#a little extra luck for this bulb

[binniebakery]

(What's The) Hot Topic?

HotTopicWorker!Gyu x Fem!Reader, Strangers to Lovers(?), Suggestive! ♡ Summary: In search for a birthday gift for your friend, you stop by your local Hot Topic where you stick out like a sore thumb. A certain employee sees a pretty girl in need of his assistance, so who is Beomgyu to say no? (In which emo gyu takes a liking to the girl dressed in delicate ribbons and bows.) ♡ Warnings: Things move a little fast here, makeout with a stranger, cursing, reader gets called fem nicknames, etcccc not proofread! ♡ A/N: ty for the request! I got so motivated to write this I hopped on my pc so quick LMAO (this user loves oreo beomgyu with a passion n will do anything to write for him) so more coquette x txt !!!! lmk if u guys want me to do other members too! Hope u enjoy~

The mall was quieter than usual today. A perfect time for you to show up in your cute heeled boots and winter coat, perfectly lined with white fur and ribbons. The sound of your shoes clicking mixing in with the atmosphere of the mall. You found your way to the store you were looking for. As you stood in front you stared at your phone with furrowed eyebrows. How were you supposed to find Yeonjun’s gift again? You walked in with eyes glued to your text messages. Nirvana, yes. You wanted a Nirvana shirt for your good friend Yeonjun’s birthday. Easy right? Or maybe he wouldn’t like that? It was hard to figure out what he had and what he didn’t have in his collection. You bit your lip as you looked at the t-shirt section in the back of the dark store. You could practically feel the stare of another shopper which made your uneasiness grow. Though you couldn’t blame them, you sort of stood out like a sore thumb. Pretty pearled headband with light ribbons tied, and a purse in the same color to match. Your whole outfit screamed sweet pastels and spring while you stood next to the bloody horror movie merchandise. You sighed in relief as you saw the previously mentioned customer get helped by an employee. Yet to your luck, you were left standing waiting like a lost deer. Maybe you should’ve just ordered something online– “Hey there, has anyone helped you yet?”

You turn to see a taller figure standing by you, his black long hair chopped into a wolf cut with platinum blonde highlights to further highlight his pale skin. He was a guy your age for sure, and he had quite an eccentric appearance. Which made him even more attractive. “Hi! Um yes sorry, I do need help with something if you don’t mind? I’m looking for a gift for a friend. I don’t really have the same style so..” you trailed off, noticing how his eyes look over your figure, a tinge of pink blooming on his ears. “Sure thing. Just tell me what kind of stuff your friend likes and I can help you, pretty girl. Name’s Beomgyu.” he grinned. You felt your heart nearly stop as you choked out an “Ah! I’m y/n.. th- thanks..” and proceeded to show him Yeonjun’s list of favorite artists and demands for his birthday. “Hm. I think I have the perfect thing for him. Follow me please.” you watch him swiftly turn around as he walks deeper into the back of the store… into the employees-only room? You stood there dumbfounded, were you supposed to go in there too? Was this a normal thing for Hot Topic? You hardly came to the store but you swear the employees-only room should be for.. Well, employees only. “Don’t worry doll, you can come back here.” He chuckles as he watches your big eyes scan around nervously. You nod and walk in with him, the door closing behind you. The room was dim, a single light bulb being the only source of light for the two of you. It wasn't too large of a room, with an employee bathroom towards the end of it, a desk with a computer sitting in the corner, and tons of shelves filled with extra merchandise waiting to be set up. Beomgyu hummed as he dug through the boxes with various artists’ names labeled on them. The room was quiet and the atmosphere felt thick. You played with the ribbons on your soft coat as you waited for him to find what he was looking for. “I have a question for you. You ever visit this store?” Beomgyu asked as he dug further, you tilted your head at the question. Was he trying to say something..? “Yes.. but I’m not really a common customer..” You nervously laugh and Beomgyu stands up with a set of items in his hands. “Mhm, I figured. No offense, but you really stick out in here. That dumbass was staring at you like you were a zoo animal.” He laughed. “Though I mean that with no offense- I wouldn’t blame him. You’re a pretty girl y’know?” He smiled as he handed you the merch in his hands. Your face flushed at the compliment. “Ah, thank you. You’re really kind.” You smile. Neither of you move. You’re looking at the floor, you really want to say something more. Ask him for his number, tell him he’s attractive as hell, or that you want to just stay in here a little longer. Alone with him. Suddenly, you feel a hand stroke a strand of your hair. You look up to see Beomgyu admiring your soft locks with gentle eyes. “Such a pretty girl.. You have a boyfriend?” He tilts his head, lips forming a smirk with tongue in cheek. You could almost pass out. Your eyes were locked on Beomgyu’s expression, his face scanning yours as he waited for your response. You could tell he was taking his time analyzing your features. You felt yourself shudder under his intense stare, you shook your head. “No actually.. I don’t..” Beomgyu’s smile widened. “Really? An angel like you? Surely I’m not your type though, someone like me with a angel like you?” “Well..” You looked away, staring at Yeonjun’s present that was still in your hands. He did have a point. You were just a sweet little thing, dressed in bows and frills, while Beomgyu wore ripped jeans and dark shirts with multiple band pins, all while sporting multiple bandaids from his skating endeavors. “I could say the same about you…Beomgyu.” His name sounded like candy coming from your glossy pink lips. He just had to hear you say it more. Beomgyu decides he’s had enough and closes the gap between you, pulling you in for a kiss.

His lips are warm and soft, leaving you craving for more. His hands snake their way around your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. You find yourself tilting your head, deepening the kiss and he groans at the feeling of you pressing yourself against him. “Wanna hear you say my name..” he mumbles against your lips and your mind is growing fuzzy. “B- Beomgyu..” you whisper and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth the second you say his name. You spend minutes like this, his hands roaming your warm and soft coat, your fingers tracing the choker on his neck. Yeonjun’s gifts long forgotten on the ground. When you both finally separate for air, Beomgyu presses his forehead against yours, admiring the way your eyes have darkened, pretty lashes glistening in the dim room’s light. “I get off in an hour babydoll. You want my number?” You find yourself nodding profusely and he smirks. “I’ll see you when I get off then.” “Promise?” You tilt your head cutely, voice soft and sweet like cotton candy, and he feels himself drawn more to you by the second. You separate from each other's arms and he helps you pick up your items. After all, you still had to head to check out. “I prom-” The door swings open as Beomgyu’s coworker walks in. “Beomgyu! What are you doing? There’s like two customers out there and- oh what-” The slightly taller male who’s nametag read Soobin tilts his head in confusion. His brows knit together as he sees your slightly disheveled hair and Beomgyu’s face smeared in your pink lipgloss. “Oh my- get the fuck out of here! Jesus man, it makes sense for Taehyun to pull something like this but you?” he groans as Beomgyu’s shit-eating grin moves him to the side, walking out with your wrist in his hand, guiding you to the counter to pay.

#binniebakeryorders #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt fluff #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fluff #txt x reader #txt x y/n #beomgyu x y/n #BakeryTreat♡

[kyopmi]

♡ — when you start calling your sakusa kiyoomi by “omi”

a few months into your relationship with sakusa kiyoomi, he finally, begrudgingly introduces you to his MSBY teammates and when you hear atsumu and bokuto refer to him as omi-omi, something in your brain just clicks — like a light bulb just went off.

omi.

that's the cutest fucking nickname for your boyfriend, ever.

later that day, after you bid your goodbyes and kiyoomi quickly ushers you out of the gym and into his car, you're buckled in the front passenger seat while kiyoomi is starting the car, your phone immediately connecting to the bluetooth stereo.

"wow, your teammates seem like a handful, but they're pretty great — right, omi?"

and kiyoomi whips towards you worryingly fast, eyes immediately narrowing and conveying his many emotions without a single word: irritation, regret, betrayal. meanwhile you blink back at him with an innocent smile, though the MSBY outside hitter can very clearly see the mischievous twinkle in your eyes.

"don't call me that," he snaps without any malice, one hand reaching over to you and delivering a light flick to your forehead. kiyoomi can only sigh deeply when you burst into a flurry of amused giggles as he pulls out of the parking lot.

to his despair, you easily disregard his warning and start habitually calling him by his dreaded nickname.

it begins with you proudly showing him the new contact name he's listed under on your phone — omi 🖤 — at which he huffs bitterly and proceeds to lunge at you, pinning you down on your couch with one hand and the other beginning an onslaught of tickling to the spots he knows are your weakest. amidst all the squirming, laughing and tears in your eyes, you can barely make out him grumbling something about damn miya and bokuto and never should've let you meet them.

you don't learn anything from that incident, of course. in fact, it spurs you on even more.

the next several times you call him omi, there's a playful lilt in your tone and you're always looking at him, lips upturned into a sly smile and expectantly waiting for his reaction (and ready to run away, too, in case he decides you need to be punished). however, neither of you can seem to pinpoint a moment when you start to actually, unironically call him omi. it just happened so naturally, from the way you call out his name when you greet him on your dates to the softly whispered good nights through the phone when the two of you can't seem to press the red end call button and wind up waiting until one of you fall asleep. when you're trying to grab his attention during a match, your familiar voice shouting words of encouragement from the stands always comes through from among the crowds of volleyball enthusiasts. even when the both of you are alone, spending time that he cherishes the most in your shared apartment, and you ask him what he would like for dinner as he holds you close in the kitchen and swaying you gently while pressing butterfly kisses on your forehead.

hi, omi. good night, omi. good luck, omi! do you want chicken, omi?

every time the name rolls off your tongue, kiyoomi hates it a little less and grows to favor it over any other pet name. he even finds his heart will involuntarily pound uneasily whenever you start a conversation with his full first name, wondering if you were feeling alright or if he'd done something wrong.

a whole year after you start calling him by the teasing-turned-term-of-endearment name, you’re slipping under the covers with sakusa kiyoomi, nestling under the warm blankets and into his side as his arms promptly circling around you to pull you closer, and he hears the four simple words he treasures the most from you.

“i love you, omi.”

“i love you, too, y/n.”

[ extra ]

♡ taglist — @sachan1956 @gojoanti @llyslikeliz @sunkeiji @rinsramenshop @justmyownreality @a-cosmicdawn @emmyrosee​ @tyler-dimples-jones​ @crystal-lilac​

#omi youre so dramatic but ily anyway #<- bringing this back bcs it seems fitting #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu drabbles #hq x reader #hq x you #haikyuu x you #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #&works

[5eraphim]

"we can start with a kiss" for scout? 👀

Link to the Dubcon Prompts

Title: Red Sky at Night (alternative title "Just Like Playing Pretend")

Character: The Scout 🐇 (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: X (MINORS DNI, GO PLAY OUTSIDE)

Content Warnings: Dubcon, taping/armature, corrosion, delusional yandere (slightly reciprocated obsession), forced intimacy, panty huffing, biting/marking, fingering, very brief passing incest joke, i guess? (just like one line, a part of scout being annoying and a creepy), soft-mindbreak, degradation, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, lap riding

Word Count:

MASTERLIST

TIP JAR

"What feels like work to you, is playing to others." Lenfantvivant

"Hey, I'm home."

Entering the house, you instantly noticed no lights were on. As well as the lack of noise you'd never expect when Scout was home alone. It couldn't be much later than 6, but well into the fall season, the sky was black when you pulled in. Once inside, you noticed the sole lights on in the house were those in the bedroom. Though rather than the typical warm-white light you were used to, a bright red escaped the crack between the door and its frame making you equally curious and uneasy.

It wasn't just the silence that made you uncomfortable or the odd darkness. Still, the combination of those things specifically had your nerves on edge—today marked the six-month anniversary of your relationship with Scout. Given his careless, self-obsessed nature, one would think he'd be the type to forget about this kind of thing, but he never did. You half-hoped to luck out today while unable to shake the suspicion Scout had something planned for later.

You crept closer but couldn't hear anything but a bit of movement from the other side. When you were at the doorway, you took a deep breath, stealing your inner resolve before using your fingertips to push the door open to peep inside gently.

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the odd lightning inside. To your surprise, there weren't actually any red lights on, but rather some red towels hanging over the bedside table lamps, turning the light from the white bulbs deep red as well as dimming them slightly, emphasizing the long dark shadows in the room, making the entire place feel seedy. Even the window had a red sheet drawn across the curtain rod, rendering the whole night sky invisible to you, save for the light of the half-moon and a few bright stars.

Scout must've missed the sound of you coming home as you caught him fiddling with something on the dresser with his back to you as you entered. But now, in the same room with him, you instantly caught his attention, making him abandon whatever he was doing to greet you with a crushing hug. "Hey, you're back!"

He kissed your cheek as you limply returned the hug, going through the motions of letting him kiss you and forcing a loving smile as he wrapped his arms around your waist. As you let your arms slip away from his shoulders, stepping back to break the hug, you couldn't ignore how odd the room looked, bathed in bright red. "Scout, what is all this?"

He didn't answer your question, just beamed at you with a big smile, "Ya like it?"

You raised an eyebrow, "It looks fine, but why?"

Scout inched a little closer, slinging one arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his chest, "C'mon, don'tcha know what day it is?"

