#its literally fucking Straight there is one turn directly where i need to go

[arundolyn]

ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED walk down the street to get food and not get lost

#crow.txt #this was like 2 hrs ago almost now but im still proud of myself #its literally fucking Straight there is one turn directly where i need to go #but also! literally celica mode with directions. or at least it feels like it #on the way back i was like wait is this right. yes it just looks different bc youre coming from the other direction clown shoes

[confusedminx]

Like a Pornstar | Eddie Munson x Reader [Smut]

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Warnings: P in v sex, afab reader but no pronouns, they're making a sex tape, very brief unspoken fluff followed by spoken degrading, brief choking, they're both high, but like still functional high, reader gets manhandled a little, not proof read 18+ MINORS DNI

Request: 40 and 34 from the prompt list for Eddie Munson??

"You look so good with my hands around your neck"

"Why don't we film it?"

A/n: holy shit was this fun. I also wrote half of it fighting a melatonin so if it sucks that's why.

Eddie had recently come into possession of a travel sized camcorder. His favorite activity recently was following you around and recording you. Just things you did that he thought were cute. Which turned out to be almost everything you did.

You guys were laying on his bed one afternoon in your underwear, high as all hell and making out like you needed each other to stay alive. It was messy but neither of you cared. Your hands were tangled in Eddie's hair and one of his hands was inching down the waistband of your underwear. You pulled back from the kiss, his head leaned in to chase your lips which made you giggle.

"Baby get a condom." You said pulling his hand out of your underwear. He pouted playfully, before swinging his legs off the bed and leaning over to his bedside table to grab one. His eyes instead fell on his camcorder, he basically jumped up when he got the idea.

"Why don't we film it?" He said picking up the camera and turning around to show you. Your eyebrows furrowed, against it at first thought. Then after a moment of thinking you agreed to it. It would be nice to see how you guys looked together, and you knew Eddie would protect the tape with his life.

He set the camera up on the bedside table so it was at a good angle to capture you currently laying on the bed. After it was set up well he jumped onto the bed, making you both giggle. His hands went to hold your jaw, tracing it with his fingers as his lips ghosted yours. You leaned in and met his lips. He kissed you softly, he tasted like the spearmint gum he regularly stole from you.

Your hands traced down his arms, before going to hold his shoulder and pulling him closer to you. The kiss became fierce, his hands moving back to your hair, pulling at it. The action ripped a moan from your lips which he swallowed in the kiss. His hands then made the way down your body, you felt as the warm metal of his rings ran down your abdomen. His fingertips met the hem of your underwear, bringing you back to where you began.

He broke the kiss to look you in the eyes, a silent question. You nodded your head before going back in for a kiss, he pulled your underwear down your thighs, his hand going straight for your already sopping cunt. His fingers traced your slit, pulling the wetness from it.

"Baby are you this wet for me?" He pulled his hand away, your slick shining on his rings. You whined out, embarrassed slightly by how little foreplay had got you so wet. He popped a finger in his mouth, staring you directly in the eyes as he sucked it clean. Your entire body felt a wave of arousal travel downwards.

"Eddie Munson," You started, feeling out of breath from just witnessing that. "You need to fuck me this instance before I go insane." He let out a chuckle before pulling you back into a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue. He grabbed your hips roughly, pulling you onto his lap. You could feel his clothed erection pushing at your bare cunt, as if it was literally begging to be freed.

His hand held your back as he leaned over to grab a condom, since he forgot it the first time in his distraction.He ripped it open before pulling down his underwear, his cock almost slapping his stomach. It was red and leaking as he slipped on the condom. He lifted you by the hips and slowly sunk you down on his cock.

You adjusted yourself before beginning a slow pace of bouncing yourself on his dick. Your hips moving up and down in a steady rhythm. Eddie's hand had found its place on your throat, squeezing the sides lightly, not enough to cut off air supply but enough to know it's there and it's not moving. You sped up your rhythm, now there was a distinct sound of skin slapping throughout the room.

"You look so good with my hand wrapped around your neck." He said, his eyes fixated om your face. He looked at you like you hung the moon and stars, like you were the only thing in the universe. Even in the dirtiest of moments, he was still a sap.

Your eyes glanced over at the camera, you had almost forgotten it was there. Eddie's eyes followed yours, and suddenly his face grew into a smirk. Both his hands fell to your hips, pulling you off of him. You whined at the loss of contact, but he quickly flipped you on your stomach and dropped you on the bed. His hands returned to your hips, positioning them before entering you again. His left hand went to grab your hair, pulling it so you looked directly into the camera as he started to pound into you.

Your mouth fell open as moans folded out. Eddie set a brutal pace, one hand on your hip, the other staye put holding your hair back. "You like this?" His voice was strained, and he was panting. "You like being recorded? Like a slutty little pornstar? It's right in your face all we're gonna see is how much of a whore you look like taking dick." You tightened around him at his words, your hands gripping his bed sheets. "Cmon baby say it. Say you like getting fucked like a little slut."

"Fuck Eds.." You moaned out, his grip tightened around your hair, pulling back harder.

"Say. it." One thrust in particular was harder then the rest and hit just the right spot.

"Fuck! I like getting fucked like a slut." You all but screamed out, your hands gripping the sheets so hard you heard a rip. Neither of you cared about it, only focused on each other. Eddie had began to slam into you, his pace becoming rougher as he felt you near your release. Pounding into you at that special spot over, and over again.

All you could mumble out was his name, begging him to keep going. His hand dropped your hair, and your head fell to the beds you screamed out in pleasure. His hand held your other hip, fucking you on his dick to the say pace as his. Your orgasm hit you like a brick wall, your head slamming down on the mattress as you came. You tightened around him as he fucked you through your orgasm, his thrusts becoming sloppy. After a few more short thrusts he came into the condom.

He pulled out of you slowly, your body collapsing on the bed. He disposed of the condom and followed your actions, plopping down right next to you.

"You're amazing." Is all he said, looking at you. You face was in the mattress, but you turned to look at him. He had that same look as earlier, looking at you as if you were the only thing ever. After a few seconds he stood up abruptly, dashing to grab the camera. "I almost forgot about this thing." He laughed out, stopping the video. "This will be so fun to watch."

"God we just had sex and you're already thinking about porn." You laughed out, sitting up to look at your giddy boyfriend.

"Hey! Not just any porn, You porn. Which is most definitely the best porn ever." He had a goofy smile on his face as he leaned down to kiss you. You smiled back into the kiss, before laying back down on the bed. You were ready to take the fattest cat nap of the century, while he threw his pants on to go get the video developed.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things

[amrv-5]

sorry this is out of curiousity and you totally can not answer it but what is the long fic you’re writing about

ahh hello!! no problem I’m happy to answer (i love.... talking about writing....i will ALWAYS love talking about writing. it fills me with absolute joy to talk at length about themes ideas motifs etc in my writing. even if they’re just ‘what in god’s name were you thinking’ i will ALWAYS love questions!!)! 

in general terms, the as-yet untitled Long Fic is just another post-war fic about Hawk and Beej trying to adjust back to life in the States on their own, and eventually finding their way back to each other again. extremely down-the-line, absolutely no supernatural twists, high realism. It’s only stupid long because I’m trying to give that the space it needs to feel real to me, and that amount of space is turning out to be: A Lot.

a broader series of themes & questions (so far lol) are below the cut for mild thematic spoilers, length, and (sorry) minimizing exposure to pretentiousness purposes:

So You Want to Know What the Long Fic is About: A Condensed Thematic Overview of 158K (For Now) of Straight-Up Realist Historical Fiction Where, No Joke, a Significant Portion of That Length is Dedicated Solely to Guys Thinkin’ Real Hard About Stuff, Guaranteed to Make You Say ‘Holy Fuck, I’m Sorry I Asked, Please Just Shut Up’ With Parker, Your Resident Guy Who is Normal About TV

1. Mis- and non-communication.

What happens when you go from sleeping three feet away from your best friend in the world to living so far away a letter takes two weeks on a round trip? How do your methods of understanding each other (and misunderstanding each other…) change? How does or can one maintain closeness when literal proximity is denied? How does somebody handle abandonment when the abandonment in question was unavoidable (i.e. nobody to blame--the death of a mother, maybe, or the end of a shared living situation)?

2. Justice, suffering, and recompense.

This is where the pretentiousness comes in, I know this makes me sound like an asshole I just care about American case law a lot and it infects all of my writing, etc. etc. Anyway. How do we approach ideas of suffering and justice when they fall outside the jurisdiction of an American view of legal culpability? How does one go about trying to seek justice when they are provably, demonstrably hurt, but there is nowhere to direct the blame? These questions are kind of slippery and weird, so I’ll try to frame it more directly: somebody in this story is going to struggle (as they always do in my work) with despair. It is a serious and life-long struggle. How does a person in that situation move beyond ideas like fairness, justice, and being owed relief, to accepting that ‘fairness’ doesn’t really exist in terms of things like personal neurochemistry? And how, then, does that acceptance hold itself in relation to larger forms of human injustice--how does somebody accept their own ‘unfair’ situation as a reality they must bear while continuing to maintain ideological opposition to injustices that can be changed?

3. Empathy and invisible strife.

A little bit of an overlap with the previous set of ideas, but this one flows out of one of my favorite poems in the world, “Musee des Beaux Arts” by Auden (check it out, if you haven’t read it!). The narrator states:

About suffering they were never wrong, The old Masters: how well they understood Its human position: how it takes place While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;

And then, later: 

In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry, But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green Water, and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky, Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

I am compelled by how frequently awareness of strife is set aside in day to day life, especially in American life, and that comes through big time in the Long Fic. 

At a psychological level, there’s a certain idea, I think, that it is very evident when people are doing badly; that you will always be able to tell; that the solution is as simple as reaching out, or asking for help. Unfortunately, that is often not the case. Somebody can be having the worst day of their life, be absolutely at the end of their rope, be seconds away from losing it completely, and five feet to the left there could be somebody else making a ham sandwich. So that comes through a lot in the work--this borderline absurdist, tragicomic idea that nobody’s ever really going to know exactly how you feel, and even if they did, they might be too busy doing the crossword to notice.

And at a less granular level, you can apply this (and will see it applied) to the American cultural response to the Korean War, which was incredibly muted. Even though millions of people died, even though the daily suffering of people, especially local civilians, involved was immense, because it was so (to an American domestic point of view) far-off, most people just went on with their lives. People celebrated birthdays, TV shows were produced, city council meetings dragged gaily on.

These things seem inevitable, and the ideas behind them kind of obvious: of course the world keeps turning when bad things happen. People just aren’t built to maintain ceaseless fear, anger, outrage, etc. at tragedy that is not directly affecting them, because they are concerned with the business of being alive. The people that do manage to maintain constant attention to large-scale but abstract or not immediately visible tragedies tend to go crazy, self-immolate, and/or quit their fancy math professorships at Berkeley in order to start direct mail marketing campaigns. Everybody else tends to feel bad about an issue, maybe they’ll see if they can do something small to help, and then they forget about it and keep managing the minutiae of their own lives. Yes, of course this or that issue is tragic--but I’ve got to do my taxes, or I’ve got to hit a deadline, or I’ve got to go to the store. The ploughman keeps working, too busy to investigate the splash. The ship sails on with somewhere to get to. 

But then again, even if the logic is sound, from Icarus’s point of view the world has got to seem awfully cold and mean.

#fuck this got long #sorry! hope that explains vaguely what to expect! #and again to clarify: I LOVE QUASTION #never apologize for talking to me about writing i am a little literature freak and i WILL write you an essay about literally anything #in conclusion: it's going to be a weird one but I hope it connects to people #but if you don't have time to read like probably 200K #(and who could blame you) #just read that auden poem and it'll say everything i'm trying to say 10000x faster and better and more beautifully #meta #the long fic #The LitFic Cometh

[sometipsygnostalgic]

Owl House Finale

I’ve written my preliminary review of the Owl House finale, see below. 

Overall – Very nostalgic and sweet ending to the series, managed to capture so many of the emotions that it needed to do. Surpassed my expectations by not getting so caught up on the threads of plot that it had thoroughly neglected in the previous episode.

Not everything is resolved by any measure. The other archivists? Were the titans killed? What about Bill? What about the Collector worshippers? I feel that there were elements of plot that were supposed to be covered in season 3 that had to be abandoned.

However this is not devastating. The series finale decided that instead of trying to be an entire season of episodes in one go, like the previous two eps, it was just gonna be the climax. I'm glad it made this choice because it meant we got as much time as we needed for the emotional scenes in the ep, and plenty of other scenes are implied (eg. Darius adopting Hunter). It tried its best.

The opening scene is frustratying for me as someone who ahs followed Luz having this dilemma for ages and clearly understanding from the outset, no, theres no similarities to Belos, stop trying to sell me that there is, please stop. But as a bookend? Well the opening scene reminds us that Luz is comparing herself to Belos, but when she King's dad and he tells her that Belos doesn't have any origin of noble intentions, it's great buildup to the final scene where she stares Belos down as he melts in the rain.

I think given time we will see this as a relatively anticlimactiv end to Belos, I feel like it was building up to something greater with him specifically, especially after the last two eps where we saw flashes of  Caleb. Belos and  Hunter had no interactions at all. Belos just dying in the rain is weird when he's survived literally everything else. However it's fitting that the Boiling Isles themselves kills him... in addition to Eda, King, and ESPECIALLY Raine xD

The scene where the Collector realises mortality for the first time is heartbreaking. I knew going in that Luz would die, meet God, and come back to life. I was not really pleased to hear that spoiler, I didn't like how it happened in Amphibia. I thought it was MUCH better in the Owl House, though still a fakeout death, because we had a chance to see how Luz's death impacted other people. We saw King and Eda go into FUCKING BEAST MODE and kick shit out of Boiling Isles Belos.

Why didn't Belos do this in the first place? Weird. Maybe he wasn't far gone enough? He hadn't become The Thing yet. Maybe he was too determined to go back home as a human being, it's only now he's let the illusion of his humanity go.

This special played with and directly subverted tropes in similar Disney Shows. Amphibia and Star Vs both episodes where their protagonists die, meet God, and awaken to a greater magic. Owl House did this again and played it straight. I thought Star did it best, but Owl House did a fucking fantastic job as well with TITAN LUUUUUUUZ. She's so COOOOOOL!  

The other ideas, plural that owl house played with, are

Forgiveness. They manage to convert the Collector, but it's directly shown this isn't happening with Belos, he gets annihilated just like Horde Prime, Luz feels no guilt at all for his death, only hatred. It's a lovely contrast after how much she thought she was like him, she understands now that letting him die does not make her the same. Eda King and Raine ALREADY knew this and are more than happy to finish the job. “That was really cathartic”.

The Death of Magic. Partially played straight with the disappearance of Titan Magic. HOWEVER, it makes you think Luz grew up in the human realm without her friends, but then turns it around and theyve been hanging out the entire time. The Owl House door was recreated so Luz and Camilla and Vee can go back as they please.  Lots of very cute images, such as Luz and Vee's graduation. I felt that this was playing with our expectations of the Death of Magic, like OF COURSE Luz has to “grow up” and let go of her magical fantasy, but owl house says FUCK YOU, WE'RE WEIRD FOREVER.

The parts I got most emotional at were Luz, Eda and King reuniting and showing the Collector their memories, then Eda and King and the Collector reacting to Luz's Death, that incredibly funny scene with King Dad even if him and Luz being alive makes absolutely no sense, and the ending where WE SEE HOW EVERYONE GREW UP IT'S SO CUTE. Sometimes these flashes of the future are bad, sometimes theyre good, personally I think the one in shera was a bit sappy for my taste, but the one here is lots of fun and shows us the characters we love being their best selves.... I don't think it's at all generic and boring, because frankly it's not like the Owl House world had lots of unused potential so really it fleshes things out here and makes it more exciting than the situation was before the Collector took over.

Raine is an absolute Regent and watching them fight Belos with blood in their mouth was so fucking cool.

I am sad that we will never get cartoons like this again, this was the final great on air at the moment. Maybe Netflix will commission something decent eventually, maybe Fionna and Cake will not be terrible (doubt), but I feel like the new blood that emerged after Adventure Time has come to an end. All those beautiful artists have to move into different fields or do trash work because there isn't an environment that loves them anymore. I guess that maybe we'll get some excellent reboots in the next few years that these people work on...

#owl house #the owl house

[blookmallow]

more murder game 

to say the least 

YIKES

y’know im writing these going back through my screenshots after. being actually much further on and i dont remember if this was ever explained really. was this just there to fuck with them 

you guys keep leaving out really crucial information here i feel like this death game isn’t very fair 

at least monokuma makes the rules clear before making everyone murder each other 

anyway i think im missing a couple shots here but q-taro tried to get us all dead bc he decided he’s the most important person and needs to get out even if it means all of us die. which, y’know. i guess he’s got the orphanage he needs to get back to but im still a lil bitter about it 

i feel like we’re not nearly worried enough about the fact that they have identical duplicates of everyone just on hand, with the ability to make them be alive, AND advanced AIs of everyone here with the potential capability of updating in real time 

how the FUCK are we not talking about this. anyone could be a doll at any time 

oh boy 

that’s. good. that’s fine 

its FINE its FINE 

OK!!! THIS IS. WE’LL FIGURE THIS OUT THIS IS FINE 

i actually. literally could not get out of here without just ignoring them all because i never used the memory eraser thing (really just not a good idea to agree to erase parts of your brain, i think, ) so my hallucination level just kept going critical 

unless that’s Supposed to happen here and the point is you can’t get through it without just refusing to acknowledge them 

why is it ALWAYS GIN 

im not sure if the whole token thing is actually a factor you can control, i dont remember what the final token count was (if it said what it was) or whether it was like, a number i could have significantly influenced 

anyway this is the point where ive decided im Done with q-taro because like. ok the game here is, gin’s going to get shot with an injection of poison. they don’t have all the information from the start so they believe this will kill him instantly. q-taro can choose to switch places with him. i can understand that a man might not be able to bring himself to choose to die for someone else, even if it is a child, especially since he’s already said he’s willing to do anything to get back to the kids he’s responsible for at home 

but then they discover that the poison isn’t immediately fatal, and they in fact have an antidote for it, and there’s a way to solve this puzzle so everyone escapes if they don’t take too long. gin is a child. q-taro is a big athletic adult man. he still refuses to switch places with gin. meaning, he, an adult who will almost definitely be able to take a few shots while they’re figuring it out, and knows he’ll be able to cure it at the end, decides instead to risk the life of a child taking the shots for him when he’s much smaller and could die way faster. literally why would you refuse that unless you’re just That selfish or that cowardly. especially since he was previously down to vote a child to die just on the basis of “they’re less useful” fuck you q-taro fuck you i hate you 

I FUCKING KNEW IT 

doll reko is genuinely. one of the most tragic characters in this story and nobody really talks about her again after this. its really upsetting, 

oh. shit. oops 

was. that my fault somehow, 

sorry alice 

i guess reko’s still alive though so that’s a plus 

i literally don’t understand why this happened though like. isn’t it against the floor masters’ rules or whatever for them to directly intervene/attack participants?? like. what happened here was ranger threw a doll head at alice that looked like reko’s severed head, but then it turned out to be fake, but it exploded so he died anyway but. alice didn’t actually do anything to cause that. he didn’t violate any rules, there wasn’t a vote, and it wasn’t a Challenge/game that he failed. unless they’re allowed to just call fucking anything a game and justify themselves for just straight up killing you because they felt like it, in which case there’s no purpose in having regulations for the floor masters at all, and there’s just NO fucking structure to this whole game in the first place 

which i guess could be the point but it’s always more interesting when there’s rules and ways you Can win. if it’s just “we trapped you all in here and we’ll just kill you whenever we feel like it” that’s not a death game that’s just, like, murdering people. so why bother with all the traps and puzzles and complicated challenges if you’re just gonna sometimes explode people because, like, It’s A Prank Bro

or was that the reason ranger got dead. i dont remember Why he got dead other than gashu was just Done with him

#lucy plays yttd #scooby dooby queue

[toiletwipes]

simpbur's college roommate

tw: obsession, possessiveness? not really tbh, simpbur is caught, overstim, vibrator, afab body, vaginal penetration, pretty boy is thrown around and so is good boy, praise, maybe a tiny bit degrading, im just a little bit scared to look through this to check for anything else. its not bad but im just scared i'll delete this if i dont post it now.

1.7k words, so not that long but I promised you guys content so here it is!

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it was the smaller things, really.

you wouldn’t notice them, if you weren’t looking for them, type of deal. a shirt that fits you just a little bit too snug so it sits in the back of your closet, or did. an old polaroid with an older friend, faces smiling into the flash of light, it had sat in the bottom of your old memory box, said box gone untouched by you for months. an oversized, raggedy hoodie that you had ditched for a newer, softer coat.

you didn’t want to believe it but at the moment you had bigger fish to fry with schoolwork.

the coat from before sat in your lap at the moment, you parked yourself in the library as you studied with a close friend for some government essay, and you were just nearly finished with the second to last page, when your friend spoke up.

she taps on your arm, pulling out your earbud, “hey, your roommate is will, er, wilbur, right?” you stopped in the middle of a word, lifting your head to meet her eyesight.

“yeah, why? he being creepy or something?” you ask, hoping for a no, he wasn’t bad, but you knew that if anybody else had been his roommate, he would've found himself in trouble during the first week alone.

“no, actually, it’s just- it’s just that, um, are you guys dating?” you snorted, really? you and him? dating?

“he’s cute, but no, why d’ya ask?” you laugh to yourself as you look into your notes as you start typing again.

“well, he’s just been wearing your hoodie, like a lot.” you still, eyebrows furrowing. your hoodie?

“how do you know it's my hoodie?” you look her in her eyes, folding your arms together as you lean back.

“i know for sure its your hoodie because it has that one bleach stain on the front and on the shoulder from when you said you could wear a hoodie and bleach your hair, and the time that you spilt bleach directly onto your hoodie and panicked for five minutes before doing something about it. i know it's yours so why is he wearing it?” your mind is blank as you stuff your things back into your backpack, her sputtering with questions and your lack of answers leaving much to be desired.

but as you exit the building, you shrug your coat as it starts to pour and the dark sky flashes for a moment. you rush in your walking to get to the dorms as soon as possible. just your luck that your dorm is on the other side of the campus. its still about five minutes before you bang on your dorm room. the music blasting on the other side silences as your roommate opens the door, his mouth drops into a round circle and you stare at his chest as you push past him.

“where the hell have you been? it’s barely been pouring!” he sounds off like a rattled hen but you head straight to your room, dumping your backpack and coat on your bed. without an answer, he follows you but any questions he has dries in his mouth as he watches you dig in your closet. pulling a ratty tee shirt and shorts you shrug your soaked shirt over your head.

will has to force himself out of the room but it's not a second later when you come out, hair wet and skin damp when you grab onto his head of hair and pull as you drag him to his room.

throwing him onto the bed, you barely glanced at his face, seeing it already being covered in tears, hands grasping for yours as it leaves him.

you glance around his room before you see the one clean area, his nightstand and dig through that. you found not only items you knew were missing but more, underwear you thought you'd thrown away, a vibrator that you'd thought had gotten stolen by a petty friend, not an obsessive roommate.

and then throwing his closet open, you saw it balled up and thrown in the corner, your hoodie.

taking it out, you push it into will's chest. "dude, literally, what the fuck?" you go to shout at him more but he moves onto his knees, tears dripping and pouring down his cheeks, begging for you to not leave.

"i know i'm a creep, a disgusting one at that, but please don't- please don't leave me, no one's been this nice and stayed with me for this long," he begs and continues to beg as you stand at the foot of his bed, watching as he took a hold of your forearms, rubbing circles into them.

you clasp a hand over his mouth as you coo, shushing him and smoothing over his hair with your other hand.

"my dirty, little stalker doesn't want me to go, but who said i was going to let you leave?" you then pull back on his hair, relishing in the guttural moan that is ripped from his throat, attaching your lips to his neck and climbing into lap, grinding down into the growing bulge in his sweats.

he moans out your name, hands finding purchase wherever he can, gripping your hip and your shoulder, trying to thrust up and meet your hips but you move your hands to hold his hips down.

"no, no, no, good boys take what they're given, that much you've proven, will," you murmur in his ear, slowing the rolls in your hips and watching him writhe beneath you.

"be a good boy for me, huh? are you my pretty boy?" he sobs out a yes as you grind down hard on his cock, the praise going straight to his dick as you mouth bruises into his neck. sucking particularly hard his hands come and circle around your waist, his head hanging onto your shoulder.

