#this post literally shoved me to my knees and shot me in the head

[gimmethatagustd]

listen. oh queen of life-ruining banter. i come to you on my knees because i require frenemies hatefucking with tae. featuring all the banter. and him being a menace. no this is not self-indulgent at all wdym sdlfjsldkfj - congrats again on your milestone :')))

WANNA FUCK ON CAMERA | KTH

You’re so tired of Kim Taehyung’s hipster, wannabe-photographer ass. You’re so tired of Kim Taehyung’s stupid smile and stupid jokes and stupid way of getting under your skin and sticking in your brain.  

» pairing: taehyung x reader

» genre: BTS | 18+ | frenemies to lovers | smut

» wc/date: 3.3k | July 2022

» warnings: fingering | nudes (ig??) | unprotected vaginal sex | spit | tae is annoying

» notes: I’M SO SORRY THIS ENDED UP JUST BEING A FULL FUCKING PWP ONE SHOT KJDKFHS also i def didn’t proofread this enough so sorry 🥴

» masterlist | ao3 | send me ur thots 👅

» what was jai listening to? camera - dj drama ft. 1st fkl, lil uzi vert, mac miller, & post malone

The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles (mini-series) Masterlist

If Kim Taehyung placed his grimy hands on the small of your back one more time you were quite literally going to rip them off. 

“Babe, we didn’t take a picture together yet.” Before you could react, there was a bright flash of light that formed black holes in your vision. A sleek film camera was the culprit. Not unfamiliar, you’d fallen victim to Taehyung’s “artistic endeavors” on more than one occasion. 

“Babe?” 

Your spotty eyes grew wide as you quickly turned back to the large man stuck in between you and Taehyung. You’d caged him into the corner of the living room away from the rest of the bustling bodies crowding the apartment you shared with Hoseok. From the moment your roommate introduced you to Namjoon at the start of the party, you were on a mission to get a good grip of his head in between your thighs. 

“No, no, no,” you shook your head, waving your arms in an “X” to ward off Taehyung’s evil. “We are not like that, at all. Gross, no. I don’t even know why he’s over here.” You hissed that last part with gritted teeth and shoved an elbow into Taehyung’s ribs. 

“We came to this party together, babe. What are you talking about?” Taehyung’s mouth morphed into a deep pout. Your’s, on the other hand, hung open like a fish. 

“Excuse me? This is my fucking apartment!”

You watched with growing frustration as Taehyung’s pout curved into a sweet smile. He was an abscess aching your teeth.  “Babe, you’re so cute when you joke around.” 

“Ummm… I think I’m going to go.” 

You both turned to look at the large man stuck in between you. He avoided both of your gazes; instead, his gentle eyes searched the depths of the room, looking for a way out. 

“Namjoon, wait,” You reached out to grab his forearm, “Just ignore him, he’s an idiot.” 

Namjoon gave you a soft, tight smile. “It’s okay, I don’t want to bother you.” He didn’t give you a second glance once he disappeared deeper into the apartment. 

You spun around on your heel and jabbed your finger against Taehyung’s chest. “Listen here, TaTa. If you don’t stop cockblocking me all fucking night, I swear to God.” 

“You swear to God what? What are you going to do?” Taehyung cocked his head to one side and you hated how hot it was to watch his bottom lip disappear between his teeth. He raised his eyebrows at you, tilting his head back a bit so he looked at you down the sharp bridge of his cute little freckled nose. 

He knew you wouldn’t do anything. There was nothing for you to do. 

He was such a piece of shit. 

“Why did Hobi invite you,” you muttered, pushing past Taehyung. You made very little ground before he was snatching your wrist in his large hands. “Can you please leave me alone? I’m not drunk enough for your shit right now.” 

“Let me get my beautiful model a drink, then.” 

“You are the most arrogant, conceited, cockiest person I have ever met in my entire life.” The grin that bloomed across his face was the exact opposite of what you wanted to see, but everything your body was being pulled towards. 

“Thank you.” 

With a huff, you shook your hand from Taehyung’s grip and continued swimming your way through the sea of people trashing your apartment. Leave it to Hobi to throw a massive party to celebrate “the beginning of his birthday month” without bothering to ask you. When he knew you hated most of his friends, Kim Taehyung in particular. How he’d managed to wiggle his way into your friend group was beyond you. Probably because he was hot, and hot people could get away with everything. 

Well, you didn’t think he was hot, obviously. Other people did. Not you. Nope. 

“Do not follow me.” You threw the command over your shoulder, praying to the lord that he would grow a brain and listen to you. Breaking free of the last throng of people, you walked the hallway until you got to your bedroom, Taehyung hot on your heels. You tried to slam your bedroom door shut but Taehyung had the toe of his boot wedged in the doorframe. He wrapped a hand around the edge of the door and pried it open just enough to slip his lithe body inside. The click of him locking the door made your spine shudder. 

“You’re so fucking stupid, Kim. Why don’t you go find someone to suck your dick and keep your nose out of my business? I’ll even let you use my bathroom.” Arms crossed against your chest. Chin jutted out. 

Taehyung snickered, keeping his focus on wiping away a smudge mark on the surface of his camera lens. “Bothering you gives me infinite more pleasure, believe it or not.” He looked up to meet your gaze. “And you know how much I love chasing pleasure.” 

By this point your anger was hardly well-contained. As you flipped through every scenario in your head you were finding fewer options to get him out of here. Murder may have been the only option, actually. 

“God I love how hot you look when you’re pissed.” Taehyung had the audacity to sit down on the edge of your bed, his long legs spreading like the space-hogging man that he was. 

“Take a fucking picture then. It’ll last longer.” 

“Ooh, you’re so clever, so edgy.” Despite his taunts, he did what you said, quickly snapping another picture of you. You flipped him off. “Glad you’ve finally agreed to model for me. How do you feel about nudes?” 

“Get the fuck out of here.” 

“Not even just a topless one?” 

“I would never, in a million years, even if my life depended on it, get any amount of naked in front of you.” 

“That sounds like a fun challenge, doesn’t it?” He got up from your bed, leaving the camera to rest on your fluffy comforter. His amber eyes dropped to watch your lips, the edges of his own lips curling slightly when you backed up against your dresser. A bottle of hair product tipped over and rolled off the dresser, thudding against the floor. 

“It’s not a challenge, Taehyung. It’s merely a fact.” 

