head back in pleasure, letting out louder moans.

"You have some nice tits, little brat."

Girls like Yeri always pretend to be bad girls, but they usually love to get praised. You feel it working when Yeri picks up the pace. Pulling her upper body a little more towards you, you capture on of her nipples with your mouth. You greedily suck on both of them individually, switching at random intervals.

Yeri is a moaning mess on top of you. Her hands, which are still tied together, are pressing onto your chest for support as she loses herself in the world of pleasure. Just like you. Your hands have travelled from her tits to her sore ass cheeks. Your mouth still licking and biting her soft skin. You start to pull her onto your cock with more force.

"Fuck, you really are a bad girl."

You say between licks as you feel her pussy squeezing and massaging your cock.

Yeri moans louder and you give her a couple of more spanks, which make her shake.

But you stop after a couple, because your own orgasm overwhelms you. You hold her in place as you thrust upwards, cuming deep inside her cunt. Yeri moans and whines, feeling your cum fill her insides.

[endangeredrandomfanfics]

"A Song to Gather Witches"

Taglist- @skittlebum @circe143 @quailbagutte

Masterlist

Summary: You've got your powers Agatha found a way to make them useful for your cons scamming gig, this time you've witnessed her do it draining witches seeing her purple -Chapter IV

===============================

The saloon was dimly lit, filled with the smell of smoke and aged wood, the murmur of voices and clinking glasses creating a lively atmosphere. Amidst the crowd, the young reader sat on a small stage, their fingers hovering over a dusty piano as they glanced around, gauging the room. They could feel the quiet hum of their mother’s magic, woven into the air like a whisper, guiding them toward their purpose tonight.

Just before leaving that morning, Agatha had leaned in, her eyes sparkling with pride and a hint of mischief. “Remember, my love,” she’d murmured, brushing a stray hair from their forehead. “Tonight, we need the song to travel—so that the right ears might hear it.”

And so, here they were, under the warm glow of candlelight, ready to sing the melody they’d written together: Witches’ Road. They knew the song by heart, every note and word crafted to call out, inviting magic-seekers toward its ancient lure. The piano keys felt cool beneath their fingers as they began to play, the haunting melody weaving through the saloon.

As their voice joined the music, soft and sure, conversations began to quiet. Heads turned, listening as the words drifted through the room.

"There's a road that's wild and wicked, winding through the wood

Where all that's wrong is right and all that's bad is good

Through many miles of tricks and trials, we wander high and low

Tame your fears, a door appears, the time has come to go…"

Their voice was filled with a subtle magic, a lure that pulled at hearts and minds, drawing listeners into the mystery of the song. Eyes watched them with fascination, some captivated, others with an uneasy curiosity. As the song reached its chorus, a few women near the back exchanged glances, leaning in closer, their interest piqued.

"Down, down, down the road

Down the witches' road

Down, down, down the road

Down the witches' road

Down, down, down the road

Down the witches' road

Follow me, my friend

To glory and the end…"

When the final note lingered, fading into the air, there was a soft hush in the room, broken only by scattered murmurs. The women from the back made their way forward, curiosity gleaming in their eyes.

One of them, a tall woman with silver-streaked hair, gave the reader a long, assessing look. “That’s a peculiar tune for someone so young,” she said, her voice low but warm. “Where’d you learn a song like that?”

The reader met her gaze with innocent wonder, tilting their head as if the question surprised them. “It’s… something I came up with myself,” they said, keeping their tone light, humble, even a bit shy. “I’ve always been drawn to magic, to the mysteries and stories of witches. But it’s hard to learn when no one is willing to teach.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, and the others exchanged whispers. “You’re… self-taught?” another asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

They nodded. “But it’s not enough. I’ve been looking for someone who could show me the true path—a real mentor.” The reader’s voice took on a slight note of longing, one that Agatha had coached them to use, and they cast their gaze down, as though a little shy showing a subtle colored little spark from her hands.

The silver-haired woman’s expression softened as she looked at the reader, her curiosity turning to something else—a hint of sympathy, perhaps. She glanced at her companions before giving a slight nod. “Come with us,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “If you’re serious about seeking the path, I believe we may be able to help.”

The reader smiled, a small, grateful smile, and slid down from the piano bench. They followed the woman and her companions out of the saloon and into the quiet night, their pulse quickening as they thought of Agatha, waiting in the forest.

As they walked, the reader could feel the air changing, a faint vibration in the earth beneath their feet. Magic was gathering, old and powerful, drawn by the song and by the reader’s carefully spoken words. They kept their face calm, nodding along as the women spoke in low voices about the “Witches’ Road” and its history, speculating about how such a young soul could know a song like that.

After a while, they reached a clearing, surrounded by tall trees whose branches stretched up toward the star-filled sky. The witches turned to face the reader, their expressions serious.

“We don’t usually take to strangers, especially ones as young as you,” the silver-haired woman said, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “But something about you is… different. There’s a power in you that feels older than your years.”

The reader met her gaze, giving a small, earnest nod. “Thank you for trusting me. I promise, I’m ready to learn.”

Just as the woman was about to reply, a soft rustling sounded from the shadows, and the air grew thick with tension. One by one, the women turned, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. The shadows deepened, twisting and stretching as if alive, and from the darkness, Agatha emerged, her silhouette outlined against the moonlight, her eyes gleaming with a fierce intelligence.

The witches took a step back, their expressions shifting from curiosity to alarm.

“You’re… you’re her mother?” one of them whispered, looking at Agatha with dawning recognition.

Agatha smiled, a calm, knowing smile, and nodded. “Indeed. And you were kind enough to keep my little one company tonight.” Her voice was smooth, filled with a dark charm that held them in place, even as they sensed the danger.

The silver-haired woman’s expression hardened, realizing the trap too late. “This was a setup,” she hissed, her voice low with anger.

Agatha tilted her head, her gaze unyielding. “I never said it wasn’t.”

Without another word, she raised her hand, and a dark mist coiled around her fingers, crackling with a subtle, sinister power. The witches tried to resist, casting protective spells and trying to break free, but Agatha’s magic was stronger—each spell they cast was met with a swift, effortless counter. She moved gracefully, almost as though she were dancing, drawing power from them, siphoning their magic as they struggled.

The reader watched, both awed and unnerved. They knew what their mother was capable of, but witnessing her in action, surrounded by these powerful witches who had no chance against her, was something different entirely.

As the last of the coven fell to the ground, drained and silent, Agatha turned to them, her eyes softening as she approached. She brushed a strand of hair from their face, her expression filled with warmth and pride.

“You did perfectly, my love,” she murmured, her voice a gentle contrast to the fierce power they had just witnessed. “Just as I knew you would.”

They looked up at her, a small, relieved smile breaking through. “It worked,” they whispered, the weight of the night’s events settling over them. “They really believed I needed their help.”

Agatha smiled, pride shining in her eyes. “That’s because you have the heart of a true witch—clever, resourceful, and far stronger than most would ever guess. You’re learning fast.”

But even as her words brought comfort, a pang of guilt stirred in the reader’s heart. “Mama… I didn’t know it would feel like this.” They looked at the fallen witches, an uncertain shadow crossing their face. “What if they… what if they didn’t deserve it?”

Agatha knelt down, her expression softening as she took their hands in hers. “Listen to me, my love. Those who would harm us, or stand in the way of what we need, they give us no choice. This is the path we walk, and it’s a path not everyone can understand.”

The reader nodded, letting her words sink in, though the weight still lingered.

Seeing their unease, Agatha cupped their cheek, a tender smile playing on her lips. “You have a compassionate heart, my dear one, and that is a gift. But there are times we must be strong and unyielding to protect what’s ours.” She stroked their cheek. “Trust in your strength, and trust that you were right to call them to us. You did nothing wrong.”

With Agatha’s reassurances, the reader felt a calm settle over them, a reminder of their purpose and the bond they shared with her. They walked together back through the forest, the night quiet around them, the stars gleaming overhead. As they walked, Agatha began to hum the familiar melody, and the reader joined her, their voices mingling softly as they sang together.

"There's a road that's wild and wicked, winding through the wood..."

Their voices blended, filling the night air with the haunting, beautiful song, a mother and child bound by love, secrets, and a strength that would see them through any trial ahead.