"please, please let me-"

"oh no, baby, tonight, it's all about you," you pause, standing up and hearing that beautiful whine pulled from his throat, "your punishment for being a dirty, little whore who wanted all my things for yourself, all of me without me." he shook his head, eyes barely opening as he reaches for you, but you've gone to his nightstand and pulled out the vibrator, turning it on and off and finding it surprisingly still working. well, not that surprising.

"now, you're gonna be a good boy and let me take care of you, or you can be alone," he reaches for you, begging you not to leave him and you can't say you weren't that affected.

something about this tall, greasy simp of a man, who stole your things and wears your old hoodie, begging for you not to go, it just settled nicely in the bottom of your stomach.

you weren't denying you were absolutely soaked by now, shoving your shorts off.

"please, i'll- your good boy, be so good for you-" he cuts himself off as you climb back to straddle his lap, this time rolling your hips once before you turn your vibrator on.

"good, so good for me," you hum as you place the vibrator between your panty-clad folds and his sweatpants-covered-cock. the vibrations sent you to a different plane as you grind into him, listening to the way he cried and the way his legs trembled.

you could tell the next moment, he was about to cum and well, you can't have that, not so soon. "ah, ah, ah," you breathe out, taking the vibe away as you lean back and away from his dick.

he lurched forward and his legs shake again as he's denied an orgasm, he cries out and into your neck.

"is my baby ready for ten more of these?" you ask him and his eyes snap wide open, meeting yours and when a moment passes and you press the vibe back against his dick, he whines.

you weren't kidding about before, it's been about an hour, you think, and he's buried his face in a pillow, crying from the over-stimulation and from not cumming.

you, yourself, have occupied your time with stretching yourself out, three fingers buried deep into your pussy and the sounds coming from it has will peeking out from the pillow, eyes sparkling with that crying glow.

taking your fingers out, and sticking them into his mouth, you move yourself over his lap, taking his cock in your hand as you rub it in between your folds. moaning, you move away as his hips jerk upwards, him biting and crying into his fist.

"my pretty baby, doing so well for me, gonna let me make you feel good? you gonna let me make you cum?" will nods his head and lets out the loudest moan you heard that day when you sink down on his cock.

buried to the hilt, he twitches inside you, and he's begging to cum, "'m gonna, 'm gonna cum, please, plea- need to, i need to cum in you," he begs and who are you to deny your pretty boy that?

"cum for me baby," you say, out of breath as you bounce on his cock, reveling in the slick sounds coming from between y'all. he does cum, hips thrusting upwards to bury himself in you, and you let him. but when you know he's all spent, you start to bounce on his cock, him crying from the over-sensitivity.

"just- just let me cum," you breathe out, balancing yourself with his shoulder and one hand rubbing circles into your clit, moans coming from your mouth as sobs leaves will's.

"oh- oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" you cry out, squeezing around will and falling on top of his chest.

breathing together, you let yourself have this moment before you get up and moves towards the bathroom. you hear him calling out for you as you grab a damp towel, some water, and a dry towel.

"did you think i was going to leave you, baby?" you ask, mostly not expecting an answer but turning to him as you run the damp cloth over his face and neck, he bit his lip.

"a little bit, yeah."

"well, don't think about that again, because as much as you're weird and steal my shit, you're still important to me," you tell me, "you're my pretty boy and you're going to stay that way."

when you finished cleaning him up and then cleaned yourself, you take the spot next to him and pull the covers over you two.

he leans into your side, pulling you into him, trying to get closer than close.

"you promise?"

you smile to yourself, thinking about having him all to yourself, "i promise."

#simpbur #simpbur smut #simpbur x reader #k: praise #k: overstim #k: dacryphilia #k: dry humping #tw: afab #this just feels like crap but i have not been able to write anything else #really sorry

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

[yeoreos]

avid || jjk (m)

pairing: demon!jungkook x human!reader

genre: 18+, smut

summary: jungkook finds you at a bar and sets you as his night's target

warnings: oh lord smut. lots and lots of smut.

wc: 4k

note: i was kind of lazy to finish it, but hey, its 4k of foreplay; nothing beats that! (also sorry for not posting in a while i was busy with beginning of year exams *cries*)

jungkook first noticed you in a bar. on weekends, it was transformed into a seedy nightclub. he liked to go there while he was looking for something to eat; something to conquer for the night. he discovered a plethora of attractive females and, each with broken hearts and hungry gazes - all yearning for a nighttime lover.

he never believed his eyes when they landed on you. the state you were in was pitiful. he guessed that you had just broken up with this boyfriend of yours, hence the mascara and ruined makeup on your face. or perhaps it was a platonic breakup. despite your state, his mahogany orbs never left your figure. what a cute thing you were.

a pretty face that was exactly his type, the perfect curves of your tits, hips, and ass has his knees weak. if you were to ask, he would give.

of course, his initial plan had been thrown out the window the instant he saw you. you leaned against the bar, accepting an order, with a grin on your lips. It sparked something in him, all the confidence (whether it be from the alcohol in your veins or not, it didn't matter to him) and allure.

he knew your name. how could he miss the way your own name rolled off of your tongue so easily? how could he miss the way your lips formed a smirk after seeing jungkook? how could he miss your scent when you pulled him in to kiss you?

this was jungkook's specialty, depravity. wherever he went, he brought a tale of wickedness and depravity with him, the quality hooking onto him like a magnet.

he was a fallen angel, to be sure. a demon, a fallen angel. to be more specific, an incubus. he fed off of sex and vice, appetites and irrational cravings. he drank often in front of ladies like you, at bars or in beds, whose gazes wracked over him, and he fed off of human energy.

over time, after a handful of centuries, he had gotten bored of playing the same old games in bed. jungkook knew what he wanted, however, he was never able to satisfy that itch in the back of his throat, yearning for something to quench his sinful thirst.

he was tired, watching from atop the hill nearby, where he watched the sun rest for the night. just like you had. the darkness of the night overtook the city of seoul and jungkook knew it was his hour to strike; to feed his thirst.

so, the demon went after you, hovering over your small figure over the pathetic excuse of a bed. the soft rising and falling of your chest and the soft snores that escaped from your mouth once in a while, was all the proof jungkook needed that you were fast asleep.

jungkook extended his hand towards you, brushing his knuckles on your cheek, a tremor coursing through his body as a result of the contact. the energy you were emitting caused every molecule in his body to twitch in response. captivating.

oh how badly he wanted a taste.

when you stirred a little, a small groan leaving your lips, jungkook stilled. had you woken up? however, it was just a small movement you were causing in your sleep which allowed you to further curl up against the pillow.

he grinned.

it was time.

"let's go in that dream of yours, shall we?"

-

when he opened his eyes again, jungkook didn't expect himself to be in the same bar, be in the same exact position as before. however, this time, you were looking directly at him with your hungry eyes, mimicking his.

ever since heaven had decided to clip his wings, jungkook gave up on the little purity he had left, letting himself follow his heart.

so that's why he felt no shame in eyeing your figure up and down multiple times.

it wasn't necessarily anything that stood out about you, but it was just the aura you were giving off, that sweet feminine scent that lingered near the air around you, that small curve of your lips. but it might have mostly been the way you called for him, despite not knowing his name.

"hello, handsome."

jungkook didn't really have a preference when coming to his targets. he didn't prefer virgins; he always thought that they were inexperienced and didn't know how to give a good head. he didn't prefer the experienced either; he always thought that they knew too much and made the sex too sloppy. it was somewhere in between. and by the looks of it, you seemed like the perfect target. it had his insides churning, a long yearning for a good fuck. he thought he was going crazy.

throughout his centuries of living, he saw empires and clans of royalty fall and rebuild itself, being reborn. he didn't go out of his way to feel good, but he took whatever the universe offered to him. in this case, it was you.

when the surroundings suddenly changed to a much quieter one, where no one was bumping into each other, jungkook furrowed his eyebrows. it did not, however, take him long to notice that you were in the premises of your bedroom, the small plants on your windowsill being a huge clue.

“who are you?” you inquired, your voice scarcely audible. smirking, the man took a step forward. in contrast to his sparkling eyes, the moonlight from the window follows his body flawlessly, giving him a blue tone on his skin. you became aware of his exposed skin due to his lack of clothing. as you took in his powerful body, a flicker of longing tingled between your legs.

the man stayed deafeningly silent. instead, the man crept onto the bed, trailed by what appeared to be a shadow. you kept a tight eye on his every move because you couldn't move. you felt yourself spreading your legs wide as he crept over top of you. you had a tremendous want to feel him and be completely consumed by him.

despite being a demon, a sex demon (literally), jungkook still understood the morals of consent, making sure it was his top priority. after all, he wouldn't want it if he was in your position.

"are you okay with what's going to happen?" his words were like a captivating chime in your ears, quickly relaxing you and making you desire more. you found yourself placing our hands on his shoulders in order to feel his silky skin. how was it possible for a man to be both burning hot and icy cold at the same time? the dampness between your legs was unbearable, and you were drawn to him with all your might. your nipples perked beneath your shirt as you didn’t wear a bra to bed, you remembered. this made sense. something you remembered vividly. just a shirt and panties was all you wore to bed. clearly you must be dreaming, so you may as well indulge without regret.

"y-yes." you dropped your hands to grasp your shirt and pull it over your head to display your nakedness while looking into the man's eyes. with a hunger for your every move, he kept an eye on you. as he glanced over you, his throat vibrated with a palpable growl. you noticed he was completely hard as your gaze slid down your body with his. in a humble tone, you inquire, "is this real? this isn't a dream, is it?"

the man's grin makes your entire body twitch. you feel him quickly remove your underpants and fling it somewhere off the bed. you become acutely aware of the excitement between your legs as well as the heat emanating from his body. he lowers himself still more until he's right up against your door.

“would you prefer to be dreaming... or would you prefer to be here with me?” the man inquires, his tone innocent but with a sinister undertone.

when you reached for your thighs to give yourself some relief, there was nothing there. as your eyes scanned your surroundings, all you could feel was the chill of your own flesh. red. your vision was completely red. it was almost as if someone had brought in a red mood lamp and shone it throughout the room. it was entirely painted in a bright crimson color. your epidermis. the walls on all four directions. it was all red.

everything seemed hazy and perplexing, and you wondered where you were. you were in a new environment. some may even argue it was a living hell.

you sat up and wrapped yourself in the nearest blanket you could locate before standing up. warm wooden floorboards greeted your bare feet. “what?” kneeling down, you firmly pressed your hand on the wood once again to be sure you weren't hallucinating, but then again, what's to say you weren't hallucinating the whole thing?

'im not a lunatic... you thought to yourself as the warm sensation of the wood stretched across your palm. you straightened up and looked about your flat, trying to figure out what you could do about the red. you stood up straight and began to look around your apartment to see if there was anything you could do about the red. nibbling on your lower lip gently, you stood up straight and began to look around your apartment to see if there was anything you could do about the red.

the door to your bedroom squeaks open just as you were ready to turn on the light switch. the sound reverberated throughout the room with such eerie intensity that you were nearly persuaded your tv had turned back on and was showing yet another horror movie. then something happened. from your room, a man who could only be described as the devil strolled in as if he owned the place. you would be fascinated by this man's beauty if he hadn't just walked in like that. a scar runs from the left side of his jaw all the way down to his neck, giving him a strong jawline. his delicate yet sharp-looking features are caressed by soft wild hair, and his adorable small head is adorned with two pointy horns. it was the eyes, though, that drew your attention.

not the fact that he emerged from your room shirtless. nor the fact that he had claws and a commanding tail swishing back and forth. no, it was those soulless black eyes that were piercing right through you. your very being. you were in some type of trans as the mystery man - no, not man - thanks to those black coals. devil. That sounded more like it.

you couldn't take your gaze away, but as your feet shuffled you further away from this entity, they did all the thinking for you. it only appeared to encourage the beast to keep going before you pressed up against him and the wall. as you summoned the strength to speak up, your grip on the blanket trembled a little. “wh-what are you looking for?” your voice faded away quietly.

the devil had smirked at your frailty and little dread before running a clawed hand through your unkempt hair “i'm starving, my love.” before leaning in and drinking in your aroma, it spoke in the lowest, almost infantile voice. “won't you feed me nice and well, love? after all, you did want this to be real, right?” you weren't sure if it was the tone of his voice or the proximity, but you nodded in accord.

he grabbed your neck and ran his tongue across his lips before taking you into a harsh but passionate kiss. soft cherry red lips ravished your lips in a ravenous embrace while his hands roamed across your body, grasping and groping everything it could find.

a deep moan emerged from both of you as you felt the tightness of his jeans against your leg, causing a burning feeling. the burning of want burned through your skin everywhere he touched, everywhere he invaded with his mouth, hands, and body. it was almost a nasty, twisted euphoria that made your cunt clench around nothing in eagerness.

as the unnamed monster looked you up and down, an almost animalistic growl exited his throat as he took a deep inhale, you gasped for air. “love, you smell so fucking amazing for me.” he spoke in hushed tones through little pockets of air. “you're so delicious that i could devour you whole.”

the very thought of doing so appeared to amuse him, as he let out a brief but malicious laugh before narrowing his focus to the blanket still clinging to you.

with a scowl on his face, he clasped his larger hand around the one holding the blanket in place before yanking at it, only to have you keep it in place. the devil, with his head cocked to the side, gazed at you, perplexed, as if he didn't understand what you were doing.

“it's just that,” you murmured, tightening your jaw at the gaze those empty eyes gave you like a chill up your spine, "i feel comfortable like this...” you muttered the last bit, swallowing any spit you had.

but there was no justification or apology for him, so he raised his claw into the air and cut the blanket, ripping it open wide.

fear, as well as the lust racing through your veins, were clouding your judgment once more. the notion that his claws were so near to slicing you terrified you and turned you on like nothing you'd ever experienced. it gave a sense of how perilous it was to be so near to this creature, which was part of what made it so thrilling.

"baby, nothing is safe when i'm around."

those words, on the other hand, did it for you. you reached out to him as soon as you dropped the tattered blanket on the floor, exposing yourself to him. you drew him back into another intense kiss by wrapping your arms around him and springing up to wrap your legs around his waist. as he grasped your thighs to keep you in place, he was caught completely off guard by your sudden bravery.

each passing breath spent on one another battling for control, hips sliding up against each other as your damp panties rubbed up against his encaged dick, which was most definitely pressing painfully against the denim trousers he was wearing, made the kiss more hungry and animal-like. the cool contact of skin moving up against your back and down your underwear made you whimper.

despite his animalistic state, you always thought he was beautiful, a rare creature. "you're beautiful," you murmured, oblivious to the fact that you were saying it aloud. he laughed with his head tilted back. his neck was big and thick, but it was the raised markings that went all the way around it that caught your eye; they were woven together like chains, as if he had been choked with scorching metal.

the demon kissed you long and hard, barely pausing to breathe. His tongue was lengthy and had a split down the center. it was a novel experience that was strangely addictive. you became engrossed in the way it encircled your own. with his fangs, the monster simply paused to tug on your lower lip. as his hand moved down to your thigh, you let out a faint little groan.

he sang, “such a good girl,” as he drew you up into his arms. Jungkook snatched you up like feather. as you placed your legs around his tiny waist, his arms bulged. before he entered your room, he gave you a lengthy, scorching kiss. you had your arms around his neck, sliding your fingers through his hair and scraping against the base of one of his horns as an experiment.

the devil looked down at you as you lay on your bed, his crimson eyes flashing in the dim light. only those eyes and the white-tipped base of his horns could be seen with the moon blearily seeping through your blinds. it felt as though the monster beneath your bed had arrived to devour you. slowly, he moved his hand up the wall, flicking on the light and bathing you both in a golden glow.

you eventually let your gaze drift away from his, focusing on his toned chest, tight waist, and muscular thighs. when you noticed the bulge yearning to be freed from his pants, you licked your lips. he finally went closer, his lips brushing against yours as he crept between your legs. his hands crept up to the band of your shorts, the heat of his palm scorching and heavy on your bare thighs.

he yanked your shorts down your hips and flung them behind him as he kissed you. he tore through your shirt even quicker, softly cursing as he saw your naked breasts. you yanked on his shirt, trying to get a better look at him and to touch every scrap of exposed flesh you could discover. he sat back and yanked his shirt off, displaying golden skin stained with crimson ink and muscular abs that rippled with each breath. you were so focused on his appearance that you almost missed the expression in his eye as he glanced down at you.

“fuck, you look like an angel,” he said, reaching down to rip your panties apart, only to shred them. your moist lips were exposed by the chilly air as you gasped. at the sight, he bit his lower lip and groaned. “very gentle and plaint." slowly, he ran his hands down your body, starting at the rib cage and working their way down to your thighs.

his fingers became hotter and hotter along the way, till they were on the verge of burning. until he came to your knees and quickly shoved your legs apart and up, crimson streaks remained on your skin. smirking at your hiss of pain, his palms pushed your thigh back till they touched your chest. “so ready to be used,” he states.

"please do."

“well, angel, since you asked so nicely,” he leaned very close to your cunt and licked a lengthy strip. his forked tongue slithered inside your slit, relishing in the lengthy groan that came out of your mouth. he swirled above the opening for a minute, then slipped just the tip of it inside when you finally relaxed against him.

jungkook gradually started penetrating your pussy with his tongue. the warm, slithery appendage that slithers in and out of you with increasing ease, flicking at your g-spot and making you whine in delight. you exhaled with relief when he licked up to your clit, only to scream when he clamped his mouth over the delicate nub and sucked hard enough for you to see stars.

moans and groans emitted from your lips and the demon could have sworn he had never heard anything prettier. his mouth salivates against your lips, only causing him to dip down near your entrance and trail his tongue back to your little nub. oh how sweet you were.

"my angel's already close to cumming?" there was no denying that. he had already noticed you were quickly approaching your high by the way you tugged on his locks and the way your moans became higher in pitch.

the demon took two of his long fingers and slipped them into your pussy, a squelching noise emitting from the action. you tugged so hard on your lips that it was plump and swollen, the irony blood almost spilling from them. he quickly started pumping his fingers and curling it, sending you seeing stars. he wanted you to get ready for the real deal (aka his cock).

"god, please fuck me, please please i'm so close to cumming but i wanna cum on your cock, please," if it weren't for you sounding so pretty and desperate for him, the demon would have prolonged the foreplay.

“there is no ‘god' here,” he hissed, sliding two fingers inside your pussy and sucking hard on your clit as you almost shouted in delight. his fingers curled within you quickly, drawing you closer to the brink. your fingers ran aimlessly through his hair, yanking it back to keep him near. you scratched on one of his horns with your nails.

it wasn't until another orgasm crashed upon you that the demon stopped.

you were spent; messy hair, hazy eyes, drool dripping down your chin and onto your neck and some parts of your chest.

as sly as a fox, you felt jungkook pressing his heavy length on your clit, the warmth and hardness of it evident in the way it pressed up against the little nub. jungkook evilly rutted against the bundle, sending sharp pleasures erupting from the mere action.

you thought he would stop at a few thrusts, however, jungkook had other plans in mind. those being seeing you completely helpless underneath him (not like you weren't before).

with one more came a push, your insides clenching and squeezing the head of his cock like a vice. jungkook stills above you; only the tip in and you're already this tight? he allows a shaky breath to reveal itself from his throat, the sound coming out a little more strangled and choked that he intended it to be.

you took him inch by glorious inch. the two of you reveled in the pleasure, drinking off of each other's moans and heat.

the rest of the night was spent in each other's arms. it wasn't romantic, but it sure as hell was full of pleasure.

#bts smut #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook is a demon #jungkook ff #jungkook smut #smut #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook incubus #incubus!jungkook #bts incubus au #jungkook incubus au

[dracosathenaeum]

Library Escapade | D.M.

Summary: Library Sex

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 1,548

A/N: This is 1.5k words of pure smut, I literally wrote this in one sitting instead of doing my uni work but hey ho; hope this is okay lmao. use protection xx

MASTERLIST

If someone had told you a week ago that you’d find yourself swallowing moans whilst grinding on Draco Malfoy’s fingers as he stretched you open in a deserted corner of the library at 9pm on a school night, you’d ask if they were under the imperius curse.

Your chest was to his back, his own against one of the many walls of books, one hand holding your skirt out of the way as the other curled deeper inside of you, trying to find that one spot that would make you scream. His mouth sucked incessantly on your neck, not caring about the bruises that would be impossible to hide come morning. No, he was too busy trying to make you see stars, and he was doing a damn good job of it.

“More, please Draco. More.” You tried to keep your voice down but with your heart beating in your ears and Draco’s heavy breath accompanying it, you weren’t sure of the volume of your voice; unsure as to whether you had spoken at all.

His fingers stilled, pausing their actions as Draco moved his lips to the shell of your ear, breath ghosting over all the fresh marks he had decorated you with. “Are my fingers not enough for you?” You whimpered, hips moving wildly trying to generate the friction that you had suddenly lost, “Please.”

“Please what darling?” you could feel his smirk against the side of your face, his nose brushing against your cheek as you struggled with what to say. It wasn’t exactly a secret that didn’t usually do this, hook up with Slytherins in some corner of the library where anyone could walk in at any time and have them both expelled. You weren’t a virgin, but it had never been like this, you hadn’t even known fingers alone would be enough to bring you over the edge yet here you were, so close to it. “Please Draco, I want to come.”

Your hips hadn’t stopped trying to move on his fingers, but you were pressed too closely to his body that you couldn’t move nearly as much as you needed to. More pleas fell from your mouth as you felt the frustration build, you had been so close, damn Slytherins and their fucking pride.

Tilting your head back as much as the angle would allow, you pulled Draco’s head towards you with a free hand, lips finding his almost instantly. You let him explore your mouth for perhaps two seconds before you forcefully pulled back, teeth digging into his bottom lip on your way out. “Hurry up before someone finds us.” A flash of pink darted from his lips to run over where your teeth had just been, a small smirk and look of what could only be described as amusement flooded his features.

“I underestimated you.”

You weren’t quite sure if that had been a compliment or just a revelation of his, you didn’t have much time to think about it however when his fingers pulled out of you. You watched as he brought them into his mouth, his other hand reaching between the two of you to free himself of his trousers. Reaching behind you, you fumbled to swat his hand away before wrapping your own around the hard length, pumping it as best you could at the awkward angle, twisting it until you heard his breath hitch.

“These are in the way.” You hadn’t even noticed his hands had found their way back under your skirt until his fingers had torn them off completely, carelessly throwing them aside. Briefly losing your hold on him, you twisted in your arms to find his mouth again, your hand continuing its ministrations as his fumbled with the buttons of your blouse.

“Up.” His hands tapped the underside of your thighs, reading himself to hold onto your weight; leaning you against the shelves of books once your legs were wrapped firmly around your waist.

It was unlikely that anyone would walk this far back into the library on a Thursday night when it wasn’t even exam season, but you decided to be cautious since Draco clearly wasn’t going to be. You had barely managed to cast a quick silencing and disillusionment charm before Draco had started pressing into you, his precum and your own slick acting as all the lubrication you needed. You were suddenly glad you had managed the silencing charm as you were sure Draco would’ve exposed the two of you with the moan that had tumbled out of his mouth.

You bit down on your lower lip, nails digging into his back as you waited for the uncomfort and slight pain to ebb away. Draco had understood and hadn’t moved, waiting patiently for your breathing to even out again before continuing, his lips finding yours to distract you in the meantime.

When the first moan tumbled from your mouth Draco had pulled his hips back slowly before pushing back in, eyes locked onto your face for any sign of pain. Your breathing had quickened but with no sign of pain or discomfort his thrust became rough, cock pulling out hard enough so that only the tip was left in before slamming straight back in, the sharp edges of his hipbones hitting your skin with each thrust. With both arms around his neck, you changed your positioning slightly, the small change enough to illicit moans tumbling out of both of you.

You started to match his thrusts, bouncing on his slick cock with the help of his hands spread across your thighs and grasping at your ass, fingers digging into the flesh as the obscene sound of wet thrusts filled your ears, Draco’s small grunts sending shivers down your spine causing you to clench around him.

“Can you come this way?” despite the haze that clouded your mind you managed to snap your eyes open, you had never been asked that before. Your previous partners had asked you if you had cum afterwards but had never had the consideration to ask during. You tried to catch his eye, but his own gaze was focused elsewhere, eyes darkening as he watched his cock pull out of you before slipping back between your folds repeatedly with little to no resistance. “I’m not sure.”