“Look at what you’re wearing. You’re already halfway there.” Taehyung shrugged. He ran his index finger along the skin of your midriff exposed by your crop top. Reaching your belly button, he dragged his finger downwards until he landed on the zipper of your shorts. “Don’t act like you’re not desperate. The way you were hanging all over that guy said enough.” 

“Fuck off,” you said in an exhale. You made no effort to push him out of the way; this was one of many mistakes. 

“Hmm…” You practically felt the baritone vibration of Taehyung contemplating your comment, the hum rumbling from his throat. “Okay.” He took a step back and sunk onto your bed with his camera resting beside him. 

“What do you mean, okay?” You closed the gap he’d created and stared down at him with your hands on your hips. “You can’t just say okay.” 

The tiniest of smirks lifted the corner of Taehyung’s mouth, but he held it in as best he could. Controlling his eyes was another thing; he let his gaze travel the length of your body. “Am I not giving you what you wanted?” 

“Well, yes.” 

“Then what’s the problem?” 

You opened your mouth, but immediately snapped it shut. Taehyung leaned back on his palms with his broad chest on display and his legs spread. How had you ended up standing between them? He tilted his head up slightly jutting his chin out at you while his eyes continued to examine you. Dissect you. His gaze felt razor sharp on your searing skin. 

“Just admit it. You want me. It’s obvious how I affect you.” You felt your stomach flip as Taehyung ran his fingers through his hair, though a few curls decided to bounce back over his forehead. “One simple kiss and you’d be begging for me.” 

You absolutely did not want him. Had you thought about what those piercing eyes would look like from between your thighs? Maybe. But who hadn’t?! It was a natural consequence of being “friends” with Taehyung.

“You’re an idiot.” Another glare was shot his way when the stupid smirk returned. 

“Prove it then. Prove you don’t care.” 

If there was anything you hated more than this idiot, it was being doubted. Fuck this guy for wasting your time, invading your space, and then insulting you in your own house. 

“If you tell anyone about this I’ll cut your balls off,” you hissed. 

“I’m so scared,” Taehyung said with a lick of his lips. You wanted to smack that mischievous glint out of his eyes. Hell, you should have. But instead you were determined to knock him off his high horse. If you weren’t going to get into a physical altercation, you were going to fuck up his ego. 

Shoving Taehyung backwards so he was once again leaning on his palms, you climbed into his lap with your hands gripping his shoulders. Before he could say anything else stupid, you brought your lips to his and tried not think about how many things had been in his mouth. 

It was clear that Taehyung was trying to prove a point because he immediately began to devour you. His hands flew up to grip your ass to pull you tight against him, making your hands slide forward so you now had your arms wrapped around his shoulders. Biting down on your bottom lip he coaxed your mouth open to slip his tongue inside. You shivered at the taste of him, sweet like the grapefruit soju he’d been drinking. Distracted by him licking at your mouth, you gasped when you felt Taehyung buck into you. He forced your hips to rock against him and spread your thighs even further apart as you straddled him. 

Eventually Taehyung broke the kiss and you welcomed the opportunity to breathe. His lips ghosted yours, the two of you panting heavily against each other’s mouths. He kept a firm hold of your ass while he guided you to continue grinding against the growing bulge in his jeans. Every drag of his zipper against your core provided enough friction to alert you that you were soaked through your underwear. All because of a guy you’d swore you weren’t affected by. 

The reminder of why this was even fucking happening made you let go of Taehyung’s shoulders and lean back slightly. What the fuck. 

“You did that way too eagerly,” he snickered once you pulled away.

“Shut up.” You reached up and grabbed a handful of his hair to tug it out of annoyance because apparently Taehyung tore down your maturity level to that of an elementary student. The moan that came out of his mouth made you freeze. He stared into your eyes with his soft lips parted and all you could hear was his erratic breathing and the pounding of your heart in your head. “Looks like you’re affected by me.”

As if you weren’t an absolute mess in your pants right now. But he didn’t need to know that. 

“I never said I wasn’t.” The intensity of his gaze was too much for you, but looking away felt like surrendering. “Are you going to admit defeat now?” 

“You’re insane,” you scoffed, determined to hold his gaze. 

Taehyung broke first. He let go of your waist and brought his hand forward to press his thumb hard against your clit through your shorts. You instinctively tightened your hold on his hair, tugging slightly. The action pulled another moan out of Taehyung and it was impossible for you to hide the way you grinded against his hand. 

“You want me. Just admit it.” 

“No,” you snapped. Taehyung raised his eyebrows as though he was shocked by your determination. You were not giving in, no matter what your body wanted. 

Even if he pulled down the zipper of your shorts. Even if he tugged on the waistband of your underwear. Even if he squeezed his hand inside your underwear to drag his fingers through your arousal. 

“Admit it.” 

Your breath hitched when you heard the wet squelch of Taehyung teasing your entrance and rolling his fingers against your clit. You couldn’t speak for fear a moan instead of words might fall out of your mouth, so you merely shook your head. 

Wrapping his other arm around your waist, Taehyung bucked into you at the same time he slipped two fingers inside of you. The force with which you bit your bottom lip to keep quiet was enough to shoot pain through your nerves. Seeing you like that and feeling your thighs tremble against his told Taehyung everything he needed to know. 

But he wanted you to say it. 

“Come on, Y/N,” he cooed a soft whisper in your ear. He curled his fingers, pressing your front wall until he found the spot that made you dig your nails into his biceps. “Just admit it and I’ll give you what you want.” 

He quickened his pace, pumping his fingers in and out of you with enough force to rock you back and forth in his lap, all the while his dark eyes locked on yours. 

“You’re a piece of shit,” you attempted to hiss but your voice broke into a loud whimper. Taehyung grinned and gave you one final thrust into your g-spot before he watched you arch into him, eyes closed and head thrown back as you moaned his name. He leaned back slightly to give him the perfect angle to snatch up his camera. You thought the bright light was probably the most intense orgasm you’ve ever felt in your life quite literally making you blind, but your pleasure quickly turned into a pterodactyl screech. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG WHAT THE FUCK!” You lunged for the camera, but he held it above your head and your legs were still too shaky to do much of anything. “Did you just fucking take a picture of me while I… while I…” You beat against his chest. 

“You looked too good not to immortalize the moment,” Satan himself said with a laugh, absorbing your punches with the cockiness of the most horrible person in the world. “If you want to try for a better shot, I still have five photos left on this film.” 