===============================

A/n: Comment?,👀😩🖐🏻, I'm bored and lacking motivation for this

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Bat out of hell

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 5

Prompt: Winter Sports

Rated: M

Tags: Sports AU; Winter Olympics; Figure skating; Figure skater Eddie; Figure skater Nancy; Coach Steve; Past Stancy; Getting together; Sexual Tension; Making out; Angry kissing; Nudity; Fade to black sex

Notes: This bitch knows nothing about Olympic figure skating. Changing your song last minute probably isn't even allowed. Bear with me, suspend your disbelief. 😅

“Steve, you made it!” 

Nancy throws herself at him the second he sets foot into the athlete's area, getting purple glitter all over his training suit. It's enough to tell him she's nervous. Nancy hardly ever shows physical affection like this. It's one of the many reasons things didn't work out between them. 

“Sorry, the press conference went forever,” he says, patting her back and glancing over at the flashing cameras, making sure his hands stay in non-compromittal territory. 

The newspages have been exploding ever since the opening of the Winter Olympics, speculating about a love revival between them. Steve must admit it would make a good story. Nancy, set to finally win that figure skating gold she's had her sights on for eight years. Himself, three gold medals under his belt, returned to the coaching team after the injury that marked the end of his career. It's the stuff that goes down into Olympic lore. 

It's also never gonna happen. 

“I thought you'd be done already,” he frowns, casting a glance at his watch. Nancy shrugs. 

“We started half an hour late, some problems with the music. The men are just about done, there's only Eddie left.” 

She has hardly said it when the hall goes dark, bar for a single spotlight illuminating the center of the rink. Right in its middle is a figure, dressed in black from head to toe, dark curls pulled into a messy braid.

The music starts. 

The fans in the stands go wild. 

Steve's jaw drops. 

“Nonono, wait,” he squawks, surging forward and white-knuckling the banister while, out on the ice, Eddie flies into movement. “That's the stupid Bat from Hell song. Eddie? Eddie, stop it right now!” 

But it's too late. 

The song swells, guitars and basses filling the hall, and Eddie flies into his first jump, a black blur with bits of ice spraying all around him like a glittering cloud of diamonds. 

It's a once-in-a-lifetime performance, Steve can see as much even after the first few seconds. Eddie skates with an erratic energy and single-minded focus. Each of his movements is calculated and controlled, raw passion and force funneled into leaps and jumps and pirouettes. 

He's skating like the blades are an extension of his body. He's skating like he was born on the ice. 

He's skating to the exact song Steve told him not to skate to. 

“He's unbelievable,” Nancy mutters somewhere by his ear. “He's going to win gold for this, he has to.” 

“I know,” Steve groans. His eyebrow is twitching. “And he's never gonna shut up about it.”

*

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. By the time Eddie has accepted his gold medal, Steve is still seething. He doesn’t have any time to act on it though, because then it's time for Nancy to enter the rink and deliver another mind-blowing show. Between the award ceremony, the fans clamoring for autographs, and the press dragging him off for approximately twenty different interviews, he doesn't catch Eddie alone for hours. When he finally manages to tear himself away, staff tell him that Mr. Munson has already left for the hotel. 

*

Eddie’s smile goes wide and toothy as he opens the door to find Steve looming outside. He's fresh out of the shower, dressed only in a towel slung around his stupid, tiny waist. His hair is loose and wet, cascading around his face in dark, chaotic ringlets. There's still black glitter smudged in the corners of his eyes. 

“Big boy,” he cheers. “I've been waiting for you to show up! Two gold medals in your first year of coaching, you must be-” 

“Cut the crap,” Steve sneers. Eddie’s smile doesn't slip as he brackets him between his arms and the doorframe, but his towel does, a little. “I specifically told you not to use that song. The judges are a bunch of conservative assholes, it could've cost you everything.” 

“But it didn't,” Eddie shrugs. “You gotta learn how to relax, coach.” 

Steve growls. “Maybe I'd be more relaxed if you weren't trying to push every single one of my buttons all the damn time.” 

Eddie sways forward, lifting his chin defiantly, the same stubborn fire smoldering in those dark eyes that has been driving Steve insane for weeks.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to push your buttons so much if you'd stop being such a fucking coward and just admitted what you want.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Steve says, and surges in. 

It's not so much a kiss as a violent clash of lips - all of the pent-up nerves and adrenaline and rage of the past few weeks finally breaking themselves way. Eddie growls against Steve’s mouth, biting down on his bottom lip and grabbing the lapels of his jacket to bodily haul him into the room. Steve has just enough time to kick the door shut behind them before he's shoved into the nearest wall, Eddie’s arms around his shoulders, Eddie’s legs around his waist, Eddie’s tongue in his mouth. The towel hits the ground with a soft thud.

“You want me to shut up, Stevie?” Eddie purrs, nipping and sucking at his neck, grinning against his skin when he's rewarded with a gasp. “How about you make me?” 

“What?” Steve laughs around a hoarse moan, cupping Eddie’s ass so he can carry him over to the bed. “You actually doing what I tell you to? That would be a first.” 

“Well, aren't we both lucky?” Eddie says, pausing his kisses just long enough to let himself be lowered onto the bed, pulling Steve after him with greedy hands. “Looks like it's gonna be a night of triumphs for both of us.” 

More holiday drabbles

[chasedeys]

i've decided to lump all my shippy rpf au/non au thoughts together so. some nsfw btw, some non bengals, and like several ships you'd maybe have to brace yourselves for idk.

(also feel free to ask abt/share your thoughts on these or even other ships hehe maybe i'll get inspired! there's like 15 ships here goodness)

joemarr:

avatar au - airbender jamarr, firebender joe i knowwww some of you would think its the opposite but no i am finitely correct. the way jamarr would be bouncing around leaping around that man is an airbender!! not of the acolyte variety though ���� while the deadset focused single mindedness of joe is for sure giving firebender hiding his scalding inner feelings. highly talented jamarr running away from the air temple in a very its-not-a-phase-nobody-understands-me-esque way and joe never getting the due diligence over his abilities in the fire academy so post graduation he's training hard under some obscure master (coach o lol) and getting outrageously good at his bending from sheer petty stubbornness and need to prove himself. they team up for that avatar korra organized bending fight thing i can’t recall and kick ass. and make out etc etc.

time travel au - old and greying married joemarr heaved with fresh out of the oven just won a natty joemarr. jamarrs tearful face clutching his ball staring in shock at ja’marrs unimpressed face clutching a margarita bowl in the middle of his and joes fucking kitchen. baby joes on top of the kitchen island bc somebody high up fucked up the calculations. older joes in the back trying to water their honestly dying plants. comfortable in their skin older joemarr reminiscing their years together tangled on a love couch while ten feet apart in the L shaped couch baby joe and jamarr red in the face just would not look in each other's direction like at all. jamarrs still clutching his ball. they’re still wearing their gear. joe would not stop staring at their gigantic ass framed wedding photo on top of the fire place. the emotional rollercoaster of being faced with the reality of possibly not playing together again steamrolled by the slap of imagery of them being married. being in one team. being a team. being more than what they thought they were together. and that time travel is real joes nerdy ass quantum mechanics enjoyer would be pissing himself in excitement probably. some crazy 'im gay for my qb/wr?' dilemma.

joemarr endgame with jjmarr fuckbuddies fwb extraordinaire :) except jamarrs very obviously to everyone but joe in love with joe, but he’s a slut (affectionate) so him and justin fall into bed very easily. one morning joe randomly dropping by jjs apartment greeted by justin making coffee etc he’s sitting in the kitchen island and jamarr walks out of justins room in just boxers yawning scratching at his belly with marks all over his body very obviously having gotten laid (pressing his hands against his eyes so he doesn’t see joe he just smells coffee and asks aloud if he can suck justins dick as a treat this morning lmao). cue horrific faces all around! cue misunderstandings! angst! why would you two hide this from me me! feelings realizations! tee having to suffer through joes breakdowns!! justin being exasperated through it all as joe be his stupidly loyal self congratulates him for his and jamarrs thing before cutting the man off by saying he’s in love with his coach fuck of jb fr. joe avoids jamarr for a hot minute before suddenly getting pushier and handsier with jamarr and that somehow leads to a cinematic fight and subsequent Great Big Confession in the middle of nowhere in a field of orange and purple flowers and green grass and hiding peeking woodland creatures and rain falling down heavy on them when they’re yelling only for it to suddenly clear and a rainbow to shoot right above them when they kiss end scene. cut scene to them sitting on a couch knees touching very bravely telling an unimpressed tee how they got together as tee shits on them for getting the flu of all things.

others (bengals/bengals or /nonbengals):