He gave a barely noticeable nod before letting go of your legs and carefully lowering you to the floor, offering himself as support as you waited for the pins and needles to disappear from your legs. Hands turned you around to face the table which still had your revision materials scattered across the desk, directly across from his own. You laid your hands flat on the desk to support yourself as you felt Draco press back into you from behind, moaning at the feeling of being full again. He had barely started a rhythm before he had hauled you up against his chest, one hand pinching and kneading at your breast whilst supporting you up, the other had reached down to find the bundle of nerves between your legs. You couldn’t stop the scream that left you as his thrusts timed with the rolls of your clip between his fingers; they dipped briefly to where you were joined to collect some of the mixture of both your cum before pressing against your clit again, pressing harder with each roll.

You could tell he was close by the way his thrusts lost their steady rhythm, his fingers however, continued their ministrations, trying to release the coil that had built up in you as he fucked you.

“Fuck, can you cum for me y/n? be a good girl for me yeah?” The rasp in his voice was enough to send you over the edge, mouth open in a silent scream as your cunt fluttered around his cock, eyes rolling up. “Just like that darling, did I make you feel good baby girl?” He knew you couldn’t formulate words, but he couldn’t stop himself as he chased his own relief, hips becoming more and more erratic, the hand on your breast gipping harder until his hips stuttered before finally stilling.

You leant your body against the table in front of you as Draco pulled away, only heavy breathing filling the air. “That is so fucking hot.” You turn to ask what he meant but he already had a hand on holding your skirt up to give him an unobstructed view of his cum dripping down your thighs. You hadn’t even had time to be embarrassed about being so exposed when he used two fingers to gather the white liquid trailing down your thighs, before pushing it back into your sensitive cunt, leaving his fingers inside of you for a while before pulling them out and wiping them on your inner thighs.

“If this is how tutoring sessions go with you, I’ll be back every day.”

Testing the strength in your legs, you stood back up, resting the back of your thighs against the table behind you just in case. “I expect you here tomorrow at the same time Malfoy, don’t be late again.”

He drops you his signature smirk, as you grimace, knowing full well his cum is leaking out of you again now that you’ve stood up.

“Have fun walking back love.”

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#draco x reader #draco x reader smut #draco malfoy #Draco Malfoy smut #harry potter #draco x y/n #draco x y/n smut #what did I just write omg #tw sex #tw smut

[dr3amofagame]

take a shot - dsmp!mcc fic

MCC FIC! MCC FIC! MCC FIC! To be clear, I outlined this weeks back, when teams were first announced, and I took very very little from the actual MCC itself when it came to actually writing this - all I have are the same teams, but it really exists in its own continuity outside of Real Life MCC (obviously, as it’s using the dsmp characters) and everything like that as a whole! Just to be clear :D)

The worldbuilding is also Absolutely Bullshitted start to finish, as well as any and all medical information. Rip. We’re here for a good time, not for a long or particularly accurate one - hope you guys enjoy regardless!! I had a LOT of fun writing this fic, dsmp!mcc aus my BELOVED

title obviously from win it all by derivakat

---

Michael loves MCC.

But it’s one thing to love the normal Championships and quite another when his team looks like it’s falling apart from the inside out - and as the games progress, it becomes more and more obvious that losing, this time, might not be an option.

tws: C!QUACKITY CRITICAL (sorry i promise i love him but he is NOT portrayed very nicely here, very dark portrayal of him), implied trauma, abuse, torture, panic attacks, manipulation, gaslighting, needles, hospitals, MCC-typical violence, emotional distress, prison arc, pandora’s vault themes

(16k words !! :D long boi) 

Michael loves MCC.

Of course he does! It’s fucking MCC - like, who wouldn’t love it? MCC is how he met so many people, how he met Dream, that one time, the two of them teamed with Techno and Burren and winning it all - MCC is a goddamn blast and he’s thankful every time he gets the invite that he’s able to compete. 

Still- it’s hard not to be a little more nervous, now. 

Dream gave him an invite to his SMP right after they teamed, but it wasn’t until months later that Michael actually cashed it in. Entering the server, it became very obvious very quickly that the DreamSMP, as it’s known, isn’t quite the same as its shiny media appearance. The spawn was covered in blocks, creeper holes littering the ground. The people he passed were grey-faced, too stoic to be the same, smiling faces he remembers from only less than a year ago. The air stings of gunpowder and iron. Worst of all are The Crater, shoddily covered in glass that does nothing to hide the damage done, rending the server in two straight down to bedrock, and the Prison, looming on the horizon. Absent-mindedly, Michael rubs at his left shoulder, remembering the Warden setting the prongs of his trident against the skin in warning, just hard enough to barely draw blood. Yeah, that place is bad news. 

The fact of the matter is the server is a mess. And like, okay, whatever, Michael gets it. Everyone has their issues - it’s just the DreamSMP seems to have more than most. Despite his original worries, it’s honestly not been as bad as he originally feared upon logging in; yeah, Bad and Puffy and Foolish and the rest of them are a little more trigger-happy than he might’ve expected (and he’s not going to say that Bad crying over turtles wasn’t a little startling when he first joined, but honestly he thinks Bad is just Like That.) There’s way more death than he’s really comfortable with, and Puffy keeps mentioning Bad murdering her son (Foolish? He thinks? The guy is also a literal God but like, families are weird, who’s he to judge) in a way that’s way too casual to come from anyone entirely well-adjusted, but overall his experience has been alright. 

Still, he gets the feeling that nobody exactly wants the outside world to know about the issues with the place. It’s not an issue for him usually, not when his sleeping schedule is the exact opposite of most of the people he knows and he spends most of his time screwing around on the server, anyway (usually harassing the Warden until the asscrack of dawn if he’s being honest) but with MCC, with everyone watching - he’s starting to get why everyone from the SMP was so damn tense all the time, now. 

Anyway- he loves MCC, he really does. But even that doesn’t stop him from wincing when he sees his team card, the names Dream and Quackity and Sapnap written in Scott’s looping handwriting. He’s not seen Sapnap at all since joining the server, has only heard a little about his place (something Kingdom, not that he was paying attention) from Foolish, and has no idea what the man has been up to. Quackity is his own unique can of worms; Michael doesn’t know exactly what’s up with him and his country, but everything he’s heard so far has sounded like nothing but bad news, casinos and schemes and a trail of wreckage following wherever he goes. And Dream-

Michael looks out his window, chewing on his lip, looking directly in the direction where he knows the prison stands, impenetrable, intimidating. Where Dream’s cell is, in line with his house, where he’s been hidden for months without a trace. Where the Warden had confronted him that one night, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, blood splattered on his boots. 

There’s no real ignoring an MCC invite - not without good reason, not without the admins picking up on something being up. There’s not really a choice, here, but for Michael to duck his head down and pretend everything’s fine just like everyone else from the SMP. He directs one last glance at the prison before walking away, setting the invite on his counter. If he’s lucky, everything will turn out fine. 

(He ignores the part of him that asks what’s going to happen if they’re not. No point in worrying about what hasn’t happened yet - right?) 

---

Weeks pass, the tournament creeping closer, and Michael gets no alerts from his teammates on his comm. No one comes to his house to check in, say hi, not even a ‘hey, we’re kinda competing in a massive tournament in like, seven days, you ready?’ Hell, he even starts checking his goddamn mailbox for a letter or something only to come up empty-handed every time. Never mind performing well - it’ll be a miracle if their team manages to arrive at the tournament at all. 

It isn’t until the day before MCC, the sun high in the sky at what must be near noon, when he finally gets a message on his comm. Michael fishes it out with a frustrated huff, seeing Quackity’s name pop up first when he manages to turn on the screen. 

Quackity whispers to you: you down for some practice?

It takes a couple seconds for him to blink away his shock - out of everyone he expected to arrange practice for their team, Quackity was definitely not at the top of the list. He half-thought they would have to drag him to the tournament kicking and screaming; from what he’s heard, he’s been nothing if not devoted to his country. Shaking his head, he goes to reply; practice is practice, and their team really needs it. 

You whisper to Quackity: sure. practice server?

Quackity whispers to you: yes

Pulling up his server list, Michael scrolls for the practice server, finding it and then letting the server transfer do the rest. A few nausea-inducing seconds later, he’s at the practice server spawn, standing in the middle of a neatly paved road surrounded by colorful arenas and signs. 

“Michael!” 

He turns; there, by the Battle Box arenas, Quackity is waving at him, already dressed in a red varsity jacket and a pair of shorts, the jacket bearing a front pocket embroidered with a rabbit and a large R stitched onto the back. He reaches behind him for a red bag, throws it his way for Michael to catch mid-air. 

“Got these outfits for us last minute - hope it’s alright with you,” Quackity smiles, and Michael tries to prevent his eyes from clinging to the scar spanning the entire left side of his face. “Anyway- how are you, man? I feel like we haven’t seen each other at all on the server. How’s it been?”

“I’m good- it’s been good.” Michael opens the drawstring bag, cataloguing the contents - there’s a jacket, just like Quackity’s, a pair of shorts and sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a headband, all in varying shades of red and white. “Nice outfit- thank you. Is anyone else around?”

Quackity waves a hand behind him. “Yeah- Dream’s here. Should be coming out of the arena soon, actually.” Michael looks over behind his shoulder to where he’s pointing - there, walking down the stairs, is another figure wearing all red that must be Dream. “There he is- hey Dream! Michael’s here!” 

Dream hurries down the stairs; unlike Quackity, he is wearing the sweatpants along with the same jacket, hands stuffed in his pockets. His hair is a lot longer than Michael remembers, pulled back behind his head in a ponytail, mask, as usual, fastened over his face. He settles behind Quackity, giving Michael a small wave; his hands are covered by a pair of fingerless gloves. 

“Hey, Dream!” Michael grins; it’s been such a long time since he’s seen his old teammate, and despite the circumstances and everything that’s apparently happened since then, it’s still pretty damn nice to see him. “How’ve you been?”

Dream seems to freeze for a moment, before shaking his head. “Good,” he says, quiet, sounding almost breathless. Michael’s eyes go to the slivers of skin that show on either side of his face, to the slight shake to his hands. 

“You alright? You look a little pale,” Michael asks, and he definitely doesn’t miss the way Dream stills at the words, muscles tensing, gaze averting to the side even with the mask - doesn’t miss how Quackity steps forward, looking Michael in the eye as he tosses a casual arm around Dream’s shoulder, smiling brightly. 

“Don’t worry. This idiot has just been practicing a bit too much before you got here,” Quackity gestures with a flippant twist of his wrist, “You know how he gets. Right, Dream?” 

“Um- yeah. Ha,” Dream responds just a little too late to be strictly normal, shoulders tight and nearly pulled to his ears under Quackity’s arm. “Practice- I’m a little out of shape.” 

“You sure?” Dream’s breathing hitches and Quackity steps forward, just a little bit, eyes still fixed firmly on Michael’s own even as he shifts his gaze to try and look at Dream. “We can take a break if you need, Dream-”

“I’m fine!” Dream smiles with a little stuttered breath that turns into a small laugh, “It’s- uh. It’s fine. Thanks Michael, but we can practice. Not much time left to waste, you know?”

“You sure, Dream?” Quackity says, suddenly, voice soft and sincere. “I guess it has been a while since you’ve been able to practice- you sure you don’t need a break?”

Dream shakes his head firmly. “No- it’s fine. Really- where’s Sapnap? He should be coming soon, right?”

“If you say so, pal,” Quackity replies, doubt coloring his tone as he pulls out his communicator. “I told Sapnap to come, he replied a couple minutes back; he should be here soon, I think. You want to go meet him at spawn?”

Dream nods, and they begin to set out towards the center of the server, Quackity and Dream quickly taking the lead as Michael falls back. After a minute, Quackity falls into casual conversation, rambling about something as Dream nods, Michael trailing behind the two of them and adding his own input as he sees fit. Sapnap arrives soon after, and the noise level picks up even more after that, Sapnap and Quackity falling into an easy rhythm of banter and quips as they set out to practice Battle Box and Parkour Tag, carefully working their way through the different games under Dream’s tutelage and advice. 

And here’s the thing- Michael isn’t stupid. Yeah, he’d hardly consider himself a top tier MCC player, and he’ll be the first to say that he’s nowhere near qualified to deal with the literal laundry list of issues that affect every member of the SMP, but even so, he’s not clueless. He’s good at looking at multiple sides of a situation, doesn’t easily give into intimidation or manipulation, and he’s observant as all hell. So when Quackity wraps his hand around Dream’s wrist, fingers wrapping all the way around until his knuckles pale, when Dream winces, muscles in his arm locking before letting it go limp, not protesting when Quackity drags him forward except in the tiny, tight expressions that flit across his face every few moments, tight and gasping and shaky at the corners - Michael notices. 

“See you at the tourney, yeah?” Quackity calls to him after practice with a wink before clapping Dream on the back, Michael watching silently as the muscles of Dream’s neck pull tight, head ducking to his chest. “Good job, big guy,” he says, laughing. “Keep this up for tomorrow and we’ll be good.”

“Mmhm,” Dream mutters after a brief second, “We’re- we’re gonna win.”

“Betting on it, pal,” Quackity replies, voice light in a way that completely fails to explain Dream’s full-body flinch. “MCC, huh? Can’t fucking wait.”

“See you tomorrow, Quackity,” Michael says as he presses DreamSMP on his server list, pretending that a chill doesn’t crawl down his spine at the smile that the other man throws his way in return. 

---

There’s no real easy answer.

Michael comes to that conclusion at some point in the middle of the night, restless and pumped on way too much adrenaline to go to sleep. He can’t outright antagonize Quackity, can’t let him know he knows something’s up - not when Quackity had already spent the majority of practice keeping one dark, narrowed eye on him at all times, lips pursed in a slight frown whenever he thought Michael wasn’t looking. He’s not stupid; whatever’s happening between Dream and Quackity is secret, and kept that way for a reason. His mind goes back to the brief flashes of anxiety that had moved over Dream’s face before he could react fast enough to school them back into a carefully neutral position; whatever it is, he doubts it bodes well for Dream in the slightest. 

Unfortunately, his hands are pretty damn tied. He knows public opinion on the masked man in the server is overwhelmingly negative, but has no damn idea how far it extends. How many people are in on whatever’s happening in that damn prison? How many people know what would make Dream, bold and bright and recklessly confident in all of Michael’s (rather limited) memories, into someone so quiet, unimposing, nervous? His head spins with the possibilities, with the ever-present reminder to not make a fuss, let the tournament pass on, to never, ever let anyone find out what’s going on within the SMP. Should he do anything at all? 

Too soon, it’s morning, and he drags himself out of bed with a groan to glare at the sun streaming through his window. Somewhere, Quackity and Dream and Sapnap are also waking up, are preparing to compete in one of the biggest damn tournaments to exist. Michael sighs, glancing over to where he’s set out his outfit, freshly pressed and waiting. Any other day, and he’d probably be fucking ecstatic. Here, he buries his head in his hands, muffling a frustrated groan against the palm of his hands. 

He loves MCC, but he sure as hell doesn’t like whatever the hell is going on with the rest of his team. 

Getting into the server goes smoothly enough. The outfit is comfortable and looks damn good, props to whoever made the thing, and the sight of the multicolored crowd successfully manages to tamp down some of his nerves. He busies himself with saying hi to all of the members waiting in the lobby, happy for the chance to talk to some people he hasn’t seen in ages, feels the night of anxieties wash away with every stupid joke told and burst of laughter drawn from his lungs. 

They come back the moment Scott steps up in front of the lobby. “Teams, it’s time to head to your team rooms! The tournament will begin in fifteen minutes,” Scott says, expression sunny and bright, “we’re wishing you all luck for a great performance today! May the best team win!” 

In a flurry of movement, they’re all whisked to their rooms for a final few minutes of preparation and morale-boosting, and Michael enters the glorified dressing room to Quackity, Dream, and Sapnap already standing there, seemingly in the middle of conversation. 

“You ready to win?” Sapnap yells, and Quackity whoops, and Michael manages a small cheer of his own. They’re all visibly nervous; Quackity has scarcely stopped moving, pacing from one side of the room to the next; Sapnap is basically jumping in place where he stands. Dream stands at the very back of the room, looking tense; Michael directs a wave his way and gets a small one in return. 

“Game plan, game plan,” Quackity mutters, “do we know what games we’re playing first? Dream?”

He nods at Dream, and Dream stands up straighter, mouth falling open.

“Oh- um,” he hesitates, a strand of hair flopping forwards as he tilts his head in thought. “We’ll want to save Parkour Tag and Battle Box towards the end- maybe something more high-risk at the beginning, but not first, just to boost morale,” his teeth catch on his bottom lip, “Maybe something like To Get To The Other Side? If they have that- or Build Mart, if we can get it out of the way.” He shakes his head. “If that’s alright- I mean-”

“Great,” Quackity cuts in smoothly. “Sapnap? Michael? Does that sound good to you?”

Sapnap flashes a thumbs up, and Michael nods. “Yeah, sounds great. Thanks, Dream.”

Dream’s head snaps towards him, mouth slightly open in shock. The sight of it makes Michael’s gut twist uncomfortably; there’s something about how surprised he is, at the nervous hesitancy with which he spoke that was nothing like what Michael remembers of his easy leadership in that MCC with Techno, that doesn’t sit right at all in his stomach. Even with his expression largely hidden, there’s no mistaking the clear, genuine surprise on his face at the idea of someone thanking him - Michael tries to tell himself that he’s reading too much into it as Quackity continues to speak. 

“We’re going to win,” he grins, just a little too sharp at the edges, “so get out there and play like your lives depend on it, yeah?” 

Sapnap cheers, and again, Michael and Dream follow. It’s not until he’s outside the door, within the clamor of screaming teams and people counting down with the timer that Michael realizes that Quackity was staring at Dream the entire time. 

---

Michael curses, frustrated, when he’s knocked off a platform again, making sure to flip Krinios the bird before he falls into the Void entirely. When he makes it to the other side, Quackity and Dream are already deep in conversation - if you can call it that. Even from here, it looks worryingly one-sided.

“-were you thinking, falling off there-” Quackity’s hand is on Dream’s shoulder, Dream standing stock-still in front of him, “you better be taking this seriously, Dream.”

“Hey- sorry about that,” Michael calls with a wave, “I swear Krinios had it out for me. At least I made it across, right?” 

Quackity turns, startled, and in the split-second that it takes for him to register Michael’s appearance, his expression smooths over into something friendlier, more inviting. “Michael!” He says, enthusiastic, and it’s like the anger that had filled his words just seconds before was never there at all. “Don’t- don’t worry about it, man. We all kinda dropped the ball on that one, right Dream?” 

The words should be encouraging, just simple ribbing between teammates. Dream’s mask is still ducked down, facing the floor, shoulders slightly hunched in. 

“Um- Sapnap did pretty good,” Dream says, quiet, “he got top ten, right?” 

Michael looks over to where Sapnap is standing a little ways away, seemingly busy typing on his communicator. Quackity laughs, sharp and loud. 

“True,” he punches Dream lightly on the upper arm, and Michael watches the way he freezes the second the fist makes contact with his jacket, “come on, man, you’re losing your touch. You really gonna let yourself get beat by Sapnap?” he shakes his head, still laughing as he pulls open his communicator. “Jesus- even I beat you in that last round. Watch your spot, Dream, I’m coming for you.” 

“I mean,” Michael says when a second passes and it becomes clear Dream isn’t going to respond, “Dream was doing pretty well with the last two rounds, right? I thought I saw his name pretty far up there.” 

Quackity takes a second before responding, again, staring at Michael oddly as he does. “That’s true,” he concedes, “hey- I was just making a joke, don’t worry. It’s all for fun, right Dream?”

His gaze goes to Dream, and automatically, Michael follows. Dream seems to startle under the attention, twitching Quackity’s direction in the awkward silence that results. Michael watches as the mask slants slightly to face Quackity, as Quackity looks back at him with an intense, unreadable expression, shoulders strangely tense. Whatever unsaid conversation that seems to pass between them is entirely lost on Michael as Dream finally responds with a sudden, almost strangled bark of laughter. 

“Yeah- just jokes,” his fingers twist over one another, hands held close together in front of his body, “Though Qu- Q’s right, I- I should probably pick it up. We’re playing to win.” 

A ding alerts them to the end of the round, and Michael steadies himself in preparation for the teleport to the next map. As he turns, he catches Quackity’s expression, once again, and the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he continues to look at Dream. 

“Good luck,” he calls just before they enter the next round, and tries not to think too much about what he’s saying it for. 

---

They manage pretty well for the rest of To Get To The Other Side, finishing with a second place overall that got cheers from Sapnap and even a slight smile from Dream. Hole in the Wall, on the other hand, has been a lot less successful - though Michael will be the first to say that it’s his fault. His practice in the last few months has been lackluster (at best) and it definitely showed in the arena. 

He leans over the railing, watching Dream and Sapnap through the crowd of participants left that have yet to be knocked out by the giant walls of slime. Quackity’s standing next to him, having been similarly thrown off the platform early in the round, expression tight and lips set in a small frown, and looking at him for too long makes Michael uneasy so he looks down at the arena again. They’re in the last round, and they’re supposed to be making callouts anyway for their teammates still participating below.

Without thinking, once again, Michael looks over at Dream. Sue him, he knows the guy best and Dream has been acting odd all day, to put it lightly. Even ignoring the part of him that’s screaming that something’s wrong, that there’s something up that has everything to do with the beanie-wearing man standing besides him, it only takes a few minutes of observation to see that Dream is - for the lack of a better word - off. Michael watches as he vaults over another wall, only barely managing to bring himself to his feet in time on the other side. Dream’s movements - even to his untrained eye - have always been fluid, effortless. He jumped and vaulted and ran like gravity didn’t exist, like every physics-bending maneuver he made was as easy as breathing. Michael remembers watching him sprint over the parkour course before, time completely unmatched as he appraised each obstacle and basically flew his way through, sounding hardly even winded when he whooped loudly in victory from the top of the salmon ladder. In total contrast, Dream jerks away from the coming wall again, movements sloppy and harsh as he scrambles to the other side of the disc-shaped arena. He’s still fast, and still making jumps, but everything is strangely angled where it had once been fluid, stopping and starting suddenly, moving in bursts of speed and then skidding to sudden stops. 

“WEST!” Quackity shouts, and Michael watches as Dream’s head turns jerkily at the noise before he dives out of the way of the incoming wall and manages, barely, to twist around the side. Michael winces at the tumble he takes on the opposite side, clutching his chest slightly as he stands back up again. 

“North!” Michael calls, because he should probably actually help his teammates, huh, and Dream manages to move around this one better, jumping through a hole in the wall and tucking and rolling as he lands. “Nice jump- East!” 

It’s an easy wall, thankfully, and both Sapnap and Dream visibly take a breath as they stand in place for the wall to pass over them. As it passes, a droning buzz comes from the speakers, and the walls below them speed up. 

“South-to your right!” Michael shouts as they turn, eyes turning between all of the false walls before finally focusing on the right one, his shout echoed by a similar one from Quackity. At each one of the calls from the man besides him, Dream seems to tighten further, movements increasingly erratic as he dodges and weaves around the walls. There’s still a lot of people left - Michael follows Dream through the crowd with a frown, watching as he and Sapnap jump the next wall, Dream’s foot nearly catching on the top edge. 

“West-” Dream flinches, jumping over the two-high wall at the last possible second, landing completely off-balance on the other side and falling to the ground. He scrambles to his feet, but there’s already a wall at the west edge of the platform - his head turns, still searching for the wall - Quackity yells.

“LEFT!”

Something in Dream’s movements seem to shift, even in the distance - Michael watches as he immediately, almost robotically, steps to the left at Quackity’s voice, not even jumping, not turning his head to take in his surroundings, just moving instinctually at the words, and slams into the coming wall hard enough to get flung into the middle hole in the platform. Quackity curses, fist crashing into the railing as Dream falls and the chat message shows on their communicators, and a second later he’s materialized beside them, face oddly slack and mask focused somewhere faraway. 

“Shit,” Dream mutters when he seems to come back into himself, shaking his head and then turning to the two of them, still by the railing, “Dammit. Sorry, I-“ 

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael cuts in before Quackity can speak. “You did good.” 

“I-” Dream catches Quackity’s gaze, then pushes his head away, mask facing the ground. Something about it and his raised shoulders and the dark, angry glare that Quackity directs over the railing when Michael looks back makes him shift in place, uneasy. “Could’ve done better, ha. Sorry.” 