“I’m going to fucking murder you.” 

“Sure, you can murder me. I’ll die happy now.” You felt weak in the knees once again when Taehyung popped his fingers, wet with your cum, into his mouth to suck clean. “Or you could admit that you want me and I’ll split you open the way you deserve.” 

Fuck. 

You were in big trouble. 

Taehyung’s cocky grin disappeared as you eased back down into his lap, replaced with a look of determined lust that clouded his lidded eyes. At this point, it wasn’t about admitting that he turned you on or that you wanted him. At this point, you needed him. 

“Say it and I’m yours,” he whispered. Goosebumps bloomed across your skin as he ran his hands up your sides, pushing your crop top up as he went. You lifted your arms to allow him to pull it off of you. He sucked his teeth when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra and immediately brought his mouth to your nipple. You let out a soft moan when Taehyung flicked his tongue against it, swirling a circle until it was erect and he was satisfied enough to move to the other. 

“Fuck you, Taehyung.” You clawed at his t-shirt, less gentle in your approach as you ripped it over his head. Next your fingers flew to unbutton his jeans. “I admit it, okay? Are you happy now?” Frustration made your movements frantic and you tugged Taehyung’s pants down as hard as you could, barely giving him time to maneuver around you to lift his hips. 

“Admit what?” He planted a hot kiss against your throat to muffle the deep moan that rumbled in his throat when you finally held his cock in your hand. 

“I need you, fuck!” You shimmied out of your shorts and shoved Taehyung onto his back. “Why are you such a fucking dick?” 

You grabbed his cock a bit too aggressively and Taehyung briefly watched his life flash before his eyes. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed you so hard. Though he quickly got over it, hips bucking into your hand while he watched you spit on the tip and let it run down his shaft, slow and sweet. 

“Took you long enou-” Taehyung gasped when you rubbed his cock along your pussy, quickly coating him so you could sink onto his cock until your clit rubbed against his abdomen when you leaned forward. The stretch was enough that you probably should have eased yourself onto him a bit slower to avoid the head of his cock piercing your cervix the way it had, but at this point you were too pissed off to give a shit. He lifted his head to watch you roll your hips on him, the twisting sensation making his cock pulse inside you. 

“Holy fuck.” Taehyung dropped his head back onto the mattress and dug his fingers into the sheets as you began to fuck yourself on him. Sure, he’d promised to fuck you good, but you had absolutely no patience for whatever he was willing to give you. You picked up the pace, one hand squeezing his shoulder for support while the other dragged your nails down the length of his chest. You may have dug into him a bit deeper than you needed to, but the red streaks you left on his skin were more than satisfying. 

“Don’t even think about taking a picture of this,” you muttered through clenched teeth. That sweet, hot buildup of pleasure rippling through your abdomen was starting to get more and more unbearable, but you needed to know that the little creep wasn’t going to ruin a good orgasm for you by playing paparazzi again. 

Taehyung whimpered, shaking his head frantically. “I swear, oh fuck. I s-swear I won’t.” 

His babbling was both pathetic and cute, and you prayed he didn’t bust a nut before you got to. To have Kim Taehyung writhing beneath you with that tight little waist and bulging biceps, all to have him cum first?? No fucking way. 

“Good boy,” you snickered and Taehyung practically lost it right there. 

“You’re insane,” he huffed, closing his eyes once he felt you tighten around him. “Fucking insane.” 

You wanted to bitch him out some more because you definitely weren’t the insane one here, as if he hadn’t toyed with you only to immediately give in once you gave him a taste of his own medicine. But you let it go as you felt that sweet buildup in you finally snap. “Fuck, Taehyung,” you moaned, feeling his hands come up to grab your waist to guide you on top of him as he fucked you through your orgasm and your movements began to falter. Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to finally reach his release; you weren’t interested in overstimulation after the sweaty, horny mess he’d made of you. 

Leaning your forehead into his shoulder, you let your body go limp on top of Taehyung as the two of you caught your breath. 

“Don’t fuck with me anymore,” you threatened, though the post-orgasm shakiness of your voice didn’t make you sound very convincing. 

“I can fuck you again, though, right?” 

You lifted your head to see that fucking grin again and groaned, dropping your face into his neck again. “Maybe.” 

“Are you down for nudes next time?” 

“Don’t fucking push your luck, dickhead.” Your body jiggled as Taehyung laughed. There was the cocky Taehyung once again, the one you oh so loved. Something told you if there was a next time you wouldn’t have it so easy. 

The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles (mini-series) Masterlist

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & ao3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#drabble request #wfoc #here2bbtstrash #The Great M #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #bts #bts x reader #bts x you #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #gimmethatagustd #jai writes #milestone drabbles #kim taehyung x you #kim taehyung x reader #thebtswritersclub #purplearmynet #ksmutclub #taehyung #taehyung imagine #taehyung scenarios #kim taehyung #bts v #bts taehyung #the wannabe photographer chronicles #thanks for 1k 🥺

[jack-kellys]

notes from december performance post-previews that i somehow just wrote up last night in august 2023 whattt how did that happennn:

the way jack replies to “you’re seeing stars alright” feels way more in response to crutchie’s attitude- and when he talks abt his dad getting stomped on it’s not just a context reveal. it’s jack telling crutchie he’s self-aware, he understands his shit place in the world and his desire to change it. just that it’s nice to dream. ow

“time for dreaming’s done” isn’t said with a smile. btw. if u even care

jack stealing finch’s mirror gets me every time

katherine looks back at jack at his “im crushed!” with a little smile

i get that the only reason buttons helps with a lot of the tricks is because he’s the DC but that doesn’t make it any less sweet… he’s always with splasher lmao

jack is quite uncomfortable with the nuns, he doesn’t look at any of them

never ever over spalsher’s little head tilt after his big flip

oscar grabs race’s collar on “i guess he didn’t take care of me!”

morris goes to hit crutchie again after pushing him to the ground before jack stops him

love when race bounces on his toes when he thinks he says something funny

morris blows his cig smoke into davey’s face when he’s grabbing him the extra paper

henry imitates les with finch as his davey, hobbling up to weasel down on his knees

jack rolls his eyes after telling davey “it’s just business” after shaking les’s hand. like can u believe this guy lmao