23 rookies poly - suchhh interesting dynamic between them alllll. drunken night of celebration of their touchdowns calling each other little tiny baby leading to chase getting spitroasted. waking up horrifically sticky and spent the next morning but charlie just goes right for the kill and climbs on top of yoshi for round four. social admins favorite targets yoshi and charlie being scrutinized heavily by the admins the next day wondering if they should be on that days segment 😭✋ (they really shouldn’t)

tee/justin - that one vikings vs bengals game where justin points/pokes at tee saying that his insane tuddy was crazy. that he was crazy for that one (it was. he was. tees sooooo). help me. help meeeee. (justin jamarr competency kink do you feel me) I’m thinking sonnets and ballads here guys they just talked and complimented each other for 1 (one) minute but I’m hearing wedding bells. no but okay so they just casually like each others posts and reply emojis to each others stories and start dming cute shit like hey heard u like this guys music or hey whyd u make a face like that in this one ad lol or hbd bro keep grinding or joe and jamarr said this insane shit abt u is it true or hey u in la right lets link up etc etc finally having each others numbers and texting near 24/7. joe and jamarr get suspicious when justin knows exactly what they’re talking abt tee when they have their random catch up sessions with him before it clicks like hm. theyd be good for each other huh. justin erratic yet pin straight demeanor vs tees calming affectionate accepting nature huh. both their outrageous babygirlism. huh. the two promptly get down to business (setting them up) but like all their efforts are literally already done by those two. making and faking cancelling plans only to find out they carpooled together and were planning on spending the night together anyway etc etc.

joemartee oughhuhguhhuhhh secret established relationship joemarr being disgustingly in love but nobody knows they just think they’re like that or like oblivious and bets running around if they’re actually together/getting together/Very Good Friends etc while tees Going Through It falling for joe that one year first (on no he's a hot jock nerd) and getting close with his paramour the next year (oh no he's a hot semi-stereotypical jock) and they're both just oh so sweet and just genuinely going through the wringer with these insane feelings and joemarr oblivious asses oohing and aahing and blushing over tee higgins crying as i picture this i lvoe them your honor. it ends with them holding hands together in the middle of their home field on top of the tiger print b logo (which they all were in college. tigers that is. in college. where they faced each other for a natty. crazy).

tee/tb - both too pretty not to be obsessed with each other tbh. the angst aspect of ducking out of the bengals is there lol but what i want is tb pure class of dining and wining tee higgins like he deserves!! except he’s also a freak so tees constantly getting hit with random sensual touches and the dirtiest innuendos he’s ever heard of in his 20+ years of living.

joe/evan - the afc smoooocchhh being all that evan could think about 😭 joe being absolutely enamored by evans competency and confidence (that guys crazy he’s like looks like we're going to the afc championship or smtg i forgot but joes smile talking abt him is burned into my gyri) while on the other hand evans in his head thinking joes with jamarr and like am i really going to go for a man clearly in with his college bf only to be bamboozled by jamarr barging into his hotel room one night and yapping abt joes adoration for him and how all his 'why doesn't he like me' woes annoy the ever living shit out of him so he drags evan to joes room and locking them in together (how he does it nobody knows)

bayou trio poly - THSI SI SOOOO. there’s actually so many thoughts abt them but i cannot for the life of me even begin to word them out. joe being very obsessed with his receivers is like the entire precursor to this if I’m being honest because this man just would not shut up about jj and jamarr like that one interview about olympics flag football and his first thought is he’s playing with his guys shutttt your faceee. but just him relentlessly pursuing his guys and them fucking with him right back and with each other is so <33

trey/ja’marr - this bitch/bitch pairing has me by the throatttt trey being outright fucking wooing the shit out of jamarr but also unable to keep his smartass comments to himself and jamarr getting his feathers absolutely ruffled but the wooing he’s actually kind of oblivious to is working so well 😭 trey making an effort to be interested with jamarrs likes interests and hobbies, semi perfect gentleman because again he can’t help himself he has to be a smartass, one scene in my mind i can’t let go of is of trey dragging jamarrs plate of chilli he was handed off by someone unknowing for himself and giving his own plate filled with jamarrs favorites to him and that shit flusters jamarr bad but trey just has to make fun of him for his anti chilli agenda. he complains to tee and joe they each have to hold his hands very gently to tell him that that giant man is trying to wife you up and the world rearranges itself in jamarrs head so the next day he flirts disgustingly shamelessly outrageously with trey who’s flustered as all hell when jamarr actually just puts his entire hands all over his belly and waist. tee and joe 20 feet away from jamarr shamelessly feeling his man up with hands over their faces because oh my god jamarr be normal would you.

mims/erick - i don’t actually know them that well but their one instagram interaction, the fact they’re both rookies, and their beauty compels me so.

keon coleman/ja'marr i know this makes ZERO SENSE but let me tell you something x3 😭😭😭 the fact that jamarr stingy ass follows him on insta??? from like a single training (?) session??? this notoriously unwilling to just follow anyones ig followed keon from when is probably the first ever interaction they had together????? adorable. both from nola!! keon being such a sweet emotionally and intellectually intelligent sweetheart people on tiktok calling him dumb just from the way he talks (sincerely and honestly, yall nasty people wouldn't get it) get behind me 𝖎 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚. no do you get me jamarr getting lowkey obsessed with keons cute ass funny ass 6'4 ass goofy chill ass self and keon slightly starry eyed at jamarr guahagauahuh hear me outttttt (this is literally all i have in me to say sorry)

others (non bengals)

micah/cj - i keep getting these twos interviews and events together in tiktok its crazy micah says the most delusional shit and cj has to stop himself from cussing him out in disbelief its sooo funny. getting ‘casually fucking’ from vibes alone, the sexy way they debated on an imaginary cj offense vs micah defense play in micahs podcast (?) was also very compelling lol. like cj definitely fucked this man from annoyance of his bullshit but also of his brain and also bc he's hot okay.

cj/bryce - watching glimpses of their high school (?) lore and now the black magic shit going on….insane….the angst…..have they met up or talked at all this season. what would they say to each other. the tender angsty horny aspect of it all. haunts me i won’t lie.

bryce/andy - the panthers qb disasterland angst aside, bryce went after that old man like crazyyyy. the ethics of fucking a much younger man youre mentoring whos looking up to you for guidance and going through a very vulnerable moment in his life while you're also weighed down by a franchise calling for blood is so. soooo.

fred/brock - lowkey into the 49ers but their situation rn is. very dire. i wish them the best truly. heal quick and completely. but freds suchhh a gorgeous man and all his mic'ed up moments are adorable and brocks lore of being the absolute last pick and outperforming the other qbs drafted before him just stokes the fire in me and theyre just so. the slight curdle knowing youre the last pick the sudden responsibility shoved into your hands the star player backing you up relentlessly. learning each others ways during training camps and on the road trips gradually realizing theyve talked more about anything and everything that theyve ever talked to anyone before, brock freaking the fuck out while fred gets incredibly down with everything etc etc

koc/jj - constantly getting the vibes of ‘he fuckeddd that old mannn’ when i see gifs of those two with jj just being ��😘💞🎀💓🌸💖💝🩰🌷 aughguhgh outrageous levels of besotted he’s WORKING he’s GETTING HIS MAN he’s FLIRTING hes using EVERY weapon in his disposal (competency, beauty, babygirlism, etc) you have to respect that shit. stupid fic idea that won’t leave my head is of them getting into a scandal caught by paparazzi romantic ass dinner holding hands and ending the night clubbing close but they really aren’t anything at that time but ahaha you get where I’m going with this right FAKE DATING!!! except this isn’t really feasible bc lets be real a coach dating his player = fired. period. or the player traded to a different team which. WHICH. but theyre both like invaluable to the vikings so they just go ok fake dating have at it (that makes zero sense but whatever). anyway super fun idea can’t lie justin upping his cutesy lovey schtick and koc quietly dying from it. joe legit reaches out like 'ur not being coerced or anything right' while jamarrs like 'get that silver dickkkk' (hes like 39 but whatever) etc etc.