The three of them watch, silent, as Sapnap continues to compete. He manages to get pretty damn far, making it to the top three, but getting knocked off-balance by a wall and off the platform just before the timer sounds. Michael cringes back at the sound of it over the speakers, watches the other contestants settle into place, panting, in victory.

“Great job, Sapnap,” Michael shouts when he materializes in front of them, and the other two are quick to echo his sentiments. If they sound a little duller than they should be, if Quackity’s jaw seems clenched and Dream’s all coiled up like a spring, far too tense, it’s from placing lower than they wanted and slipping in the rankings, not anything else.

Keep your head down, Michael reminds himself, and everything’s gonna be fine. And if the words ring more and more hollow with every repetition, well, that’s for him to ignore and for everyone else to never, ever find out. 

---

Buildmart is chosen next, which they all groan at, but at least it’s going to be out early and not left to ruin all of their scores later. Michael takes his place at his build, one third from the left side - it’s some abomination of colored glass and white concrete meant, if he is to guess, to emulate a stained glass window. He’s between Dream and Sapnap, the former positioned in front of a flower-dotted grass field with a picnic table, the latter staring down a miniature car with black concrete for tires and stone buttons for detailing. He breathes a steady breath as they await the countdown, already planning for his trip to the Colors section to grab materials for his build and the others’- Buildmart isn’t his strongest game, but it’s not his worst either, and he’s damn well going to try his best. 

He skids into the portal with an armful of colored concrete and glass, spilling half of its contents inside a chest before running to his build. He pulls himself to the crafting bench to craft - he squints at his build - he needs four red glass panes and 3 yellow, right. As he brings the panes to his inventory and begins laying out the frame of the build in concrete, he looks over to Dream, who is noticeably struggling with placing the flowers in his build and getting the placements to match that of the original. He knocks away a white tulip with a muffled curse, sounding frantic as he looks back to the original, and places it again to no avail. 

It seems that his struggle hasn’t only caught Michael’s attention, as the statue to the leftmost side of the room explodes in gold coins and confetti - Quackity has finished his build and is now looking at Dream with narrowed eyes. Dream places the flower again, and the build refuses to respond. Quackity’s gaze narrows further, and he opens his mouth-

“Hey Quackity!” Michael starts speaking before he’s even noticed that he’s opened his mouth, fumbling as he regains awareness of what he’s doing and tries to find a direction for his sentence to go, “do you have any concrete?”

Quackity looks at him like he’s grown a second head, which is fair, considering there’s a block of white concrete pretty obviously visible in his hand. “Um- no? Weren’t you supposed to go to Colors?”

Dream finally manages to place the tulip where it belongs, and the build between them disappears in another explosion of gold glitter. Michael laughs awkwardly. 

“Sorry- haha. I got a little mixed up.” He places the last piece of white concrete, watching as his own build disappears. A little wooden cottage takes its place, made of what appears to be just oak wood and cobblestone. “Are you going to get wood? Or should I?”

“I- You get wood,” Quackity shakes his head, visibly frustrated, “And I’ll get stone. We have to hurry, we’re falling behind.” 

After that, Michael finds it a little too easy - or maybe not easy, but at least tolerable, to interrupt when Quackity looks a little like he’s about to fall on the side of being angry versus just annoyed, stepping between his angry glares at Dream with a forced smile and an incessant string of annoying questions- 

“Hey Quackity, do you have any spare iron?”

“Hey Quackity, I think you placed that a little too far back.”

“Hey Quackity, can you take a look to see what I placed wrong?” 

It’s not perfect. It’s hardly even functional; Michael knows that Quackity has begun with the habit of directing death glares at his back whenever he thinks he’s not looking, his responses to Michael’s questions becoming more and more clipped, often paired with irritated grumbles and sighs. Sapnap, when Michael looks at him, seems largely engrossed with his own builds, but he’s also begun looking over at the two of them with a vaguely dissatisfied expression, and Dream only seems to be getting more jumpy with every frustrated growl out of Quackity’s mouth. Even Michael’s forced levity and falsely ignorant questions can’t do much against Quackity’s anger when they walk out of Buildmart dead last for the minigame, dropping their team all the way down to seventh in the overall rankings, and the tension within the team as they walk out - Quackity nearly stomping, Dream following with his hands wringing around each other and head ducked fearfully - is almost enough to make Michael scream. He looks at the scoreboard with a worried expression as he enters the Decision Dome, trying to quell the sinking feeling in his gut. 

There’s still five more games to go, and he’s not sure how long they can last before something snaps. 

---

Battle Box is chosen next, and they react to the game with quiet cheers and slightly grim faces. Michael’s been in enough MCCs to know that this game, of any, is crucial - after their lacking performances in the last two games, a good showing at Battle Box will be crucial to pull them back into the competition and raise morale. With Sapnap and Dream, if this were any normal game, they should be able to sweep through a good amount of the competition without much effort. As it is, though, Michael looks at the two more combat-oriented members of his team with a worried expression, the two barely even able to meet each other’s eyes. Their interactions so far have been less than promising- if they can’t hold it together for this round, well. 

Michael shakes his head. They’ll do fine. They have to. 

Even so, the first round only seems to confirm his concerns - they get woolrushed almost immediately, and in Dream and Sapnap’s stumbling to get to mid, nearly crashing into each other and focusing their efforts on the same player by accident, the other team manages to fill out the wool, sending them back to the spawn box even more frustrated than before. 

“Amazing teamwork, guys,” Quackity snarks immediately, and Michael rolls his eyes. 

“Like you did that much.” 

Sapnap is still staring at Dream oddly, Dream turning his head to avoid his gaze. The two of them look largely oblivious to Quackity and his whole deal, even as Quackity whirls around to give him the stink eye. 

“You didn’t do anything either, if I remember correctly,” Quackity mutters, and Michael shrugs. 

“Fair.” 

A ding alerts them to the round’s end, and they resign themselves to preparing for the next round. Michael picks the extra arrows from the wall, knowing that no one else will want the kit, and watches as Dream anxiously runs his hands over the crossbow. 

The next round goes better, barely; Michael and Quackity end up knocked out pretty early, but Dream and Sapnap manage to kill the rest of the team soon after. He watches from the box as they fill in the wool, Dream looking awfully tense as he shears away the white wool for Sapnap to fill it with red. Quackity watches them both with a tight expression, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

Michael turns away, ignoring him, going back to watching Dream and Sapnap still standing within the arena. Both of them look awkward, oddly out of step with each other - Michael’s not watched them fight much, but he knows that they have a reputation as a pair, was there for the Sky Battle round where they completely wiped through the competition. Even here, Sapnap moves forward and Dream flinches back - there’s something heavy and tense between them, lingering in the few words they’ve spoken to each other, if they’ve even spoken to each other at all, one always rushing forward too fast or following just a little too slow. They’re still brilliant fighters, almost unrivaled in hand-to-hand combat and with swords, but the faltering communication is sure to hurt them more in the future. 

His worries come true just three rounds later, the two in between being narrow wins for their team, each a little more shaky than would be comfortable. Michael has found himself easing off the worst of his anxiety in verbally sparring with Quackity, jabbing at the other with offhand remarks and little needling jokes to keep his attention off the other two, especially as his glare has become more pronounced and his words more angry. Even so, nothing he does or can do will fix the odd tension between Dream and Sapnap, whose communication remains as stilted and awkward as ever. 

They’re facing a stronger team, PVP wise, with Punz and Seapeekay, and Michael ends up falling in a bow duel against Jack. He watches as the Captain falls to a potion by Sapnap, then as Jack is taken out by a crossbow bolt courtesy of Dream, just before Quackity falls to a well-timed bow shot from the opposing team. 

That leaves the strongest PVPers to battle it out, and Dream and Sapnap manage to team up and kill CPK - but not without taking a nasty damage potion to the face that must leave the two of them low. Michael watches Punz, booking it to mid with a crossbow, anxiously - both of them would be a oneshot with the thing, and on the condition that he takes no damage before fighting with either of them outright, he’s probably got enough health to hold out a few hits. 

Sapnap pulls out a health potion, and Michael grins - that’ll be good for the two of them, and should secure them the win - only for him to gesture roughly with his sword and for Dream to stagger backwards, panic flashing over his face. He only seems to grow more fearful at the sound of glass shattering on the ground, falling backwards further - far enough to be largely out of range of health pot - and in their shock, Punz manages to catch both of them off guard and nail Sapnap with a crossbow bolt that downs him for the round before similarly dispatching Dream in two hits of his sword.

Sapnap explodes upon respawn in the box - “What was that? I had a health pot!”

“I-” Dream fumbles, face still oddly pale, “Sorry I didn’t- I- I-”

“We had that round!” Sapnap’s arms flail forward as he gestures angrily, Dream freezing further as one hand skims past his shoulder. “I can’t believe- I had a health pot! Punz was on, like, half! We could’ve killed him!”

“Easy, easy,” Quackity moves forward, putting a hand on both of their shoulders - Sapnap seems to relax immediately, while Dream, if anything, only looks more tense. “It’s time for the next round - we’ll talk about this later, alright?” 

Dream nods, movements overly tense, and Quackity flashes a toothy smile his way as Sapnap moves back, still mumbling to himself. He and Quackity move to talk in the back corner, words quiet enough that Michael cannot make them out, and something sick and cold slithers over his spine. Sapnap and Quackity are fiancés, aren’t they? 

Michael looks over at Dream, mask still covering his face as he looks away through the glass to the arena, shoulders still tight as Michael’s pretty sure they’ve been for as long as he’s seen him since he came onto the server. He remembers the panic that make itself obvious on his face every time Quackity came up to him, even as covered as it is, the similar- if not the same- fear that had painted his face when he respawned fresh off of the Battle Box round after Sapnap’s sword had passed a little too close to his body. 

Quackity and Dream- he’s sure, even if he doesn’t want to admit it, that there’s something going on there, dark and dreadful and poisonous. Who’s to say that Sapnap isn’t involved, as well? 

---

They finish Battle Box decently well, but not as well as they’d hoped, pulling them up to fifth place with a decently large gap between them and fourth. Quackity and Dream disappear immediately as the Audience Votes begin coming in, leaving Sapnap and Michael to stand awkwardly in the lobby to wait for the rest of their team to come back. Michael watches the crowd for a glimpse of Quackity and Dream, comes up empty. A sigh fizzles through his teeth as he looks up into the sky, the endless blue doing little to ease his nerves - he’s worried, even if he doesn’t want to think about it, for his teammates. For Dream. 

It doesn’t take a genius to see that the man is scared of Quackity, that there’s an odd sort of history there that Michael conveniently has no information about. Whatever it is, it’s left Dream unsure and uncharacteristically nervous, left the entire team floundering without proper leadership to tie them all together. Really, a part of him knows that the Championships should be the least of his concerns - if he were braver, or a little better at combat, or a little less inclined to just let things pass as they always have, then he’d be raising a fuss. Getting in the way, talking to Dream, doing something other than making backhanded compliments to Quackity that he’s sure have been doing little more than annoy the man further. 

“Michael?” Sapnap comes within his line of sight, lips pressed together in a carefully put-together expression that Michael is sure will collapse the moment they’re away from others’ prying eyes, “Can we speak for a moment?”

Michael forces another easy smile to his face as he turns towards his teammate, feels a little disgusted at the amount of them he’s had to use to simply function with the rest of his team. “Sure! Where to?”

They walk at a brisk pace to the team room, Sapnap’s eyes focused forwards the entire time, not speaking. If he’s being honest, it’s a little awkward, but the lighthearted comment on his tongue to break the silence dies out the minute Sapnap closes the door and looks back at him with fierce, focused eyes boring into him. 

“What’s your deal?” He hisses immediately, words pitched low even though he doesn’t really have to - there’s no one nearby, and the team rooms are decently soundproofed. Michael feels his hackles rising as Sapnap’s arms cross in front of him, eyes still focused on his own as he talks. “I’m not going to lie- I don’t know you that well, even though you’re on the SMP now, but can you quit it with Quackity already?”

“Quit what?” Michael snarks - sue him - matching Sapnap’s tone with irritation of his own. 

“Don’t- you’ve been antagonizing Quackity all day,” Sapnap’s hand runs through his hair, messing up his hair and tangling it into knots, “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re kind of in the middle of a competition here? So it’d be really nice if you could save the fighting for until after we’re done?”

“Says you?” Michael can’t help the retort this time, huffing irately at the offended expression that flashes over the other’s face, “I don’t really know if you’ve noticed, but your teamwork has been a little less than stellar, today. Pot calling the kettle black, much?”

“What-” Sapnap looks confused, even through his anger, gesturing more and more wildly. “What do you even mean?”

“Oh, so are we just ignoring what just happened in Battle Box then?” 

Sapnap’s eyes flash as he closes into himself again, hands gripping at his upper arms as he crosses his arms in front of his chest once again. “That- that’s different. That’s because of Dream.”

“Oh, just keep blaming it on the other guy, why don’t you?”

“No-” Sapnap shakes his head furiously. “You haven’t been on here for nearly as long, you don’t get it, Michael. Dream- he’s-,” Sapnap flails, and Michael groans at the familiar words. 

“Dream’s what? I was on the team with the guy before, you know. It’s kind of the reason why he invited me in the first place?” He raises an eyebrow. “We worked together perfectly well then - am I supposed to believe that his self-proclaimed ‘best friend’ can’t do the same?” 

“You don’t understand,” Sapnap repeats, expression hard and oddly far away, “Dream- he’s changed- he’s done so many terrible things. I don’t know what he’s said to convince you, but he’s bad news, man. He’s hurt- so many people.” 

“Oh- you want to talk about hurting people?” 

Michael isn’t quite sure what comes over him - only really realizes a white-hot flash of rage lancing through his chest, a sleepless night and half a competition’s  worth of anxiety and frustration and build up combining into a sizzling spike of fury that briefly tinges his vision red. 

“How about the way Dream looks like he’s about to keel over whenever anyone gets close to him? How about how he flinches back at literally every loud noise and fast movement? How about how Quackity’s been making these stupid, angry comments at him for the entire competition that make him freeze for a minute each time? Or how about when you were in Battle Box and Dream backed away from your sword like he thought you were gonna drive it through his chest?” Michael barely feels himself stepping forward with each word, jabbing his index finger into the other’s chest. “You want to talk about hurting people? How about you go talk to that fiancé of yours and then come back to talk?” 

A loud, droning buzz comes over the speakers, alerting them of the end of the break. Michael steps back, face flushed in embarrassment, before the world whirls away and they’re teleported back into the Decision Dome. 

He adamantly refuses to meet Sapnap’s eyes as Quackity and Dream materialize in the sector with them, Quackity’s hand clamped around Dream’s upper arm as the other man keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, looking even more panicked and frozen than before the break. 

“You ready to win?” Quackity laughs, and Michael watches as his hand tightens around the sleeve of Dream’s jacket, knuckles paling from the strain. 

“Yeah,” Michael tries to cheer, and it feels like ash on his tongue. “Let’s do this.” 

---

Survival Games ends up being picked next - Quackity and Sapnap quickly pull up to the front of the group, close enough to be within eyesight but too far to really pick up their conversation. Michael keeps an eye out for the reddish glow of their bodies as they scout the surrounding areas for chest, staying back with Dream as they look at the other side of the road. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel a smug sort of satisfaction of Sapnap seemingly confronting Quackity about whatever the hell has been going on, as awkward as his whole outburst had been. As it is, some time with Dream is nice without Quackity watching over his shoulder like a hawk - he directs a small, genuine smile at the man by his side that Dream seems to do a double take at before shyly returning it with one of his own. 

“There- I think I see a chest,” Michael points under a lamppost, running to the wooden box and flicking the lid upwards. He pulls out a chain chestplate that he promptly puts on himself, then throws over the iron boots to his teammate as well as a small stone axe that he’s sure Dream will make better use of. “We should probably catch up to the others - don’t want to be caught off guard while separated.”

Dream nods, and the two of them pick up the pace before finding another chest that Dream rummages through, this time, finding an iron sword that Michael takes for himself and a cake. 

“You’ve been doing really well so far,” Michael says after a few minutes of quiet, words becoming more firm when Dream looks up at him with a surprised expression. “Seriously- you’ve been doing great, man.”

“Thanks,” Dream smiles, words quiet and terribly sincere, and the sinking pit in Michael’s gut returns at the tone. “Not as good as I should, though. I’ve been underperforming a lot,” he laughs a little at the words, but even to Michael’s ears it rings hollow. “It’s not over yet, though.”

“No it’s not,” Michael concedes, rearranging his inventory as they run. “But it’s good enough, man, really - just look at my rankings.”

Dream huffs. “You’ve been doing good, Michael.”

“And you’ve been doing a hell of a lot better than me,” Michael tips his head in his direction. “Give yourself some more credit, man. You’ve been playing well.”

Dream smiles again, but even now the corners of his mouth seem tight, tense. “I need to play better, though, if we want to win,” he says, matter-of-fact, analytical to a damn fault. Michael rolls his eyes, but nods to concede the point. 

“Sure, but that goes for all of us, Dream,” he shakes his head. “And it’s okay if we don’t win, you know?”

“No.” 

Michael turns, frowning. Dream’s tone has become oddly flat, eyes dead as he continues to stare at the pavement under their feet. He seems to be chewing on his lip anxiously, startled out of his own thoughts when he looks up to meet Michael’s gaze. “I mean- I don’t know. I really have- want to win.” 

There’s something so carefully worded about the admission, quiet and scraped open and raw in the slow sincerity of the words. Michael wants to poke at it, wants to understand what’s left him so unsure of every step, what determination lies behind the words that has left desperation clinging to every shallow breath he draws. A crack of thunder on the horizon, heralding a player’s death, reminds him that now is not the time. 

Keep your head down. 

“Alright,” he smiles thinly, hoping that the fracturing, yawning pit of emptiness in his chest isn’t obvious in the words. “Then we’re going to win.” 

---

Michael skids to a stop at the finish line, feeling the elytra deequip as he’s thrown into spectator mode. He runs his hands through his wind-tousled hair, feeling it strain against his fingers as he roughly finger-combs it back into place. Dream and Sapnap are off to the side, standing next to each other but seemingly not speaking - Michael smiles as he floats over, still shaking the adrenaline off from the race. 

“Hey,” the two look up, smile in recognition, and Dream waves; there’s a small smile on his face, strained but present. “You both did really good!” 

“Thanks, Michael,” Dream laughs, earnest, “I did decent, I guess- haha. Top ten at least.” 

Sapnap whoops. “We’re popping off!” Michael cheers in agreement, and their efforts manage to pull Dream’s smile a little wider as he ducks his head to look away again. 

“Thanks, guys.” 

They watch as Quackity flies through the finish line, appearing in front of them and shaking his arms out as he gets his bearings. 

“Geez- that trident,” he shakes his head, looks up. “Hey, there you guys are. How’d we do?” 

“Dream got seventh,” Sapnap scrolls through his comm, looking through the rows of contestants and their times as they come in, interspersed by the occasional chat message, “And I got 10th. Michael got- 28th, I think? And you got 32nd.” 

“Hmm,” Quackity hums, “What do you think, Dream? Is that good enough to pull us to Dodgebolt?”

Once again, Michael watches as Dream stiffens under the scrutiny, head ducking down and looking for all the world like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Um- I don’t know,” Dream mumbles, “I messed up a trident- fell into the void once, probably could’ve done better otherwise-” his voice trails off, tensing further as Quackity takes his usual spot by his side, jabbing an elbow none-too-lightly into his ribs. 

“But you didn’t, though,” Quackity says, tone flippant, “so what do you think? With those placements- is it going to be enough?” 

“Hey, we did great, man,” Michael glares at him, more forward than he’d usually be - but all he can see is the shoulder that he has pressed against Dream’s arm, the way Dream’s stood stock still since the moment he made contact, “Lay off of Dream, would you? He did great.”

“Yeah, Q,” Michael’s eyebrows raise in surprise as Sapnap chimes in from the side, rising further when Sapnap moves forward to link his arm with Quackity’s own and half-drag him away from Dream. “Chill out, man, we popped off. We’re gonna fucking win this, ok?”

Quackity’s lips press together; he’s still smiling, but there’s no mistaking the seething darkness that lingers in his narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows, gaze still trained on the pale off-white disk of Dream’s mask. Still, with the rest of the team against him, he’s in a losing fight and he knows it; Michael watches as he visibly backs down, rolling his shoulders back as he lets Sapnap pull him further back. 

“We’re going to fucking win this,” he repeats, and Michael wonders how he manages to make the words sound so much like a threat.

---

“Sky battle,” Sapnap calls as the decision dome below them lights up in confirmation of the penultimate game, expression immediately becoming more focused as he turns back to the rest of the team. “Alright- strats, what are we thinking?”

“There’s the iron at spawn,” Dream starts, interrupted by the teleport to the Sky Battle arena, making him cut himself off comically and take a second to shake off the resulting disorientation, “And then there’s the iron in the nearby island. We gotta pick one, tower as soon as we can.”

“Got it,” Sapnap looks down, seemingly calculating, before looking up again - Michael has heard him compared to fire before, but he thinks this is the first time he’s really seen it; there’s a veritable blaze burning in his eyes as he looks at each member of the team, easily taking charge as they prepare for the first round. “Same buddy system as Survival Games - Q, stick with me, Michael, stick with Dream. I’ll tower to the next island- Dream, you good with getting the iron at spawn and crafting armor for us?” 

Dream startles, before flashing a small thumbs up at the other - Sapnap smiles wider, teeth bared dangerously.

“This is our game,” he cheers, and Michael enthusiastically whoops in reply, “we’re winning this, you got that team? Let’s go!” 

This, Michael thinks, is the way the games should’ve gone - they jump into action upon the start of the game, Michael watching as Dream races through both chests on the spawn island, getting the iron and jumping down cleanly with a water bucket before following Sapnap’s bridge to the other island. He tosses over a pair of leggings and boots as he lands, then takes Sapnap’s excess iron to craft the other pieces of iron for himself and Sapnap as the other man begins shooting at opposing teams. Their communication is near wordless, simple one- or two-word requests communicating all they need as they follow each other seamlessly into the main arena area, sealing off their entrance as they search the ring for other teams.

Sapnap, especially, seems to have shifted - instead of waiting for Dream to take the lead, he seems comfortable barrelling on forward on his own, trusting for Dream to follow his steps. Michael watches as the two of them easily work through the two lagging members of Orange, shooting through a gap in the wall to catch an unsuspecting Yellow player chased by the border. Michael ends up dying to an unlucky block of TNT placed on his head - curses out what appears to be Quig, bounding over to the other side of the arena, and follows Dream and Sapnap as they continue to fight their way through the competition. 

It’s not perfect, for sure - Dream hesitates at a bad place a minute later, ending with Sapnap getting 2v1ed and exploding in a flash of red sparkles. Dream is similarly dispatched a few seconds after, and the three of them watch Quackity, caught in the crossfire of two other teams, before he also goes down. 

“Good work, team,” Sapnap says as he appears, disoriented, in spectator mode, and they watch the remaining two teams battling in a rapidly shrinking border before Fruit falls as well, leaving Pink as the winners. “That was close- we’ve got this.” The conviction in his voice leaves no room for argument, and Michael, briefly, feels bad for anyone that stands in the way of it. 

With the second round, they once again fall into rhythm without any major hiccups - someone tries to cut them off before entering the main arena, but are made quick work of by Sapnap’s relentless onslaught. As Michael watches, Dream seems to regain confidence as well, moving more to fight with Sapnap side by side instead of just playing support, tugging him back from a risky play and catching Punz in a nasty combo that does him in when he manages to slip past Sapnap. 

The four of them end up in the final stand off in the middle, but end up getting caught too high up and killed by the border before they can jump down. Sapnap hisses at the narrow defeat, but the disappointment has hardly seemed to dim his determination - if anything, it seems to burn brighter. 

“Last round,” he mutters, and Michael watches as Dream walks up to him, bumping him lightly with his shoulder. 

“This is our game,” he says, a small smile appearing on his face, and Sapnap returns it with a fiery, blinding one of his own. 

“Ours,” he says, and even just standing on the side, watching - Michael believes it. 

Still, his concerns have yet to disappear - they linger in his mind as they jump into an adrenaline-filled last round, jumpy from excitement and victory just within their grasps. Dream is still more jittery than he should be, taking a second more than usual to react to fights, and his teamwork with Sapnap - while good - is still noticeably rusty. Michael’s lips thin at the memory of Dream backing away from Sapnap’s sword in Battle Box, hunched into himself, almost on the floor, with a clearly desperate edge to his expression - and no matter how he tries, he can’t quite manage to shake it off. 