“mine taught me not to starve” looking at davey like ‘wtf is wrong with you’ LMAO. like jack’s irked with davey actually judging for something so ingrained into jack’s life fr

“HEY!! who was that guy >:(!”

medda checks on jack’s hair and he giggles mid sentence :) like “mooom in front of my friends??”

kaths look of Disgust when jack goes “i admire smart girls” is soooo done. she’s finished w this mf

katherine stays on the set as it shifts into WWK’s scene, staring at jack’s drawing, totally absorbed. i just think it’s fun how when davey sees jack’s backdrop he’s stunned in the same way kath is at her portrait. anyway

jack goes toward finch during the “our union is hereby formed to watch each other’s backs” after leaving ike and finch sweeeeerves away from him. finch only comes on board when davey does actually

when jack’s on the wagon with the “what if the delanceys come out swinging” etc he does a small laugh when the newsies all yell their response like he’s surprised !!

katherine is positioned right above the world’s door as if she’s. inside. ofc initially we read it as her just observing from above but it’s her literal building too.

“specs, you take queens.” “thank you!”

buttons gives kath a friendly wave and race offers his water cup when katherine comes into jacobi’s. walks right past the water even as race keeps his hand out lmfao

tommy lifts elmer into his arms after kath says they’d make front page

“this is not some little vaudeville im reviewing” felt more significant

“give those kids and me the brand new century and watch what happens” is a Plea.

welliguessitdependsonhowyoulookatitifyoulookandseebrooklynthenthey’rewithushaha! then race guns toward davey to yell at him

davey is not afraid to yell when his nerves get shot —> when the scabs boutta get they shit rocked

“them? or them.” OSCAR WAVES LMFAOOO

piggyback for les from racer

fight time

-morris has it OUT for racer in the pre-cop half. literally think he gets smacked with the bat TWICE. he’s on the ground, watches splasher get smacked from the ground, and BOLTS UP and races over to him shoving past morris. insane

-jack only swings on the rope to make a clear path for davey and les actually bc that action is the only reason they get to that half of the stage

-finch and romeo teammates for LIFE. they fought like the whole thing together fr. only pair that stuck out to me for the whole length of it (and then of course they watch crutchie get taken from the audience ough)

-nah jack Is a good fighter thru this it’s just the seize the day moment w the delanceys that he’s shit at btw

-davey doesn’t fight literally at all the whole time :/ c’mon. uncanonizing this in my mind

-SPECS KICKS ASS !! he’s got a bat and everything!! fuck yeah!!

shut up jack wipes at his eye during santa fe at “guy can catch a break”

^guy who lets out a sigh of relief when the post card is still in his pocket. fuck off

act twooo

kath goes to racer abt where jack might’ve gone and he’s abt to answer before albert pipes up

race flicking davey’s hat to the side>

^also they keep chatting thru tap sequences i love it

kath holding davey’s hand while they talk in the corner during table movement

crutchie holds his side when he sings…

^the only part crutchie gets teary at is when he starts talking abt the boys/family :,)

“and a little something extra, just on account of im gonna miss you so-” sounds like medda broke off bc her voice got watery 🥲

“every newsie—who could walk—was out there selling papes” OW the rephrasing of that line

as soon as jack turns his backdrop around to show the strike painting davey walks away soooo fast to turn away

WWH reprise is such an argument. “WE’RE ALREADY WINNING!!” yell davey yell!!

^jack makes the most fuming, boiling angry face after “y’know why a snake starts to rattle 😌?”

davey initiates the spit shake when jack offers his hand

kath is Mortified watching snyder expose jack’s refuge history AND SHES SO MAD when pulitzer gets between her and jack omfg

“be glad you’re alive, kid” is spoken and cruel asf but wbk

morris’s laugh kills me everytime it’s so fucked in the head. goddamn

jack doesn’t let davey touch him when he enters the rally like he doesn’t want davey to look like he knew abt the betrayal beforehand….

scope runs RIGHT up to jack after spot pushes him and goes to yell at him LMAO… lucky has to drag her away

“is that really what it’s like in there? rats everywhere, and vermin?” is taken as judgement and not concern and jack fuckin jumps on it LMAO

the actual motion of disgust jack makes at “you just double crossed us to your father- your… father.” dead every time he literally flinches

“i just didn’t tell you everything!!” is said at the opposite side of the stage as jack and looking down and away. idk why she’s the only katherine that has ever played this line as guilty but i’m always so glad for it

“i’m not stupid.” “no-” “i know girls like you… don’t wind up with guys.. like me.” heathers voice: i will never shut up abooout this

jack seems very afraid of the word love?? during kath’s entire piece of STBI he stays away from her… and she def thinks she’s fucked up for a sec fr

wah this song is so tender :( they hold each other very softly

“hey! um… it’s good to have ya back.”

clarice’s spot also has a moment with race beside just letting the kids into the cellar together..<3 ik lillie’s has more tho

there is something so personal abt davey jacobs saying “bleeeed ‘eeeem” while looking dead into jack’s eyes

davey’s reckless hug once jack’s made the deal with pulitzer… every timeeee

FINCH CRUTCHIE HUG!! first to get to him and holds him the longest before race and jack come along :)

“new york’s got us. and we’ a family.” is said as such a statement of fact like crutchie just ends any argument right there. he just knows jack so fucking well.

:)

#literally watched the brawl like 5 times at .75 speed LMFOAOO #i care abt it so much . cannot believe i haven’t done a fight fic yet it’s cruel #newsies #newsies uk #uksies #analysis #but mostly for the sillies #fizz freaks #i miss my analysis posts ok i was on such a high in london

[the-average-melli]

Melli is the tallest twink frolicking through Hisui

When I saw Volo, I thought he would be the tall guy™ for Pokémon Legends Arceus since his height is emphasised in his concept artwork. I was sorely mistaken. There is another stinky, smelly contender for this distinguished honour of tall guy™--an underdog, if you will.

This thing twinkie is rediculously tall. He has no right to gallavant through the fields of Hisui as such a long boi. For the sake of my self-indulgent fanfictions general curiosity, I decided to guesstimate how long this boi actually was. (Was? Is? He lived in the past. He was.)

The Volussy has a canon height of 190 cm in his concept art. Thankfully, they included some kind of canon height for one of these characters. The Pokémon game designers rarely add info like exact height or age, forcing silly humans such as myself to hyperfixate at 4am on such random details.