stosh - i can’t say it. i just can’t 😭😭 the point is stef is definitely vicious as all hell and josh is rightfully protecting himself and post week 5 game they fucked one last time racing against time before joshs flight back to ny and there were tears bitten back words and just like a final goodbye for both of them. for good. forever. or is it. (it is.) (they still think of the other.) (josh sees the ghost of him in every corner of his stadium. in every stool in his kitchen. in every tightened smile around him when he says he's practicing throwing to a receiver.) (stef feels the ghost of his touch every time he throws a ball perfectly to a fan in the stands. when cj tells him to snap his wrist correctly when he jokingly plays the quarterback. thinking of faking not being able to throw just to feel his touch in a crowd of people.) also stef saw that is it in ad meme and has a visceral reaction he barely stops himself from tweeting heinous shit about joshs dick game

okay so brace yourselves:

lamar/ja’marr - LMAOOOO don’t come for me but jamarrs competency kink. the shit he said about playing lamar in madden. lamar being witness to the sexy as all hell 82 yard td and 70 yard td annoyance against his team and being driven to do SOMETHING about it. guys see my vision. see beyond team sports for a minute and seeee myyy visionnnn. but yeah that’s the thing that compels me abt them lol

pat/ja’marr - HEAR ME OUTTTTTT the sheer distaste jamarr has against the chiefs is sooo ???? them randomly meeting each other one day and ja’marr instantly has his hackles up -> pat responding right at jamarrs vibes and annoying ass heckling the shit out of jamarr (his intentions were playful. jamarr does not see it that way) -> ja’marr fight mode activated -> straight up making out and fucking dirty in the backrooms -> never speaking of it again. the narratives!! that’s basically it

joe/pat - lowkey compelling 😔🤚 just imagining absolutely disgustedly affronted ja'marr in the back as joe and pat do a shy blushy demure 4 feet for jesus between them vanilla ass flirting light hearted 'haha i beat you' jabs 'good game bro pal buddy' dance is so 😭😭😭 jamarr spritzing water at pat pushing joe away behind him 'really. right in front of my salad. get the fuck away i swear.' joe trying to advocate for his feelings while jamarr shoots them down saying thats the most toxic shit hes ever heard (its not even remotely toxic hes just saying shit) somehow getting roped to helping set them up and he burns (slight insane thoughts of him and pacheco working together and then ehehe etc bc of that one time pacheco gassed up the crowd to the background of jamarr Going Through It and like. pachecos fucking gorgeous yall look at him. pacheco needling at jamarr like ‘u in love w joe or smtg’ asking semi seriously bc jamarrs like super funny and cute and absolutely incapable of being chill about his team wow and jamarrs dying everybody quit asking if hes in love with his qb he swears esp this gorgeous ass annoying prick)

joemarrpat. no i will not elaborate. (dirty hate fucking. jamarr right in the middle btw shut upppppp)

ok bye

[merceyca]

Hold Tight

Andrew and Neil accidentally crash Abby and Wymack’s carnival date.

The fairground was rife with people and noise. Andrew had warned Neil that this would be the case, but the screaming, the music, the crowds; it all had Neil wondering what the appeal of a day at the fair could possibly be.

The day itself was drawing to a close, the sky turning a deep orange and fading to purple at the edges. Andrew had flown in that afternoon, and when Neil picked him up from the airport he happened upon the flyer for the Palmetto State fair.

Although, after spending ten minutes there, Neil came to the conclusion that they should have just had an easy night at home. Murder, She Wrote reruns were a better alternative to this.

Andrew caught him by the shoulders, yanking him out of both his thoughts and the warpath of an ice-cream-wielding toddler. Neil checked himself for stains, but he remained unscathed.

‘Thanks.’

‘Those jeans are designer,’ Andrew informed him.

Neil shook his head, smiling. He opened his mouth to respond when a familiar voice called, ‘Neil! Andrew!’

They both whirled to see Abby hauling Wymack over by the hand. She was beaming, her hair free from its customary ponytail and whipping around in the breeze. Wymack appeared to be reevaluating his life choices.

Neil met Andrew’s amused look with an identical one of his own, allowing Abby to catch him in a hug when they met them halfway.

‘I didn’t know the two of you were coming here tonight,’ she said fondly.

‘The warning would have been nice,’ Wymack added, less so.

Neil fought the childish urge to stick his tongue out at him. Living in the dorms with just Robin was beginning to have an effect on him.

‘We didn’t intend to crash your date,’ Andrew said, sending a meaningful look down at Abby and Wymack’s joined hands.

‘And what noble reason do you shits have for being here?’ Wymack returned.

‘Candy floss hunting,’ Andrew said at the same time Neil said, ‘Breaking in my jeans.’

‘They’re designer, you know,’ Neil continued when Wymack cast his eyes heavenward.

Abby laughed at their antics. ‘Have you tried any of the rides yet?’

‘Er, no.’ Neil tried to think of how best to skirt around the topic of Andrew’s acrophobia, but Andrew beat him to it.

‘I sustained a head injury in last week’s game,’ Andrew lied. ‘No roller coasters for me. So sad.’

Abby frowned. ‘A head injury? In which quarter? We watched the whole game.’

‘You must have blinked,’ said Andrew. ‘I’m going to line up for food if you want to take him on something puke-inducing before we eat. Coach?’

Wymack sighed but seemed to accept that his date had been crashed. ‘Yeah, take the kid on that death trap you pointed out earlier.’

‘The one you said would put your heart to the test?’ Abby asked.

Wymack huffed. ‘We’ll meet you by the tables.’

‘Are you sure?’ Neil asked Abby. ‘If you don’t want to—’

He trailed off when he saw that Abby’s green eyes were alight with excitement. She clutched his arm. ‘Come on, Josten. Don’t chicken out on me now.’

Neil couldn’t help but laugh as she dragged him across the fairground. The years between nurse and striker fell away, and suddenly they were both kids, nervously boarding a ride called The Crazy Coaster that allegedly spun as it sped over the tracks.

Abby’s joyful squeals accompanied the swoop in Neil’s gut at every drop, making him laugh harder. They took the first two dips facing forwards, but the biggest one was coming, and their carriage was turning.

‘Oh, god. Oh, god,’ Abby gasped, her hand fumbling for Neil’s. ‘Neil, we’re backwards.’

Neil managed a hysterical, ‘What do you want me to do about it?’

Abby finally caught his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. Neil held tight to the woman who had patched him up so many times he’d lost count, who kissed his forehead and cheered him on at every game, who brought him on this stupid ride and showed him that surrendering your control to wheels and cogs and gravity could actually be fun.

The two of them shared a pair of frenzied grins as Abby said, ‘Here we go,’ and then they were falling.

[willowsnook]

Can I get scotch and sprite in a flute 🧍🏼‍♀️

josh allen x gf!reader

just shut up and come here

-----------------------------------------------

"Fucking hell," you muttered, eyes wide as you watched your boyfriend once again refuse to slide and get rocked by a massive linebacker.

"He'll be feeling that tomorrow," one of the other WAGs said next to you.

"Probably tonight," you agreed. "Good luck to me."

Waiting outside the locker game after the game you scrolled through your phone. The video of Josh was making its rounds on Twitter and you shook your head.

"Baby," Josh whined coming up in front of you. "Don't watch that."

"How ya feeling big boy," you greeted him and he winced as he started to pull you to the exit. "Just slow down baby, take it easy."

You could tell that the right side of his leg was going to be black and purple tomorrow and your heart clenched for him.

When you got back to your shared apartment you drew a hot bath for him, letting him relax while you made dinner. A little while later you felt his arms wrap around your waist as he rested his chin on your head.

"Smells good," he mumbled and you hummed in response. After plating it you sat down at the dining room and dug in. Josh talked through the game with you and you listened, offering input when he asked.

When you guys were done eating you cleaned up while Josh got a movie ready in the living room. He laid back carefully on the couch, eyes watching you as he waited. You finished up and came over, stopping before you got to the couch.

"Guess who I am," you said juking an invisible defender and fake sliding before pulling your leg up in mock pain.

"Just shut up and come here," he grumbled while you giggled.

"Okay Mr. Hero Ball," you said saluting and he gave you the finger.

Laughing at his grumpy reaction, you climbed onto the couch next to him, settling in carefully so you didn’t bump his sore leg. As soon as you were close, Josh pulled you into his arms, tucking you into his chest. His grip was firm but gentle, and despite the tough hits he took during the game, you could feel how much he still craved being near you.

“Better?” you teased, resting your head against him.

“Much,” he mumbled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You always make it better.”

You smiled at that, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek. “You know,” you began, tracing small circles on his chest. “You’d probably feel even better if you thought about sliding every once in a while”

Josh groaned dramatically, but there was a smile in his voice. “Not you too. Coach already gave me an earful.”

“Well, I’m just saying. Maybe save the heroics for the fourth quarter, not the second.” You grinned, lifting your head to look at him. “I like my quarterback in one piece.”