You nodded, "I do…"

"Well, six months is a long time, ain't it? Thought it's 'bout time we did somethin' a lil extra special to celebrate!" He didn't really answer your question, feeling content enough to have his arm around your shoulders, holding you nice and close to his chest while he admired his handiwork, turning the unwanted-ly shared bedroom into something even sleazier.

But you knew better than to tell him you thought the room looked tacky or pornographic. Your brows creased as you tried to follow wherever he was going with this, "Celebrating with red lights?"

"Red lights aaand-" Using his free hand, he gestured with his thumb to where he was standing before you entered.

You followed his thumb with your eyes, realizing it wasn't something on the dresser he was messing with before you showed up. It was a camera on a tripod, about the same level as the dresser, pointed at the bed. "A camera?"

He didn't respond, but he didn't need to. That dumb look on his face, as well as the red light on the camera indicating a recording in progress, the shabby lighting, covering the windows and giving no indications he had anything in mind, waiting until you were home and exactly where he wanted you before showing you all this, were all the clues you needed to piece together what he had in mind for tonight.

"Scout, you cannot be serious!" You sidestepped away from him snappily, making the arm previously around your shoulders slide right off. Scout looked genuinely surprised to see you acting so resistant. You never wanted this relationship, you hated Scout, but he knew how to keep you compliant. Before you agreed to the relationship, he was constantly bugging you, blowing up your phone with calls and texts, which was annoying but not difficult to brush off. For the longest time, you saw him as just another creep and nothing more, more persistent than most you knew, but hardly anything special. You had yet to learn how far he would take things.

Even when he pestered you and acted immature, you never truly thought of Scout as a bad guy. You wanted to believe deep down he was sweet, just a bit misled. But when loved ones began turning up in the hospital, almost died from blunt force trauma, or when personal belongings turned up smashed to pieces, you knew who was behind it all, but even worse, you knew what you had to do to make it stop.

And it was under threat of violence to yourself or the ones you love that kept you quiet and obedient for the longest time. It wasn't a good situation to be in, but it sure as hell was better than the alternative. The past 6 months were essentially a blur when it came to your personal life; you would go home, and there he was. That was all there was to it. Scout wasn't a complete monster, and occasionally, you'd even catch glimpses of that "good boy" you thought he always was deep down. 

This must've been the first time you tried to resist him in ages. "If it took this long for me to stick up for myself, is it bad I can hardly remember what the hell I was agreeing to before now?" You wondered to yourself.

Scout rolled his eyes, grabbing your shoulder with one hand to keep you from slipping away any further, "I don't get why you're acting like it's a big deal- it's just this one time, c'mon!" You'd admire his audacity if it weren't so infuriating. You weren't sure how many more" just this once-s" you had left in you. It was hard to stomach the disgust and guilt for playing along and letting him get what he wanted, but trying to refuse him was even more challenging, and you already knew no matter what you had to say, he'd get his way by the end of the night.

Eyeing up the camera, you crossed your arms over your chest. Scout's grip on you was too tight for you to escape entirely, "You're not gonna make this… weird, are you?"

He chuckled, "How weird are we talking'?"

You frowned, "Like gross weird. Like, you're not going to make me pretend to be your sister or something creepy, right?" Maybe giving him ideas like this was wrong, but you were already so uncomfortable you didn't know how much worse things could get.

You recoiled as he laughed, clearly not bothering to take your concerns seriously. "I wasn't gonna! But I mean, hey- if ya wanted, I don't mind playin' big brother-"

You grit your teeth, fighting back a chill of disgust. "Don't you dare finish that sentence!"

Scout gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, perhaps not entirely oblivious to your discomfort, "Relax, relax, I'm just messin' with ya! Just wanna help loosen up a lil before I start rearranging your guts and all."

You blinked, not entirely sure how to respond to that. "Alright then… So what do you want me to do?"

Scout leaned over to kiss the top of your head, "All ya gotta do is get on the bed and look real pretty. Leave all the rest to me."

You nodded, prepared to get all this over with as soon as possible, about to step past him and make yourself comfortable on the bed when you felt his hand on your shoulder, "Hang on, I wanna make this count. Can we start with a kiss?" 

You turned to respond, but before you could say anything, you felt his palm against your cheek, guiding your face to connect with his. If you were unsure if Scout wanted to go through with all this, you weren't questioning it anymore. Keeping one hand resting against the side of your face, his other hand blindly ushered the rest of your body to draw even closer, finding the small of your back to pull you in nice and close. He wasn't the best kisser and almost always lost himself in the spur-of-the-moment excitement to the detriment of his technique and general lack of experience. But clearly, he was at least trying to hold himself back a bit, trying not to overwhelm you. For only a moment, you pondered his change in demeanor, only to feel a chill running down your spine as you realized you forgot to ask earlier if the camera was already recording or not, or even worse, just how many other cameras he might have set up you'd yet to discover. 

Scout's fingers toyed with the bottom of your shirt's hem for a few seconds before his hand slipped under your top, stroking your lower back with his fingers slowly, wanting to savor the moment, trying so hard to fight off his own impulsive desire to slam you against the bed and make you moan his name like a porn star. You broke the kiss with your eyes remaining focused on his lips, feeling a confusing affectionate stir in your chest from the lopsided toothy grin staring back at you. 

Scout wanted you to play pretend with him and go along with his "directing" for tonight. It made your head spin, trying to remember if you were supposed to act as his adoring lover or a sexy actor for his adult film in a cynical, morbid way. Though you knew you could sell the character easily enough, you already had so much experience pretending to go along with his possessive, often violent whims in and outside the bedroom; how could this be all that different? How could (hopefully) one camera make all that kind of difference?

Trying to put on a soft and needy voice, you whispered, "I don't wanna wait more- can't we get into bed already? We can keep kissing there, can't we?" It never took more than some doe-eyes and a breathy "please" to get Scout to do what you wanted. When it came to the bedroom, he was almost always all talk.

Scout smiled, letting you pull him into bed, but stopped you when you started to undress yourself.

"Lemme do it," he nodded at the camera, "Gotta make sure you're doin' it nice and slow." 

It was hard not to roll your eyes, but somehow you managed. Settling down into bed with your head at the pillows and your side to the camera while Scout crawled on top, peeling off his own shirt in the process.

Honestly, it was a bit more awkward and stiff to lay back and let Scout undress you than actually discomforting. You consciously avoided looking at the camera while he worked, as though it would do anything to salvage your dignity. It saddened you that no matter how much you hated him, there was always that frustrating little part of you that still felt arousal for Scout. That little part of you that would always want him, no matter how you hated him or how he humiliated you, it was never enough to make you stop wanting him. 

With your compliance, Scout could slip off your shirt overhead, followed by your bra, intentionally dropping them to the floor in front of the camera for dramatic effect. But when he popped the button on your pants, his excitement picked up slightly, tugging the fabric down your legs. Lowering his head to your navel, bracing himself on hands and knees around you, Scout gripped the top of your underwear between his teeth, straining the fabric against your body before tugging down.

It wasn't hard to help move your legs as he worked them down your legs with his mouth, but you weren't expecting to see Scout still holding the little bunch of fabric between his teeth as he looked back into place overhead, sitting back on his haunches, almost straddling your hips to keep both his hands free. He waited until he had your attention until your eyes focused on his mouth before pulling them free and keeping his eyes on your face as he pressed the fabric directly under his nose and huffed. 

The subsequent moan of satisfaction made you cringe, keeping your eyes screwed shut and looking to the side as you made a sound of disgust. You hated how you could still hear his heavy breathing and cruel laugh, how he could prolong your discomfort without laying a hand on you, without being seen.

"Wassamatter? You wanna turn?" He pulled the cotton away from his face just enough to taunt you by dangling the garment over your head, tickling your cheek slightly.

"I'll pass." 

Scout pouted, "It's your loss, ya know." He balled them up slightly with his fingers before squishing your cheek with his finger like he was teasing a baby. 

"You sicko…" Eventually, with a sigh of disappointment, he tossed them to the side, lowering back down on all fours, his face much closer to yours. You were shocked to see an almost gentle, loving look on his face, his hands falling over yours at your sides on the bed. Before speaking, he gave them a soft squeeze before guiding your dominant hand into place over your sex, the other resting against the top of your hip, fingers brushing the very tip of your thigh.

"I'm only teasing' ya. C'mon ya know I love ya, an' you drive me freakin' crazy, lemme make ya feel real good. Tonight, we can start slow."

You flushed at the unexpected sweetness. Nodding once, you felt your breath hitch when Scout started to pulse his fingers over yours. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to pick up on the buzzy feeling deep inside, feeling extra sensual under the moody, red light. 

True to his word, Scout followed your pace and mirrored your gentle touches. "Don't worry about going all out. Let's just getcha warmed up first, alright baby?" He said, kissing your forehead, grazing his lips against your forehead with every word with such a gentleness you managed to let yourself believe Scout could be trusted, imagining the gross scenario into something romantic. Like the two of you were innocent sweethearts fooling around behind closed doors, this wasn't anything grave, just a bit of naughty fun now that he had you all to himself. Or you were back home safe, and your loved ones were waiting for you just beyond the bedroom door. 

But as the pleasant fantasy unfolded, it began to take a dark turn as though your own brain were acting out, trying to punish you for taking pleasure in such an undignified situation at the hands of such an awful person. A primal, unforeseen, and unmanageable fear flooded your mind, making you too scared to open your eyes, heightening all physical sensations. In your mind, you imagined the scene playing out. Your naked, weak body spread wide for all to see, the warm red lighting turning into hellfire, the man in bed with you into a demon. You weren't in your bedroom. You were in hell! Humiliated and treated like a whore by a demon, leered at by perverse faces who watched hidden from the shadows.

Abruptly, you locked up, your hands flying from between your legs, and you sat up, backing up against the wall to avoid knocking heads with Scout, feeling suddenly cold all over, like someone just poured an icy bucket of water all over you. 

Scout looked at you confused, "Hey, chill out will ya! You're alright- What's wrong?"

Looking around the room self-consciously, you cleared your throat. The primal feeling of "something is wrong" had lifted, making you blank on exactly why you did what you just did. The feeling is much like suddenly snapping yourself out of a nightmare. You weren't in hell; there was no demon in the room with you and no shadowy figures watching you from the corners. You were right back in your unpleasant but expected reality. "Sorry, I uh- Just forgot about the camera for a second…"

He nodded, surprised to hear such a mild reason for the dramatic reaction. "Oh. You want me to cover it with a towel or something?"

You slackened, raising an eyebrow. "Will you cover the lens too?"

"Nope!"

Nodding, you sighed, "Never mind, I'm fine, I can keep going."

"Atta girl!" He congratulated you for going on with a pat on the shoulder as he sat up, crawling over to the lip of the bed where he could spread his legs and let them dangle down the side of the bed. Scout looked over his shoulder and gestured with his head, beckoning you to crawl closer as he patted the bed beside him. You realized a beat too late. Scout positioned himself, spread his legs wide, right where the camera lens was pointed, and waited for you to hurry up and get into place to do the same. 

Softly, you padded closer on all fours as he spread his legs a little wider the closer you crawled. You were about to straddle his lap, facing him as Scout so often begged of you, when he put a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to pause.

"Nah, not like that- get on facing the camera. I wanna get a good view when I watch this back!" He didn't even really sound perverse as much as he sounded genuinely excited, but the hard-on between his legs was all the reminder you needed of his true intentions here, not to mention how overheated his body felt so close to yours. Awkwardly, you tried to situate yourself on his lap in this new position. It was too embarrassing to look at the camera and do this, so you kept your eyes down as you crawled out from behind him, letting Scout use his arms to help you stay balanced and guide you into place.

You must've looked as nervous as you felt. Scout leaned his face right next to your ear as he whispered, "Don't be shy, I've gotcha, I'm not gonna letcha fall. You're gonna look so sexy on tape, babe." His fingers drummed over and smoothed against your sensitive skin as he spoke, making it prickle.

With your weight balanced well enough on his lap, Scout's hands slithering up from your sides to cup your chest, groping against your tits with a teasing kind of playfulness. Even if he's wiry, he's so warm it makes you melt. Prompting you to mindlessly press yourself even harder down on his lap, feeling his stiff throb against your ass. His breath ghosts against your neck between kisses, you try to sync your breath to his, feeling the way it quickened every time you squeezed and palmed up his thighs.

The feeling of harsh teeth and a humid, wet tongue on your neck make you wince, mindlessly rolling your heat against Scout's lap, the instant reaction spurring him on all the more, as he took a hard nick to the side of your neck. You can feel Scout's trademark wonky teeth, coated with enough saliva to ooze out of his mouth, leaking all over you, forming thin trails connecting his lips to the wet spot he created, even as he pulled away. You were painfully pinned into place between Scout's mouth and his crushing grip on both your tits, making you groan in frustration as you felt trapped but unable to get any proper relief from either direction. But just as you were about to try and wriggle away, to get just a bit of space away from the man to catch your breath, Scout returned for another bite. 

Intentionally, Scout aimed to target the already irritated skin. The pain intensified, and you felt yourself yelp as you began wriggling even harder to try and stop the pain. But Scout clung to you like a feeding leech, refusing to budge an inch. 