Using generator, am gonna assume that Akari is about 135,5 cm based on where she stands compared to Volo in the concept art. My estimates are in increments of 5 because they are a very rough estimate. Pls add more canon heights in the future for characters, Pokémon

There is immaculate HD wallpaper for Pokémon Legends Arceus featuring the literal GOAT Dialga✨️, and Akari standing beside the leader of the best Clan. The wallpaper shows both characters in the foreground which makes it easier to imagine the height difference. Hurrah!

After adding them into the graph, I would venture to say Adaman is somewhere around 170,5. Not in the same league as Volo, but size doesn't matter kings!

In his stinky concept art, sMelli is announcing how amazing Adaman is and for once, he is recognising someone outside himself as amazing.

He he's screaming! Andhehasanicevoice

I adjusted Stinky sMelli's pose to better see the difference between the two. The shoulders are slightly raised because of the pose. His knees are no longer weak and his palms are no longer sweaty.

The top of Adaman's head is somewhere slightly below sMelli's stinky shoulder. Adding him into the graph with this general difference leads me to speculate that this atrociously stinky twinkie is approximately 215 cm. He is well over 200 cm no doubt, which means only Zisu of the Security Corps could possibly rival him. She is super-ultra-mega tall!

I had to make a meme in light of this fantastic revelation

I can now understand how sMelli bodied every guard posted outside the Galaxy Expedition HQ. RIP Beaureguard. He invited himself and shoved his way up the stairs to include himself. He didn't even bring any of his Pokémon with him so I like to imagine sMelli either went for the cheap shots and kicked each guard in the pokéballs, or he threw them aside. He is apparently one of the tallest characters in this game, so I would expect nothing less out of a pissy twinkie like himself.

#pokemon #gaming #pla #pokemon arceus #pokemon legends arceus #melli #pokemon headcanons #fanfiction #pokemon melli #pokemon warden melli #warden melli #stinky smelli #twinks r us #bust down thotiana

[toasecretsanta]

(1 of 2 fics)

Merry Christmas ToA fandom!!!

I [@firealder2005] was given @literallyjusttoa this year, and this fic is based off her prompt of Poseidon and Apollo bonding time!!!

I will have the fic up on my Ao3 once the submission is posted :3

Warnings: Just to be safe, I have the fic rated M for implied noncon because. well. Ancient times be ancient times, you know?

This was meant to be combined with the other fic I have but uh. I got carried away lmao

Let us begin!

Save Me, ‘Cuz I’m Fallin’

A soft curse left his lips as he adjusted his grip on the stack of bricks in his arms. Apollo blew a puff of air towards a curl of hair that had fallen into his eyes, warily scanning the people around him as he set his bricks down. He tucked that free strand back behind his ear, wiping his dusty, achy hands on his tunic as the slowly-growing wall before him casted a long shadow over him, the sunset looming from behind.

“Hey!” Apollo slightly jumped as a hand clamped down on his shoulder, roughly spinning him around. One of the guards stationed around the wall glared at him, eyes partially obscured by the helmet on his head. Apollo wondered why people wore those if they obstructed their view. It was terribly constricting.

The guard shook him again. “The king demands your presence. He’s not happy with you.”

Apollo swallowed and began surreptitiously looking for his one and only ally within these ever-growing, ever-entrapping walls — Poseidon. In the years he’d been quite literally slaving away in Ilios, he always felt a lot more comfortable dealing with its king without the older, formidable god at his side. Even if at times there wasn’t much Poseidon could do…

Apollo was thankful to catch sight of his uncle. Poseidon’s hair had grown unruly during their punishment, yet he was still able to cut an imposing figure through the polis as the slaves of Ilios were finally able to pause their back-breaking work and rest.

“Come on!” The guard grabbed his arm and yanked him forward. Apollo stumbled, the sandals on his feet slipping over the pebbles beneath them, and the guard snorted as he fell onto his knees. “Get up!” he barked, the fold of his cape snapping as the former god staggered back to his feet. “We don’t have all night!”

Apollo ducked his head and mutely nodded, wincing a bit as the scrapes on his knees stung. A quick look told Apollo they would heal within seconds, but it did little to reassure the nervousness growing in his throat. Gods, he hated it when Laomedon called for him…

He attempted to swallow the lump. No luck.

Glancing almost desperately over his shoulder, Apollo managed to catch Poseidon’s eye and gave him his best HELP! LAOMEDON WANTS TO TALK TO ME! look. It must have translated quite well, for Poseidon began shoving his way through the dwindling crowd and stormed after Apollo and the guard, who still had not removed his adamantine-grip from his arm. Rude.

“You! Guard!” His uncle’s voice boomed through the air. A slave he may be now, but nothing could ever take away the blood-freezing depths of his words. “Where are you taking my nephew?”

The guard’s head had snapped around to face Poseidon, who loomed a good foot taller than the Dardanian. Despite the angry behemoth before him, the guard clearly had a nice stash of bravery somewhere within him — or he was stupid, depending on your point of view.

Personally, if Apollo had been on the receiving end of the furious stare Poseidon was giving this Dardanian, he would have scampered out of the way faster than Arion could run.

“Your indolent nephew,” the guard sneered. “Is to come to the king. He has some words to share with him.”

“Very well,” Poseidon tersely replied, eyes storming like the Adriatic Sea on a bad day. “Lead the way.”

The guard hesitated, his grip on Apollo’s arm loosening a bit, much to his relief. He pulled it out of his grasp and hid a wince at the twinge that shot up to his shoulder. Thanks a lot, he grumbled, rubbing at the blossoming bruise. Not like that’s gonna make carrying bricks even more of a pain or anything…

Then again, he healed fast. Maybe he wouldn’t have to deal with a stinging arm in the morning.

Though…Apollo nervously folded his hands together as the Dardanian guard jerkily motioned for him and Poseidon to follow. By the attitude of the guard, he clearly didn’t think Apollo would exist when Eos decided to paint the sky pink with her fingers.

Apollo kept his eyes fixed on the dirt below, ignoring the sleepy city around him. He stifled a yawn that pulled at his throat, and jumped when Poseidon nudged his shoulder with his own.

“You good?” he murmured under his breath, eyeing the guard marching before them with an intense look of dislike.

The younger god nodded, shakily inhaling as he muttered a “yes” in response.

“Tired?”

“As always.”