He chuckled softly, his hand gently rubbing your back. “I’ll try, for you. But no promises.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, rolling your eyes playfully before leaning in to press a kiss to his jawline. “Just stop scaring me out there, alright?”

Josh’s smile softened as he cupped your cheek, pulling you in for a gentle kiss. “I’ll try,” he repeated, his voice low. “But at least you’ll be here after every game, right?”

“Always,” you whispered, nuzzling against him.

With that, he pulled you even closer, wrapping you up in his warmth as the movie played in the background.

[doumadono]

Hii I saw that you do emergency fics, and they're very awesome, so is it okay if I send one too? It's been quite stressful with senior year of high school, entrance coaching and the pressure from myself and my family, and the stress gets so bad to the point of migraines (which I always complain about) so I wanted to request a Bakugou comfort fic for the stress?

Sparks of solace - Bakugo x Reader

A/N: I'm really sorry to hear that you're under so much pressure right now. It sounds incredibly tough, but remember, it’s okay to take a moment for yourself when things get overwhelming. You're doing an amazing job juggling everything. Hang in there, and be sure to care for yourself too. You've got this!

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

The final bell at U.A. High School didn't so much signal the end of the day as it did the start of another battle for you.

As the other students streamed out the door, eager to shed the weight of their responsibilities, you remained seated, your head cradled in your arms against the cool surface of the desk. The familiar ache of a migraine pulsed behind your eyes, exacerbated by the relentless pressure of senior year, entrance exams, and the towering expectations from both yourself and your family.

The classroom door banged open with a force that only one person in the school could muster.

Heavy footsteps echoed across the room, coming to a halt beside you. “Still here? You planning to move in or what?” The voice was unmistakably Bakugo Katsuki's — abrasive, impatient, and impossible to ignore.

You lifted your head just enough to give him a weary look. “Just trying to make it through the day, Bakugo.”

“Tch, you’re letting that crap knock you down? Seriously?” Bakugo scoffed as he dragged a chair beside you, the metal legs screeching against the floor. His approach was neither gentle nor tiptoeing around sensitivities. “You’re tougher than this, aren’t you? Migraines again?”

“Yeah, and everything else. It’s all too much sometimes,” you admitted, hoping he’d tire of your company and leave you to wallow in your misery.

Instead, Bakugo huffed, his brow furrowing. “That’s because you’re letting it pile up until it crushes you. You’re stronger than this crap, you know.”

His attempt at encouragement was as subtle as a sledgehammer, yet it held an undertone of genuine concern. Bakugo wasn’t known for his soft side, but his presence, strangely, was somewhat comforting. His attempt at motivation might have been wrapped in layers of impatience, but Bakugo had chosen to stay, a fact that carried its own form of comfort.

“So, genius, got any better ideas?” you challenged, your voice tinged with both sarcasm and a hint of curiosity.

“Obviously.” He stood abruptly, grabbing your arm to pull you to your feet. “Get up. We’re going out.”

“Out? Out where?” You stumbled slightly, caught off guard by his sudden decisiveness.

“Somewhere that isn’t here, dumbass. You need a break, and I’m not watching you turn into a complete wreck. We're going out to get some damn fresh air. And ice cream. It helps, believe it or not,” Katsuki declared, leading the way with a certainty that left no room for argument.

The streets of the city buzzed with life around you, a stark contrast to the stillness of the classroom.

Bakugo’s confident stride was uncompromising as he led you to a small, local ice cream shop. The choice was yours, and you opted for something simple, while he chose a fiery flavor with spicy chocolate chips.

“Sit,” Bakugo commanded, pointing to a bench. He plopped down beside you, arms crossed, watching the sunset with a grunt. “Look, I get it. It’s tough. But you’re not doing yourself any favors by pushing too hard. Learn to recognize when you’re at your limit. Being strong isn’t just about pushing through the crap. It’s knowing when to take a damn break so you can fight another day. That’s what real strength is.”

Your eyes drifted from his face to the horizon, where the sky was painted in strokes of orange and purple. “I didn’t expect to hear a pep talk from you, of all people.”

“Tch, it’s not a pep talk. It’s common sense,” he muttered, though the harshness in his voice had lessened. “I deal with the same crap. But I figured out that sometimes you just need to explode a little less… and breathe a little more. I’m just making sure you don’t fall apart. Someone has to.”

You chuckled softly, the tension easing from your shoulders. “Explode a little less, huh? I’ll try to keep that in mind, boss.”

Bakugo’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Yeah, well… just don’t forget it. And if you need to — whatever, just come find me or something. I’m not gonna let you crash and burn over something stupid like stress.”

The simplicity of his declaration, the gruff concern laced through his words, struck a chord within you. Here was Bakugo Katsuki, known for his fiery temper and relentless ambition, offering a lifeline.

“Thanks, Kats. I mean it,” you said, turning to meet his gaze.

He shrugged, his eyes softening just a little as he looked away. “Whatever. Just don’t make me regret this.”

[silver-velvet-860]

From left to right:

Top row: Dançando, Sucker P1-P2

Bottom row: Talk, Djadja, Kan’Dake (MA ITŪ), Je sais pas danser

Had to wait for a new shipment of beads to get started on these ones, since I ran out of black, which is the color I use the most. I really wanted to make a bunch of JD2020 coaches this time around, since compared to the other games, I haven’t really made a lot of its coaches!

Standout: Kan’Dake, who I’ve had on my list for a while. I thought for sure someone would’ve requested her by now. I do like how she turned out.

Difficulty rating: 5/10. I thought it would be harder. Color matching rears its ugly head once again—I wish I had better golds and purples.

Current coach total: 621

[fictitiouswanderings]

Grinder, What A Place

Viktor hasn’t gotten laid in a while, so to quell the stoking fire in his gut he goes to Grindr to find someone suitable to his fulfill his needs.

It was a lazy saturday afternoon when Viktor opened up his phone, he usually ignored it but today he was on a mission. Get laid.

He scrolled a little on twitter, and checked his email before he opened up his apps on his phone and scrolled down.

Grindr. The one place you could find a quick lay.

Its almost immediately as he opens the app that he gets a message and he rolls his eyes, its an add thankfully and not someone sending a dick pic. Though it isnt long that those start popping up as well.

He continues to scroll through his immediate options, looking at the various profiles when one catches his eye.

The man in the photo is chinseled, looking sweaty in some gym shorts with a towel around his shoulders, his line of his dick clearly visible in those delecatable shorts.

His profile says:

Jayce, 26, exercise coach. Looking for a good time? Let me show you one ;9

Viktor finds his mouth salivating a little and he opens up the chat to find a message has been sent already.

“Hey cutie” it says

Viktor is taken aback a little but responds nontheless.

“Hey handsome, looking to take someone for a ride?”

A little bubble appears as Jayce begins typing back and Viktors heart feels like its racing. He looks through Jayce’s other photos, each one of them he’s shirtless and glistening with sweat and Viktor begins to wonder what it tastes like.

“Your place or mine?” The bubble finally pops up and Viktor types back “mine”.

He sends his address to this perfect stranger and gets an eta of 30 mins before he’ll be over. His heart races and he begins furiously cleaning up his messy room throwing dirty clothes in the hamper and straightening his desk. He even makes his bed out of sheer nervousness. It has been a while since he last slept with anyone or anyone had been over in general. He mostly kept to himself and used his own hands when needed.

30 minutes pass quickly and Viktor decided to change into something a little more luxurious, a purple velvet nighty lined with gold lace. A knock comes to his door and he quickly gets up and limps over with his cane, he peeks out the peephole before opening it, making sure its who hes expecting.

Jayce stands waiting as his door creaks open. He has flowers in his hands and waits to be invited in.

“V?” He asks.

Viktor nods, “Jayce i presume?” And Jayce nods in return, thrusting out the flowers for him.

Viktor takes them with surprise and leads them into his apartment.

“You look wonderful” Jayce says complimenting Viktor and Viktor cant help but flush a little bit. He puts the flowers in a container and fills it with water.

“Thank you for the flowers, do you do this for every guy you fuck?”

“No, just the cute ones” Jayce grins and winks at him.

Viktor rolls his eyes a little but smiles nonetheless.

“Well do we want to get on with it or..” Viktor asks

“What are your pronouns?” Jayce interrupts and Viktor’s eyebrow shoots up in question. “ he,him, but i was born afab”

Jayce nods a little, “and how do you refer to..” his eyes trail down Viktors figure, undressing him.