The pain in such a sensitive area turned you on, but when you felt him drawing blood, your fear overtook your arousal. You didn't like how bold he was getting in front of the camera."F-fucking hell! Scout!"

To your disappointment, your attempts at stopping his abuse had the complete inverse effect. He let out a shallow moan, huffing as the breath got caught in his throat, grinding against the slick-with-sweat flesh of your backside, almost laughing with delight, "Beg again, just like that!"

"Sco-out! God! Please, more!"

"Beg harder- I wanna-God, I wanna hear you whine-"

You responded instantly, your brain well-past cock hungry and unaware of how pathetic you sounded, "Scout, Sc-scout! C'mon, please!" Fortunately, your muscles didn't have to strain much longer in that position, as Scout responded to your plea by thrusting fully inside, an action which would've been painful if not for your lustiness.

Feeling that maddening yearning between your legs finally satisfied, you couldn't help but let out a breathy sigh of relief, allowing your body to go limp, bouncing slightly as he continued to pound against your motionless body. 

"Start touchin' yourself again, just like before- Go on and show off how freakin' hot you look when you come." Scout didn't need to tell you twice. One hand latched over one of his hands still covering your tit as you gripped the mound of skin through his hand while your dominant hand found your clit. Rolling the nerves between your fingertips, you felt the pleasure pick up in waves as your body relaxed into Scout, allowing him to keep your body nice and propped up for the camera while you chased your orgasm.

From the inside, Scout could feel how close you were just as well as you could. The end was so near for you, but you wanted it now, wanted to feel Scout fuck you even harder, treat you like an animal, and go as hard as he could. To encourage him, you begged again, "Hard as you can, Scout! Feels- ah! You feel so fucking good!"

In truth, you didn't even know if you gave him enough time to react before you were gripping down on his prick and riding out your high for all it was worth. Scout was so focused on not bursting before you all night that the sight of you at last climaxing over his lap practically made Scout come on the spot. But after watching you come to settle down from your orgasm, Scout was able to regain his thoughts well enough to complete a few more deep thrusts between your thighs before everything went white. All his muscles tensed as he came before slackening, forcing him to wrap both arms around your shoulders to keep from flopping backward. Scout's head felt all light and dizzy. He needed to take a second before he was ready to move. Keeping his eyes closed, he mindlessly buried his head back into the crook of your neck to continue panting heavily, offering a few more sloppy, gentle kisses as he caught his breath.

It was easy to stay like this. Scout wasn't acting pushy or demanding your submission; all you had to do was sit and support him. Usually, Scout could manage a near-instant recovery, but tonight, he sounded more spent than ever. And eventually, you lost track of time the longer you sat there.

After all that, your mind eventually began to wander. While you were responsive, aware of the space around you and what was going on, and even communicative in a small sense, broadly speaking, your mind had checked out. Despite all the invasion of privacy, lack of dignity, and bodily coercion, at some point, that little voice in your head that continued to remind you this was wrong, the self-blame and feeling responsible for letting him do this to you, apathy began to roll in like a stormcloud and block out your distress. 

You were so tired, and on a primal level, you found the presence of another warm body in bed with you soothing enough to relax you, lulling you into an almost tranquil state. Your exhausted mind was no longer worried about Scout's hungry eyes against your naked body or the harsh red LED from the camera locked in on your location. The red towel covering the lamps and the red light illuminating the room stopped looking garish. It wasn't natural, but it felt oddly cozy and warm. You stopped paying attention to Scout altogether and became lost, staring out the window covered by the red blanket. Even behind the heavy fabric, you could make out the outline of the half-moon and a few bright stars in the clear sky. 

By the time Scout finally pulled himself off the bed to clean himself up, you realized you had no idea how long your mind went blank staring at the wall. He offered you a hand out of bed, which you accepted, feeling pins and needles in your stiff joints as you followed him to the bathroom, trying not to look at yourself in the mirror while scrubbing yourself clean. Scout continued to chatter as he returned to bed, trying his hardest to get you nice and comfortable before he settled down.

Wrapped in a soft blanket, curled up at his side, you were at peace. A boundary was crossed tonight, and you knew you'd likely regret all this come morning, but at least it was over, and sleep wasn't far away. You weren't uncomfortable or in pain, but something in your gut didn't feel quite right. This wasn't how relationships were supposed to go, and boundaries like this weren't ever supposed to be broken, but then again, could you even remember the last time Scout had treated you like a boyfriend "should"? 

He held you in his arms, told you he loved you, and called you beautiful, but it wasn't good enough. Nothing about tonight, about the relationship, and to be honest, almost nothing about Scout himself was quite right.

Nestled like a little chick in its nest, you allowed Scout to cradle your compliant body, feeling thankful for the soft fabric separating your body from his. You couldn't try to fight him back at all like this or defend yourself, but after all you'd just been through, what was the point? At least like this, it was all the easier to do what he wanted of you: lay back, keep quiet, and pretend you were hopelessly in love.

#anonymous #request #x reader #yandere #self ship #toxic relationship #dubcon #yandere team fortress 2 #tf2 smut #mdni #kinktober #power dynamics #yancore #afab reader #body worship #marking #tf2 scout x reader #yandere tf2 scout #yandere x reader #yandere tf2

[sonickedtrowel]

Young!11/River kissing for a bet pls (extra points for featuring Amy and Rory) 💕

Omg Anon I thought this ask was lost to the sands of time but it's still here and if you are too, well, you're in luck!! (ao3 link)

“Tell me you saw that,” said Amy.

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific,” Rory replied.  “I’ve seen a lot of things today, and I’m pretty sure I can’t remember half of them.”

“River and the Doctor!  They are obviously shagging, right?”

“Do I really have to think about this?” Rory whinged.  “I’ve got enough of a headache from all the alien memory erasure.”

“Come on.  There’s no way you didn’t notice.”

“I, uh, did get that impression,” he reluctantly admitted.  “I’m just not sure he knows it yet.”  Amy snorted.  “River said something to me, back when this all started.  From her point of view, it’s... like he’s slowly forgetting her.”

“That’s horrible,” Amy said softly.

“Yeah.  I wanted to say something helpful, you know?  She can be a bit scary, but it’s obvious how this hurts her.  But I don’t think there’s really anything to be done.  Whenever he does work it out, it’ll already be in her past.”

“Poor River,” said Amy.  “The Doctor’s a complete moron about this stuff.  A big, genius, stupid moron.  And even we needed a little shove.  If Mels hadn’t said anything, who knows how long it would have taken us—”

The sonic whirred, and the tiny red bulb flashing amongst the instruments on the TARDIS console blinked out.  The live feed went silent.  

Alone with the humming of the time rotor again, the Doctor slumped over the console.

Well, fine, maybe he was a moron.  But it wasn’t as if anything about this was easy.  It hadn’t been easy when she died before his eyes, telling him not to dare change one line of their life together that he’d yet to live.  It hadn’t been easy trying to keep her from winding her way into his hearts— in fact, he’d failed rather spectacularly on that front, despite his best intentions.  

It wasn’t easy to begin, when he’d already seen the end.  When he couldn’t change her future because it was already his past.  Wasn’t it all set in stone already, then, no matter what he did?  So how did it still feel like he was making a complete mess of everything?

Maybe it was past time he started clearing up after them.

___

“I won’t lie,” River called as he emerged from the TARDIS, “I was rather hoping you’d be back.”  She was sat half-curled on her bunk, her back against the cell wall and her diary open on her lap.  “How long has it been?  A few decades?”

“Er, about half an hour?”

“Oh.”  There was a quiet brittleness to the sound, her initial bravado faltering as she laid down her pen, and the Doctor noticed for the first time the red tinge around her eyes.  “Me too,” she said softly.

River Song had never looked so uncertain.  The memory of her warmth still tingled on his lips; the blaze of joy that had spilled out of her mind and suffused every place they touched.  How quickly and utterly he’d doused that exquisite glow with a thoughtless word.  He wouldn’t dare think River fragile, but something was on the verge of breaking here, if he didn’t handle it with the proper care.

No pressure.  The Doctor took a deep breath and gripped a bar of her cell, pausing in the still-open doorway.  “I was, uh, hoping I could give that another go.”  His cheeks felt so hot there was no doubt he’d turned a very unattractive shade of tomato.

“Doctor,” she said, placating, her gaze dropping to her lap as she sat up and valiantly cobbled together a façade of composure, “you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”  He forgot how to swallow for a moment, but basically managed not to audibly choke on his own tongue.  What was worse than tomato?  Molten lava?  The distance between them was humiliating.  He couldn’t have such a mortifyingly sensitive conversation shouting across a room.  Somehow, when he forced his unreliable legs to carry him jerkily over the gulf between them, it was only a couple of steps.

The Doctor sat down on her bed.  He made sure not to think about the fact that he was sitting on her bed.  River watched him, frozen and wide-eyed.

“River, I— I want this,” he managed to wrench out.  You.  Us.  Even as he made her an offering of his pride, his tongue couldn’t seem to shape the truer words.  He desperately hoped she understood.  No, no, that wasn’t good enough.  He reached out, taking both of her cold hands in his.  “River,” he repeated, the word creaking past his lips, raspy and low.  A plea and an admission.  He was tired, so tired of fighting it.  It hadn’t worked, anyway.  He was done for.  And every time he ran away, he only hurt her more.

He lifted one hand to tuck her spectacular hair behind her ear, and her eyes fluttered ever-so-briefly shut.  She still hadn’t moved; she seemed almost afraid to breathe.  Miscalculating their relationship like that must have been shockingly painful for her.  She’d reached out to touch him and been burned.  The urge to reassure her gave him courage enough to speak again, but god knew what was going to come out of his mouth when he did.

“River,” he muttered again, maybe just because he’d always loved the way her name felt on his tongue.  He brushed the backs of his fingers feather-light over her face, then his hand slowly lowered, hovering hesitant between them.  “Can I…”

“Yes,” she said, though it came out as a breath without sound, and she cleared her throat.  “You can touch me.”

Her whispered words sent a startling spike of heat through him, and almost before the Doctor knew it he was kissing her, slowly; scarcely moving but to lean in and cradle her face in his hands.  He did his best to take in the little details: the slight friction of her lips sliding soft against his, the stifled whimper she exhaled over his cheek.  He pulled back just enough for a shared breath to warm the air between them, for his nose to brush hers, then kissed her again.  When he dared to trace over her lower lip with his tongue, she sighed contentedly as her lips parted.  Surely it had been this lovely before, too, but the shock had gotten the better of him.  Now he felt he could just melt into her; forget everything in the universe but how good it was to finally let himself love her.

She’d been generous with her permission, so he didn’t hesitate to slip an arm around her back and pull her closer.  The warm, solid shape of her under his hands, pressed to his chest, was intoxicating.  It was baffling.  He was a fairly indiscriminate hugger, but he’d always been too terrified to touch River like that— maybe afraid once he started, he’d never stop.  And good job he hadn’t, because this was not what it was normally like.  This was… bigger.  And the more he kissed her; the more he leant over her for a better angle and his palms pressed into her back and she shifted her body beneath him, making a ragged, desperate little noise in her throat; the more he realised this was very quickly becoming something he hadn’t exactly planned on.  Of course, he could stop any time.  River was following his lead, accepting whatever he offered but making no demands of her own.  That didn’t seem fair.  She deserved so much better than he’d given her.

“You’re, uh.  Sure I can’t convince you to come with me?” he muttered in her ear, and he actually felt her shiver.  Mental note of that, check.

“I really shouldn’t…” she whispered, but the ellipsis was audible, hanging in the air between them.

“I’ll have you back before they miss you.  And, ah, Amy and Rory have gone to bed.”  Not that he was implying they were going to require privacy, or anything— no, actually, maybe that was exactly what he was saying.  Thankfully not aloud, although somehow he felt like River knew just what he was thinking anyway.

“Hang on,” she said, squinting off into the near distance with a frown, “I’m just figuring out how weird something is.”

“Um, okay.”

“Mm, decided I don’t care.  Let’s go.”

__

Sneaking River out of prison (which surely shouldn’t have been so easy to do— what kind of operation were they running, anyway?) and into the darkened TARDIS console room made the Doctor feel, for some reason, positively giddy.  (It was also completely unnecessary, because it was his ship, and his companions had gone to bed, and there was also no reason she shouldn’t be there with him just like she had been an hour ago, anyway— except that it all felt very different now.)  She was holding his hand, and that was another completely mundane thing he did with friends and acquaintances every day without a second thought, but which suddenly seemed unusually intimate and warm and wonderful when it was River.  He couldn’t seem to stop giggling, which might have partly been nerves, and partly the unnecessary sneaking, but was mostly because he was, actually, ridiculously happy.  

River kept shushing him, but she was laughing too, which made him laugh more, which made her laugh and shush more and then, in a moment of wildly impulsive bravery, he backed her up against the console and kissed her.  That stifled both their giggles, as she let out a long sigh and wrapped her arms around his neck.  She really was outrageously, staggeringly, miraculously wonderful.  It was nice to just let himself think that for a moment, without five tonnes of weight attached to it; without all the shadows it cast.  Instead, just for now, he thought: They really could have been doing this all along?  He was definitely a moron.

“...and you really think this is going to work?  Challenging him to a bet?”