A ghost of the jovial grin Apollo remembered appeared on his uncle’s face. “Just remember — once that stupid wall is done, we’re out of here.”

Apollo felt his own lips curl into a smile just as the guard quickened his pace and entered the throne room. Yeah, he couldn’t wait for this stupid punishment to be over. Apollo swatted at the sheer curtains hanging from the doorways, tensing as he spotted the king of Ilios seated on his throne, fingers tapping the armrest ominously.

“The slave you ordered, sir,” the guard bowed.

Laomedon barely gave Apollo a glance. “Why is he here?” He idly lifted a finger to point at Poseidon, who crossed his arms and glared at the king.

The guard cleared his throat, mouth opening as he clearly scrambled to explain how he was cowed into letting Poseidon in, when the king sighed and waved him away.

“Nevermind,” he inspected his nails. “Just go.” The guard quickly bowed once more before shuffling off.

Apollo clasped his hands before him and kept his gaze on the three steps leading up to the throne as Laomedon’s stare finally declared him entertaining enough for attention.

“So,” the king idly leaned forward, eyes fixed on Apollo. It made him distinctively uncomfortable. “I read the recent report on my wall’s construction.” A beat passed. “And I saw something…rather disappointing.” Laomedon rose from his throne and stood at the top of the stairs. “You do remember why your father made me your master, correct?”

Apollo silently nodded as Poseidon’s glare darkened.

“Good,” Laomedon took a step down. His voice darkened. “Then why,” Another step. “Are you failing,” His robes swished as he took the final step. “To meet your assigned quota?” The king’s scowl was harsh, burning into Apollo’s skin as he bit his lip.

“I–I,” Apollo stammered. Damn, he knew this was going to come back to bite him! “I know, I was supposed to get it done by today but I had to cover Aeacus’s quota too—”

“Quiet,” Laomedon’s eyes were still dark as Apollo’s jaw snapped shut against his will. “I don’t want excuses, Apollo. Zeus said to make sure you and Poseidon learned your places in the presence of a king, and that is exactly what I shall do.”

Apollo gulped and tried to hold back a tremor as Laomedon’s ruthless gaze pinned him down. “And this isn’t the first time you’ve been late,” Apollo dropped his gaze from Laomedon’s. “I let those be then, because I thought perhaps you still needed a little extra time to learn. Apparently I was wrong.”

Laomedon’s face split into a smirk. “Come here,” he snapped to the empty space in front of him. “Now.”

In less than a second, Apollo moved to obey. He gritted his teeth, once again attempting to fight against the compulsion, but like every single time before, it was no use.

A hand flashed out and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him to a stop. Poseidon’s gaze was as sharp as a shark’s as he stared Laomedon down. “No. He can stay right here to listen to what you have to say.”

Laomedon tutted. “Poseidon, let him go and stay put. Apollo — come here.”

Jerkily, Poseidon’s hand released Apollo and the younger god attempted to shoot his uncle with an assuring smile. He feared he only managed a grimace.

Taking a steadying breath, Apollo rolled his shoulders back and approached Laomedon, who was still smirking at his fuming uncle before snapping his dark eyes to him. The way the king steepled his fingers gave him an eerie resemblance to Zeus.

Of course, Apollo reflected as he steadily met Laomedon’s self-satisfied stare. He doesn’t quite have the intimidation factor down nearly as well. Though he had to admit, the way the king’s eyes flashed at Apollo’s nerve to meet him eye-to-eye was also very reminiscent of Zeus.

Apollo didn’t know if he meant it as a compliment or not.

Laomedon sighed, as if Apollo had caused him immense stress and disappointment. He tipped his head and clucked his tongue. “Now all that’s left is to find a proper punishment for you.”

The god recoiled at that, but Laomedon didn’t let him get far. He snatched the front of Apollo’s tunic and yanked him back toward him and grabbed his chin. “Since the wall isn’t tough enough work for you, perhaps a few months tending my lovely fields? By yourself?”

The ichor in his veins turned to ice. “That’ll take forever!” he protested.

“The winter months are almost upon us,” Poseidon added. Apollo couldn’t see his face, but he knew his uncle must be thunderous by the dark rumble of his words. “Not only would it be impossible for Apollo to accomplish alone, even with his lyre, but it would deprive your people of much-needed food the next year. Surely you’d know this.”

Laomedon’s eyes glanced behind Apollo, where Poseidon presumably was, hands still tight on Apollo’s tunic and face. He hummed. “I suppose,” he shrugged. “I would hate to have to punish my people because of you, Apollo.” The king’s brow furrowed, as if contemplating his choices. Personally, Apollo didn’t think it was a very good look on him.

Then the king got a wicked gleam in his eyes that also wasn’t a good look on him and set Apollo on edge.

“Of course…” Laomedon nearly purred and wow, his grandmother Rhea’s lions would be offended by how bad he made it sound. The king’s lips curved, a cruel tilt to his head, as he bared his teeth in a grin. “I could just sell you. Though I’d hate to be deprived of your company…”

A sharp inhale was sucked into Apollo’s lungs just as Poseidon let out a snarl.

Laomedon tilted Apollo’s head from side to side. His brows furrowed once more, though in a way that was like a lazy housecat able to play with an exhausted mouse at its paws. “You would fetch a fine price with that pretty face…”

The heart in his chest cavity thumped like a lone, rabid wolf ready to lash out to defend itself from a band of hunters. Apollo swallowed and shook his head.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t,” he nervously laughed. Under any other circumstances, he actually would have been quite offended at the idea that he wouldn’t be worth a lot of drachma, he was a gorgeous, talented god after all thank you very much, but he didn’t fancy getting tossed in the amphora and haggled over like livestock either. “Like you said, I’m awful at work — who’d want a slave who can’t work?”

“They would if they were a god,” much to Apollo’s growing horror, Laomedon seemed to actually be considering the idea, like actually thinking about it. “I’m sure Zeus would understand that you needed a harsher hand.”

“Absolutely not,” Poseidon interjected, his own scowl as harsh as the suggestion Laomedon had put forth. “First of all, my brother assigned us to you — he would not approve of you selling Apollo off. Secondly…” the older sea god drew himself to his full height and pinned the king with a raging stare. “I will not let you. You try it, and I swear I will kill you myself.”

Apollo hardly dared to breathe as slave and master — or god and mortal, he reminded himself — stared each other down. Poseidon’s face was simultaneously as stony as the walls of Ilios itself, and as wrathful as the seas he ruled. He was a true contradiction, and one not to cross.