“My pussy?” Viktor questions.

“Yeah” Jayce responds.

“Pussy, Vagina, Clit or Cock” Viktor suddenly says feeling a little relieved the other even asked. He wasnt used to this, he was used to a quick to the point fuck.

“Can I eat your pussy?” Jayce suddenly asks and Viktor feels his loins throb, he’s leaning against the kitchen counter and Jayce drops to his knees infront of him. Jayce looks up at him through thick eyelashes, as if pleading with him to take off his underwear, his hands at either side of them.

“You may take them off” Viktor says and Jayce is slowly pulling down the thong that accompanied his nightgown.

Jayce wastes no time pressing his face up against Viktors wet sex, burying his nose in his pubes and licking at his clit.

“haahhhh~” Viktor whines, he brings a hand up to his mouth to quiet himself and Jayce looks up at him pausing his ministrations.

“I want to hear you” he says before making his way back down, sucking at his clit.

Viktor doesnt really have neighbors to speak of so he removes his hand from his mouth and lets his moans be heard.

Jayce is an expert with his mouth, and the noises that both come from Viktor’s body and his mouth are wonderfully welcomed to Jayce, his dick throbbing in his shorts.

He continues to eat Viktor out until he shakes on his tongue, Viktor’s hands finding purchase in his hair, tugging gently.

“G-gonna make me c-cum” Viktor whines out and Jayce sucks all the more eagarly. He pulls harder at Jayce’s hair and rides his face feeling the much needed release wash over him. Jayce continues until Viktor pulls him away, too sensitive to continue. His knees buckle a little and Jayce quickly catches him, steadying him.

Viktor looks down at Jayce and the mess on his face and cant help but smile a little stupidly, still a little dazed from his orgasm.

Jayce smiles back up at him and wipes his face, licking his fingers. Viktor flushes a little.

“Arent you a dirty dog”

Jayce just grins, his dick twitching with interest.

He starts to kiss at the moles at Viktor’s thighs.

“Why dont we move this to the bedroom?” Viktor asks and Jayce stands up to follow him. Viktor takes him by the hand and leads him back to his bed, gently laying down on it and beckoning Jayce over.

Jayce englufs all of Viktor as he lays over him, he kisses at his neck and slots a leg between his thighs. His bulge grinds up against Viktor’s leg and he shudders.

“We can get right to it you know” Viktor says but Jayce ignores him, kissing down his neck instead and down to his blouse.

Viktor cant help how wet hes getting, between Jayce already getting him off and his kissing, he squirms under him. Jayce grinds against him and Viktor lets out a little whimper.

Jayce slowly moves the straps of his blouse down and pulls the whole thing down. He stares at Viktors top surgery scars before he rubs his fingers against them before moving up and tweaking his nipples.

Viktor cries out and arches his back.

“I want to make you feel good” Jayce says before taking a perky nipple into his mouth.

“I-i want you to fuck my pussy” Viktor says, his legs shaking a little again.

Jayce nips at his nipple again a little before pulling away. He moves off the bed to pull his shirt and shorts off and Viktor cant help his eyes watch Jayce’s dick bounce once released from the fabric. Jayce grins a little, eating up the attention. He crawls back to Viktor on the bed and grabs his legs carefully pulling them up. He leans down to kiss him and slowly starts pushing in at the same time.

Viktor moans against his lips, he wasn’t expecting the other to be so thick and yet his pussy was eating him up completely. Jayce stopped once he was fully engulfed by him and waits a moment before he begins to move. At first hes slow, but he picks the pace up until hes feverishly pounding Viktor into the bedsheets.

Viktor is a whining moaning mess but when Jayce’s thick dick pounds against his cervix he keens. He can’t help himself. Jayce is thrusting roughly into him and Viktor grabs at the sheets beneath them.

“I wanna fuck you full of my cum” Jayce says through a soft growl and Viktor cant help himself.

“Cum in me Jayce!” He nearly screams, his own orgasm coiling in on him for the second time that night.

Jayce thrusts hard against Viktor’s cervix again and stops as he lets out a low groan and cums, filling the other deliciously.

“Fuck your pussy is so tight” Jayce groans. “It feels so good” he begins to rock back and forth a little, his semi-soft dick getting a little hard again. Viktor is surprised to feel him getting hard again in him but welcomes it, most of his previous partners could only go one round before tiring or worrying that hed tire, but Viktor was feeling a bit insatiable.

“How are you feeling, i can stop if you want”

“No-please dont” is all Viktor can get out before Jayce is positioning him on his side, holding his good leg up and fucking into him again.

Jayce puts all of himself into fucking Viktor and by the time they reach orgasm together they are covered in sweat. Jayce lays next to him, not bothering to pull out and just holds him as they catch their breath. Viktor reaches down to his stomach and presses a palm down and Jayce groans a little. Viktor cant help but chuckle a little.

Slowly Jayce pulls out of him and gets up.

“Where do you keep washcloths?”

“By the bathroom, theres a small closet” he points and Jayce makes his way over, grabbing a couple washcloths and wetting them before returning and handing one over to Viktor. He cleans himself up before he pulls his boxers and shorts back on.

“Are you a cuddler?” Jayce asks as Viktor cleans himself up.

“Not normally…” Viktor responds “but ill take some from you” he says and Jayce is back in the bed pulling him close. Viktor lays his head on Jayce’s chest and listens to his heart thrum. His skin is so warm and he cant help but cuddle a bit closer.

“If you want i can give you my number” Jayce says into his hair, “id like to see you again”

Viktor quickly grabs his phone from the side table and Jayce lets out a soft laugh. He takes it from Viktor and dials his number, hanging up and saving it into his contacts. Viktor sets his phone back on the side table and sighs a little moving back into Jayce’s arms.

After a while Jayce eventually gets up and grabs his shirt, pulling it back on. “Well i should probably get out of here” he says and Viktor nods. Jayce sees himself out and Viktor eventually gets up and locks the door.

He lets himself slump against the door, holding his phone when he gets a text.

“C u l8r cutie”

[tartrat]

Unnamed Coaches' Name Headcanons!

Random unnamed coaches and the names I’ve given them. I decided it would be funny if i gave each quotes and quests. I also just gave them all the classic rarity because it would've looked weird without. theres 9 maps and 10 coaches.

1. Freed From Desire: Garnet. I mentioned this in my other drawing of her. I just felt like her being named after a gemstone was fitting, like she just has that air to her. The gemstone itself is believed to bring emotional balance and self confidence, which i think fits with the map.

2. All The Stars: Vega. A while ago I was thinking about avatars for other coaches and I remembered her. Vega is one of the brightest stars in the night sky. maybe she comes from a long line of coaches who use the stars, so she was named after one of the brightest. Side note but i accidentally gave her robes the beta colours, they should be like a purple instead of red.

3 & 4. Love Story: Just straight up Romeo and Juliet. I thought about giving them names that are similar to Romeo and Juliet, but realistically that's what they would be named. I just wanted to draw both of them since Love story is one of my favourite 2022 maps.

5. Blinding Lights extreme: Jayyce Sway but friends and family call him Jayy. I can’t get the idea of him being Talia Sway’s father and him settling down in Wasterra out of my head, plus "Sway" as a last name just sounds futuristic to me. Jayyce is just a corruption of "Jace" that i thought would look futuristic with two ys. I just think he's cool and would be a great father. (you can't really see it but he is smiling here)

6. Giddy On Up: Belle. Another map i miss, its just really fun trying to do those high kicks. Other names i was thinking for her were Andrea and Laura ( after Laura Bell Bundy), but neither sounded country enough for her. Then i thought Annabelle, which i then shortened down to Belle.

7. Follow the White Rabbit: Allison. I didn't want to just straight up call her Alice, unlike how i just gave the love story coaches Romeo and Juliet. Originally i was thinking of spelling it as Alicyn but then went against that. But also it sounds like "Alice In" as in "Alice in Wonderland". Also i know that its the rabbit who says "I'm late!" twice but the quote i was originally giving her didn't really make sense. I rushed this one because intitialy she was in the same pose as one of the gold moves from FTWR but it looked too weird and i wanted to move on. She looks shocked here, i don't want to think about this drawing anymore.

8. John Cena: Jeanne Cena. this is just like the John Wayne coach all over again. You’d pronounce Jeanne like John. It was the obvious choice, and I also just wanted an excuse to draw her. Doubt you'll need her name if you can't even see her in the first place. One of my favourite maps, its just so good.