“Worth a shot.  Believe me, he’s a sore loser.  That’s how I got him to go to Space Florida.”

“Um, what is that?” River groaned mournfully.

“Ah, probably bumped into Amy’s nanorecorder, it was somewhere on the console,” the Doctor muttered over the dull chatter.

“Could you please shut it off?” she whinged, which seemed a bit out of character, but he obligingly fumbled one-handed over the controls for it in the dim light.  He didn’t find anything immediately, but he did crane his head to the side enough that he wound up pressed into River’s neck, and her skin was so very warm and soft under his lips as he breathed her in.  The sounds she made in response to that were even more enticing, and he forgot all about whatever it was he’d been looking for, until the echoey chatter came through again, louder:

“Oh, you should’ve seen him the first time I met River.  Before that, I sort of thought he was asexual?  But, not like a person is— like an amoeba.  But then he was trying to be grumpy with her and obviously kept coming up with horny instead.”

River burst into riotous laughter as the Doctor choked on air, searching frantically along the console for the stupid bloody little lightbulb — but then River hopped up onto the console and wrapped her legs around him, beaming at him as she pulled him down for another kiss and, well.  A little more humiliation was really a small price to pay.

“Oh, no.  Um, retreat.  Retreat!”  Rory was urgently whispering, but it didn’t sound as faint as it had before.

“What?  Is that— oh my god!” Amy shrieked.

Reluctantly, the Doctor pulled back from River, breathless and blushing, and almost immediately locked eyes across the console room with Amy.  Who was not talking to Rory in their room, but instead standing beside him in the corridor entrance, looking scandalised and delighted whilst he very deliberately averted his eyes.

“They do not need our help, clearly,” Rory said, trying to tug her away, but Amy whooped and cheered instead of following.

River covered her mouth, shaking with laughter.  

The Doctor sighed heavily, mustered up the few remaining crumbs of his dignity, and commanded, “Ponds, out!”

“Right on the console, Doctor, really!” Amy shouted back, grinning wickedly.  “Well done, River!”

“Out!” he repeated, a bit more desperately.  Amy’s boisterous laughter finally started to fade away down the corridor as he groaned and buried his burning face in River’s shoulder.

“There, there, sweetie,” she said, patting his back sympathetically.  “They’ll see worse.”

“That… is really not terribly comforting, River.”

“Yeah.  You have no idea.”

#dr fic #11river #doctor/river #yes i wrote YET ANOTHER DOTM fix it #what of it #all my fics recently have been the same i dont care #no im lying i do i need to switch it up asap lol

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

hi friend, it's 🪼🩵

i currently have a three hour break before my next class so i'm here lol let me tell you what i did today !! 🩵 i was able to clean my room after procrastinating it for 6 months. i also got out of bed immediately and did not scroll on my phone for 3 hours. i'm a new person !!

alsoo, i need advice on smth 😓 i'm thinking of getting a job (part-time, i can't commit that much yet) like maybe a server? or like a cashier?? i just need extra cash to support my addiction of collecting things 🥹😓🤧

oh i need to mention i really like collecting makeup and i recently got into hirono figurines!! they're just so cute ugh i might send an imgur link so you can see them idk

you don't need to give advice, and if you do, it doesn't need to be lifechanging. i've js been thinking about it for like... 8 months so i feel like i should do something about it

oh, you're writing another chapter right? good luck with that my friend. i can't wait for your magnus opus. this will be equivalent to the invention of the light bulb i swear

i have quite the social energy today... i will tone it down a little. sorry if i drift between topics a lotttt it's a habit 😓 anyway take your time replying

as always thank u my friend and ily 🪼🩵

yessss cleaning your room (while sometimes the most daunting task ever) feels so refreshing! i used to leave my room so messy and i still can let it get pretty disorganized, but once i started making my bed every day i found i felt so much better. and when i don’t doomscroll, i also have a much better day!!! so good for you 😍

i think it’s a great idea to get a part time job. it can also be awesome for helping social skills, especially if you have coworkers (that’s the one thing i miss with my job. it’s just me by myself a lot of the time except when i meet with clients). i’m a petsitter and finally getting that job really changed my life. i had a lot of mental health issues and my job gave me something to focus on and a sense of purpose. it also allowed me to have some more independence, save money, and, of course, spend it on all the things i fangirl over. so i highly suggest!

and if you don’t have a block of set free time for a job, i can highly vouch for “gig work”. idk where you’re located but service jobs like rover/petsitting, doordash, instacart delivery, etc is a viable option but it comes with its own unique set of challenges as well. 🩷 whatever you choose, i think you’re making an awesome decision (even tho working does suck and we are also slaves to capitalism and so on and so forth. still gotta make money unfortunately)

also yes, send me your collections! i actually love looking at collections even if its not of my immediate interest.

taerae chapter should be finished soon 🤩 i also wrote hao’s ending and i love it sm. i’ve had too much energy the past two days, i need to calm down lol

🩵ily 🪼💘

#iwnfyshb asks #iwnfyshb 🪼

[footballffbarbiex]

Autumn: house decorating

player: john stones

words: 498

request: John stones | 250 - 500  | she  | Maybe they have different opinions on how to decorate the house for a Halloween party - that’s where the dialogue comes in - and just quite funny

-

Pumpkins were carved the day before and are now in the windows and on the steps to the house. The front garden is decorated with skeletons and gravestones with each of John’s teammates and guests that will be coming tonight. The kitchen and dining room are decorated perfectly with inflatable bathtubs filled with water mixed with red food colouring, ice and soon to be dry ice closer to the time when people are due to arrive.

“Halloween is my aesthetic.” John announces to her as he stands halfway up the ladder. He doesn’t need it of course with his height, but the ladder fits with the decorating vibe, making him seem a little more authentic. Or so he claimed.

She’s having none of it but continues to feed him the lights, passing inches of black and orange coloured bulbs on black wiring as and when he asks for it. It’s not how she’d decorate it but after losing best out of five in a game of rock, paper, scissors, John wasted no time in heading out for supplies.

“Nothing? No comment?” He asks, peering down from his extra height.

“I’m trying not to.”

“This is killing you for not doing this yourself, isn’t it?”

“And knowing my luck, you’ll just use my corpse as another decoration.” She grumbles as John’s laugh fills the room.

“Can you at least get changed into your costume first?”

“John, I swear to -” she cuts herself off mid sentence and shakes the ladder a little bit, not enough to actually make him fall but enough to make him cling to it for dear life and pull a stupid face.

“Babe, try that again and see what happens.”

Never one to shy away from a challenge, she does exactly that - all while keeping her eye contact firmly with him so he knows she means it. Her hands grip the handle again and give it a rough shake - still nothing to send him to the floor but the noise that sounds from him makes her sprint away as fast as she can as irrational fear from being chased only makes her slow down and laughter bursts from her. It’s enough for John’s strides to catch up with her, enabling him to wrap his arms around her belly as she continues to shake with laughter.

John chuckles as he buries his face into her shoulder, fingers giving teasing digs into her sides. “Wanna try that again?”

“No!” She squeals, trying to wriggle out from his grasp.

“Sorry, can’t hear you. Do you want to try that again?” his fingers inch up just a little bit more and her wriggling continues, laughter now is almost becoming silent.

“NO!” She almost yells it. Shouts it as loud as she can between her laughter. The simple two letter word is dragged out and John can’t help but laugh with her.

“Oh I love your laugh,” he states, pressing a kiss to her neck and holding her a little closer.

If you’d like to be added/removed/update your URL, then please let me know here. Crossed out means that tumblr cannot find your blog at this time.

forever non smut:  @Yagetintoit  | 

Forevers: @pom277​  |   @emilielfc​  |  @odegaardsblues​​   | @archxron​  |  @lawsandother​  |  @meteora-fc​  |  @smileytaa​  |  @holdmybvbeer​  |  @football-and-fanfics​  |  @ofxinnocence​  |  @footballerimaginess​  |  @imaweirdobutyoulikeit​  |  @kxndrixx​  |  @chokinghazrdd  |  @marcdurm​  |  @pingyu-in-wonderland​  |   @dreamyfootball  | @declansmount​  |  @penguintransporter​  |  @degea-drama-llama​ |  @callyhandra​  |  @gatekeptlee  |  @elliestonesx  |   @peterparkerbae​  |  @untitled92260​  |  @heli991113​  | @mrsmctominay​ |   @football-rambles​  |  @britishmoonchild​  | @ninuffi​  |  @thiagoalcantaras​  |  @0wlm0nkeygh0st  |  @mxsonxmountx​  |   @adorestonsey  | @nyctophilic0vitnir​  |  @keepitprivatehun  |

forever non smut:  @Yagetintoit  |

John Stones: @ladymarycrawley​  |  @bluemoonstonesy​  |  @in-my-body-bag​ |  @elliestonesxx  |  @degeathesaviour​   |  @mancity-js5  |  @johnstonessss​  |

#john stones one shot #john stones blurb #john stones imagine #john stones fluff #john stones fanfic #football one shot #football imagine #football blurb #football drabble #football fanfic #football fanfiction #footballer one shot #footballer imagine #footballer blurb #footballer drabble #footballer fanfic #footballer fanfiction

[dark9896]

A Few of My Favorite Things [Klaus x Reader]

This adorable little fic was requested by anonymous 😍

You were wondering through the green room in the house. You could have sworn you heard Klaus talking, but to who?

Turning a corner, there was no phone, no other person. Nothing, technically, for Klaus to be talking to. And yet he seemed to be unable to stop himself from, whatever monologue he thought up.

"I truly have had the most luck in finding these Daylily bulbs." He wasn't paying you the least bit of attention even as you stopped hiding behind the potted Bird of paradise, "Once they flower this season, the green house will have such color. Perhaps I'll spread a few extra planting boxes to the rest of the house. Surely [Name] would like the array of colors."

You kept quiet all the same, hanging back a few feet. You've never heard Klaus talk out loud about his plants before. It was really adorable.

"Hm, I believe it would be best to move these Yucca closer to the window. They've been rather wilted looking. Perhaps I should invest in larger pots for them as well. Though if I remove the Aloe Vera from the box by the heater..."

Klaus turned suddenly, but still didn't register you there. Of course you moved, but you were certain he would have caught the movement.

"Then again, the Yucca are more adapted to desert climates. I should simply give them a couple days without water and see if that helps." Klaus stopped by the potted trellis, "Oh, yes. I was going to attempt to grow some Morning Glories this year. I should get the seeds, or maybe a small sapling before the month is out."

Oh this was precious! Klaus just lost in his own little world. Yet, his train of thought seemed to leave the plants behind.

"I don't think I've played much Prosfair as of late. Perhaps a quick game before bed tonight?" Klaus picked up a watering can, "That or several rounds of chess. The computer AI is fairly sophisticated at least. Would make for a decent challenge."

You felt your phone buzz, since you didn't ever remember to raise the volume from work, and you found it really distracting going off from random spam calls and texts throughout the day.

But this was from Steven.

"I should have said something sooner, that's my bad. Klaus was hit with a blabbing spell earlier today. He won't be able to tell that he's talking out loud. I didn't think it would be a problem, but I still should have told you sooner."

You sent a quick text back.

"That explains why he's talking to himself right now. Thanks Stevie."

"Please stop with the 'Stevie' stuff?"

"Nope, sorry Stevie"

You would probably annoy Steven to death with that, but that's what he gets for being the third Steven you knew. Klaus however had gone on to his tiny roped off nursery of single potted plants. Where he kept small cacti and flowers that bloomed best in tiny clusters. And you stayed just outside his line of sight as he kept talking.

"Hm, there's a small holiday coming up. Maybe I should ask if [Name] would like to make a day of it?" Klaus stopped and shook his head, "No, there shouldn't need to be a reason to spend a day together. Though I should ask if they'd at least sit in the kitchen with me while I bake some pastries. But what kind? A strudel sounds nice. Or maybe small fruit filled tarts."

You were no good in the kitchen, but if Klaus did act on this thought pattern, you'd be happy to oblige. But you could never admit to listening in on Klaus like this. Instead sneaking away, back to what you were doing before. Leave Klaus to his spoken thoughts.

#bbb #kekkai sensen #kkss #blood blockade battlefront #klaus von reinherz #ask

[innocentlymacabre]

A naked bulb hung above the table for two, lighting nothing but that and the two men on the chairs, positioned squarely in the centre of the room. Two others stood to either side of the table. The two on the chairs were tied to their chairs, bags over their heads, tape on their mouth. Their knots had been tied so that the more they struggled, the tighter the rope got.

The door slammed open, momentarily lighting up the room. But that was soon gone when a man walked in. He carried a walking stick, but didn’t seem to be too dependant on it. Without breaking stride, he clicked the door shut with a flick of his cane. Irritably, he made a gesture to the two men by the table – probably his subordinates. They pulled the bags off of the men’s heads and ripped the tape off their mouth. Immediately, the one on the right began to shout and the left one’s sobs became more pronounced.

‘You’ve got the wrong guy. I haven’t done anything – nothing wrong. You’re definitely looking for someone else. Please, you have to believe me – I don’t know anything.’ The man with a limp spoke in a calm voice. A voice that one only uses when they hold all the cards, have all the power. A voice that is outwardly less threatening than screaming or a maniacal yell, but one that frightens more thoroughly than anything else.