Laomedon seemed to have realized that himself. His jaw ticked, eyes narrowing with a hint of…unease, perhaps? Wariness?

A cruel master Laomedon may be, but at least he wasn’t a stupid one. Poseidon would have killed him long ago if he had been.

“Then tell me, Poseidon,” Laomedon sounded equally irritated and irate. “What should Apollo’s punishment be?” The unease in his dark eyes was replaced with a brief flash that instinctively made Apollo wary. “Perhaps serving me more…directly in my palace?”

Apollo scowled. “I’d rather fight Python again.”

“Not to mention,” Poseidon called. “We’ll be down a worker for the walls — you said you want them built within a year, yes? Taking Apollo away from it would slow production.”

Laomedon gave a long sigh, absently brushing his thumb over Apollo’s cheek as he gave Poseidon a look.

“Well, since you’re so interested…” Laomedon released Apollo’s jaw — much to the god’s relief — but kept his grip on his tunic. The younger god attempted to subtly rub at his chin as Poseidon drew forth, the salty scent he carried with him drifting around Apollo. He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief at his uncle’s closeness.

“You can decide,” the king triumphantly declared. The relief Apollo felt was instantly squashed, and he stared with wide eyes first at Laomedon, then at Poseidon. His uncle had tensed, jaw clenched as he glared at Laomedon with nothing but pure dislike. “But of course,” Laomedon added slyly, finally relinquishing his hold on Apollo’s tunic with a lazy shrug, flicking at a strand of golden hair. “I retain the right to deny it and proceed with my idea.”

A wail of despair welled in Apollo’s throat, though he thankfully managed to swallow it back down. Though maybe a whimper escaped in the process.

This was it. Laomedon wasn’t going to be deterred by threats of what Zeus would do to him. There was no way he was going to accept whatever idea Poseidon came up with, not if he could humiliate a god of Apollo’s caliber.

Apollo silently cursed his father for taking off with Laomedon’s uncle. Why, oh why did Laomedon have to take his anger out on the most gorgeous god on Olympus? Was it because Ganymede had been snatched for his beauty and he was trying to make himself feel better by demeaning Apollo in such a way?

If so, he was so petty. Apollo hadn’t even been involved in that whole fiasco!

Poseidon had yet to say anything, his silence brewing a dangerous hurricane of potent emotions.

Laomedon, on the other hand, seemed to almost be enjoying himself. “We don’t have all night,” he tutted. “And I have a dowry to begin preparing for Proclia’s future marriage, so please do not waste my time.”

Apollo vaguely remembered Proclia. She was about thirteen, with long red hair and kind brown eyes. She had kindly given him some water one day when he’d been exhausted from brick-laying — much nicer than her pig of a father.

He hoped she was married to someone good. Though Laomedon didn’t seem to have an eye for such suitors. Maybe he could nudge Hymenaeus into helping…hmm…

Poseidon crossed his arms, face still shadowed with his storm, before he tersely nodded. “Very well. I suggest Apollo protect your cattle in the fields of Mount Ida. It’s been attacked lately by wild dogs, wolves, and other various beasts, am I correct?”

Laomedon frowned and tipped his head. “You are,” he agreed. “I have been losing the young cattle lately…ever since my father was king, anyway,” he added with a curl of his lips. Apollo winced and inwardly thought, Ganymede. The youth had used to protect Ilios’s herd of cattle…up until he caught Zeus’s fancy.

Apollo then arched a brow. Was it possible Poseidon was trying to appease Laomedon’s resentment of his uncle’s apotheosis with Apollo’s services in the very fields Ganymede had been taken from? He supposed it would be best to temper that anger…

…though did it have to come at the cost of him?

Laomedon, however, didn’t seem convinced. “Difficult that service may be,” he mused, fingers steepled once again. “I’m afraid I’m not quite satisfied with it. Any amendments to make? If not, I’ll be all too happy to get your nephew started on his new assignment.”

Assignment! Apollo scoffed, yet his hands shook at the possibility. He clenched them tightly as a  low growl left Poseidon’s throat. “An amendment it is, then,” he clenched his own fists and sarcastically muttered; “Do you have any suggestions?”

The king thoughtfully hummed. “You know, perhaps I do.”

Poseidon blinked. Apollo tensed. Clearly, his uncle had meant the comment in jest, but Laomedon had not taken it that way.

“How about this…” Laomedon crossed his arms and studied the two of them. “Apollo works in the fields, protecting my prized cattle, while you, Poseidon, take on his work on the walls. I’m sure you can handle a double workload better than Apollo.” Apollo quietly huffed at the slight. “Aeacus is almost recovered from his bout of sickness anyway,” Laomedon continued. “So he can continue his third of the wall soon enough.” The king then raised a finger. “But the condition is that Apollo will also get the mortar and bricks you will build with…from my palace.”

Apollo glanced at Poseidon out of the corner of his eye. His uncle caught it. Despite his unease, Apollo knew this was the best deal they were going to get. He gave a slight nod — I can do this. 

Poseidon inclined his head. “We accept the terms.” He announced.

Laomedon slyly smiled. “Good. Now go,” he pointed at the curtain-covered door behind them. “Best get some rest. You have work tomorrow.”

Work they had, indeed. 

Over the months, as Eurus’s autumn winds turned away and allowed Boreas’s chilly breath to descend over Ilios, Apollo spent his mornings quickly gathering as much mortar and bricks as he could, thanking his godly strength that he was able to carry so much, dodging running into Laomedon in the process, and delivering it to Poseidon before rushing to Mount Ida and perching on an outcrop, keeping a careful eye on the cattle and the wintry woods around him. A few times he had to fend off a particularly hungry wolf before communicating to it about a much better place to hunt, with deer roaming despite these barren months. The little guy had given him a thankful nuzzle before darting away in the direction Apollo had pointed.

“Never seen a wolf do that, before,” a feminine voice made Apollo jolt and he spun around, still half-kneeling from where he’d been speaking with the wolf. A girl around his age — that is to say, his human age of eighteen — stood before him. Her pale hair was braided, like bundles of flax woven into a fine basket. Pearls sat in her braids. Her dark skin was clean. Her eyes were like pools of fresh, spring water. Her peplos a rosy pink, like Eos’s lovely dawn. “They usually growl when they see humans.”