9. Levitating Extreme: Aster. I was thinking along the lines of Astro for some reason, then the name Aster kept popping up in my head. Turns out Aster means "star" and is also a type of purple flower that is star shaped. Given the space imagery from his background it makes sense.Definitely the type to not tell you his name because he sees no point because he thinks he's disposable (as if Si'ha Nova ever gets attacked).

10. Buscando Extreme: Jacques. I don't know why but he looks french to me, then the name just stuck because i couldn't think of anything else. One of my favourite extremes, at some point in early 2021 i somehow knew most of it off by heart. also i like to think of him as the father of the coach from the classic version. At some point all the male 2021 extremes i'm just going to headcanon as the father of another coach.

-

So this is what i've been working on. I mentioned the love story, Giddy on up and Blinding lights extreme coaches in previous posts because i was doing this lol.

i did it in the order of JC - BLE - FFD - LE - ATS - FTWR - GOU -BE - LSTV. By the point i got to Buscando extreme i was getting tired of doing this so he along side the love story coaches look fucked up. Given that it was my first time drawing some of them, i didn't really think that they'd look good, since i'm not used to drawing them. But it was good to draw coaches that i haven't drawn before, and draw the ones i have already drawn, again.

I have other things i want to draw next, there's a map concept in my drafts that i want to actually draw so that will probably be my next fanart post.

[take-taker-taken]

hi hi!! could you do a femreader x ministry taker forbidden romance type thing? something like our kingdoms are rivals/taker is rivals with our father, but we ended up falling for taker and find ways to meet with him. would be awesome if you could include smut! thank you 💓

Hellooooooo, lovely Anon! I’ve dipped in and out of this one ever since you sent it to me, as I don’t think I can do it as a one shot, so here is Chapter One. I have no idea what to call it as a title overall - if anyone has any thoughts on that, please feel free to drop them into the comments.

Awaiting Title

Chapter One - An Unexpected Visitor

You stare out of your bedroom window at the approaching carriage, pulled by a team of four majestic black horses, complete with purple bridles and deep, plum coloured plumes. The coachman pulls the horses to a prancing, neighing halt and you draw back away from the glass as a giant of a man emerges from the vehicle.

He pauses and looks up at the house, a severe expression on his face and you gasp and freeze when he’s suddenly looking right at you. His countenance seems to soften and you could swear you saw the corner of his mouth pull up into the tiniest hint of a smile. You’re completely bewitched as your eyes lock with his, but the spell is broken when he looks away and then you hear a loud knocking at the front door.

There’s a short silence and then some scuffling that you can make out even through your closed door and feeling slightly panicked you rush to open it, only to be faced with your elder brother.

“Get back inside,” he hisses urgently. “This doesn’t concern you!”

“What’s happening?” You ask, matching the whispered pitch of his voice. “Who is that man? What does he want?”

“I told you, it’s none of your concern - now stay there and keep quiet!” With that he pulls the door closed and must be holding it shut because you’re unable to shift it an inch. About ten minutes later you hear the front door bang closed and so you rush back to the window to see the giant striding back to the open door of his carriage. Your nose is all but pressed against the glass when he turns around and looks back up at you. He pauses and then turns around fully and then… he points at you. He’s mouthing some words that you can’t make out but you find yourself nodding and then he turns away, climbs into the carriage and the coach is leaving up the drive in a cloud of dust.

Who was he?

~*~*~*~*~*~

It’s raining… you can hear it against your window when it pulls you from sleep. You lay there with your eyes closed, listening, and then gradually come to realise that the sound isn’t regular. Intrigued, you slip silently from your bed and cross over to the window where you draw back the curtain just as the noise comes again. The crumbs of soil from the flowerbed below bounce off the glass and then you see him stood on the driveway. The gaslight on its tall pole behind him sets him into shadow but there’s no doubt that it’s the man who visited earlier in the day. Your eyes have grown accustomed to the dark now and you can make out some of his features but you don’t have time to contemplate as he raises a hand and beckons to you with a single finger.

You turn away and almost without thinking take your robe from the back of the door and then very quietly turn the handle and step out on to the landing. Taking great pains to make as little noise as possible, you make your way down the staircase and then you’re carefully drawing back the bolts on the heavy front door and turning the key. You pull the door open and peek around it as clearly there’s still a shred of sanity within you. He doesn’t advance and so you leave the safety of the house and walk towards him. You stop about six feet away and take in the sight before you. Your brain hadn’t exaggerated earlier - he really is a giant and if you stood next to him you doubt you would come up to his shoulder.

“I had to see you again.” He says, his voice a deep rumble. “When I noticed you at the window earlier today I was captivated - it nearly made me turn away from my business with your father.”

He’s dressed all in black with a heavy cloak around his shoulders, and he has long hair that is pulled back into a neat braid. The thought flits through your brain that it’s dreadfully odd for a man to have long hair… then you realise what he’s said and so you reply, “What is your business with my father?”

The man gives you an inscrutable look and then says, “He has some land that I would like to purchase but at the moment he’s… not very receptive to the idea.”

You pull your robe around you as a breeze whispers through and flutters the leaves on the trees and bushes.

“Forgive me - I know the way I’ve gone about this is far from ideal.” He says and removes his cloak with a small flourish. He takes a couple of steps that bring him startlingly close and swoops the heavy wool around your shoulders whereupon it trails on the ground.

“I’m sure if you approached my father, he would permit a more traditional meeting.” You volunteer as you smile up at him, but he shrugs with one huge shoulder.

“I fear not - our interaction was not particularly amicable. But I simply had to see you up close.”

“Where’s your carriage, sir? Or did you make your way here on foot?” As you stare at his chest, you’re dimly aware that all this small talk is quite ridiculous given the situation but what else can you say?

The corner of his mouth twitches in a tiny smile and he half-gestures behind him. “I left it out towards the road; nobody will happen upon it.”

You breathe in the scent of incense that hangs around the fabric of the cloak he’s wrapped you in. “What happens now?”

He reaches out and gently touches your hair and you feel as though you’re under a spell. Stood here in the cool night air in your nightclothes, with a stranger, wearing his cloak. Everything about it is wrong and yet you feel so at peace.

“I will return in two days, at noon; that’s the deadline that I gave to your father. Will you meet me at the road at half past eleven?”

You’re nodding ‘yes’ even as you frown and say, “Why have you given him a deadline?”

He doesn’t answer, but takes your hand and raises it to his lips, kissing it softly and you’re sure you can feel the skin tingling where his mouth touches. He gently turns you back around and ushers you towards the still ajar door, slipping his cloak from your shoulders. “Today is Tuesday. Come meet me at the road on Thursday and we can talk before I visit with your father.”

You move through the door and then quickly turn back, but he’s already striding away from the house and you know that you can’t call out. You quietly push the door closed and lock it up again before creeping back up the stairs to your room. You go straight to the window in case you can catch a glimpse of him but the darkness reigns and you can’t make out much at all. Still slightly chilled from the outdoors, you climb back into bed still with your robe on and turn on to your side. You close your eyes and bring the hand that he kissed up to your face and drop back off to sleep with your lips resting close to where his brushed your skin.

TBC

[derpydoteddrake]

Do you have a moment to talk about out lord and savior viktor tendersrisp?

Let's try to answer the question, how does the arcane/viruses/pollution/Jesus/cosmic horror and Viktor come together, and most importantly,

WHAT THAE HELL IS THIS THING?!

We know that the same infection that is present in the hex core, or at least what it spreads somehow got into zauns systems. Jayce even brings attention to this.

The oblivious problem with that the hex core was made with viktors blood, he fundamentally connected to it.

To answer this conundrum we need to go back to the beginning and examine how it was first conceived. The first time Viktor was affected by it.

The first time he hallucinated he was inside hex gates after he caught some blood into it, it even got emphasized in a shot, and later in s2 ep3 we can see a red stain at the bottom on the gates, so it clearly had significance.

Immediately after that he gets the idea to make the hex core wich later allows him to change into the form we see in s2. Not only that, but the first time his health really begins to deteriorate he also hallucinates, before coaching up blood that the hex core absorbs.

When it comes to Viktors illness Jayce describes it as caused by pollution, which is certainly a factor in why his health is not great in general, but that is just Jayces theory and never gets confirmed.

And isn't it odd that Viktor had divine inspiration (literally described as a vision), before making the hex core, and right after making it his health began to deteriorate wich forced him into transforming his body?

But what actually is the core then, how could it affect viktor before it was even built. Why is a single hex gem so powerful?