‘What’s your name?’

‘T-T-Timothy.’

‘Well, Timothy. Let me tell you something. You may very well believe that I have the wrong guy, and it may just be so. You’d want it to be so, wouldn’t you?’ Timothy whimpered. The man continued. ‘But, it’s more than likely that I don’t have the wrong guy. Also,’ the man paused as he brought out a cigarette, lit it, and took a puff. ‘let me make another thing clear – you would be wise not to challenge my decisions ever again. Not that you’ll have too long to anyway.’ He gave a nod to the man to Timothy’s left; the man punched him in the face, partially dislodging a tooth, filling his mouth with blood. Timothy spat the blood onto the floor.

A man with a limp isn’t meant to be threatening, but as this man with a limp moved towards the table, Timothy grew more and more scared with each passing second. His heat beat doubled, then tripled when he saw him reach behind his back and pull out a gun. His body have a lurch when the man slammed the gun onto the table and gave him a little smile. The man picked the gun back up, and Timothy started to silently hyperventilate. He calmed down a little when he saw him open the chamber and empty it. Russian Roulette. The man put in one lead stud and gave the .22 a spin. The men standing by untied the two in the chair.

Timothy relaxed a little. Russian Roulette was a game of luck and guessing. And no one could beat him at either. Growing up, he always drew the longest straw, and never failed to guess the exact number of jellybeans in a jar. He won every round of rock-paper-scissors, and always rolled favourable numbers. As a teen, he would buy lottery tickets when he needed extra money, and didn’t have to take on any student debt when he went to college. Instead of continuing like that though, he decided to become a stock trader and put his skills to good use. Currently, he’d been number one employee for five years.

*

The gun stopped rotating. The barrel was pointing at Timothy. Less scared than he would have been, he clutched the handle and slowly brought it to his temple, the cold metal touching his skin. His head shook, and his vision became cut up, as if he was in a picture and someone had sliced the area in front of him using a jagged knife. A circle cleared up in the centre. It slowly turned black before a six-bullet barrel with only one bullet in it materialised in it.  Then, everything went back to normal.

Confident, Timothy pulled the trigger. A powerful gust of air came out, but he was mostly unharmed. The man with the limp laughed.

‘He lives! ‘Now, onto the next.’

Timothy put the gun down and the man picked it up. He put another bullet into the chamber, spun it, clicked it shut, and put it on the table. He spun the gun again, and it landed on Timothy again. The same sudden vision played across his eyes, and Timothy pulled the trigger again. The same gust pushed against the side of his forehead, and he was once again, unharmed. This time the man with a limp gave an irritated laugh and was visibly pissed as he loaded the third bullet.

This time round the barrel pointed at the other man who had been silently crying the whole time. As he raised the gun to his head, Timothy knew that he would be safe – the bullet was in the slot next to the current one. The man with a limp was calmer this time round, but Timothy was aware that he was angered. One of them needed to die, and they needed to die quickly.

The fourth bullet went into the chamber and the barrel pointed at Timothy. The man cried out triumphantly. The odds were stacked in the man’s favour – only a one in three chance Timothy would live. The vision flashed before his eyes again, but this time Timothy froze when it ended. If he pulled the trigger, he would die. All four bullets were lined up one after the other.

‘What’s wrong boy? Not so quick to act this time? Don’t like these odds?’ The man with a limp mocked him, and evidently enjoyed it. Timothy gave a cold, hard stare at the man and looked him dead in the eyes. His face was completely expressionless as he gave his response.

‘You had the right man, Denker.’ In a flash, Timothy whipped to the side and pulled the trigger. He adjusted slightly, then pulled it again to kill the man who stood to his left. The one on the right punched him, causing him to fall out of his chair, then drew his own gun. He took a shot at Timothy, but he rolled out of the way, only being grazed a bit. Timothy stood at the other edge of the table and quickly squeezed the trigger, ending the man.

He strutted towards the door, but just as he was about to open it, he turned around.

‘Sorry, got to clean up all loose ends.’ He pulled the trigger one last time, killing the man who was frozen with shock in the chair.

Russian Roulette

09.04.18

my writing // read Frozen Summer, a speculative horror book

sign up for exclusive content; lovely little freebies guaranteed to illicit a fright or two; bragging rights; and the sweet, sweet feeling of supporting an indie artist 💜 >>

#fiction #thriller #short fiction #action #chaotic aesthetic #chaotic academia #dark academia #dark academia aesthetic #books and libraries #writeblr #spy vs spy #angst #books & libraries #bookblr #studyblr #writblr #writers of tumblr #writeblr community #writers #russian roulette

[msmercury84]

"I Double Dare You," Chapter 7: Before the Show

January, 1943 The USO was holding a competition at Fort Benning. Judges from the organization would select two women, giving the winning contestants jobs with the USO. Lieutenant Winters mentioned the competition to Leigh when he visited her office shortly before her trip to South Philadelphia with Bill. Spencer was taking care of extra letters and reports for Colonel Sink. Most of the office workers had left for the day. Leigh turned the volume up a bit and she was singing along with a song called "Nobody."

She was filing some of the reports and was shocked to see Winters standing in the entrance to her office. Spencer immediately apologized saying, "I'm sorry about the loud music, Lieutenant Winters. I didn't realize anyone else was in the building." Winters smiled, replying, " No apology is necessary, Miss Spencer. I heard you singing when I passed by the window," he gestured to the window of her office, adding, "I wanted to know the identity of the gifted singer I heard. Earlier today I discovered something that might be of interest to you." The lieutenant told Leigh about the USO competition. He commented, "When I heard you singing, I thought that you should be informed about the upcoming competition because you're an excellent singer. The judges are looking for contestants from this camp, Fort Benning and Fort Bragg. One job is also open for a female comedienne. If you know anyone who performs a comedy routine, be sure to pass along the information." Leigh agreed to share the information. She intended to tell Melissa later in the day. Spencer told him, "I would love to be a singer with the USO. Thanks for the information and the compliment, Lieutenant Winters. Do you really think that I'd have a chance to win one of those jobs?" Winters replied, "I'm no expert in music, but judging from what I heard, I think you would stand a very good chance of winning a singing job. All you need to do is fill out a form that will become available here at the front desk tomorrow morning." Leigh said, "Thank you. I will be sure to fill out that form first thing tomorrow morning." Spencer filled out the form the next day. Over the next month, women auditioned for a chance to enter the competition. Leigh didn't tell Bill or her family until she was accepted to be a contestant. Melissa Adams decided to sign up and try her luck with a comedy routine. Adams was the only woman who didn't sign up to sing. She kept the competition a secret from Bull until she passed the audition. The night of the competition arrived two months later. Leigh and Melissa entered the backstage area of the auditorium and headed for the large communal dressing room. Each contestant had a chair and a dressing table with a mirror surrounded by light bulbs. Clothing racks were placed between each dressing table with garment bags containing the uniforms donated by the USO hanging on the racks. Every garment bag bore the name of each contestant printed on a card.

Spencer and Adams arrived a little earlier than most of the contestants because both women were too nervous to eat a full meal. They had sandwiches and coffee in the mess tent. Leigh had located the garment bag containing her uniform and was in the process of hanging up her coat when a female USO official approached her, asking,

"Are you Miss Spencer?" When Leigh replied,

"Yes," the woman handed her a small white box telling her,

"This was just delivered for you." Spencer thanked the woman and took the box to her dressing table. She opened the box and was surprised to see a corsage of three red Sweetheart Roses accented with a few sprays of Baby's Breath, rose leaves and a white bow. A card in the box displayed the message,

"Knock 'em dead, Baby. Bill Guarnere". Leigh admired the roses and thought,

"They're beautiful! What a sweet thing for Bill to do." Melissa walked over to see what was delivered to Leigh and remarked,

"They're gorgeous, Leigh. Let me guess, they're from your sweetie." Spencer confirmed Adams's speculation, but she didn't go on too much about the roses because she didn't want to make Melissa feel bad since Bull didn't send anything. Both women returned to getting themselves ready for the show.

Earlier in the day, Guarnere stopped by the main office of the 506th PIR after training was completed for the day. He asked the secretary at the main desk, a middle aged woman named Lisa Harner,

"Ma'am, I hope I ain't imposin', but I wonder if you could do a big favor for me. My girl is in the USO competition an' I wanted to get some flowers delivered to her, the kind dames wear on their dresses. If I give you some money, would ya please pick out somethin' nice for her? I can't get inta town an' I'd like to have it delivered to the auditorium before the show starts at 20:00 hours tonight. " Bill gave what he hoped was his best persuasive smile.

Lisa was charmed by the young man's polite demeanor and his good looks. She replied,

"I would be delighted to help you, Sergeant Guarnere. What kind of corsage did you have in mind for your young lady?," Bill grinned, telling her,

" I don't know much about flowers. Whatever ya think is pretty, Ma'am, an' whatever I can get for around five bucks. I ain't cheap, it's 'cause I send most o' my pay to my folks back in South Philly."

Lisa smiled, assuring Guarnere,

"How about I get a corsage made of three red Sweetheart Roses? They are smaller and they are just the right size to be worn on a dress. The florist can fix them up with tiny white flowers and it will be in the price range you specified.

Not much is going on at the moment, so I can get a WAAC to watch the desk for me while I get a ride into town to take care of things for you. What would you like to have written on the card that goes in the corsage box?" Guarnere wrote the message on a piece of paper and handed her a five dollar bill, telling her,

" I really appreciate your help, Ma'am. It's nice of you to take care of things for me." She told Bill,

"I will keep your change from the florist in my purse. Just stop by any time and I will see that you get your money." Guarnere smiled, telling her,

"You're a real doll, Ma'am. Thanks for helpin' me." He left the office and went back to the Easy Company barracks.

@lizziebitch33 @alluringmoonlightbabe

#bill guarnere #william guarnere #easy company #band of brothers #wild bill guarnere #valhallavalkyrie9 #mrsalwayswrite #bandofbrothersimagine #vintagelavenderskies #ethereal-jumpwings #ethereal jumpwings #rogue-barnes-durin-main

[goodthoughts001]

More Ups and Downs - and a Request for Help สล็อตเว็บตรงแท้

Editors Note: My apologies to anyone who came to my blog over the last two days. I had a post here (including a reply from สล็อตเว็บตรงแท้) and Blogger ate it. I'm attempting to re-post now. Wish me luck.

Had the best single night of my poker career playing 10/20 – quadrupled up. Big deal.

What I want to blog about today is a perplexing hand at 20/40. It has me curious on so many levels, that I really want some input.

Yes, Ryan. I’m talking about you.

In late position, I raise with Ad 10d. At this point, I had a pretty solid table image and only showed down winners or big hands. Ryan was a late comer to the game, and was playing his usual tight aggressive style. In fact, he only played about one hand for every three I was playing.

Ryan was in the blind and called. I’ve blogged about this before. If there is no one in the pot, calling a raise from the big blind is almost a no brainer. You are getting 4.5 to 1.

Ryan and I are heads up. The flop comes down with something like J 8 2 with 2 diamonds. Good draw for me. Ryan checks, so I lead out. Ryan smooth calls. Right away I’m nervous, but okay. Let’s see the turn.

The turn is a non-diamond but puts a second club on the board. Ryan bets right out, and I raise. Here is where I need some help. Ryan re-raises!

Okay. I know I’m beat right now, but I have the draw to the nut flush, so I call. The river misses me. I check with a plan on folding to a bet, but Ryan also checks and flips over 2c 3c for a pair of 2s and a nice pot.

Time for some critical review.

Ryan played the hell out of this hand. He wins on so many levels:

Maybe he read one of my screaming tells that I was still drawing.

He knows I’m capable of folding, so maybe he thought he’d win the pot right there with the re-raise.

If you re-read the statement above (I know I’m beat right now), you see I was playing level 1 poker – what’s in my hand? Who cares what he’s holding?

My calling the re-raise should have made him extremely nervous. Why didn’t I pick up on that? Surely he would have folded if I bet the river.

Or would he? At this point, it’s almost worth an extra $40 to show the table that you are willing to be aggressive with the second worst hand in poker (don’t let anyone tell you 7 2 off-suit is the worst hand. It is, but only pre-flop. At the river, 2 3 is the worst).

Anyway, kudos to Ryan for a great play. I finished the night down only a little thanks to a real donkey play with 8 3 of diamonds – otherwise I would have been down a lot more. Only two or three more big wins, and I’m taking a shot at the 50/100 game, so watch out Seattle John!

What an incredible trip to Atlantic City!! I haven’t been this excited about an educational opportunity since sex-ed in the 7th grade. And the class didn’t disappoint.

For those that don’t know, I’m a radiologist. I read CT scans, MRI’s and x-rays for the US Army (at least for the next 2 years – but that’s for a different post). I was recently asked to take over cardiac imaging, and I was thrilled to accept.

But, that meant learning the ins and outs of the heart. Traditionally, the heart has been left to the cardiologist. Radiologists sort of danced around the “big light bulb” in the chest. Before the days of cardiologists, radiologists “owned” the heart, but we let it slip away in a relatively uncontested turf battle.

Well, guess who’s back in town!!