Unfortunately enough, the third round doesn’t bode well for them from the start - Quackity gets bowed off while bridging to the main arena, and upon entrance there they end up flanked, hard, by another team in a conflict that gets Michael killed within seconds. Sapnap and Dream book it to the other side of the arena, where they manage to work through a full team without too much trouble - but the next minute brings another half-team flying at them from the back, catching them in the middle of trying to recuperate. The two focus Dream in the middle of eating a steak, and Michael watches as Dream steps back instead of moving forward to fight, that same shade of fear making his muscles seize as he stands, stock still, watching helplessly as swords fly his way- Michael cries out, but there’s nothing he can do-

Between one blink and the next, Sapnap is standing in front of Dream, a snarl painting his features as he whirls through both players in a fury. Michael watches, awed, as his sword weaves and dances between the two attacking Dream, making quick work of them both until they’re no more than items scattered over the ground, then grabs Dream by the wrist and drags him up a nearby ladder onto the upper floor, plopping him by the wall and then backing off. 

Sapnap stands back as Dream sits against the wall, breathing fast and labored, dropping to his knees with his hands in front of him, palms up, no weapons in hand. Michael watches, frantic, for the signs of any teams nearby - with Dream panicking and Sapnap’s back to the rest of the arena, they’d be easy pickings - but for once, luck seems to be on their side, because no one comes. Dream heaves a breath through his lungs, deep and shuddery - Sapnap watches, lips flat from concern, but doesn’t speak. 

“You good to continue?” he asks, when Dream seems calm enough to recognize his surroundings, and Dream looks up at the words, jaw slack from shock and disorientation, before his head dips in a firm nod. 

“Good,” Sapnap smiles, tight-lipped and fiercely determined, fiercely loyal, as he reaches out a hand that Dream moves to take. “Let’s go fuck them up, yeah? You and me, just like we used to.”

Michael watches, heart in his chest, as they stand together to face the rest of the competition, towering towards the middle and facing off with the remaining teams,  watches as they move forwards through explosions and buckets of lava, coalescing onto the middle island, as they battle through the remaining opponents as one in a clean spiral of clashing blades and flying arrows, fighting with their backs to each other in the center of the arena. He watches as a well-placed fishing rod by Dream knocks their final opponent off the platform, leaving them in the middle, triumphant, as the only remaining team - 

Watches, a brilliant, bubbling laugh in his chest as Dream and Sapnap take their spots in the middle of the arena, standing side by side as Sapnap raises Dream’s hand in victory, both laughing and cheering  into the sky.

---

Their performance in Sky Battle manages to pull them to third - but second place still stands a few hundred coins away, and they watch anxiously as Parkour Tag is chosen as the last game and they are transported over the arena. 

“Last game,” Sapnap calls, “We’ve got this, alright?” 

He gets terse, short nods in return - it’ll be a close game, and even Michael is feeling the pressure. He breathes a soft, quiet breath through his teeth as they prepare, looking over to the opposite team as they choose their hunters and runners. 

“Dream, you up to hunting first four?” Sapnap seems to be watching the effects of his words more, waiting for Dream’s agreement before moving forward, sliding into the position of leader easily when Dream seems to struggle. Dream nods and steps into the hunter’s box, lips pressed together, flat and focused, and Michael turns back to the arena to plan out his route. 

Parkour, by far, is not his strong suit. It hadn’t been his strong suit during Parkour Warrior and sure as hell isn’t it now - he enjoys it well enough, but with the pressure of a hunter on him or the time creeping past and the competition standings hanging over his head like a guillotine, he’s prone to slipping up and he knows it. The map is full of dizzying, multi-colored structures and difficult jumps, the twists and turns of the arena making his head spin. Being good at parkour is more than being good at movement - it involves being able to make split-second decisions and execute them with no time to hesitate. Unfortunately, Michael isn’t particularly good at any of that, so Parkour Tag mostly just stresses him the hell out. 

He sets out to the arena, listening for callouts over comms as he fumbles over the buildings. Halfway through the game, Dream’s voice comes through comms, quiet, focused. 

“Gottem.” 

“Nice, Dream,” Michael smiles, trying not to trip over a particularly hard jump, only to fall to being tagged in the back by the opposing team’s hunter - Ant, if he remembers right. “Sapnap and Q are still in- we’ve got this.”

Once again, each time, Dream races through the opposing team in seconds, seemingly going faster with each round. Michael has heard his reputation as a hunter before, but only now is he really appreciating the extent - the speed at which he manages to dispatch all three opponents is downright terrifying. They manage to win all four rounds, lingering around second place overall on the leaderboards, before Sapnap and Dream switch off for hunting. 

With each round, Michael watches Dream in the lobby, watching as he tenses further in focus and determination and no small degree of fear, but it hadn’t been nearly as obvious in between rounds. Now, with him in the arena with Quackity and himself, Dream’s jumpiness is all that more palpable, adrenaline making him pace and jump in place from where he stands at the edge of the place. The glass lowers, and he explodes into motion, bounding on top of the nearest tower to wait for the hunter to come towards them. 

Michael ends up caught first, early in the round, once again, and resolves to following Dream over the glass to watch his movements and make callouts for the hunter chasing behind him. Watching Dream move through the arena, dodging below fixtures and through tunnels and jumping from tower to tower with seemingly no regard for gravity pulling him down, it’s become all the more obvious that this is his element. He makes another hairpin turn around a pole, kicking himself up over a tower and then diving from it to a nearby building, landing on a ledge inside it, hands clutching the wall - Michael watches, quietly awed, as he outlasts the hunter, landing in small, panting breaths in the lobby. 

“Great work,” he cheers, quiet, as Dream shakes off the last dregs of the adrenaline, all of them watching the leaderboard anxiously, “Just three more rounds, alright?” 

The rounds that follow continue in much of the same vein - Dream, once he’s gotten started, seems near-impossible to chase down; Michael and Quackity provide support, distracting the hunter for as long as they can until they get tagged, but part of him wonders if it’s all even necessary. Dream flies from structure to structure seemingly unhindered by The Laws That Be, expression firm, if a little frantic, as he parkours his way through the arena. To their credit, the hunters chase, and several come pretty close - but Dream, worked up on adrenaline or anxiety or some twisted mix of the two, races over and around the buildings within the arena like his life depends on it.

It’s a surprisingly (if sickeningly) apt description - the skill in parkour is far from unacknowledged on Dream’s record; they all know his reputation with Parkour Warrior, all know that there are little that can match his skill as a traucer - but there’s something newly desperate in the way he runs, the muscles of his body tight and taut even in between rounds, expression permanently tight at the corners from fear. His movements, lacking in their usual fluidity, are made up with sheer speed and mad scrambles up walls that no one else seems to dare replicate. It’s concerning, even to Michael’s untrained eye, how frantic he seems the entire time, the flashes of expressions that he’ll direct towards the hunter like being caught by them will be his end, but- if anything, at least it’s effective. 

Between his parkour and Sapnap’s own skill, they manage to dominate the other teams without much issue, and the bonuses from eliminating the other team first combined with Dream’s survival points each round land them a first place for the game by just a few hundred coins. The four of them watch with bated breaths for the event standings, whooping and cheering together when it shows the red rabbits in second - 

“DODGEBOLT, BABY!” Quackity cheers, loudly, and the rest of them join him, laughing and screaming incoherently, “LET’S FUCKING GO!” 

“LET’S FUCKING GO!” Sapnap punches the air with a loud, resolute whoop of joy, and Dream - still shaking off the jitters of his last round in Parkour Tag - soon joins in with a few cheers of his own. 

Michael watches them all with a smile on his face as they cheer in victory - Dodgebolt has them against the Yellow Yaks, which will be a hard match up, but between Dream and Sapnap’s skill, if they all stay focused, they shouldn’t have any issue. 

They’ve done it. They’ve made it to Dodgebolt - if they keep their heads in the game, then they should win. All he has to do is keep his head down a little longer, long enough to win them the game, long enough for them to go home with new crowns and new coins, long enough for him to go back to living his quaint little life in his quaint little house - going back to heckling the Warden at night and hanging with Bad and Puffy, working on builds and living life away from the rest and pretending that nothing is wrong. The server will go back to normal come tomorrow, and it will all be okay. 

The smile slips off his face. 

They’ve done it. And then they’ll go back to the SMP, and Dream might evade whatever immediate consequences come with losing, but there’s no evidence that whatever’s caused that heartstopping, devastating fear that has characterized his every move is going to stop. They’ll win, and they’ll go back to the SMP, and they’ll keep dying and fighting wars and keep pretending that the world they live in is normal; they’ll go back to the server, and Michael will go back in his house while Dream goes back into his cell directly across from it, still locked in a black box with no way in or out, no means of communication with anyone outside, locked away with the key thrown away for anything to happen with no one to know-

Michael glances over to Dream, to the tense edge of his shoulders that has never left for as long as the tournament has continued and long before. To the grey-faced, grey-eyed inhabitants of the SMP, coming to the Championships with sealed lips and a shared determination to never reveal that anything is wrong, to pretend that things are normal and move on. 

Michael’s hands clench into fists at his side, then unclench, the helplessness cutting through his excitement like a splash of cold water straight through his chest. They’ll win the Championship, and then what? They’ll go back to the server, and then what? 

He looks up at the sky, avoiding the eyes of the rest of his team as they are teleported to the arena. Around him, nothing comes in reply. 

---

“Shit-”

Sapnap disappears in a flourish of red particles, and Michael winces as Dream picks up the arrow he left behind, biting his lip as he watches the opposite side maneuver on the ice.

Both of Dream’s shots hit true, and Michael switches to dodging over the ice as the opposing team begins to shoot. His mind is still buzzing with uncertainty, questions whirling around his skull and making his head spin, the reminder to just let things be raging against the anxiety that has wormed its way deep into his bones for the better part of the day. His performance has fallen a bit as a result, and they’re tied, 2-2, for the last round of Dodgebolt against Yellow - winner takes all. 

He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to tell, but he wants to fall back into the background. He wants to make a difference, but also wants nothing more than to go on pretending that everything is fine. It would be so, so easy to move on and wash his hands of the whole affair - it’s not like anyone else will know, only himself and the guilt that he’s sure will haunt him to remind him of his failures. Is there even anything he can do? He’s no genius at combat, or parkour, or strategy- all he has are his eyes, his ability to see what the hell is happening with no means to change any of it. 

An arrow whizzes towards him, too low to hit, and falls to the ice by his feet. Michael feels it plop into his inventory as he runs past it, shivering slightly from the cold or adrenaline or some mix of the two - not that he can really tell. The other team still has an arrow, the gleaming arrowhead catching the light as the person shooting - Jack, it looks like - moves it from one side to the other, looking for someone to aim. Michael lets the arrow into his hand, feeling its weight.

A sudden shock of clarity. 

He staggers back and nearly trips over his own feet, feeling relief rock his body when he manages to catch his balance - his eyes rake over the rest of his team, still dodging over the ice, completely focused on the opposing side. He worries his lip between his teeth - it’s a risk. It’s a hell of a risk, and if he messes up - they’re fucked. They’re more than fucked. There’s a good chance that this does more harm than good, a good chance that it won’t do anything at all. 

Michael takes a deep breath, and nocks his arrow. 

With his bow pointed to the floor, he doesn’t think anyone’s noticed yet - especially the rest of his team, gazes still trained over the centerline to the other side of the arena. Michael plants his feet, raises his bow, aims - he’s standing still, too still, and he can already see Jack swinging the bow towards him from the corner of his eye, preparing to let the arrow fly directly at him. That’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

Keep your head down. 

Michael lets go, and Quackity manages to turn just in time to see the arrow hit him between his eyes.

Not this time.

Michael just manages a wicked, satisfied smirk before the world disappears in a flash of red. 

---

“What the hell was that?” 

Michael teleports into the middle of the MCC main lobby, finding Quackity already mid-yell in front of the podium, where the Yellow Yaks have taken their places as the winners of the Championships, new, shining crowns on their heads as they greet the crowd with smiles and cheers. Michael turns to where the rest of the team has gathered in the corner, Quackity hissing angrily at Dream, curled into himself against the fence. 

“I- I-”

“You lost us the fucking game, that’s what you did,” Quackity grabs him by the arm, rage painting his features as he yanks Dream closer to him, ignoring the other’s panicked yell at the proximity and flailing to get away. “What the fuck- you had both the arrows. How the fuck did you miss that?” 

“Back the hell off, Quackity.”

Michael steps forward, bodily shoving Quackity out of the way - Dream’s head rises just enough for the two eyes painted on his mask to look  above where they’d been hidden behind his arms, though Michael’s far too lost in his own anger to pay any mind to him at the moment. Quackity turns his furious direction towards Michael, only seeming to get angrier as he meets his eyes. 

“Oh, fuck off, Michael- you-” he rakes a hand through his hair, “You fucking- we fucking lost because of you, you know that? We had that! We were going to win that, you fucker-” 

“And then what, Quackity?” The words Michael had been pushing back the entire day come forth, mixed with his simmering anxiety and muffled anger that he’d been forced to push down, game after game after game, one bubbling mess of emotion underscoring his tone and making Quackity rear back, “Then you’ll go back the SMP and pretend that everything’s fine and dandy? Go back to your shiny little country with a shiny new coin, beat up Dream a few times to work off the adrenaline because, hey, it’s not like anyone else is gonna know if he’s black and blue inside of that shitstain of a prison, is that right?” 

The flash of panic that makes its way over Quackity’s face is more than enough to confirm the worst of Michael’s assumptions, and the rage that has made a home in his chest only burns hotter. 

“What- what the fuck did he say?” Quackity barely manages to catch onto his tone, pressing harder with narrowed eyes and a snarl, “He’s lying, you fucking idiot, that’s all he ever fucking does-” 

“He’s not told me shit,” Michael presses forward, forcefully pushing Quackity away from Dream, who is cowering from both of them behind him, “But you would know a hell of a lot about that, wouldn’t you Quackity?”

“I have no fuckin’ clue what you’re on about, pal,” Quackity shakes his head, hair whipping past his eyes, “And I’d recommend you shut your fucking mouth before you go around hurling baseless accusations- I could have you sued for defamation, you know-”

“Oh, we’re talking law, now? Fine! We’ll talk legalities- how about we start with that casino of yours and work from there?” 

Sapnap moves over, quiet thus far as he watched from the sidelines, and Michael watches as Quackity relaxes, minisculely, at his approach - only to tense further when Sapnap presses a hand to his shoulder, meeting his eyes with blazing eyes staring right at his.

“Q,” Sapnap says, voice uncharacteristically serious, “tell the truth, now- what did you do?”

Quackity laughs - it sounds unsure, even in Michael’s ears, “Sapnap? You can’t tell me you believe-” he waves his hands frantically, “this- this fucking asshole, now, do you hear him? He sounds- he’s literally out of his fucking mind-”

Sapnap shakes his head, firm. “Quackity, I’ll need you to cut the bullshit. What did you do?” 

“He’s backing up Dream, Sapnap,” Quackity focuses his gaze on Sapnap, something creeping up in his tone, sweet and cloying despite the bitter tone, that Michael can’t quite recognize, “You know what Dream is like- he pulled the same shit with you, remember? You and George? Tommy?” He waves a hand at Dream, who ducks down further at the attention, “He hasn’t changed, man! He’s still pulling the same bullshit, still manipulating people for the hell of it- you know, the exact same thing he did to you? Don’t fall for that again, man.”

“I-” Sapnap seems to hesitate, conflict warring over his features. 

“Look at me, Sap - you know what Dream’s like. He pretends to be your friend, makes up some stupid bullshit to justify his shit - Michael hasn’t been around for as long, not like the two of us, remember? He doesn’t know.” Quackity brings his hand to Sapnap’s own, ignoring Michael’s protests as he laces their fingers together, “I care about you, Sap. All of this- I’m just worried that he’ll end up manipulating you again. I’m just trying to protect you.” 

“...liar.” 

“What?”

Sapnap steps back, wrenching his hand out of Quackity’s own. His expression, out of what Michael can see from the sliver of his face that is facing him, is stormy with fury and no small amount of regret - Quackity steps back, unease finally beginning to flicker in the corners of his self-satisfied expression as Sapnap stares him down. 

“You’re a liar, Quackity.” Sapnap draws himself up. “Now, I’m asking this for the last time- what did you do?”

Quackity’s expression stutters, falls, as Sapnap stands back next to Michael, the two of them between him and Dream. His eyes flick between their faces, then to Dream, then back again, frown deepening with every pass he makes between the three of them. Michael keeps his arms crossed in front of his chest, feeling his muscles tense with every second of silence that ticks by, Quackity seeming to grow more and more angry and tense under their scrutiny and unforgiving stances-

-a second passes, and he throws himself forward. 

“Quackity!” 

Michael only manages to throw himself out of the way of the man barrelling towards him just in time - too late, he realizes that he wasn’t Quackity’s intended target. He tackles Dream to the ground, pinning the taller man underneath himself onto the ground in a rough thump that seems to knock all the air out of him. Dream immediately begins to thrash aimlessly, jaw going slack in panic as Quackity levels his arm against his neck, going still as Quackity presses harder against his windpipe. Michael is only barely close enough to pick up what he says over the sound of the surrounding screaming, Sapnap rushing forward to pull Quackity off to no avail-

“-make what I did two weeks ago look like a fucking joke when we get back, going to make you wish you fucking died-” 

The world explodes into white.

When Michael’s vision clears, he’s face to face to the stony face of one of the MCC admins, their status displayed by the proud red [Admin] by their nametags and the fact that they’re floating several inches off the fucking floor. He backs away, strangely winded - probably from the panic or adrenaline or yelling or, more accurately, all three, as Quackity is pulled back effortlessly by an admin, easily caging his flailing limbs with a snap of code as he is frozen into place - and Michael whoops. 

“LET’S GO!” 

(The arrow hits Michael in the shoulder, and he disappears in a flash of red - only instead of going to his usual place above the Dodgebolt arena, standing with the other competitors, he finds himself teleported in front of a dizzying array of screens and buttons, too many to have any idea where they connect and how they work. Michael turns to meet the faces of the MCC Admins, each one looking at him with odd, concerned expressions and furrowed brows. 

“You shot your teammate,” one says - Noxite - and Michael nods to concede the point, not quite finding the words to speak. “Why?”

“If you had such a big issue with the teams, you could’ve just talked to Scott,” another one pipes up from the back, “I’m sure we could’ve worked something out.”

“I know, I know,” Michael runs his hand through his hair, both relieved at the plan working better than he could’ve ever fucking imagined and suddenly lost for words in front of the admins, each one looking at him with their full attention. Every nerve in his body rails against the scrutiny, reminds him to pretend that nothing is wrong - but it’s too late to pretend, now. It’s been too late for a long, long time. 

He remembers Dream, looking away all competition, voice dead and lacking all of its former vitality - remembers Puffy, hair a little greyer from stress, grief painting her face whenever she thought anyone wasn’t looking - remembers Bad, hands still shaking despite his attempts to hide it - the prison, looming on the horizon, unbeatable, impenetrable - himself, helpless, for all this time, to do anything but watch and wait. Until now. He takes a deep breath, steels himself- 

“Something’s wrong with Dream.”)

“Thank you for your information, Michael,” Noxite smiles at him, and relief throws itself through his system so fast that it makes him dizzy- “We’ll handle this from here. Good job.” 

“Holy shit- when did you get time to contact the fucking admins, Michael?” 

Michael ignores the clamor around him as the lobby bursts into activity and people talking over each other, each one probably trying to figure out what the hell just happened, ignores Sapnap muttering, awed, from beside him, to move towards Dream, still sprawled out over the floor. There’s an admin by him, standing by to seemingly keep the crowd away but not engaging with Dream directly, and Michael ducks by them to kneel down by Dream and meet his gaze. 

“Hey,” Michael smiles, still shaking from the leftover adrenaline as he presses his hands to the ground to try and hide it, “We’ve got you. It’s over- Quackity’s gone. You’re safe now.” 

“Michael?” Dream’s voice is so damn small when his head twists to look over, hair having fallen largely fallen out of his ponytail to land in wisps all around his face. “You- how-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael shushes him, chest twisting painfully. “It’s alright.”

“...I don’t feel so good.”

Dream coughs harshly, and Michael quickly maneuvers him to a sitting position as his shoulders shake with another one, hand flying to his mouth as he is wracked with loud, wet-sounding coughs. Concern wells up in his throat, watching as Dream shakes with more coughing, nearly choking as he curls into himself, muscles tense. After what feels like an eternity, he pulls his hand back, and Michael gasps at the sight.

“Dream-”

There’s blood, and a lot of it - mixed with the saliva in his palm, shiny and stringy over the planes of his hand, dribbling past his lips and down his chin. His teeth are similarly stained red when his mouth opens slightly, stance wobbling before he collapses altogether against Michael’s body - Michael can barely hear himself shouting for a medic as Dream heaves a rattling, wet sounding breath into his shoulder. 

“Th’ts not g’d,” he mumbles, quiet, before going completely limp. 

---

When you first get strong enough to go to the Nether and collect blaze rods and brew potions for the first time, the first thing that gets beaten into your head forwards, backwards, left, right, and every way in between is that health and regen aren’t a replacement for actual recovery. Instant health pots are famous for their tendency to heal everything affected to the same degree - which is bad when you have a particularly deep injury, as it’ll often finish healing it near the surface while the injury persists underneath. Regen pots tend to be better at that front, but even they cannot completely fix a serious injury - the two can only act as a temporary, emergency fix for severe wounds, often being an invaluable resource to stop the worst of the bleeding and hold everything together for long enough to bring someone to proper medical attention. 

Unfortunately, when someone tries to use health pots and regens to completely bypass the time and rest needed for the body to properly heal itself and recover, what usually ends up happening is internal injuries - not completely healed by the potions alone - continue to be jostled and irritated, which can lead to further, worse, problems with internal bleeding and bones shifting out of place if they’ve been broken, which can then pierce through muscle and organ tissue - to be honest, Michael was never the best with all the medical stuff, and he’s half-sure that the horror stories he’s heard were exaggerated to beat it into his head never to be an idiot that thinks that potions can solve everything, but either way, he’s never tested his luck with the things.

Unfortunately, Dream doesn’t seem to have done the same, as the entire day’s worth of intense activity, between practices and MCC itself, were more than enough to fuck over the healing effects of whatever health potions he apparently downed before coming to the Championships. From what Michael has heard, it got a little harried after he was first brought into the hospital, but he’s apparently stabilized since - recovery will be slow, both physically and mentally, but at least he’s out of that damn prison to actually start on that path.

“Simply put, your teammate is a bit of an idiot,” Scott tells him when he finally catches him in the waiting room, hair fluffed up at the sides from where he’s evidently messed it up in Admin-related stress. “But he should be alright now, with proper medical attention and lots of rest - make sure to tell him to actually rest, will ya? No more parkouring for him - he can wait until after he’s out of the hospital to show us all how it’s done.” 

Michael laughs, relief settling into his chest, “Thanks, Scott.” He directs a playfully accusing look towards the other, a grin tugging at his lips, “but you know, he’s only my teammate because you made it that way. Kinda sounds like your own fault there..” 

“Oh, quiet, you.” Scott laughs- he looks stressed, and Michael feels a twinge of sympathy. The administrative side of things after his whole stunt at Dodgebolt, and then especially with what happened in the main lobby, must be an absolute nightmare. “Anyway, I need to go back - Admin meeting,” he shakes his head, already looking at his comm. “You should go see Dream, by the way. I think he’s awake.” 

“Thanks for everything, Scott.” 

Scott smiles at him, soft, sincere. “Go see your friend.” 

He disappears in a flash of white light, teleporting away, and Michael looks at the empty space where he stood for a few seconds before standing up out of his chair to move towards the door. He hesitates at it for a second, hand on the doorknob but not yet turning it to the side - it’s suddenly awkward, without the pressure of the competition at his back and the relentless questions of what he should do. He doesn’t even know if Dream knows what happened, or if he’ll be happy with him - for all he knows, Dream was the one who started the whole ‘don’t tell the Championships what happens in the server’ deal. His teeth catch on his lip as he stands, lost in thought, at the door.

Well. Here goes nothing. 

He eases the door open, getting a glimpse inside the room - it’s white, clean-looking, the smell of disinfectant heavy in the air. There’s a bed in the middle of the room, a chair on the side with his Championships clothing and what appears to be some sort of padded body armor laid over the cushions. Dream, as expected, is lying down in the bed, unmoving; for a second, Michael thinks he’s sleeping, before he suddenly twists his head over to look at him.