Which brings us to the main thesis of this theory, the real core was never this weird purple ball, the real hex core is a hive mind, a better name for it is perhaps the will of the arcane.

Its an ancient entity that resides or is the arcane, functions like a virus when it comes in contact with the material one, and it needs a host to interact with the material world.

Sounds outlandish, but let's take a look at how Viktors relationship to it began.

This is where the blood he spilled in the hex gates becomes important, it was at a place where the line between realms was artificially thinned.

When viktor accidentally spilled his blood into it, this entity got attuned to him. This is why immediately after he comes in contact with it, he gets divine instructions on how to create the tool that can prepare his body to properly spread it.

This is why everything else he tried it on died, the problem wasn't just that they were not perceptible to change, it's that they were not viktor, the hex core was not attuned to them.

In jayces journal he even alludes to the idia that crystals attune to a sole user.

And the more he changed himself and the more organic material the core absorbed the closer it got viktor to begin his transformation whole heartedly, and gaining the ability to chanel the hexcores power by himself.

Jayce even noted it's like  the core was connected to viktor.

This is where we get to the carrot and stick way the core treats viktor.

He didn't started dying out of nowhere because of bad luck, the core was actively eroding him to give him an incentive to fuse with it.

Especially when he was away from it or harmed it in some way. 

When viktor was in contact with or around it, he looks energized, he wasn't coughing as much, he is more active.

When he was away for too long, he was more sickly, weaker, no wonder he got obsessed with the thing.

This is why we didn't see anyone else with symptoms this bad that came from zaun, what's killing him was the core. He even heard voices before collapsing.

And this is what Heimerdinger noticed when he said something has changed in viktor. He got attuned to the core.

As to why it waited until viktor almost died when after it absorbed Sky, Viktors body and the core was ready, if its functions as a virus its possible it waited until Viktor was literally unable to resist it, it would have probably deteriorated him until he got into that state.

This means by itself it never could have forced viktor into transforming.

But why does it need viktor to spread if it seems to be perfectly capable by itself?

It looks like after it has chosen its host, through the thinned layer between realities that the hex gate causes (hextech radiation if u will), it successfully polluted the material world.

Its exactly because in itself just kills whatever organic material it comes in contact with. If a virus is too effective in killing, that's detrimental to it.

what makes me think this thing is ancient? or that it was present from the beginning?

Its how Heimerdinger describes it.

He mentioned he saw something like this and it always came with destruction, he later explains that the destructive tendencies of magic and mages might be in their nature.

(Not to mention even back in s1 jayce notes mentioned that they hexgems emitted some spider web like formation.)

Which would make sense, if it's a virus that spreads by being in contact with organic material and through the thinned planes, that means when mages overuse their power or a power source, it even actually infects them, and tries to persuades them to use their powers more.

In conclusion the way this entity works is that its always present in the arcane, maybe its itself the arcane, when people draw power from it, the line between the material realm and arcane temporarily thins, and even actually it will come into contact with something that can function as its host.

After it attuned itself to a compatible host, it can begans to mold them into a form where they can carry out its spreading, and it starts to infect and spread through parts of the world where the line between realms is thin.

However, it needs the host to mold biological beings into a form that can survive it, otherwise it just even actually deteriorates them. And it wants a host that actively spreads it because the contact it can have with the material world is limited.

Viktor is very likely the first non mage this happened to, mages most likely got infected by over using they magic or magic items (like world runes), however in Viktors case, it was because hextech thinned the line between realms.

Its ultimate goals are unknow.

It is most likely in order to stop the spreading, the host needs to be destroyed.

Thematically speaking: pollution poisoned Viktors blood, and now Viktor poisoned the world with his blood.

[blueikeproductions]

So with TFONE attempting to simplify the Primes and some recent cartoons trying to theme some shows around them, it has led to a thought how this could work.

The biggest problem the Primes have is that nobody really knows or cares that much about them. The only one most actually care about is The Fallen because of the Bay film. Vector Prime via Galaxy Force is fondly remembered by TF fans, but that version also predates the modern Prime mythology.

Transformers Prime was intended to look more into what it means to be a Prime, but never truly does so. It also introduced the modern 13 Prime lore, but also does very little with it. It’s mostly limited to Solus’ Forge being a reoccurring weapon, Megatron grafting a Prime arm on to him, with creatives unable to decide who it’s supposed to be, and Alpha Trion making a cameo (more so to reference G1 than do much with the Primes).

RiD15 also uses the Primes, with Micronus (the main rep and Optimus’ life coach) and The Fallen (the first season’s main villain) as the stand out ones. Despite Micronus being the first Mini-Con, he has no influence on the cartoon’s Mini-Con gimmick it adapted later in its run. Liege Maximo appeared in chapter books and is the only (not Fallen) one who got to properly do something. I still greatly insist Onyx Prime should’ve been the rep due to the Beast theme instead. Also Thundertron, but that’s a different problem.

Cyberverse used Alchemist Prime specifically, but while being one of the better characters, he’s not very memorable. Onyx and Alpha Trion have minor roles, with Alpha Trion getting a toy… that nobody bought. He was also there for G1 ‘memberberries, in a role similar to the old cartoon. The Cyberverse staff were not shy admitting to only writing the show for themselves and like minded fans and not actual children.

And now EarthSpark uses Quintus in a major role… but it feels like there’s some conflicting ideas about who he is. Storyboards suggest he’s more benevolent having everyone’s best interests in mind, while the show keeps insisting he might be shady and a dead beat dad.

And like the aforementioned Onyx, the series isn’t great about using Primes better themed to a show. Combiner Wars opts to NOT use Nexus Prime, when instead perhaps they could’ve made him into the evil leader of the Combiners, forcing them to wipe out non Combiners so Cybertron is theirs to rule. Vs the show just having them fight… because reasons. He also never got a toy in the Combiner themed line. This could’ve also been tinkered with once more in RiD15 for its Combiner Force, casting him as a neutral who gifts power of combination to the Bee Team and the Pack, seeing who’s more worthy to use the Enigma for an upcoming problem involving an ancient Combiner unique to the show. (Also having Chop Shop as a minor villain again.)

I think the problem is largely NOT letting the other Primes being proper characters. Vector Prime and The Fallen are allowed to be characters, with Vector allowed to be part of the Autobots, make bonds with them and the kids, and have a little arc of his own, remembering the value of life throughout time.

I think if we went back to that, having a surviving Prime join the Autobots and find their footing in the modern era on Earth during the battle against the Decepticons would help.

It’s actually kind of shocking in the current “DEI” era that they don’t have Solus Prime in such a role, working alongside Optimus. The downside to this is current writers would probably make her into a more arrogant Captain Marvel type, but ideally Solus should be cast in a role similar to Vector in Galaxy Force. I feel like it’d be funny if she especially bonded with the kids, a loving but firm grandma, who drives them around, with the gag being the kids are ferried around in a big purple construction vehicle. Solus is also happy to fix things with a gentle tap of her Fixit Felix hammer, usually the kids’ phones, but an episode sees some repercussions, where the phones and other gadgets start Transforming into semi sentient-semi automatic weapons.

Think the Appliance Bots from ROTF.

Amalgamous is really the only one that’s too abstract to use as he is. I feel like the trick is to create an in-story reason why he can’t infinitely Transform, limiting him to being a Six Changer like Sixshot. This way the writers and artists can be more creative, and have a character arc where Amalgamous learns to be one of the Autobots with a running gag he forgets he can’t change into whatever he wants anymore and turns into a car or dinosaur that isn’t appropriate to the situation.

Liege is easy enough. He’s the Sideways trying to nudge the Autobots, Decepticons and humans into doing what he wants for nefarious reasons.

I feel like Prima would be a hybrid of TFA Ratchet & TFA Ultra Magnus, a cranky foxy grandpa that means well and tries to guide Optimus and the kids, but he’s quite literally an overbearing helicopter parent trying to dictate what Optimus should be doing. While still powerful in his own right, Prima does get overwhelmed by Megatron’s sheer rage.

The 13th Prime is up in the air. It could be Zeta, Rodimus, Adaptus, Mortilus or a brand new Prime for the scenario. I got nothing.

I am a bit concerned about Vector. He was already used effectively, but his schtick is time travel and manipulation, and to move the story of TFONE along that didn’t help him against Quints or Sentinel. Can you even use time travel effectively anymore? Maybe if Vector was more in line with Time Patrol Bon, not that anyone watched the Netflix reboot of it.