If all goes according to plan, everyone wins – the radiologist, the cardiologist, and most importantly, the patient. Based on what I learned at this course, cardiac imaging may go from something I do occasionally, to the majority of my daily practice. This is a prospect that is both daunting and exciting. My command is nervous that we don’t have the technical staff to support this, but I don’t care. I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do, and it will save lives. Let them figure out the details.

Anyway, while I was in NJ, I stayed at the Borgata. It certainly had a Las Vegas feel. I got a chance to head to the boardwalk and see the “old” AC – the one I remember. The interlocking crosshatch of the wooden boardwalk and the sound of the ocean really brought back memories.

I remember coming to AC with my dad back in 1984. I was 17, and I had the old paper NY driver’s license. A little scratching with a paperclip and some careful artwork with a sharp #2, and I was no longer born in 1967 – it now said 1966. Suddenly I’m 18 and strolling through the Taj like, well, like a 17 year old.

I had flop sweat.

I walked up to a blackjack table with my dad, and I think I may have even placed a bet before I got kicked out. I still have a young face – I don’t know how I thought I was going to get away with sneaking into a casino when I looked 12.

Now, fast forward to last weekend. I got to stroll along the boardwalk with none other than the famous Lady Falcon. What a gracious hostess!! We met up in the Taj Mahal, and after playing only a few hands of 10/20, the table broke, giving us the opportunity to chat and stroll. I was still overwhelmed by the flood of memories from being there, but I hope I help up my end of the conversation. My buddy Mike showed up too soon, and the Lady and I parted ways. It was a great short visit, and I hope to get invited to one of her famous home games the next time I’m on the East Coast.

[calamityofsolongwinter]

...ok then

#a little extra luck for this bulb #garden2020 #gardening #flower garden

[hoodoo12]

Play and Funtime

I’ve seen lots of screenshots and fanart, but where is the written Robofizz smut?  sigh  Just have to do it myself jk jk

Although writing your first fic in a new fandom is nerve-wracking, I’m excited to do it and I hope you guys like it.

NSFW; Robofizz/imp!reader, TENTACLES YOU THIRSTY PEOPLE

@go-commander-kim @monsterlovinghours @mimiscappinisideblog @jesterfestivle @beetlebitchywitch @realmonsterboyhours @yankyo

Enjoy! `

It wasn’t your choice. You were clear on that.

But coerced by so-called ‘friends’ you found yourself in the very front row in front of the stage, with excited, chattering implings around you and excited, chattering friends on either side, all eagerly waiting for the show to start. You’d even been forced to enter the big top early, “to get the best seats!”, so now you were a combination of both bored and a wee bit anxious.

That clown always unnerved you.

The sparks, the glitches, the unnatural movements that were much more fluid than you thought should be possible--if anything was impossible here, with enough imagination or lacking that, determination and money--the AI that seemed a little bit too good . . . the Robotic Fizzarolli was not your idea of family entertainment. 

But here you were. You vowed to keep your head down during the show, to avoid seeing the robot and his animatronic backup band, then when it was over you could all leave and go do something actually fun.

When the lights went down you dropped your chin. Everyone else was cheering, so no one would notice you were not. 

Just as you remembered from your early imphood, the spotlight lit up and the Robotic Fizzarolli burst onto the stage in full song. The rest of the audience clapped and sang along. You remained steadfast in your resolve to just wait this out, your eyes locked on your clasped hands in your lap. 

Which meant you were completely taken off guard when a hand slipped under your chin and lifted your head. 

You found yourself face to face with the robot, who was focused solely on you, grinning widely, showing a large number of sharp teeth. 

“N-n-not having f-fun?” it asked.

“Wha-what? N-no--I mean yes,” you stuttered in surprised response, inadvertently sounding like you had a glitch as well. 

The robot cocked its head a bit too far to be natural, its optic sensors giving nothing away while it studied you. The crowd in the stands, including your friends, were watching with breathless anticipation. 

“I th-think you could be having a better t-t-time,” the Robotic Fizzarolli concluded, but to your immense relief, it released your chin and returned to the stage to finish its number, to the return of screams and cheers of delight. 

Soon after, the curtain closed and you sighed in relief. Loudly, you told your group, “You got your show. Now let’s get out of here.” “No, look, look!” the imp next to you exclaimed. “You got a token!”

Confused, you wrinkled your brow. “A token?” “She got a token!” “She got a token!” The imps you’d come in with crowded around, more excited than during the show. You even saw some of the imps who’d been leaving the tent turn and give you what looked like envious glances. You had no idea what any of this meant. “Look look look!” Finally you had the wherewithal to realize they were talking about something in your hand. It was exactly what they said--a flat, oval token etched on both sides with the jester’s face, and what looked like circuitry embedded in it. Very tiny letters around the edge spelled out, “Robofizz’s Play and Funtime!” You had to squint to read them. You had no idea where it came from. Your friends continued to talk over each other in their excitement.

“Robofizz gave it to you! When he came down and talked to you!” “Oh my gosh--yes! That must have been it!”

“You’re so fucking lucky! I’d kill to get one of those!” All the chatter didn’t make you less confused. The Robotic Fizzarolli must have given it to you somehow? You’d been so startled when it touched you and addressed you directly you had no clue it’d slipped something to you. Your hands had been clasped so tightly you hadn’t noticed the small token. Feeling overwhelmed, you offered it to them. “Then you can have it! Take it!” But as excited as your friends were, they all declined with explanations that it only worked for the imp it was given to, that there was some technology that imprinted on the imp who touched it first, so as jealous as they were, it was useless to them. You had never heard about anything like this before, but then again, you always bolted out the exit when the show was barely over.

Still feeling overwhelmed and now lost and stupid, you asked, “What do I do with it?”

“You get to go backstage and meet Robofizz!” 

That was something you did not want to do, but your friends would have none of that loser talk. They insisted you were selected, it was a rare treat, you were not letting them down by pussing out on having a private meet-and-greet with the star of the show! Despite your weak protests, you were herded along to a discreet door hear the stage. They--not you--knocked, and when a small window opened and suspicious eyes appeared, they--not you--told whoever was there that you had a token.

“Show me,” a low voice ordered, though the door. Resigned, you held up the disk.

There was a grunt, and the sounds of multiple locks disengaging. In another moment, the door creaked open. There was no one in the hallway beyond. “Come on, let’s go!” the same voice ordered. Your friends pushed you through the doorway, shouting good luck and have fun! The door slammed shut on them and it same clanking of the locks came again to secure it. It was much more ominous on this side. The hallway was dimly lit with flickering bulbs that seemed ready to die, but there was no where else to go, so you carefully made your way down it. 

⁂

You had no idea where you were supposed to go or what you were supposed to be doing. Keeping hold of the token so tightly your fist hurt, you figured it had gotten you past the door so it would get you past anyone or anything else that may ask what the hell you were doing here. But there was no one to be found. In the wavering overhead lights you wandered up some stairs and found yourself on stage, behind the curtain. The animatronic band was silent on their stands, creepier when immobile and staring than when they were booted up to perform, which you had never imagined could be the case. 

The Robotic Fizzarolli was not with them. That surprised you. If these robots were here, where was the star of the show? Chills went down your spine and with a horrible thought, you glanced up into the catwalks above the stage, as if expecting to see it there like a spider waiting to drop onto its prey. 

Nothing. 

“Hello?” you finally called. 

Nothing. 

You started back towards the hallway, thinking this was a mistake. Your soft footsteps echoed oddly in the silence. You would leave and tell your friends there was nothing, that you knew it was all a waste of time. 

“H-hello there. Wel-wel-welcome!” 

Startled, you spun fast enough to trip, and were caught by the robot that haunted your nightmares. 

It leered as it groped you into standing stead on your feet again. “You were the-the one who wasn’t having fun at my sh-show! I’m so-so-so glad you decided to join me!” Your tongue was stuck to the roof of your mouth but you managed to babble, “I wasn’t--I mean, your show was fine, it was good--” A glitchy, mechanical tsk cut you off. “No, no, no--I c-can tell. And th-that’s no good, not having fun. You seemed like you needed a little ex-extra convincing, and I’m pro-pro-programed to accommodate.”

You were sure your friends would know exactly what that might mean, but the leer had not left the robot’s face and it sounded more sinister than anything. You had seen the signage about “Peronal Companion”, but never spent too much time thinking about it--

It seemed to be waiting for a response. “I, uh . . .” You cleared your throat. “I have . . . a token?”

If it was even possible, the light of its eyes shone even brighter at the sight of you holding the disk. “Now those are fun,” it exclaimed, “for both of us. Let’s g-go.” Without another word and without warning, you were dragged deeper into the gloom further backstage. You stumbled to keep up, but that didn’t slow the robot down. There were turns down hallways that seemed to go on longer than should be possible for an amusement part theater, but finally, when you were out of breath and completely turned around, you were hauled to a stop outside another door. 

“Before w-we go in, g-g-giving or re-receiving?”

The glitches in its voice made it even more difficult to understand what the hell it was saying. Several moments passed while you untangled the question in your head. The Robotic Fizzarolli waited with mechanical patience and an unsettling stillness, although its eyes never left yours. “Uhmm . . .” The token had been given to you, like a gift, so would it be odd to ask for more? But you were the guest here. “ . . . receiving? I guess?” That leer returned to its face. There was a faint clicking noise, as if something was shifting inside the robot’s body, and it said, “Excel-excellent choice.”

It opened the door and ushered you inside. 

The room was designed for imps in mind. Well, imps of a certain predilection. Whips, handcuffs, ankle cuffs, ball gags, harnesses, various sizes of dildos--also in various shapes--hung neatly on the walls. Some wooden contraption with shackles at various points stood in a corner. There was a bench that looked as though it could be raised to various heights with the same shackles, but also a split for a tail to fit through if the imp secured on it was on their back. There were other instruments and adornments you had no name for, as your eyes swept the room.

“D-don’t l-look so worried,” the robot assured you, although you weren’t reassured in the least. “All that is only if-if it’s chosen. The selection is com-completely randomized.” You tore your eyes away from the implements in the room. “What do you mean?” “The-the-the token. Put it in the slot, and we’ll see wh-what prize you get.” That made little to no sense, till you realized Robofizz indicated a small slot on its side. Carefully, you raised your hand and pushed the token into it, which made the robot give a full body twitch like an extra jolt of electricity ran through it. You jerked your hand back; the sparks that flew from it haphazardly were one of the things you disliked most about it. 

There was a clanking noise, like the token was hitting and bouncing off things inside its body, plus a odd, whirring noise. You realized a panel on its chest was actually a screen, and something was spinning inside it. It was a blur, but gradually began to slow enough that you could see whatever it was had words etched on it. Now it was slow enough you could read them as they moved into and out of the screen. bdsm tentacles

vibration

Round and round they went. The words continued to flick past, gradually becoming slower and slower.

With a dawning that took you way too long, it became apparent whatever the last word was going to be was the decision. Maybe other imps or demons would use the Robotic Fizzarolli as personal companion and know exactly what they wanted, but there was also a randomizer feature to keep things lively!

The robot continued to stand eerily still as this continued. It was like both of you were holding your breath in anticipation.

The roller slowed enough to halt. The final outcome that you weren’t even sure you were prepared for blinked on and off in tiny white lights on his chest--

“Tentacles,” Robofizz announced.

⁂

“Tentacles?!” you squeaked. 

You got a nod in response. “A very pop-pop-popular feature. Would you like to remove your clothing, or simply re-relax and let me do all the w-work?” “But-but . . . there’s no bed or--” you cast your eyes around the room again, looking for anything that would lend weight to your argument that maybe just a simple handshake and an autograph would suffice. “No bed n-n-needed,” Robofizz countered. “I am designed to not need to sit or lay down, and-and I am pro-programmed to support you in m-multiple positions.” He was between you and the door, and now the aforementioned tentacles made their appearance, slipping out from some unknown port in his back. They were striped and limber, flexing as though they’d been kept in too small an area for too long and needed to work out the kinks. That couldn’t be the case, being a machine, so all you could figure was that it was designed to imitate life. The first of them--you weren’t even sure of their number--moved through the space between you and the robot. “Fizzarolli--” “Oh, such f-formality! No n-n-need for that either, baby.” That was the first time it’d used a pet name, again probably designed to make this all more personable. “Call me Fizz,” he cooed, all the while still showing too many teeth, invading your personal space, and managing to wrap you up with two tentacles. They pulled you into his torso, which wasn’t as cold as you expected it to be. Neither were the tentacles, now that you thought about it. More of them began to nose around you. “Some rules, baby. This can go as hard as you want. J-just say the word. N-n-nothing’s off limits. My-my-my next show is this evening, so you have me-me-me till then . . . you want ex-extra time, you gotta p-pay for it. “Q-Questions?” Dumbly, you shook your head. “Then let’s b-begin.”