“Michael?” 

“Hey,” Michael smiles, moving into the room and closing the door behind him. For the first time today, Dream’s face isn’t masked, a glimpse of it visible behind him on the dresser by the bed. He blinks up at him owlishly, eyes wide and green, looking even bigger combined with the hollow planes of his cheeks, overlaid by pale, slightly raised scars. “How are you feeling, man?” 

“Um-” Dream tries to pull himself up, visibly struggling, and Michael rolls his eyes as he hurries over to help raise the back of the cot because you’re supposed to be resting, Dream, just let the fancy bed do its job, and settles back with an odd look on his face as Michael pulls over a chair. “Good? I think? I mean-” he flails his hands a bit, “this is weird. And I kind of hate this gown- but um. Yeah.” 

“That’s fair,” Michael laughs, and Dream huffs a small laugh out of his own, settling back into his pillow. He looks strangely small, with all the layers stripped away, frail and skinny against the sheets. His skin isn’t that same paper-white shade it had been when he collapsed in the middle of the fucking lobby, but it’s still pale enough to be vaguely worrying, especially combined with the IV and other wires hooked up to him. 

“Apparently, I’m dehydrated,” Dream drawls when he catches Michael staring at the IV, making a small, frustrated sound through his teeth as Michael turns to look at him, “figures, I guess, but still sucks. I hate needles.” 

“Ouch,” Michael winces in sympathy, “yeah, those don’t look that fun.” Dream smiles up at him, before his expression shutters, dulls, and he looks away, not meeting his eyes. The sight of it makes Michael frown, quiet, remembering the way he’d drawn back from them all over and over again throughout the day - that fear and trauma won’t go away in a day, but it hurts all that much more to see his face as panic flashes across it and he pulls back, gaze carefully detached. 

“Dream?” Michael moves closer, but is careful not to make contact, “you alright?”

“Hmm?” Dream directs another small, tight smile his way, strained at the corners as his eyes flick away to the floor once again, “yeah- I’m- I’m fine.” 

Michael sighs, but decides not to push it. “Have you done anything else here, yet?”

Dream shakes his head. “No- I think that someone’s going to bring food over soon, I’m not sure. Not really hungry,” he mutters, half to himself, and Michael tamps down the concern that wells up in protest, “But we’ll see, I guess.” 

“That’s good,” Michael nods, and Dream looks up at him, expression startlingly unsure. 

“Um- do you know?” He wrings his hands together, eyes darting across the room nervously before flicking over Michaels’ face, and Michael tries to make himself look as calm and comfortable as possible, “I mean- do you know what’s going on with- everyone?” 

Ah. Michael winces internally- he probably should’ve expected this question, but in the fallout of what happened in the lobby and Dream, you know, passing out in his arms, he ended up brushing off or ignoring a lot of the chaos that resulted. He wracks his head for snippets of information that he’d seen in his communicator and from visitors to the waiting room, including people that had been there with him that had been pulled for questioning and meetings, Tommy’s expletive-filled yelling from the lobby still ringing in his head. 

“Um- I think that they’ve got a team of moderators pulled up to investigate the server, figure out what’s been going on,” Michael ticks names off on his hands, mentally going through the list of people that he’s been given information on, “They have Quackity in custody, I think, for the moment- they’re still waiting for more information on what to do with him, but they’ve got a whole MCC lobby’s worth of witnesses that saw him assault you so far, if you plan on pressing charges and stuff- um- Sapnap got pulled for questioning, nothing too major right now, I think that they’re going through the other server members that were attending the Championships for the moment.” 

“Are they- putting them in jail?” Dream’s voice sounds slightly tinny despite his forced calm, arms crossed in front of him, and Michael shakes his head firmly. 

“No- legal stuff between servers is weird, and I think they’re holding off on anything like that for now. Quackity’s just there at the moment because of assault charges on the MCC server - stuff in the SMP is still technically outside of their jurisdiction.” Dream visibly relaxes, and Michael smiles thinly, “It’ll be rough for a few weeks as they collect evidence and figure out what to do, but for now, they’re just focusing on recovery - giving people medical attention if they need it, lining up therapists,” he laughs, quietly, “lots of therapists.”

Dream hums, looking away. The corners of his mouth fall, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes a shuddery sigh through his lips.

“I- never wanted it to get this bad,” he opens his eyes, looking down at his hands, lip slightly trembling, “I don’t- I don’t know where it all went wrong.” 

“Hey,” Michael slides closer, ducking to meet Dream’s eyes with a soft smile. “You’re not alone anymore, alright? You don’t have to fix it all by yourself. Focus on yourself, on recovering.” 

Dream hesitates, breath seeming caught in his throat, wide green eyes staring into Michael’s own, before ducking his head to look away with a slight nod. Michael leans back in his chair, watching as Dream turns to the side, curling in on himself slightly with a small wince, eyes fixed on the window.

“Didn’t think I was going to see the sun again,” Dream says after a while, gaze still trained behind the glass to where the sun is slowly setting, rays of sunlight streaming past the slits in the blinds and casting glowing stripes of honey-gold throughout the room and over Dream’s face. Michael feels something cold press against the back of his throat, the quiet admission making air stutter in his lungs at the image of Dream, alone, huddled in the middle of an obsidian box for months and months and months, never knowing if he’d see anything other than the same black walls for the rest of his life. 

“You’re not there, anymore. You’re safe now.” 

Dream doesn’t reply, continuing to look out the window silently, breathing slowly as he moves his hand through a sunbeam, watching the way it streams between his fingers and warms his skin, seeming mesmerized by its soft glow. 

“Michael?” Dream looks over, and Michael feels the air punched out of his lungs at the soft, disbelieving sincerity held within his expression, the fearful edges for once pulled back far enough for the light to catch the quiet, heartfelt appreciation gathered in the slight quirk of his lips and downward slope of his eyes. He looks away a second after, a band of light cutting across his face and landing over the bridge of his nose, smile still on his face, voice almost too quiet to make out. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Michael feels his own smile widen, looking out the window himself- it really is a beautiful sunset. “What are friends for?” 

#-> my writing #my writing :D #c!Quackity critical #tw trauma #tw abuse #tw torture #tw panic attack #tw manipulation #tw gaslighting #tw needles #tw hospitals #tw emotional distress #pandora's vault #prison arc #god this was so fun #hope you all enjoy !! #long post

[bakubub]

In which Racer!Kuroo is your roommate and you finally learn more about him...

Warnings: Mentions of loss of loved one, disregard for own life, swearing, innuendos and implied nsfw (but sfw overall), fem!reader with she/her pronouns.

A/N: Idek what this is. Its literally a 4.6 k mixture of fluff, angst and comfort... I rewrote this like 4 times :,) being a perfectionist is so,,, tiring.

This takes part shortly after this, you can definitely read this without reading the 'part 1' if you will, since they don't depend on one another.

Art belongs to @aikk00 ,, and yes I am still in love with it :D

I stumble out of the lecture hall, my eyes so heavy I bump into about 3 other students and mumble my apologies until I fully wake up and snap out of my daze.

Walking down the stairs and making my way to the bus stop, I watch in horror as the bus I was supposed to be in drives off, going fast for once in its damn life as if mocking me.

Inhaling sharply through my nose, I manage to keep my composure and sit down at the bus stop, telling myself the next bus will be here in a bit.

It's fine. It's fine. I slept through the lecture, and I still have to catch up on 4 subjects and make dinner, but at least the house is clean and I'm caught up in that one subject I picked up for this exact reason.

It's fine. It's going to be just fi-

The rumble of a loud engine breaks my shitty but somewhat effective self-reassurance motto and I open my eyes to see a black and red sports car going 60 km/h in a 30 zone, effectively getting mine and everyone else's attention.

I watched in horror for the second time today as this time it stopped right in front of the bus stop. No, no, no, no.

No.

Please no.

He rolls down the passenger window with that ridiculous hair and a shit-eating grin, as he nods towards the seat, revving his engine.

I look away, pretending he's not looking directly at me and that I don't live with the guy, which I immediately regretted when he beeped the fucking horn.

What did I do to deserve this humiliation?

I hastily put my head down as he beeped it again, giving up and rushing towards his insufferable car, getting into the passenger seat and slumping in my seat to keep my head down low.

"What is wrong with you? What are you even doing here?" I hiss, my glaring up at him from my awkward, folded position.

He laughs, and when I hear the sound of a photo being taken in the split second I looked away to readjust my bag, I sit up straight, watching him continue speeding as he stuffs his phone into his pocket.

"Are. You. Trying. To. Kill. Me?!" I ask, my voice little less than a screech as I slap his arm with each word.

"Ow, ow, I just came to pick my roomie up! I sensed you needed a ride, and this is the thanks I get?" he asks, that smirk I have come to hate returning to grace his features.

I glare at him, but a small, sleep-deprived part of my brain is distracted by his appearance. A tight black tee adorning his built figure, his biceps are on display as he drives with one hand, the other resting on the gear shift. The air from his rolled down window is ruffling his hair this way and that, and I find myself wanting to run my hands through the raven strands, just as I had when I washed his hair that one time...

"Wait- how the fuck did you know I didn't have a ride?" I ask incredulously, my reaction time clearly delayed but here nonetheless.

I narrow my eyes as he hesitates before he answers, "I just knew, ok? It's not like it’s astrodynamics, not that I can't figure that out too."

"Kuroo, what the hell is astrodynamics? Are you like, spying on me or something?" I ask, pretending to look out the window so as to not get distracted by his appearance once more.

"What do you common folk call it? Rocket science?" He says, once again exceeding the speed limit.

"If I'm a commoner, does that make you a peasant? Also, stop going so fast, I feel sick and I do not feel like dying today."

He rolls his eyes in response as he slows down by a smidgen, the speed meter barely even moving. "Seriously, you may have no consideration for yourself, but I still have a lot of things to achieve with my damn life so slow the fuck down." My words finally reach the rational part in him and he slows down considerably, now going within the speed limit.

Taking a deep breath, I rest my elbow on my door and look out the window, my mind flooding with thoughts about Kuroo's reckless driving and how it can all go sour with one delayed reaction.

Before I know it, we're rolling up to our apartment building, driving into his private garage only the penthouse owners get to use.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, filling the silence in the car.

"It's ok. I just... I want you to be safe. I know its hard, but... just try," I say quietly, unable to look at him.

"That's what he said," he says hastily before rushing out of the car before I can hit him.

Getting out of the vehicle myself, I send a murderous look his way and run after his retreating form.

A small part of me is grateful that he's acting like his usual unbearable self again, but the rest of me is just mad at his relentless sex jokes.

He hits the elevator button before I can get there and I watch the doors close, his smirk practically shining through the crack of the closing doors. I jam my foot in the middle at the last possible second, and smile victoriously as I get into the metal box and slap his arm once again.

"Ooh, do it harder," he practically moans, and my eyes just about pop out of their sockets in embarrassment as my face flushes a deep red.

"Oh shut up," I mutter, turning around and waiting patiently for the doors to open on the top floor. I hear him snicker and then the sound of a photo being taken, turning around sharply. I yell in defiance and throw my bag on the floor as I jump onto him in an attempt to grab his phone out of his hand and delete the probably unflattering photo.

I straddle his back and reach for the phone he easily holds out of my reach. Leaning across his shoulder in a feeble attempt to reach it, my feet are hooked around his chest and my other hand is using his shoulder as a brace. He's laughing hard at this point, and I'm screaming at him to give me the damn phone. Neither of us notice the elevator doors opening nor the small woman standing at the threshold staring at us in shock and amusement.

"Kuroo Tetsuro! You let that poor girl down this instant, young man!"

We both froze at the authoritative voice, slowly turning to look at a small dark haired woman with a straight shoulder length cut and narrow gold eyes that were glaring at the man under me.

"MUM!" He exclaims, setting me down and running to hug and kiss the woman, his mum apparently. "What are you doing here?" I hear him ask as I straighten myself out, fixing my jumper and tucking my hair behind my ears, picking up my bag off the floor and quickly following them out of the elevator.

"What, a mother needs an excuse to come visit her boys? Where's Kenma?" She asks, looking in the elevator again as if to check if she missed him.

"Oh, he's at his own place. Apparently he has a booked in session with this famous gamer today. Did he say he'd be here?" Kuroo asks, letting go of the woman and leaning on the wall.

"No, I didn't tell anyone I was coming to visit. Never mind that, who's this pretty young lady here, hmm?" She asks, raising a perfectly shaped brow as she walks towards me, the click of her heels echoing in the lobby of the penthouse.

I smiled down at her, since she was considerably shorter than even me, and introduced myself. "It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Kuroo." I say, bowing.

"Oh no, no, none of that. You can call me mum too, hmm?" She says, gesturing me up from my bow and pulling me down for a tight hug.

"Oh, um, actually, me and Kuroo aren't-"

"We’ll talk more comfortably inside, no? Tetsuro, is your plan to let me stand here all day?” She asks, letting me go and turning around to look at Kuroo.

Kuroo leaps into action, taking his mum's bag and unlocking the door, helping her out of her heels and leading her into the spotless penthouse.

It was all I could do to nod in response, closing the door behind us and walking down into the kitchen to prepare a meal.

It’s crazy how much I don’t know about this guy. He’d never mentioned his mother before, and briefly mentioned that he has a sister, whether older or younger I have no idea. Kenma, however, I know well. The guy was here all the time when I first started living here, but recently I've seen him less and less. Which is a shame, considering we actually got along quite well, with sharing eye rolls and bonding over our mutual love of Minecraft.

I don't notice silent footsteps following me until Kuroo's Mother says "now, why's a beautiful girl like yourself slaving away in the kitchen? Does that boy make u do all the cooking and cleaning like some mid-century housewife?"

I poke my head out of the fridge, smiling at her fair assumptions, "no, no, it's not like that at all. I actually-"

"Uh, mum! You know I'm incompetent with this stuff. This place would be a mess if she wasn't here to run things! Plus, she loves to cook and finds cleaning therapeutic. Hey, her words not mine," Kuroo quickly jumps in, putting his hands up defensively when she looks at him with a raised brow.

Looks like he doesn't want his mother to know of our little arrangement.

"Right. He's just so hopeless, I can't trust him to do anything," I add on, sending her a smile as I prepare the fish he likes.

"You're making grilled mackerel for dinner?! Oh that's gonna hit the fu- the fun spot," he says, saving himself at the last second.

I hold back a snort as I take out a pan, "open the window, fish boy. It's about to stink here and I can't be bothered with Mrs. Suzuki coming all the way upstairs just to complain about the fish smell, and then complaining that she had to come up here in the first place. God, I hope she isn't sitting on the balcony today," I ramble, trying to see her balcony from outside the window, but fail because of the private location.

Damn these amazing architects.

I hear his mum chuckle at my rambling as she begins to take out ingredients for a salad. "Oh, you don't have to help, please sit and make yourself comfortable," I say, moving towards her to take the lettuce out of her hands.

"No, no, I'd like to pitch in. Now what kind of mother-in-law would I be to let you do everything yourself?" She asks, holding the lettuce away from me and walking over to the sink.

I stare at the back of her head, a flush creeping up my neck, "m-mother-in-law?!" I ask incredulously, glancing over at Kuroo who looked suspiciously... Smug. I look away quickly when he meets my eyes, and I hastily hyper-focus on the fish in front of me, placing it on the heated pan, causing sizzling and popping to fill the awkward silence.

"I'm sorry darling, I don't mean to be overbearing. Tetsuro introduced you as his girlfriend, so I thought things were getting serious since he actually allowed us to meet one another. You see, he’s never introduced me to a girl before, so you can imagine my excitement. I can stop if you're uncomfortable-"

I cut her off, feeling even more embarrassed as I realise the role I am to play in Kuroo's life when his mother is around. I mean, it makes sense, he can't exactly just admit he took a random girl into his house.

"I, um, no really it's fine, I understand" I say, my voice small as I flip the fish.

She lets out a delighted laugh and pulls me down into a hug once more. The smile on my face is genuine as my embarrassment melts away, the bright smile of this woman comforting me.

"So, how did you guys meet?" She asks, chopping up the ingredients for her salad on the bench while I'm at the stove, Kuroo leaning on his elbows on the bench.

"At uni," I answer at the same time as Kuroo states, "at a party."

We both look at each other with wide eyes, and I clear my throat to clarify, "at a uni party. A classmate of ours hosted one and we met each other there."

"I see, so the old boozed up one night stand turned into quite a domestic relationship hmm?" she suggests, wiggling her eyebrows at Kuroo.

"What? No, no, I would never! A one night stand? Booze? Please, what kind of man do you take me for?" Kuroo complains, looking offended.

I turn around towards the stove and roll my eyes. I've heard the rumours around campus, practically every girl in my lecture hall can testify to at least making out with the man. He really puts up a façade for his mum.

I hear the doorbell ring, and quickly take the fish off the stove to go answer it as Kuroo bickers with his mother about how innocent he really is.

"Hello? Who is it?" I ask, pressing the buzzer.

"Uh, hello? Is this Tetsu's place?" A deep voice answers. I look at the camera, seeing Kenma and a bunch of men about Kuroo's age looking confused. The one who answered is a guy with a blond mohawk and piercings adorning both ears.

"Yes, just give me a second," I reply. "Kuroo, I think Kenma and the rest of your friends are here? Should I let 'em up?" I shout out.

"Yeah let 'em in," he calls back. I press another button, letting them into the lobby.

I need to make more food.

Quickly taking out my frozen dumplings I stocked up for emergency dinners for days I couldn't be bothered to make anything better, I whip up a quick sauce, thinking I could split the fish and put it in the middle of the table so everyone can take their share.

"I do apologise darling, I let my Kenma know that I came to visit and he must have told the boys. I think they've all come to see me," Kuroo's mum confesses.

"You must be a very loved woman if they came all this way to see you. And it's no worries really, I'm always prepared for guests," I say, putting her at ease.

She beams at me as the door is banged loudly.

Kuroo mutters something about “rude assholes'' as he goes to open the door, a group of tall men making their way through the threshold.

"Hiya cap'ain," the mohawk guy says, patting Kuroo on the back. A tall, light brown haired man was next to greet him, then proceeded to exclaim "MUMMA KOZUME!!" and practically jumped onto the poor woman.

Wait, did he just say Kozume? Isn't Kenma's surname Kozume?

"Hey mum," Kenma greets, kneeling down to hug Kuroo's mum.

Who's mum is this lady?! I swear to god I'm going to go crazy.

"Hello hello everyone," A massive grey haired guy says, kissing Kuroo's mum on the cheek and hugging Kuroo.

The last guy to greet them is a tan guy with a buzz cut, and he does the same as his friend before.

"So Kuroo, when di'ja get yourself a girl, huh?" The grey haired guy asks, looking offended that he didn't know before now.

I raise my eyebrows as Kuroo just smiles guiltily. He introduces me to his friends and I wave hello, as they all begin to introduce themselves.

The grey haired guy says his name is Lev and that he's half Russian. A weird detail to include but interesting I guess.

The light brown haired man introduces himself as Yaku, and says that he was Kuroo's senpai back in high school.

"Yeah a demon senpai," Kuroo mutters in reply. My smile quickly turns into a grimace as Yaku jumps on him and they both start brawling on the floor, making a loud ruckus. A loud thumping can be heard from downstairs as Mrs. Suzuki starts to lose her mind and continues to bang the handle of her broom to her ceiling.

"Ugh, you morons upset Mrs. Suzuki! She's going to talk my ear off next time I see her..." I complain, grabbing a cushion and throwing it at the boys.

They flinch at my anger and quickly get up, muttering a quick apology. My glare softens as mohawk introduces himself as Yamamoto, and the tan guy says his name is Kai whilst vigorously shaking my hand.

"It's very nice meeting all of you. Dinner will be ready in a bit so please just make yourselves comfortable," I announce, making my way back into the kitchen.

The boys, all sporting grins, make their way to the living room and sit on the couches, man-spreading and slouching all over the place, one person taking up the usual spot for two.

I sigh, focusing on the dumplings in front of me.

I stiffen as I feel large hands on my waist, and a presence behind me. Visibly relaxing once I realise it's Kuroo, I turn around, his hands still resting on my hips, and his face nestled in the crook of my neck.

"Please just go along with it. We have to act like a couple if they're going to believe us," he mutters, his hot breath causing shivers to run up my spine.

I simply nod, instinctively placing my arms around his neck and running my fingers through his hair, something I've wanted to do since that day.

He groans into my neck, and I find myself holding my breath as I continue my hand movements.

"OI LOVEBIRDS! MUM SAYS THE DUMPLINGS ARE GONNA FUCKIN' STICK! Ow! Oh, sorry," I snatched my hands back from Kuroo, pushing his chest, my cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

What the fuck am I doing?!

I turn around back to the stove, mixing the dumplings in the boiling water as my thoughts race.

That felt too real, too much like a real relationship.

And way too addicting, apparently, since I already miss his close proximity.

The warmth on my waist disappears as I hear Kuroo running back into the living room.

"SHUT UP YOU MORON, THE DUMPLINGS ARE FINE!" I hear him scream, and then a loud thud as he presumably tackles whoever yelled at us to the ground.

I sigh as I hear Mrs. Suzuki's muffled thuds from downstairs in record time.

"You know I'm going to have to make Mrs. Suzuki some kind of apology cake because you boys can't sit down and act like adults," I complained, my arms crossed and an unimpressed expression on my face.

Lev and Yamamoto are on the floor playing some kind of Connect 4 game I've never seen before, while Kai looks to be having a deep conversation with Kuroo's mum, who is perched on the single arm chair like the queen she is.

Kenma is hogging the tv playing some kind of video game on Kuroo's ps5 (which I've hogged on more than one occasion), and Kuroo on the other hand has Yaku in a headlock.

He immediately lets go and apologises, and so does Yaku, who even bows in his regret.

I roll my eyes and shake my head at his mum, who just laughs, and I make my way back into the kitchen, setting food on the table and calling them in to eat.

After dinner, I find myself showered in compliments and not a bite of dinner leftover for tomorrow's lunch. Damn I'm good.

I served up cake I had already prepared from earlier along with fruits I washed and set on plates, and watched as that was eaten and finished before I even sat down. Kuroo's mum scolded the boys for poor manners, and they all apologised. Well, all except Kuroo, who just wiggled his pierced brows and winked at me.

I sit down on the floor next to the couch, since it was all occupied, and hear a dissatisfied sound coming from Kuroo's mum.

"Now, now, sweetheart. You don't have to be shy around me, just go on and take your usual seat next to Tetsuro," she says, nudging her head in Kuroo's direction, where the only vacant spot was literally his lap.

I look at her with wide eyes, even Kuroo seems taken aback by her suggestion, and all the boys are immaturely ‘oohing’ loudly as they laugh and make fun of us.

Kuroo makes a gesture for me to come next to him, so I hold back my heavy sigh, try my best to hide the flush on my face, and walk towards him, awkwardly perching on his knee.

He chuckles as he grabs my waist and pulls me flush towards his chest, my butt in the corner of the couch and my legs resting diagonally over his, so that my head is directly in the crook of his neck.

I hate to say it, but this is actually really damn comfortable.

Conversation has started up again, but it becomes secondary to the beat of his heart right under my ear, and my eyes start to get heavy as his scent and warmth lull me to a comfort that is beyond being awake and alert.

---

Kuroo's POV

"What a cute girl she is, Tetsu. I'm so glad you've found her. And now that you've got her, you better. Not. Let. Go." She says, slapping me on the arm with each word of her last sentence.

What is it with women and slapping me?

"Ok, ok, I know mum, I won't stuff this up. I promise," I respond, smiling at her.

"Ok, well, I'm staying over at Kenma's house. Ah, no objections. You've already got your hands full, and I don't want to be in the way of young love. Plus, I'd rather listen to Kenma's midnight streams than you two in the middle of the night," she says, not accepting my objections and giving me a knowing look. My face warms to what she's insinuating, and I mutter a quick, "it's not like that," as I duck my head into Y/n's shoulder.

By this time the boys have all left, Kenma's downstairs waiting in his car for his mum to come, but she insisted on staying back for a few minutes to talk to me.

Y/n fell asleep a while ago now, still nestled on my lap, her head on my shoulder and her figure keeping me warm.

"I know exactly how it is, my darling. I've seen how you two act, pretending to be in a relationship just so we don't ask any uncomfortable questions. I won't meddle in your life, I never did, Tetsuro. But I will give you advice I expect you to consider. Don't let her go. Neither of you were pretending about your feelings towards each other, let me tell you that much." She says, knowingly looking at me.