⁂

You’d never be able to give enough detail about the encounter. You’d been asked, multiple times, and simply couldn’t put it into words. How could you describe the unusual sensuality of tentacles sliding under your clothing and removing it from you? How could you impress how strong but delicate they were, wrapping around your limbs with the perfect amount of pressure, raising you off your feet so you felt like you were floating? How you could possibly tell them that other tentacles roamed your skin, tickling you, exploring, awakening new erogenous zones you were unware exisited? How could you admit that all of that lasted an indeterminate amount of time, until you were writhing against the restraint, not to get away, now, but to try and pull him--the Robotic Fizzarolli was no longer an genderless it in your mind, but a him--closer while begging for more? When tears filled your eyes at the force of your pleas, he moved in closer to you, almost close enough to kiss. He seemed fascinated by your tears, and from between his sharp teeth came what must be the robot equivalent of a tongue. It lapped at your cheek, collecting the wet. You had no idea what that was all about, but in the next moment couldn’t devote any time to wondering. As promised, Robofizz accommodated. You’d asked, and another tentacle from Robofizz filled you in smooth, firm motion. You arched your back at the pleasurable friction it created inside you.  

How could you continue to admit that your begging didn’t stop, but increased, wanting, no needing more while being fucked suspended in mid-air by an amusement park clown? That the random showers of sparks that you hated before became something you craved, each little spark leaving a mild burn on your skin that didn’t hurt, but only served to make your nerve endings sing out? Or that during it all he’d talked, the rasp and glitching words of dirty encouragement to, “take it deeper” and “you’re soaking w-w-wet” and “gr-greedy little slut”, which only added to the debauchery, that although it was obvious he could and would be rough and aggressive he gave you just what you needed, and all you wanted was more and more and more-- Even after all that, the finale that would be hard for anyone to believe, including yourself if you didn’t experience it: Robofizz telling you, after you’d been wrung dry from countless orgasms, that the tips of his tentacles--and other, specific, parts of his body--were laced with nano-circuitry to simulate nerves, and he could feel every single internal clutch around his tentacle--

The session ended with you sucking on the tips of multiple tentacles, like an assortment of cocks, while still being fucked to a few more orgasms. When you were finally released, your legs were weak and you were drenched between your legs. You’d drooled so much you were laved with spit. It took you a bit of time to collect yourself and get your clothes back on; your hands trembled with residual bliss for long moments. Robofizz, whose tentacles disappeared again, walked you back to the corridor you’d come in. “Five m-m-minutes till showtime,” he told you.

You had no idea if robots had a sense of humor, but you tried anyway. “That was a pretty good show you just put on.” You got that unnatural head cock again, but he grinned and reminded you, 

“You want ex-extra time, you gotta p-pay for it.” “I know,” you replied, already trying to calculate how you could afford to return and book another private “Robofizz’s Play and Funtime!”. You were eager to try out different features. “How do I . . .?” “The-the d-door will remember you. It’s h-his job,” the robot answered your unfinished question, as if it was one he got frequently. You nodded as if you understood, then impulsively stretched upward to kiss him. He wasn’t startled--he was a robot, after all--but you gave him a smile and slipped back through the door to the front of the theater. You had to find your friends. It wasn’t your choice, sitting in the audience to watch a robotic jester entertain a crowd of imps. 

But next time, it would be. 

fin!

#writing #fanfiction #Robofizz #the Robotic Fizzarolli #helluva boss #tentacles #robo fizz #robofizz x reader #robo fizz x reader #Loo Loo Land

[bonkers-4-hatter]

Anon asked: I was the anon who asked if you had written anything for Bendy and the Ink Machine. Would it be alright if I requested a yandere bendy x chubby reader? Maybe the reader (someone who accidentally finds the studio rather than someone who worked there) always manages to slip from Bendy's grasp and is always attempting to escape the studio?

Of course dear anon! I’m excited to write for Bendy! I hope you like it anon dear! I will say I do love writing these yandere requests and commissions!

--

Fandom: Bendy and the Ink Machine

Pairing: !Yandere Bendy X !Chubby !Female Reader

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Kidnapping, Violence (a little bit), degrading names/taunting, mentions of blood

Word Count: 1,603

--

Huff huff...huff

Sliding against a wall that was in a small closet away from the main hallway, you let your exhausted and overworked body rest only for a few minutes. Gripping the pipe in your hand, you tried to get your breathing under control, because you knew he’d find you more easily if he heard you. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you stumbled upon this abandoned animation studio on accident, but after getting chased by some thugs you had run into due to some bad luck on your part.

You thought coming into this building would be a smart idea, but you should’ve known something was up when they didn’t even follow you into the building past the front door...they just quickly made themselves scarce from the scene, but still being shaken up from the encounter, you decided to stay put in the abandoned building at least for a few hours to make sure it was safe.

With it being the middle of the day, you thought it would be the best option. You decided to explore the building since you were hunkered down for a few hours and as you made your way through the building you saw remnants of what it used to be; an animation studio full of life and hustle and bustle...now it was slowly rotting and becoming obsolete as the years went by.

It was sad to see the cut outs; the cartoonish devil grinning and giving a small wave becoming faded and worn due to time. The creaking of the floorboards every few steps did give you a bit of a creepy vibe as you made your way around until you heard...bubbling?Not trusting anything at this point, your eyes searched around for any sort of weapon to defend yourself with if needed.

Spotting a pipe in the corner, you quickly grabbed it and held it up ready to strike anything if it appeared. Quietly as you could, due to the creaking and slowly decaying floor beneath your feet, you made it down the hallway, the bubbling sounds getting louder with each passing step.

Along with the bubbling, you could hear cranking of gears and what sounded like chains and not only did that raise red flags, but it creeped you out.

Why would those sounds be in this seemingly harmless animation studio? It honestly didn’t make any sense. Gripping the pipe harder, you could feel your skin stretching across your knuckles that were most likely turning white with how hard you were gripping your weapon.

Coming to the corner where the ominous noises were coming from, you inched your head around the corner to see what was happening and to your horror there was a room with random pools of what looked and smelled like ink.

Your nose crinkled at the horrid smell, but that was the least of your concerns. In the middle of the pools of ink was what looked like giant cartoon characters...a dog? From the shape of the ears and nose it looked like a cartoon dog...Boris!

You remembered a few posters lining the walls of the studio with the same character on them, smiling and skipping along, but this cartoon was strapped to something emerging from the pool of ink and the sullen and dead look on its face was such a contrast to what was portrayed on the poster, it made you shudder.

However, what was the most disturbing image was the giant from what you can see, ink monster, leaning over toward the seemingly dead cartoon character that was strapped down. You were so bewildered by the creature that your pipe slipped from your sweaty hands, the weapon making a clattering sound against the wooden floor.

The creature snapped its head up and growled at you, teeth baring themselves as ink dripped down from the sharp teeth, but before it lunged at you, it was just staring at you. You could feel its sharp and articulated stare as you quickly picked the pipe up, your plump body shaking at the fear that was coursing through you.

The creature only laughed and took a few steps toward you. Still shaking, you tried to sound intimidating and pointed the pipe at the creature.

“S-stay back! I’m not afraid t-to use this!” Gripping the pipe, you gave the air a hit to try and prove your point.

“Sure you will piggy,” You bit your lip at his voice, you weren’t sure what this creature was, but at this point you needed to get out of here. “I wonder what I have to do to make you squeal?” A large and deformed smile formed on its inky face as it turned all of its attention to you.

“J-just let me leave, you w-won’t see me again!” Taking a few cautious steps back you heard a vibrating growl leave the creature's mouth.

“Leave?!” It screamed this out and you swore you could feel the walls shake from its voice. “You’re not leaving piggy, you’ll be staying here with me forever, you’re mine now.”

Gulping, you decided in that second to run. You were not going to become this creature’s pet, you had to get out of here and fast. Without a second thought, you turned around and started running down the hall you came down from. You felt the creatures roar and thundering footsteps as it started to chase you down the hallway.

Pushing your body into hyper drive, you needed to cover more ground than this creature. You could already feel your breathing become labored, your breathing coming out in huffs and puffs as you continued to run down the winding halls and corridors trying to find a place to hide from the beast.

“PIGGY!!” You could feel tears prick the edges of her eyes as you rounded another corner, shoulder hitting the wall as you did so. Not even flinching at the pain, you continued down the hall as the creatures echoing yell hit your ears once more. “COME ON OUT SWEETHEART, I WON’T HURT YOU...MUCH!” Its bellowing laughter made another shiver run up your spine as you found a small closet where you could hunker down and hide.

At this point you were hopelessly lost within the maze of the studio. Plopping down on the wooden floor of the dark closet, you rested your head against the wooden paneling, you continued to huff and puff, trying to catch your breath.

Still gripping the pipe, you decided to rest your body and eyes for a moment as you tried to wrap your head around the events that just happened. Your legs were sore and burning, not used to the speed you ran through the abandoned studio, you just needed a few moments to rest before getting the hell out of this hellish space. 

Closing your eyes, your breathing started to get back to normal as you could feel your body start to relax and not be as tense and sore as it was before. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.

“There you are my sweet little piggy!” Your eyes snapped open at the voice, eyes frantically scanning the darkened closet, but you couldn’t make out anything in the small, dark space.

Your body went stiff once more as you felt something stroking your legs. The horrid smell of ink invaded your senses again as you were pinned against the wall by the slimy substance. A small click was heard as the creature turned on the small light bulb that was hanging in the closet. Its face was so close to yours that you let out a small squeak of fear as it just laughed at your reaction.

Giant ink clawed hands reached out to stroke your soft, round cheek, but you winced as it cut a small section of your cheek as you felt some blood drip out of the open wound.

“So fragile my little piggy,” A large tongue licked the dripping blood that was emerging from the cut. Before you could mutter anything, its large clawed hand wrapped around your neck, gripping the sides of your delicate flesh. Your hands flew up and gripped the inky fingers as you could feel your air supply being depleted.

“Listen closely bitch,” Saying it with malice and giving an extra hard squeeze to your windpipe for added emphasis. “You’re my bitch now, you’ll be staying here with me forever,” Its other hand went down to your supple waist and gripped it hard, pulling your exhausted body over to it.

You could feel yourself sink into its inky lap as a dark chuckle left its mouth. “Tell me your name honey, not that it matters in the end,” He laughed at his own words. “My name is Bendy, but you can call me master.” Licking your cheek again, he loosened his hold on your throat, but not completely letting go.

With a bit of a wheeze in your voice due to him constricting your throat, you reluctantly said your name. “I-I’m (Y/N)...” He scoffed at how weak you sounded.

“(Y/N)...well (Y/N), welcome to your new home sweetheart, I can’t wait to make you my little inky wife...my sweet piggy.”

You felt tears stream down your face as your fate was sealed by this inky creature.

His clawed hands ran themselves up and down your plump body as he felt up his new possession and didn’t plan on letting her go. Finally, someone to be with him in this hell hole of purgatory.

#q #queue #request #bendy the ink demon #bendy and the ink machine #yandere themes #yandere #yandere bendy #!yandere x reader #yandere x reader #!chubby reader #chubby! reader #chubby reader insert #reader inser #ink demon #name calling #taunting #violence #bleeding #kidnapping #tw #trigger warning #female reader #!female reader

[mercurial-madhouse]

@lululawrence asked, Hiiiii could you write me a friends to lovers a/b/o drabble?? Pairing of your choice! I'd be super happy if you REALLY leaned into the pining and/or resolution of pining :D

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*< 

Got My Heart Out (You’re the truth I can’t explain)

“Alright?”

Louis doesn’t turn from the table he’s leaning over, arms spread as he stares at the array of tools—ropes, knives, grappling hooks, other items to help them go unnoticed—neatly laid out before him. “Should I be?”

The harsh light from the bare bulb on the far end illuminates the knot of tension between Louis’ shoulders. Compared to Louis’s countless crossings, Harry’s not nearly as experienced, but if Harry thought the journey perilous before, it’s deadly now.

“Hate that word, should. Nothing good ever comes from it,” Harry mutters.

His nostrils flare at the barrage of emotions coming off of Louis that up until a week ago no alpha could smell. Unease, doubt, and anger seep into the grounding scent of sandalwood and snapdragons. Neither are found in the concrete jungle of a city they live in. Even Louis’ scent is an anomaly, uplifting and invigorating.

Though it’s only Louis’s decision and Harry’s got no right, he still struggles against every alpha instinct wanting to call the whole mission off. Louis’s too special to him. Harry keeps his arms crossed, gripping his biceps to urge his body to stay in place.

He’s not subtle enough. Louis catches his reaction. Harry’s not surprised. Louis was already incredibly perceptive before he presented with all the extra-sensory skills of an omega.

Jaw clenching, Louis hikes his coat up further, popping the collar in an attempt to cover his scent. “Well you shouldn’t be here, Haz.”

Irritation pricks at the back of Harry’s neck. He clamps his alpha down. Most of their small band is asleep in the other room, gathering what little rest they can before the trip across the border tomorrow, but Harry’s right where he needs to be. With Louis.

Harry closes the distance between them until the inebriating scent from the newly-presented omega nearly overwhelms him. Learning to balance both genders with their pheromones yet to settle, those who’ve just presented have the strongest scents.

In this world, Louis’ scent is a death sentence. They both know they’re racing fate, luck, and time now. If all goes well, and that’s a massive if, they’ve got just enough scent blocker to mask Louis for the crossing.

Louis sucks in a breath, eyes closing. He holds it in as Harry steps up beside him.