I look up in alarm, which quickly morphs into a nervous laugh. She's good, I'll give her that much.

But, can Y/n really mirror my feelings?

"Ok darling, better not leave Kenma waiting any longer. I'll visit again tomorrow, or you can come over to Kenma's, whichever you prefer as long as she comes along too. I want to get to know my future daughter-in-law better!!"

With that, the woman who took me in and treated me like her own left my home.

I look down at my roommate, taking in the way her lashes are long enough to brush against her face, the way her brows are just a tad bit asymmetrical, the stroke of her nose and the bend of her cupid's bow.

I can't help but bring my hand up to caress the side of her face, content to stay here forever.

Mum would've loved her.

This thought broke the dam that held back my tears since middle school, and as they fell down my face I couldn't help but think of my own mother, coming in and hugging her, making her famous pie that I can't remember the taste of anymore. A sob racks my figure and I all of a sudden find a pair of e/c eyes staring up at me, my tears having dampened some parts of her face.

Wordlessly, she straightens herself and wraps her arms around my neck, running her fingers through the back of my head, stroking down towards my nape and up again. I cry into her shoulder, tears that I've bottled up, emotions I've ignored because I've had my dad, my grandparents and the Kozume's. Later, I even had the team, and they all followed me to the racing gig, a place where I can express my emotions through the reckless driving that could claim my life any second. I should have been grateful. Instead, the pain of her absence never ceased.

I clutch the back of her sweatshirt as I cry and cry and cry, eventually tiring myself out and running out of tears.

With dry sobs still racking my body every few minutes, she finally leans back, cupping my face in her gentle hands.

"What's the matter, Kuroo?" She whispers, looking up at me with tears shining in her own eyes. "You can tell me anything, or you can say nothing at all. Either way, I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you," she says, touching her forehead to mine and closing her eyes. She stays here for a moment before moving to get up and drag me up too.

"Come on, let's get you into your pjs and into bed. It's getting late."

---

Your POV

Now in his usual shorts and singlet, I drag him to his massive bed, opening the neatly made bed and gently sit him down.

His hazel eyes follow me as I go to close the curtains, his lashes still wet from the countless tears he shed, his body still hiccupping with dry sobs.

Once I've put his blankets around him, I go to leave, muttering a goodnight as I leave.

"Y/n," I hear before I close the door. I peek my head in, "please stay."

Without a pause to think about his request, and already in my own pyjamas, I go next to him and crawl into his open arm as if I've been doing it every night, snuggling into his shoulder once more and wrapping my arm around his chest.

After a few moments of silence, he begins to speak in a raspy tone, "she's not my real mum. She's Kenma's mum, and I've... I've called her mum since I was around 7," he takes a deep breath before continuing. "I moved in with my dad and grandparents next door to the Kozumes when I was 6. I was nervous and shy back then. You wouldn't even recognise me because of the 180 turn my personality's taken. Kenma was even more social than I was. He was my first friend, and when I got him into volleyball and we met Coach Nekomata. That man inspired me to be the man I am today, and was the main reason why I joined the volleyball team in high school, and made friends with the guys. He did what my mum should've, supported me and gave me the confidence to live my life," he says, his voice cracking with the last word. I hug him tighter, knowing not to say anything as of yet.

"I just wish... I wish she didn't go. I wish she could've met you, Y/n. She would've loved you even more than Kenma's mum does," he confesses with a chuckle, sniffling and turning towards me to look me in the eyes.

"She would've seen the way I was around you. The different man I become. You make me a better person, Y/n. I find myself wanting to be better for you. I could never thank you enough for that. Please, never leave. Just stay with me, and I'll always be here for you," he says, repeating the same words I said to him earlier.

I can't help the smile from taking over my features and I lean in to kiss his nose, his eyes, his cheeks and finally I press my lips against his, something I have been wanting to do for a very long time.

"I will, Kuroo Tetsuro. I'll always stay with you."

A/n: So, I don't actually know if his mum passed away or if she left them, so I kind of just,, did both ?

Taglist: @3daa & @itsgiorgiaz

Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

#racer!kuroo #haikyuu x reader #haikyufics #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #haikyuu!! #haikyu imagines #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsurou #haikyu angst #haikyuu drabbles #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu au #kuroo angst #kuroo comfort #kuroo fluff #kuroo au

[vannybarber]

Let Me Teach You

Summary: Jake hasn't had any sexual experiences before, so you decide to take the next step in your relationship and start him off.

Virgin¡Jake Jensen x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, virgin Mary Jake, oral (m to f & f to m), cum play, cursing, MAJOR fluff, Jake being so innocent 🥺, you corrupting him 😏.

"If it gets too much or overwhelming, just tell me and we'll stop okay?" You turn to Jake, closing the bedroom door.

He looks at you and nods his head nervously.

It was obvious as soon as the subject was brought up the first time, he was uncomfortable about it until he finally told you he was a virgin.

You thought it was sweet and you even got a little cocky knowing you're the farthest he's gone in a relationship and would be his first. You constantly let him know that your relationship was based off of love and he didn't have to do this yet, but he insisted, also adding on that he didn't know how he resisted you this long anyway.

And here you guys were, about to do something so life changing for him. It was an honor that he trusted you with his body and you were gonna take care of him.

You walk to the bed and sit on it, him following your movements. His face is red and he's smiling so nervously. You giggle at his state and rub his ram tatted arm.

"You don't need to be nervous, honey. I'm gonna make this the best experience for you. I won't hurt you, I promise," you calm him, giggling at the last sentence.

"I know, it's just so weird that this is literally happening. I didn't think it would come honestly."

And he had a point. When he first asked you out, it was a complete mess. You were searching for a new keyboard for your PC and he was trying with much difficulty to get your number. He ended up knocking an entire row of keyboards on the floor. It was the most adorable thing ever. He ended up coming over and setting up your tech.

"Well you trust me, don't you?" You wiggle a little closer till your thighs are touching.

"Yes, I do." He wraps his arm around your waist and smiles at you. You cup his face and kiss the side of his mouth.

"Well then you don't have to worry." You plant your lips on his and move in sync with his. You pull him back to the headboard, mouths still connected.

You lie back on the bed and Jake climbs over on you. One thing he was really good at was kissing, which you also taught him as well. He almost enjoys it more than computers.

Your hands slide up his shirt and he disconnects to get it off. You admire his toned torso. He goes red again when he sees you staring.

"You're so perfect, sweetheart," you tell him, then continuing to kiss him again. He takes his own lead and trails his lips down your neck, concluding a soft moan from you.

"Can I take your shirt off, babe?" He looks at you for approval. Your heart jumps at his need for consent, although you've made it aware that he could do whatever he feels with you when he was ready. But he's such a gentleman and you loved it.

"Of course, baby", you get out, before he scrambles to remove your top. You sit up on your hands, completely bare on top and it legitimately took his breath away.

"Jake, breathe." You laugh, but cautiously wait for him to get himself together. He shakes his head before looking at you again.

"You wanna touch them? You can. Their just for you." You're getting really aroused by his shyness to seeing you in such a vulnerable state. He reaches his hands out and starts squeezing your boobs and playing with your nipples.

You bite your lip and give him a smirk with your eyes.

"Taste them if you want. Do whatever you like," you challenge him. He surprisingly, but quickly latched his mouth on them and starts flicking his tongue on the buds. You lean your head to the side and exhale. He switches over and does the same to the other one, biting it a tiny bit.

You squeal in shock and he pulls back fast.

"Did I hurt you? Was that too much? I'm sorry, I just got a little carried away! I didn't mean to-"

"Jake!" You cut him rambling, something he tends to do often. He stops and looks up at you hesitantly.

"It's alright, honey. It just caught me by suprise. I liked it, don't worry." You caress his cheek and kiss the corner of his mouth. He lets out a deep breathe.

"You wanna try something else?" you suggest.

"Yeah there is something- I well...I wanted to try. I...um saw it in a -a video?" He struggles to form a sentence.

"Jake, look at me. Just relax okay? This is safe place. Tell me whatever you need okay? Don't be nervous."

"Okay..well I wanted to try uh...or-al." He scrunched up his face, scared at your reaction. But you're overjoyed. You haven't received oral in you don't know how long. You grin at him, making his expression soften.

"You really want to?" He nods his head. "Well alright then!" You unbutton your pants and Jake yanks them down and off your feet. Heat is radiating off his body as he grabs the waistband of your panties.

"Go ahead, love." He drags them down effortlessly, with your help of lifting your lower half up. He chucks them behind him and runs his hands up and down his jean covered thighs.

You slowly open your legs and allow him to bathe in the glory that lies between your hips. He made a very audible gasp, which worried you for a second, but passed when you remembered the circumstances; he's never seen a pussy in real life.

"Its..so beautiful, oh gosh." You laugh and he chuckles with you.

"Thank you, but it would look so much better with your mouth on it." He meets your eyes, taken aback and you just wink at him. "Do you know how to do it?"

He gets all shy and looks down. "No, not exactly." You lift his chin up.

"Its super easy, Jakey. All you have to do it lick on my clit for a while and then I'll have my orgasm."

"Okay but where's the...um...clit?" You grab his right hand and hover it over your sopping pussy.

"You feel that little bud right there?" You take his index finger and plant it right on your clit. He nods his head.

"That's the clit, okay? Just keep licking there and don't stop."

"So right here?" He rubs a tiny bit on it and you throw your head back with a low "shit".

"Yes baby, exactly right there." He wastes no time laying on his stomach, face directly above your heat. You look at him once more.

"Whenever you're ready," you say, giving him the okay. He give you a smooth wink and licks a long strip to the top of your pussy. You suck in massive breath, completely thrown off. But he doesn't stop.

He maneuvers his tongue to find the bud that you helped him locate, which was now quicker to find. He flicks it 3 times and sucks on it, making a wet noise and a popping sound.

"Jake, what the actual FUUUCK!" You moan out, the top of your head literally in the mattress and he lifts his head in confusion. You jerk your head back up, with wide eyes.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Nonononono! Baby, you're doing so good for me, just keep going. I love it. It's perfect."

He grins at your desperation before diving his head back in. This time his flicks his tongue faster and raisies his eyes up to you, just like he learned in the video.

You catch his eyes and arch your back in response. Out of nowhere, he sticks two of his fingers inside you, throwing you off once again. You sit up on your forearms trying to process everything.

He raises his head and bites his lips.

"Does that feel good, baby?" You nod your head and groan, words not coming so easily to you.

"Jake, oh my goodness, I'm gonna cum all over your face! Please don't stop baby, fuck!"

This motivates him ten times harder knowing he's going to make a girl come for the first time in his life. He picks up the speed of his tongue and moans, pumping his thick fingers quicker and even deeper.

Your abdomen heats up and prepares for the huge wave of an orgasm. You grip the sheets as it consumes your entire body, all the way to your toes.

"Jake, I'm cumming! I'm fucking cumming !" Your body slowly dies down from the intensity and your lower half starts feeling the sensitivity. Jake stops his movements and proceeds to lick up the mess he caused. You grab his face and force your lips on his, wanting to taste yourself, but mostly express how he just made you feel.

You moan in his mouth, chasing his tongue then pulling back after a few seconds.

"So I'm guessing I did pretty good, huh?" His face is absolutely tomato red and he's cheesing so hard.

"Pretty good ?! You did fucking amazing baby! And the fingers? I didn't expect that at all." You breathlessly laughed. "That was the best oral I've ever gotten. I am so damn serious. That was amazing for it to be your first time."

He can't even form words to express himself, but you can certainly feel it.

"You deserve something for that. Can I suck you, honey?" As you ask, you grab him through his shorts, palming him. He makes a tiny groan before nodding his head. You move from your position and he lies in your place.

Unbuttoning his khakis, you watch him and he watches you. Giving him a reassuring smile, you remove his shorts and rubs both hands on his hard on over his briefs. He balls his fists up and moans slightly.

You finally pull down his briefs to a suprise. His length hits his lower abdomen and you just freeze. One thing he also knew was that he was big. Especially in width.

You try to speak, but nothing comes out.

"Like the angle of the dangle?" You look up at him and he wiggles his eyebrows. You just shake your head laughing. For someone who has a small presence, he has an big present.

"I'm just hoping I can take all of it." And you were being completely straight up. He was really big. Not that you were complaining though.

"I guess we're gonna find out, aren't we?" He was getting really bold after his little performance on you and you were living for it.

"We sure are. Get comfy, baby." He wiggles his back and places his hands behind his head, waiting for your move.

You take the head of him and suck on it with a pop. It was your favorite part. Just swirling your tongue on it's surface got you off. You look up at him and he's already gone.

"Geez, Y/N." His head is thrown back and his toes are curled. You move down on him till his shaft is three quarters in your mouth. You gag on him, which makes you moan. This causes him to jerk his hips up, pushing himself further in you. You quickly bob your head and twist it around all while keeping eye contact.

"Baby, that feels wicked!" You almost laugh at his choice of words, even with tears forming in the bed of your eyelids. He grabs your hair and thrusts himself up in your mouth.

"I think I'm gonna come! Y/N, I'm gonna come! HELP ME!" You pull away from him and pump him while trying to calm him down.

"Jake, baby, it's okay. Just let go for me. Just let it happen. It'll feel so good, I promise." You go back down on him and move your head faster. Not a minture later, do you feel him twitch in your mouth. He let's out a long strain of what sounds like a groan/moan/scream. You feel his warm cum hit the back of your throat and slide down.

You release him from your mouth and get a good look at him, licking your fingers. He's completely disheveled and is clearly not in reality at the moment. You give him a second to come back down and straddle him.

"Oh my fucking goodness." You smile at his adorable reaction. "That," he jerks his head up at you, "was absolutely amazing! Did you swallow it?" He genuinely wonders and its so funny.

"Every last drop," you say, licking the palm of your hand.

"That is just so hot. What the actual shit." You lean down and devour him, desperate to have him inside you now. He grabs your ass and squeezes it, kissing you back.

"Want me to ride you, honey? I can ride you so good. You don't have to do anything. Just lay there and show me you like it, okay?" Again, he just nods, probably still shocked this all is even happening to him.

You rub your pussy, getting it wet all over and grab him, lining it up with your entrance. You slide down, wincing a bit as it stretches your pussy to adjust to his size. Once you're good you set your hands on his broad chest and start moving on him.

"Fuck, Y/N. You're literally squeezing me right now."

"You're so big, baby. I'm trying to take it as best as I can," you moan out, looking back and watch your ass jiggle on his pelvis. He grips your hips and slaps your right cheek, which encourages you to move faster.

"Oh my gosh, you're stretching me so good, Jake. Damn."

"I know that tight little pussy can take me. C'mon babe." You have no idea where he got this talk from, but he's doing it very well. You move so you're bouncing on his lap, skin slapping against his, making large echoes in the room.

"Shit, you're gonna make me cum, Daddy." You were so into it, you didn't realize you let it slip. But he didn't mind not one bit.

"Keep riding Daddy just like that. Want me to fill you up? Want Daddy to cum inside with pretty little pussy?" All you can do it let out a lengthy whine. You bounce harder at his words.

"Daddy, I'm gonna cumm" You let bliss take over you for a moment as you cum all over him. Just as you come down from your climax, Jake starts thrusting in you, chasing his own. You bend down and capture his lips, helping him out. You move down next to his ear, breathing into it.

"Cum for me, honey. I wanna feel you cum inside me. Take what you want." Holding on to his shoulders, Jake adds a few more hard thrusts at your 'encouraging' words.

"That's it, Daddy. Do it just like that for me. Fill my pussy up." And that does it for him. He squeezes your ass one more time before he shoots his load deep inside you. You moan at the feeling of his warm load filling you up. He goes limp, attempting to catch his breath.

You sit up and look at him, smiling proudly.

"Jakey, you did so amazing for me." You kiss his swollen cherry lips. He just sheepishly smiles. You can tell he's impressed with himself.

"I always knew you had it in you. Now it's inside me."

Let's just give a round of applause for Jakey. He learned so fast and so good. 🥺 I love him so much.

masterlist

#chris evans #cevans #avengers #captain america #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans smut #jake jensen #the losers #jake jensen smut

[fandomvariousness]

you wouldn't want me to pt. 2

pt. 1 -> x

pairing: eren jaeger x reader

warnings: blood, mentions of death, cheating, smut: dub-con, mild masochism, dacryphilia, choking, creampie, size kink, overstimulation

request: "pleaseee a part two to "you wouldn't want me to" with the smut"

word count: 2.9k

a/n: ayo i'm team armin but boyeee sometimes it feels nice to digress ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

“We’ll stop here for the night.” you heard Eren command someone, and the carriage stopped.

They covered your eyes and tied your hands behind your backs, so even while you sat huddled next to Armin you couldn’t wrap your hands around him, and neither could he.

You heard steps come into the carriage, followed by a set of rough hands that led you off. Judging by the grass under your feet, you figured the whole caravan stopped at one of the cottages for the night. Once the grass turned into the parquet of the cottage, an alarm rang in your head, realizing that whoever’s leading you isn’t stopping.

“Wait,” you breathed out quietly, all your anger being replaced by panic. “Armin?”

“Y/N!” you heard his voice somewhere behind you.

Judging by the commotion and the wave of swears and slurs, everyone was being stuffed into solitary rooms.

“Stop, stop!” you yelled, your anger coming back, feet stubbornly pushing against the ground. “Armin!” you yelled again, roughly jerking your frame in hopes of getting away.

“No Armin,” your captor whispered in your ear. “just me.”

Your face sank at the realization that it’s him. Even though your heart fluttered, just for a second, making you hate yourself for it, the odium seeped into your blood the very instant you heard his voice.

"You, little –" you didn't get to finish your slur as he pushed you into the room, shutting the door locked behind him.

You stumbled on your feet, the moment of misbalance bringing you down to the hard ground with a dull thud.

You were so angry that you still tried to squirm out of your bindings, just so that you could have a chance to strangle him with your own hands. You felt him approaching as you huffed and panted angrily in your efforts, feeling the eye band and rope binding your wrists come off.

You squinted from the sudden painful contact with the lamplight, rubbing your sore wrists.

“I could really kill you right now,” you spoke with a trembling voice. “I fucking hate you, Eren.”

The anger was manifesting in a form of hot tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks any moment; you hated the way you’d cry once infuriated.

You hated it, but Eren fucking loved it. He took a discreet deep breath to quench the feeling that arose upon seeing your glassy eyes, the sight going straight to his dick. He loved seeing you so conflicted with your feelings, especially when he's the culprit.

"Always wanted to hear you say that," he said with a smug smile that you wanted to wipe off with a slap so bad.

And so that’s what you did. You huffed in anger and closing the space between the two of you with a couple of steps, sent a dry slap across his cheek.

His eyes shut closed as his head turned to the side, a shiver running through his body, orange pre-shifting sparks flying around his head like a halo.

“Do that again and see what happens.” Eren liked what you did to him, but he wanted to frighten you into thinking he would shift.

You gulped, trying to hide your rising panic, as you let your burning palm hang limply beside you.

“What,” you breathed out, carefully calculating your next words. “you’re going to shift and kill everyone inside, even your beloved minions?”

He barely reacted, except for his eyes running over your body, making you realize just how close you two are standing to each other.

“Not before I have something I want.”

You exhaled curtly as you looked down, trying to escape the hazy feeling that was gradually clouding over your mind.

“Eren, unlock the –” he interrupted you by gripping your chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look into his bottle-green eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never wondered what it would feel like.”

You felt your face heating as you failed to control your emotions. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He smiled smugly again just before he claimed your lips with his, sucking your soul out. His hand rested dangerously low on your hip, teasing you with the possibility of gripping it tighter at any moment.

“Stop,” you muttered in between the kisses. “Eren, stop!” you shoved him away, all flustered, turning around and steeping towards the window to gaze at the night sky that was just starting to appear.

You panted heavily as the realization of what just happened was sinking into you.

“How can you do this to Armin?” you asked, trying to refrain your trembling voice from breaking completely. “To me?”

He chuckled quietly, revealing his stance just behind you. “I’m going to die soon anyway.”

You hated when they did that. You hated when either Eren or Armin spoke about the fact that they only have a few years left to live. In fact, you hated it so much you forbade them to even speak about it. Even if Eren is not exactly in your good graces right now, you still hated it.

You unclenched your burning fists in an attempt to compose yourself.

“You may disappear, but your actions won't," you said as you turned around to face him.

"I don't care about that," he said nonchalantly. "Hell, Armin's going to go shortly after I do, so you shouldn't even think about the consequences – we will both be dead."

You bit your lip so hard upon hearing the mention of Armin’s impending death you may have drawn blood. You snapped again as you sent your palm flying across his face, but this time he immediately turned his face back and crushed his lips on your bloody ones.

You whined at the tingling of the tiny wound where you bit your lip, droplets of blood staining Eren’s own lips. His palms squeezed your buttocks, bringing your centers together; you gasped as you felt his semi-hard tent against you.

You withdrew from him like a whimpering mess, pushing your dainty palms at his chest to refrain him from connecting your lips again. You turned around in panic and saw your blurry reflection in the window, both of your lips stained with the crimson of your blood.

You yelped briefly as you felt his hands on your hips again, his heavy breathing tickling your skin when he leaned his face towards the crook of your swan-like neck.

“Just this once,” he breathed out, giving a brief slip to his own desperation. “and then I’ll go. I’ll leave you all alone.”

You trembled as you struggled to make a decision: your body already made one, relishing at the feeling of his front against your back, of his stealthy, barely traceable grinding against your frame, but your mind tried so hard to resist.

His hands were roaming all over your body, quite literally driving you insane: the way his palm ran up and down your thigh, the other appreciating the curve of your waist before sneaking its way under your white uniform shirt – it made you moan quietly, realizing that your mind had already lost.

“Did you really never wonder how it would feel like with me?” he whispered smokily.

Of course, you did. You never missed the way his thumb would stroke over your skin whenever he would get the chance to place his hand on your shoulder, you never missed the feeling you got when his eyes would linger on you for a bit too long – all of it burned into your mind.

You were somewhere else entirely as your eyes fluttered closed, head leaning back against his frame; his hand came to cup your breast, gently massaging it, melting your whole stance into a puddle.

As you failed to answer, having lost yourself in a sensual mass of his touches, you felt his hand grip the base of your neck. “Did you?”

Your eyes shot open as the force of his grip grew stronger, making you grasp his hand for some sort of leverage.

“Huh?” he repeated.

"I did." You confessed.

You didn’t see it, but you knew Eren grinned widely against your neck just before he pecked it. “Of course you did.”

His hand retreated from your neck as he gripped your hips, pressing you against the window-sill. “Did you sometimes think about me when you were doing it with Armin?”

You felt tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you realized this was too much to admit.

“Eren,” you shook your head in protest.

Eren loved seeing you squirm, he loved torturing you like that, and he wasn’t going to stop. He snuck his hand to cup your burning center, making you cry out and shiver at the needed contact.

“I bet you almost cried out my name accidentally a couple of times, didn’t you? Just like you did now?”

You sobbed quietly, but Eren brushed his tongue against your ear, turning it into a broken moan mid-way. “Say it again, say my name.”

You didn’t realize how your hips rolled against Eren’s hand massaging your warm, slick center; he controlled you as a puppeteer controls his puppet, and you knew it all too well.

“Eren,” you moaned genuinely.

“Shit,” Eren spat out as your mewling went directly to his painfully hard dick.

You choked at the sensation of his fingers sneaking under your panties, coming through your slick folds and finding the little pearlet of pleasure.

“Yes, yes,” you whimpered as he returned the other hand to your breast.

Eren was losing control rapidly, but he wanted to toy with you just a bit more – he probably wouldn’t get another chance.

“Want me to fill you up?” he knew that it was immensely hard for you to admit that you actually want him, and so he purposely pushed you down this guilt trip.

Your eyebrows knitted together out of inner turmoil, but you nodded. “Yes, I do, Eren, please –”

You were an absolute whimpering mess, struggling to weave a proper sentence together, voice broken and trembling – you just wanted him to fill you and ease the sexual tension that would always follow you two.

He chuckled against your cheek as he worked his way with your pants, pushing them down below your ass, cool air hitting your skin and sending a wave of shivers. “To think you were so reluctant before.”

Oh, you still were, in a sense. You knew guilt is going to consume you after, but you cannot control yourself anymore. It’s just the effect that Eren has on people, on you.

You leaned your palms against the edge of the window-sill, anticipating the breach, shallow breaths leaving patches of mist on the glass that would disappear in a moment.

“Ah,” you yelped cutely and rested your heated forehead against the cool glass as you felt Eren’s tip against your slick entrance.