“Staying away from you isn’t going to help.” It’s never helped Harry at least. Some mornings it feels like his only reason to keep risking it all is for the chance to be near Louis. “You need to get used to our scents or it’ll slow you down too.”

Being this close to Louis is a lesson in strength Harry thought he didn’t need anymore. Everything about Louis was intoxicating to Harry before Louis presented. Now his alpha has joined this grim game. Harry may as well have presented yesterday rather than two years ago at sixteen for all the fighting he’s having to do.

“I’m twenty. This shouldn’t be fucking happening. Who d’you know that presented after eighteen?” Louis’s fingers curl against the tabletop, nails catching in old scars gouged into the wood.

Head down, messy strands shield most of his face from Harry’s view. Harry longs to run his fingers through them, find out if Louis’s hair is as silky as it seems. Harry digs his nails into his palms until twin flashes of pain shoot up his arms, popping the desire before it can lodge in his muscles and become action.

“Been smuggling omegas over the border for four years because at least Southbank treats them as equals.” Louis’ shoulders tense. “If Westminster finds out about me they’ll put a price on my head and send every soldier they’ve got after me. Fuck knows what Southbank will do, but a male omega? Even if I don’t have- they sure as hell won’t let me go free.”

Harry refuses to dwell on what Louis didn’t say. Keeping Louis’ second gender a secret from everyone but the five of them is going to be near impossible enough. Even after a week, the memory of the powerful shock-laced scent pervading their home the morning Louis presented has Harry’s heart beating double-time and his mouth watering. They won’t have much warning before his first heat and right now none of them have any ideas what they’ll do when it happens.

He wishes he had any answers at all.

Louis jerks a hand, motioning at the supplies. “And now I’m stuck trying not to be sick from the thought of picking up a knife. Cards are really stacked right now, Haz.”

And they’ve got no choice. Success hinges on following through with the plan. They don’t have time to change the rendezvous hour. If they’re not over the border in Westminster on time, the group of refugees on the other side risk capture and Louis’s whole system in danger of discovery.

Louis ducks his chin, shaking his head before brushing his fringe aside. The action is ingrained in Louis when he’s agitated, but Harry nearly groans as a fresh wave of sandalwood hits him.

He latches onto Louis’s wrist. “Don’t—!” He needs to back up. It’s not fair to put this on Louis.

Harry forgets what he needed to do when Louis’s head jolts up, facing Harry for the first time since Harry got here. Harry didn’t realize how close they’d gotten. Features a little paler than usual, the dark circles under Louis’s eyes are stark in the unfiltered light as his brows knit in confusion.

Of course Louis wouldn’t understand. He’s been a beta for twenty years.

Harry forces himself to let go, but he only makes it as far as gripping Louis’s coat instead. “Try not to—” his head jerks as he nods. “That makes it stronger.”

Harry’s not sure if Louis heard him.

Noses nearly touching, Louis sways once, reeling forward then away. Pupils blown wide, his gaze flicks from Harry’s eyes to his lips. Louis’s forehead thuds into his own, eyes fluttering shut.

“Shit,” Louis breathes, shaky fingers winding into the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck. He inhales, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Smell like fucking treacle, Hazza.”

Fuck. Louis’s been deliberate about staying away from Harry, but how long has he kept himself at arm’s length from everyone?

With all his willpower tangled up in not tipping Louis up to catch those lips against his own, Harry’s arms wrap unbidden around Louis’s waist, crushing their hips together. Harry’s alpha settles with Louis against him, but his heart explodes.

It’s only Louis’s omega talking. An omega that’s just presented in a dangerous land and hasn’t been touched in days.

Latching onto that mantra to keep his mind clear, Harry cradles the back of Louis’s head instead, drawing Louis’s face down to his neck. He doesn’t need to say anything. Louis’s instincts kick in and he breathes deeply, body curving into Harry’s as he scents him. A deep shiver rocks through Louis, his muscles relaxing.

Harry tightens his grip, suppressing a shudder as Louis’s tongue grazes his throat. “Lou—”

Harry’s too busy fighting himself to resist when Louis launches himself backwards. Eyes wide but clear, Louis starts to shove fingers through his hair but stops. He twists back to the table, flattening his palms against the surface like he’s forcing them to not wander.

“Go, Haz.”

Anxiety blossoms in Harry’s chest. “Lou, you—”

“Please just,” Louis cuts off, inhales, the hard edge gone when he says, “I need you to fucking go.”

Louis knows better. Three of his siblings are omegas. Everything they’re doing here revolves around helping omegas. Leaving won’t help Louis.

Harry presses his hand to the small of Louis’s back, hoping he’ll turn. “You need to—”

“I don’t care what my omega needs right now.” Louis throws the growl over his shoulder then stiffens, like he’s struggling to keep the commanding tone in his voice. “I’m still the head of this op and I need you to go.”

If it were any other omega, Harry would be grappling with his alpha all over again. Instead he places the entire room between them, pausing in the doorway. “Don’t sleep alone tonight. It’ll help. You know it will.”

Louis doesn’t respond. With one last look at the tension winding Louis’ shoulders again, Harry bites down every urge to stay with him. He disappears from the room, sending up a silent prayer that tomorrow’s mission won’t unravel at the seams.

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<

(Oh my! I’m in the middle of working on my first ABO fic for the @1daboficfest so how awesome was this chance to practice the trope?! Hopefully there’s enough pining! \o/ Thank you for the prompt, lovey! There was no way this one wanted to be less than 1k. Heh.)

Have something else you’d like to see me write? Go wild! Pairing, situation, feeling… Send me an ask (anon or not) completing the sentence ‘I wish you’d write a fic where…’

Superpowers Drabble

Invisible Drabble

Only one bed (H-POV)

Only one bed (L-POV)

#tracking home #hljournal #hlcreators #1dsource #yourlarrysource #tracksintheam #omega Louis #alpha harry #larry fanfiction #larry drabble

[renaxwrites]

Hi! May I request headcanons for Oikawa, Atsumu and Kageyama who fell in love with the same girl?

Nekoma’s Manager Pt. 3

- (Oikawa/Atsumu/Kageyama)

a/n: HAHA this is perfect!! I know it’s no hcs, but it’s the perfect pairing for another part to the Nekoma Manager x Atsumu. Since some of y’all asked, why not continue 👀 pt. 1  pt. 2  pt. 4

You were on the train back home, exhausted from this eventful week you had at the All-Japan Youth Training Camp. You yawn and stretch your arms over your head, careful not to hit the blueberry boy sitting beside you. He chuckles. 

“Tired, y/n-san?”

You breath out a sigh of light amusement. “That is a total understatement.”

Kageyama finds himself observing you in curiosity. He’s been feeling a little more giddy around you a couple days into the camp, with a newfound admiration at how hardworking and strong-willed you are. Not to mention, very pretty.

“If you want, you can nap. I’ll wake you up when our stop comes and walk you home,” he suggests. 

You blink, the thought of a nap already taking effect on your eyes. “Thanks, Tobio-kun. You’re an absolute life-saver.” After a few attempts to make your bag comfortable to rest your head on, no luck.

Bashfully, you turn to shyly ask, “Tobio-kun...can I...use your shoulder?”

“Hmm?”

“I know it’s awkward it’s just...my bag is uncomfortable...I’ll make it up to you I swear.”

He ponders for a second when a light bulb goes off in his head. “Well, we’re having a match against Aoba Johsai on Friday...you make it up by coming to watch. For the team, of course?” you notice a slight blush paint his cheeks.

You grin. “Tobio Kageyama, is this your way of asking me out?”

His face is almost as red as Nekoma’s color. “I-I mean, it sounded better in my head so, yeah I guess,” he looks away sheepishly. 

In response, you tuck your head onto his shoulder, and fall fast asleep. He holds his breath, afraid that any sudden movements will wake you up.

He kept his promise and gently woke you at your stop, then walked you home. 

Friday arrived, and you were anxious to see this match. Sure, it’s going to be an interesting match between two teams, but today, it was a face-off between the Great King and the King of the Court. 

You make your way over to Karasuno’s side, when you hear an unfamiliar voice call out for you. You turn to find the Great King and someone else standing before you. 

“Hey, you must be Nekoma’s manager. I’m Iwaizumi. This is Oikawa. There’s been a lot of talk about you and your skills. Just wanted to make a point to introduce myself to you, hopefully we can become acquainted.” He stuck out his hand for you to shake. 

You shake his hand. “Of course! Nice to meet you Iwaizumi. Looking forward to the match! Maybe if you play good I’ll slip you my highly-requested notes.”

The Great King was practically bursting at the seams from wanting to introduce himself, and couldn’t take it any longer. “So you’re both super smart and super pretty. If Iwa doesn’t want his notes I’ll gladly take your notes. And you don’t need the formalities, Tooru is fine.” He seems pretty smug, flaunting his captain power. 

His smugness reminded you of a certain twin back at the camp. What is it with boys thinking being stuck-up to you was considered flirting? Time to put him in his place. 

“Well, Tooru, I said if you play well I would give you my notes. You need to earn them, captain.” And with that you walk away with a wish of good luck. 

“Hard to get, huh? That’s a new one for you, Shittykawa.”

Oikawa puts his hands on his hips, gaze following your frame. 

“...I kind of like that.”

                                     

You walk over to Karasuno’s side, and are immediately greeted wholeheartedly by the team. You sit down on the bench and find the King of the Court plop down beside you. 

“How are you feeling, Tobio-kun?”

His face was monotone until he heard your question, to which he replied with a sense of determination. “Ready to show Oikawa that I’m not just his stupid successor. That I’m more than the name that others have called me.”

Something about his statement made you giddy. Maybe it was just his spunk that was contagious.

You put a hand on his shoulder in admiration, instantly making his face go haywire with blush. “I know you’ll do great. And don’t worry, I’ll make an extra set of stats for you if you perform well today,” you say with an innocent smile.

Someone else on the other side of the court saw this interaction. And he wasn’t having it.

Karasuno, usually a loud, rowdy bunch, went silent as the Great King strode up to where you and Kageyama sat. Both teams were as confused as you were. Needless to say, all eyes were on the three of you.

“So, y/n-chan. Seems like you and this ‘king’ are pretty close, hmm?”

You cross your arms, not ready to back down. “I guess you can say that.”

Kageyama rises, with him and Oikawa never breaking their battle of eye contact. 

“Well, y/n-chan, you can do much better than him, I think. Scratch that, I know. In fact, I’ll throw a little wager. Aoba Johsai wins, I take you out on a date, and vice versa.”

Before you could respond, Kageyama retorts. “She's not just some object to be won over. Where’s her respect?” He glances at you with a look of concern.

Just when things couldn’t get any wilder, you hear a smug voice of velvet.

“My my, glad I came. The battle for the throne is already more interesting than I was told it would be, and the game hasn’t even started.”

Atsumu Miya. 

“And what are you doing here?”

The blonde twin raises his hands in self-defense. “No harm in watching the so-called kings battle it out, right? Woulda came sooner if I knew you were gonna show up too,” he makes sure to include a wink, much to Oikawa and Kageyama’s dismay. 

“And who the hell are you now? We were having an important conversation with y/n-chan,” Oikawa spits out.

Atusumu shrugs. “What’s it to you? If you must know, I’m one of the top setters in Japan, so technically I’m more qualified to talk to her if I want.”

The two boys began to get closer, sizing each other up, continuing to banter until you stepped in.

“Everybody CALM the hell down.” You stop in between and pushed them on their chests in opposite directions. “The match is about to start, so get it together and relax.” By this point, everyone was watching. Even Hinata was recording on his phone, just in case.

You sighed in exasperation, with the three setters staring at you with intensity. “If anyone is deciding who I’m interested in, it’s myself. But right now, I’m focused on doing my job for this match. Period. And in response to deciding on who, I'll be fair to all of you by leaving it to what I told Atsumu.” They all lean in, anxious to know how to beat each other.

You grin. “No one qualifies to take me on a date until they beat Nekoma.”

The whistle blows, signaling for the match to start in a couple minutes.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I mean you had not one, not TWO, but THREE of the prettiest setters pining over you!! How are you not nervous at what they’ll say?” 

You take the phone away from your ear a bit as Yachi screamed on the other end of the line. “Well, I don't really know how they’ll react. I’ll let you know once our practice is over, though. Should be interesting,” you giggle, glad to have a girl friend to share boy gossip with. 

You walk into the gym and find the whole Nekoma team lined up, all with their arms crossed. No doubt waiting for you.

Kuroo and Yaku step up. “Y/l/n y/n. Would you care to explain? Kenma, pull up the video.”

Kenma raises his phone to you, showcasing the video that was taken of you and the three infamous setters at the match on Friday.

You roll your eyes jokingly, and begin to explain everything, starting from the All Youth training camp to what happened on Friday.

Once you’re finished. Kuroo and Yaku nod, leading the whole team into a huddle. They stay this way for a while, no doubt making bets. Eventually, they break huddle, all grinning smugly. 

“Well, I guess we’ve got our work cut out for us boys,” Kuroo announces.

“Time to crush some pretty setters’ dreams.”

tags: @hihiq @edensxgarden

#rena imagines #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama imagines #oikawa tōru #oikawa x reader #oikawa imagines #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #atsumu imagines #nekoma manager #nekoma