His hand weaved itself around your neck in protest and leaned you back closer to him, bending your spine into a beautiful arch. He ran his other hand up and down your stretched stomach as he eased himself into you, coaxing out a series of broken moans from your mouth.

“Fuck,” you yelped in a high-pitched voice, holding on to that window-sill for dear life.

“So tight, so tight,” Eren whispered to himself, lost in his own bliss as his head hung low on your shoulder.

You yelped in pain as he was approaching your cervix. “W-Wait, ah, it’s too—too—”

“It’s what, baby?” his fingers dug into your hips, bringing you down on his dick a bit further. “What?”

"Too—ah, fuck—too big!" you cried.

You were ashamed of yourself that you enjoyed his dick tearing you apart that much, but you couldn't lie to yourself in this state, not anymore; it's like you're a whole other person.

Eren’s dick twitched inside you at your word. “Bigger than Armin’s, yeah?”

You nodded curtly, doing anything to ease away the dull ache and the guilt that was tickling somewhere at the back of your head. “Yeah,”

He ran his tongue along the vertical curve of your neck, starting to move steadily.

You kept your mouth open as you were even struggling to breathe, Eren's presence consuming the whole of you. You bent your hand backward and ran your fingers through the back of his head, loosening the bun he’s weaved his hair into.

“Faster,” you commanded, catching Eren by surprise. “Please, Eren,”

The sound of you begging for him drove him feral. He wanted to fuck your brains out, but he knew he won’t have another chance to relish in you like that – slowly, sensually, lovingly.

“Patience, baby,” he said to you and to himself at the same time. “Mm, you feel so good.”

The room was rapidly filled with both of your moans as Eren pounded into you rhythmically. His hand snuck to rest on your lower stomach, feeling his own tip stretching your insides.

“Wanted to have you for so long," Eren let his thoughts slip up; he enjoyed destroying you like this, but he failed to consider his own weaknesses coming to the surface. "Could never get you out of my head."

His own confessions were like a catalyst to your approaching release, which was threateningly close now.

“Ah, Eren, I’m gonna cum, I’m cumming,”

You screamed so loud he had to cover your mouth with his palm – he wouldn’t want others to condemn you for doing this for the reasons they don’t even understand. Eren himself was close, so close – but there was one more thing he wanted to do.

“Feel good? Yeah?” Eren questioned, containing his own release with all his will, still pounding into you. “Give me another, baby.” His hand reached down to your oversensitive clit.

“Wait, Eren, I just came, I—” you choked, tears welling up in your eyes from overstimulation; yet it felt so good.

“Shh, you can take it,” he cajoled.

It didn’t take long for him to give you another orgasm, not at all – all it took was a few circular strokes with the right amount of pressure, and you came clenching around his dick again, this time covering your mouth with your own palms. Eren buried his head in your disheveled hair as he groaned out in pleasure, bursting deep inside you.

“Fuck,” he blabbered, eyes closed, feeling your shivering, fragile frame falling apart in front of him. He tried not to think too much about the fact that he came inside you, the act contradicting his beliefs and plans.

His hands came snaking around your waist, pulling you closer gently, planting a few kisses on the top of your head. "You did so well."

You couldn’t say a word as you pulled your pants up before you turned around to face him, seeing him buttoning his own.

Something came onto you as you cupped his face and kissed him gently. Now that really did take Eren by surprise.

“What was that for?” he asked quietly after a moment of silence.

You shrugged. “Just felt like kissing you.”

He suppressed a smile as he leaned his palms against the window-sill, trapping you in between his hands, your noses almost brushing. “You won’t be too pissed with me now, will you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You said it yourself, you’ll die soon, so why do you care?”

"Clever", thought Eren as he continued exploring the pools of your glistening eyes. He withdrew slowly, towering over you as he took your chin between his thumb and index finger, just like he did before. He ran his thumb over a little patch of dried blood from when you bit your lip.

You almost gasped at the absence of his touch when he released you altogether, making his way to the door, unlocking it; you remained in your place, watching him closely, trying to stop him with nothing but your gaze.

He did stop, even though only momentarily. He had already opened the door as he turned his head back to take you in – face still heated, chest rising up and down, hair tousled, gaze… longing?

Something tingled deep inside his chest at the thought that he could’ve had you as his own if the circumstances were different, much different. If only he wasn’t so heavily burdened and consumed by eternal hatred.

He snapped out of his momentary ominous trance.

“Sleep well, Y/N.” he closed the door without another word, locking you from the outside.

Once he was gone, you allowed yourself to exhale properly. You gulped, making your way to the bathroom. You turned on the tap and plugged the bath, letting yourself sob loudly as you remove your clothes.

You didn't want to wash his touches from your skin, but at the same time, you had to – how are you going to face Armin afterward?

Yet the guilt mainly came from the absence of it – no matter how sure and scared you were that it's going to consume you afterward, it didn't.

You don’t want to lose neither Armin nor Eren, and you’re going to do everything in your power to hold on to them both for as long as you can, for as long as they walk the same soil as you.

#attack on titan eren jaeger imagine #attack on titan eren jaeger smut imagine #attack on titan eren jaeger #eren jaeger #attack on titan eren jaeger x reader smut #attack on titan eren jaeger x reader #attack on titan x reader smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #aot x reader smut #aot x reader #aot #attack on titan eren yeager #eren yeager #eren yeager x reader smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager x reader #snk x reader smut #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin eren jaeger imagine #eren jaeger drabble #eren jaeger oneshot #eren yeager oneshot #eren yeager blurb #smut #shingeki no kyojin x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader smut #shingeki no kyojin smut #attack on titan smut

[dylansslutt]

betrayal / tvd fic

authors note : i am starting a short lil tvd fic. love interest in mind but super excited with this. had to branch off on something new, feedback would be incredible!!!

summary: amelia “lia” gilbert, twin sister of elena discovers who she truly is. leading to a lot of hurt, betrayal, danger, and maybe a brokenheart or love...

 this is i guess the teaser/first part. more to come :)

--

  elena drove past me as i pull up to the salvatore house. confused, i park and rush inside. the house was quiet, i make ways upstairs.

“stefan?” i softly call out. as i reach his room, i hesitantly look around. never really been in here before, i step inside. distant water from the bathroom filled the silence. he was in the shower.

as i turn to leave, a few strolled out pictures and papers catch my attention. i softly walk forward, careful not to bump into anything. my eyes land on two pictures. i pick up one, who held elena on it.

katherine pierce, 1864.

who the- what the hell is this? why does stefan have a picture of im assuming his ex girlfriend katherine, but its elena. have him and damon really been lying to us?

i set the picture back down, gasping as i see myself. same style type picture, just a different name.

florence gilbert, 1864.

i stumble back, a million emotions running through my head. why do i look exactly like her, a straight twin.

“amelia?” stefans voice interrupts my panic, my eyes widen at his appearance. i grip my keys tighter. “where is elena?”

“you both lied...” that’s all that left my lips. i went to leave, tears flooding my eyes. stefans hands go to grab me, i push myself back against the wall.

“get away from me, stefan!” i hold my hand out to keep distance, tears already running down my face. he gives me the most hopeless look.

“wha-what is this about? what’s wrong lia?” he looks around the room confused. i glare at him, “don’t fucking call me that. you know you don’t see me as amelia.”

he slowly turns to his table, seeing the familiar photos displayed across the surface. “i can expl-”

i scoff, “oh please, you know i listen right? i heard damon say her name once. florence... you spoke of katherine and lied to our faces as if she is not exactly like elena.”

“she’s nothing like her, and neither are you. i didn’t know how to bri-” i roll my eyes, not even bothering for him to finish. just making my way out of his room.

as im halfway down the hall, stefan vamp speeds in front of me. i gasp, holting. “amelia, please just let me explain.”

“how long?” you stare into his eyes, just one question. “how long have you been lying to us?”

he stares at me in defeat, “i was the one who saved you and elena from your parents wreck.” i felt my legs go weak after that statement. stefan quickly catches me, all my body weight was held by him as i sob into his chest.

he holds me, us on the stairs as i cry into his arms. “ho-wha-” i couldnt even get my words out. everything was too much. stefan didn’t speak yet, just holding me close.

i finally start to catch my breathe, making me sit up. away from his embrace. i look at him, silent tears only left. “i spent so many nights wondering how i survived... how we made it out?”

“did you stalk us or elena, since katherine or whatever?”

he shakes his head instantly, “no.no.no, yes i did watch you both at first. to make sure you weren’t them but after a few days i knew... you weren’t them.” i nod, sniffling. i lean back against the other wall. directly in front of stefan.

“im adopted aren’t i?” i bit my lip softly. your heart dropping at his confirm, “i did some digging... you and elena are both adopted. it just has no record of your real birth parents, just your parents information.”

i nod, trying to take all this in. i reach up grabbing the rail, “i need to get out of here.” i mutter softly.

everything was making my head spin, i guess literally too; since i started seeing black dots. “amelia!” his voice seemed distant.

and it was dark...

#Stefan Salvatore #stefan salvatore imagine #damon salvatore #damon salvatore imagine #damon x reader #damon salvatore smut #TVD #tvd fanfiction #tvd fic #tvd imagine #elena gilbert

[featherwriterweather]

Fiesty will get burned Sweat pea/Reader (Y/N) smut warning

Its been a rough two weeks since the Southside Serpents joined Riverdale high. But we all got used to it. The Bulldogs stopped harrasing them, the Serpents laid back and Midge was finally laid to rest with her real murderer in prison.

Toni, a Serpent girl who I befrended the first day they came in school, was sitting next to me in the school lounge. We were casually talking as usual with Betty and Ronni. Soon after Cheryl joined us and we couldn’t help but gossip around the Vixens and the latest dating rumours. The bell rang and the usual gang of boys with Serpent tattoes came our way. 

Jug was talking with Archie, while Fangs and Sweet pea went for a hot cup of coffee from the machine behind me.

“When are you reptiles going to learn that you can’t be eyeing down our girls?” Reggie Mantle, in his full shine, blurted out.

“What the hell is your problem, Mantle?” Sweat Pea replied, his big body ready for a fight.

“I saw you eyeing this bimbo out” Reggie said pointing his head towards me. Sweat pea was all well familiar with my name as he usually saw me hanging all day with Toni. 

“First, do not call her anything else but her name, and second, what’s the problem if I was?” he said.

“First, this asshole Foggarty was screwing Midge, and now you think you can screw another of our own?” With this words that Reggie had spoken I had had it.

“Listen you testosterone filled dickheads, I am not a piece of meat you can fight over. Lay off Mantle, screw you and your stupid Buldog shit, he can do whatever he wants.” I heard Sweat pea chuckle so I turned to him “And you arogant jackass, don’t think we all girls fall in your feet cause you’re tall and got some looks going on. We’re not that blind!” I finished off proud of myself and the shoked looks I had brought to their faces. Everyone around us, especially the Serpents, cheered me for this comment. Fangs was uncontrollably laughing behind Sweet pea's shoulder.

“Well, we have to admit you are some Serpent lady material. No one has put Sweat pea on his place that good so far.” Toni said smirking at me from her place she took next to me.

“Nor has had the balls to talk to a Serpent like you did! Watch it!” Sweat pea shortened the distance between us so I was directly looking at his face literally breathing my air in his lips.

“For sure these balls are bigger than yours, Sweat pea!” I smartmouthed him,which earned me more Serpent cheers and toast in the air from Toni and her coffee cup.

“Wanna bet on it?!” He casually laughed and raised his eyebrow at me.

“If you want to make me laugh, go ahed!” I sad 

“Oh, you are fiesty one, aren’t you? I will make you scream under me!” he said so sure in himself.

“For help, you mean? Yeah, probably!” I laughed daring him to close the distance even more. I started to like this little competition we had on who will come up with more bitter comment.

“Alright, you two. If you’re gonna fuck, take it to somewhere private. We want to study here so let’s go!” Ronni had interviened to stop us from ripping each other after Reggie left the room with disgusted look on his eyes. But I can assure you, the other Serpents loved the show.

The rest of the day went pretty boring. The classes were boring, so were the homeworks and the project. Me and Toni were texting all the time. She was going back and forth how she still couldn’t believe I put Sweat pea to his place.

As I was walking out the doors towards the lot, I saw his sitting on his bike waiting for someone. 

“Hey,fiesty girl!” He said when he saw me nearing him.

“What the heck do you want now, Sweat pea?” I asked as I was trying to pass him by and go to my car.

“We didn’t finish our earlier conversation. I thought you had more to say about me and my balls.” he smirked with his hands crossed in front of his chest, making it look even more muscular. I had to admit I had definitely laid eyes on him, even if Reggie was exaggerating and he did not eye me out.

“I’ve got a lot more to say if you are ready to hear it. But I’ll save it to myself. I don’t wanna hurt this little Serpent bad boy impersonator’s ego.” I said lightly patting on his chest while trying to walk away.

“Not so fast! You got my interest. Wanna go for a drive?” he said holding my hand firmly, not letting me go.

“Where are you going to take me? By the river where you plan on drawning me because I got the balls to tell you to shut the fuck up? And let me remind you that I am pretty sure my balls are bigger than yours.” I snapped back trying to yank my hand form him.

“I don’t plan on killing you. That would mean I will not see your pretty face again. Who would smartmouth me then? But I do have the intention of making you scream, as I said earlier.” he laughed out as he started the engine of his bike and shoved the helmet in my hand. “Hop on!” 

I debate for a little with myself. I had interest in this ball of rage since he entered the school. As time went on and the more I hung with Toni, the more I learned that he is not that bad at all. At least I got that his honor sense was much bigger than the one any other dickhead at our age had. 

“Well, are you coming?” He asked smiling, ready to drive off.

“I better be coming or you are going to be sorry for making me do this”I said as I hopped on the bike behind him.

“You never miss a change to out smart my words” He roared the machine “I have the full intention of making you come, at least a couple of times.” he added, underlining the word “come” with his tone as we drove off. 

The ride was joyful but pretty soon I found myself in fron of his trailer. He stopped the engine and I got off. I gave him back the helmet. He set it down and got off the bike himself. Then we walked to the front door in complete and utter silence. He unlocked the door painfully slow to me and let me go inside first. I took a look around and turned only to find him towering me with his tall figure. I didn’t say a word nor did he. By that time we had said it all. We got the idea of what we both wanted to do with the other and so did our peers, as it seemed.

I slowly walked a few steps closer to him and I pushed his Serpent jacked off his broad shoulders. He smirked and took off his grey tee over his head revealing to me his muscular chest. I looked him from head to toe and touched his chest with my hand slowly. It made him not move an inch. I bit my lower lip and looked him straight in the eye. “Are you going to kiss me or you are going to stay here half naked the entire time?” I sad pushing myself into him.

“Not another invitation is needed, fiesty.” he answered as he closed the distance between us. His lips met mine and it all went blank. Clothes were flying everywhere around his kitchen. He reached slowly for under my bum and lifted me up to put me on the countertop. The cold tiles met my naked thighs. His lips were trailing kisses down my neck making me gasp for air with each kiss.

“Aren’t you a little too dressed for this, boy?” I asked undoing his belt and then his jeans. He didn’t respond. He was too busy taking off my underwear, letting it join the pile of clothes next to the table. He pushed down his jeans and his big and rock hard dick was exposed in front of me.

“What are you gonna say now, ha? Last chance to back out or else you will scream my name by the end of it.” he said all the while touching my already wet folds.

“I am not scared of you, Pea. Show me what you got. Prove me I was wrong.” I dared him.

Slowly he closed all space between us as he entered me in one move. How good it felt! His hands held my thighs and he started pulling out and pushing back inside making me whimp and moan loudly in his ear while he was kissing my neck. His breaths were deep and quick. His mouth eventually found its way to my breast, sucking and kissing on the skin. It made me throw my head back in pleasure. 

Again in one easy motion, he picked me up again and moved me to the table. My legs wrapped around his torso to bring him even closer, if that was any possible. His trusts were getting quicker by the minute, making me slowly loose control. His lips found its way back mine and started playing dangerous game of biting and sucking.

“Girls who play with fire get their fingers burned” he wispered in my ear as he continued to pound in and out with deep trusts inside me.

“What make you think I don’t like to play with fire,ha? Maybe I will burn you more than you will burn me!” I said.

He pulled out of me and took my hand to pull me up in front of him. After that he turned me around and gently pushed me forward so I rested my palms on the surface of the table. He entered me from his position behind me and resumed fucking me hard one more time. 

“You’re dripping wet, you know that? It drives me fucking crazy how wet I made you. I bet you can feel how big my balls are now. Do you have anything to say?” he hissed in my neck.

“Yes, I have. Shut up and make me feel those balls! I wanna be wet just by thinking of you and it’s not going to happen if you continue to talk.” I told him bending over a little bit more to grant him more access to me.

My moans were becoming uncontrollable by the second and so were his. I was already shaking under him as he grabbed me by the hair, gently pulling on it. 

“Are you close, my fiesty girl? I can feel you getting tighter. Cum for me. I want to feel you. Scream for me as you let go. I want to hear you.” I obeyed him. I nodded my head and leaned back into him giving in completely to the sensation of my hard orgasm rocking my body. My muscles trembled and I pressed myself further into him as his name slipped off my lips. I felt him smile at the crook of my neck as he let out deep throated moan and let himself cum as well. 

We were sweating and still trembling from the sex we just had. But he didn’t miss the chance to remind me what I had said. 

“So, fiesty! What do you have to say now? I didn’t hear you scream for help. I heard you screaming for me not to stop and my name, as well. I guess I was right.” he said as he leaned back at the counter after he had put his boxers on. 

We both knew it wasn’t going to be just a hook up fight. It all went on from there with me puting him in his place after which I was always shown what I can get if I ask politely. But to ask politely for a booty call from Sweet pea is never as fun. 

I went right up to him after I put on my panties as well and pressed my body into his. “Shut the fuck up! Do you ever stop being so cocky? Bite your tongue and kiss me.” I ordered as I pulled his head down to meet my lips. He snaked his hand around my waist pulling me closer to him and giving in the kiss. 

When I went into his bathroom to refresh myself after our little fiasko, I looked into the mirror and saw two big black purple hickeys on my neck. He made sure it would be visible for everyone the next day that he had proven me wrong and I learned my lesson. Oh, boy! He was in trouble and so was I.

#sweet pea #riverdale #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea smut #riverdale smut #riverdale imagine #southside serpents #bad boy #open requests #riverdale southside #sweet pea and reader

[volcanokids]

Hey idk who needs to hear this but the shit going on with Robinhood and Gamestop right now should make you really fucking angry and I’ll tell you why

If you’re not up to speed on the situation, here’s some good posts explaining it. The gist is that using completely legal means, a bunch of individual retail investors (fancy words for normal ass people who, like the rest of us, have very little money) who invest on online brokerage apps (like Robinhood) bought stock in Gamestop after hedge funds worked hard to manipulate the market for their own gains. These average people interrupted the plans of these much larger hedge funds to essentially drive Gamestop’s stock price into the ground by buying all of the stock these companies had and holding onto it, which has now costed these hedge funds BILLIONS of dollars, and for once has disrupted their long standing practice of market manipulation to fuck people over and maintain the wealth of the 1%.

Otherwise average people with accounts on Robinhood, Fidelity, Webull, etc., have now taken and held a ridiculously huge amount of control over GME stock and the rich corporations invested into it and caused it’s growth to absolutely explode. I’ve seen COUNTLESS stories in which many of them turned hundreds of dollars into thousands, made enough much needed money to pay off debts, medical bills, or just to put into savings that they wouldn’t have gotten under other circumstances. They accumulated small fortunes and gave power back to the people, and best of all took that money directly out of the hands of greedy and corrupt billion dollar hedge funds.

But of course, there had to be backlash for this.

Last night (1/27), Robinhood took away its investors’ ability to buy any more stock in Gamestop than they already owned, and today has made its user base fully unable to trade Gamestop stock AT ALL unless it is to sell their already owned shares, like literally fully took away the button that lets you purchase GME stock, period. Straight up preventing trade like this to any degree in the free market, much less to favor billion dollar corporations, is incredibly blatant market manipulation which is very illegal, hence the class-action lawsuit that has already been filed against Robinhood. Hedge funds have lost literally BILLIONS of dollars to normal people trading stock legally, and Robinhood halting trade and making selling the ONLY option for Gamestop, AMC, and similar companies is their attempt at helping the hedge funds gain back their fortune after they failed to manipulate the market in their favor, and fucking over the average people who are invested on their platform in the process. 

Retail investors—regular people—when this happened, lost THEIR ability to buy, and therefore continue taking back the wealth held by the hedge funds, but this restriction on Robinhood has NO effect on hedge funds, who have now been able to buy and sell all day today (1/28) freely. They used the opportunity to drive the price of Gamestop down again, essentially trying to bail themselves out after they manipulated the market and fucked themselves over in the first place. So, Robinhood, several other trading brokers, CNBC, and any other large corporation who has pissed on Reddit for “manipulating the market” have also now revealed their alignment with these companies, who are the reason the wealth in America is as disparaged as it is. They’re complaining, shifting the blame, even making up straight up lies about retail investors being involved in the alt-right to defame the people who have beat them at their shitty game.  

People on Reddit saw the manipulation, played the game fairly, and hedge funds are STILL trying to fuck them over for daring to touch the fortunes that they have gained by their shady as hell practices and fucked up the economy by hoarding. Reddit saw an opportunity to actually literally redistribute wealth, and these companies are trying to put us all in our place and keep that from happening by extremely corrupt means.

Market manipulation has been going on for a very long time with very little pushback from the people who actually take the blow when the market tanks—i.e. lower to middle class people who can’t afford bailouts and end up broke and out of jobs when the market crashes. The crash of ‘08 was caused by big brokers doing illegal shit and fucking around with people’s money with absolutely no personal repercussions. No lawsuits (or at least no lawsuits that did fuck all about it) no jail time for anyone responsible, nothing. Not only has this Gamestop movement taken back some of the wealth, we are beginning to finally hold these companies accountable. Again, as of right now, a class-action lawsuit has been filed against Robinhood for their blatant market manipulation, and hedge funds invested in GME have lost over 5 billion dollars.

We always talk about eat the rich, fuck the 1%, redistribute the wealth. I know the stock market is confusing—it’s made that way on purpose—and I understand anyone’s personal reluctance to participate in the stock market directly because of the hatred for it’s capitalistic nature and everything it’s done wrong and every way it’s failed so many people. But, if you want to actually be a part of a movement that is literally taking billionaire’s wealth and redistributing it right now, show support on social media for the people putting in time and money to make this happen.

I am not qualified at all to give financial advice, and I can’t in good faith tell anyone to buy stocks, ESPECIALLY knowing many, many people do not have the disposable income to be able to do so. Do not spend money you don’t have. But the media is going to and has been altering the narrative, making the small investors look like they’re being corrupt. Do not believe them. They’re often paid out or owned by these big corporations in the first place, they do not give a shit about any of us, about ruining our lives, about taking everything we’re worth. They’ve done it forever. But the HUGE number of people buying GME, supporting, and cooperating with each other with the solitary goal of fucking over these hedge funds, fighting them and beating them at their own game is scaring the absolute shit out of them. It’s becoming a movement that’s being compared to another occupy wall street. It’s showing people they have the power to instigate change and could legitimately lead to an entire restructuring of the system if we play our cards right. Of course changing one capitalist system into another capitalist system is not ideal nor is it the goal, but this whole thing has very quickly become a movement backed by A LOT of people who have knowledge about the system, have seen it work and seen it get corrupted in real time, acknowledged exactly where it fucks us all over, and are beginning to break it down by exposing a huge and obvious instance of corruption at the hands of billionaires.

If you can do nothing else, educate yourself about all the fuck shit these companies are doing, rally support on whatever social media you use, keep posting diamond-hands-we-like-the-stock-gme-to-the-moon-memes, put pressure on the brokerage apps like Robinhood who are manipulating the market and let them know there will be hell to pay. Robinhood is sitting at a well deserved one star review on the google play store for their shitty actions and has gotten burned over and over on twitter, lots of investors are planning a mass exodus and closing their Robinhood accounts when all this shit is over, as WELL as the lawsuit, and all of it has garnered the attention of some very influential figures who now have our backs. All of the repercussions they’re facing is the direct result of our outrage and backlash. Be outraged with us and let’s make real fucking change.

GME to the fucking moon everyone 🚀

#gme #gme to the fucking moon 🚀🚀🚀 #gamestop #wall street #stocks #im sorry this is so long fdhjfbhjfarw pwease read it