Apollo self-consciously adjusted his straw hat, thankful the only thing marring his own visage was the occasional smudge of dirt, though that itself was minorly annoying when faced with a pretty girl.

“Well,” he modestly shrugged and rose to his feet, casually leaning against his shepherd’s staff. “I suppose that’s because most humans don’t have anything good to say.”

The girl considered him. “I suppose,” she nodded. “I wouldn’t know the first thing to say to a wolf anyway. I’d probably communicate something along the lines of ‘I want to eat your young’ instead of ‘Hello, my name is Ourea. What’s yours?’.”

Apollo cracked a grin. “Was that an indirect way of introducing yourself? And to get my name?”

The girl — Ourea, Apollo noted, a name meaning ‘mountains’, as well as the name of some of Gaea’s offspring — smiled and gave a modest shrug of her own. “Perhaps. Not everyday you meet a man who can speak wolf.”

“It’s sadly a lost art,” Apollo mock-sighed. “Very few are able to master such a skill.”

“Oh?” Ourea drifted closer and intently stared at him. Her eyes were very distracting. Apollo had never really paid attention to the beauty of water before, but wow. It definitely deserved a few odes, perhaps even a sonnet. The way the sunlight shone off her eyes…it was like marveling at a sunset over the sea.

“Care to teach me?”

Apollo smiled. “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

Ourea was rather good company. She was in the field waiting for him when he came to watch the herd, and he would impart to her the language of wolves — their code, their way of life, and how they communicated. She had trouble with it at first, which was a given. Mortals weren’t usually interested in learning about each other, let alone an animal, but he was fascinated with Ourea’s determination to push through his lessons.

They met everyday. Winter began to wane. Poseidon would give him a sly look every morning he came to drop off the day’s delivery of mortar and bricks, and shot a shit-eating grin his way at night when he returned a bit more flushed than usual and his tunic ajar.

Some people would think it weird that Poseidon wasn’t objecting to Apollo dating his daughter — after all, fathers were supposed to want their daughters to actually be able to marry the man they were seeing.

Poseidon though wasn’t a mortal father. He rarely interacted with his children, though he lent a hand if they asked for it. When Apollo had inquired about his opinion, his uncle had merely shrugged and said; “If Ourea wants you, I see no reason why she can’t.”

Apollo had to admit. Ourea’s presence was becoming a particular bright spot in Ilios. Not only would she meet him in the meadow, but also at the walls in the mornings and watch as he passed the materials to her father, waving cheekily at him whenever he playfully wrinkled his nose at her.

One particular bright spot was a nice night between them the day the walls were finished. The formidable stones rose high into the air, fortifying the main city even better than the outer city’s walls did — because they were built by two gods, of course.

And maybe Apollo had helped speed the process up a bit by playing his lyre as the construction came close to the end. His godly power had been greatly reduced thanks to his punishment, but he’d been able to manipulate the bricks into their proper places, creating a strong barrier to protect Ilios’s people — people who included Ourea…and his own child now.

He still remembered the day she told him, breath lingering around his ear, eyes shining as she whispered; “I’m expecting!”

Poseidon had clapped him on the shoulder and congratulated both of them. And nine months later, Ourea failed to arrive in the meadow. Apollo spent the rest of the day anxiously pacing the field, his restlessness no doubt warding off would-be attackers, though few they were as Notus’s summer sighs began.

Apollo practically ran back to Ilios in his haste to find Ourea, and find her he did. Her mother was busy attending to her, while his lover sat up in bed, a bundle in her arms. Her hair was down and pearlless, but her smile was as bright as the sea’s gems.

“Ileus,” she said. “After our city.”

The god bent down and placed a gentle kiss first on Ourea, then on Ileus. “Perfect,” he murmured. “He’s perfect.”

He and Poseidon were still technically in Laomedon’s service, even with the walls complete. Thanks to their godly intervention, the walls were finished earlier than planned — which was good, for Apollo could pop in and visit Ourea and Ileus more often, but also irksome. He missed having his full godly power at his disposal. He could’ve properly helped Ourea’s birthing pains. He could’ve — would show Laomedon what happens when you treat not one, but two gods cruelly.

Though despite the disgruntlement and unease Laomedon put in him, Apollo made a silent promise to protect this city. Not all of its inhabitants were as demeaning as their king — most treated him and Poseidon with the respect gods of their caliber deserved, and very few had dared to belittle Ourea for having a child out of wedlock, not with the knowledge that Apollo had fathered him.

All in all, Apollo was in high spirits. The walls were done. He and Poseidon were about to get paid for their work once autumn came about. Ourea swore Ileus was trying to imitate a wolf’s howl the night before — bless his little soul, already taking after his parents!

The snakes put a bit of a damper on his mood, three months later.

It happened fast. The guards along the walls raised the alarm as three massive drakons rushed the walls. Apollo had been transfixed to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away as the first drakon rammed into Poseidon’s wall. It screeched when it failed to topple it.

The second attempted the same with Apollo’s wall. It too fell prey to its invulnerability.

Meanwhile the third…Apollo remained rooted to the ground as it crashed through Aeacus’s third of the wall. Stone crumbled. Mortar cracked. Ash was flung into the air as the drakon stomped through, roared triumphantly, before turning tail and charging away, its brethren on its heels, screaming like a battalion of armed warriors.

Faintly, Apollo heard Poseidon swear and sensed Ourea clutch Ileus to her chest, as if afraid the drakons would return and snatch him away. The baby’s bright blue eyes stared at the drakons in awe, his pale hair askew.

Equally as faintly, Apollo could hear the rumbles of stone falling, though the walls around him remained intact, except for Aeacus’s third. He could feel the tremors echoing through the ground, the clanging of bronze-on-bronze.

A war would be fought here. A great one.

Apollo’s smokey green eyes rolled back into his head and his breaths turned harsh;

“Unyielding walls, made of stone,

Heed my words and be known.

None shall shake your roots of steel,

But beware the tenth year.

Red-haired Pyrrus to pluck you down,

And Ilion will fall by Aeacus’s crown.”

Hands grasped his shoulders and shook. Apollo dazedly jerked his head, blinking with bewildered pale gold eyes at the creased face of Poseidon.

“Apollo,” his uncle’s dark green eyes were fixed on him with a serious, intent expression. “Apollo, was that…”

The younger god swallowed and nodded. “I believe so.” He breathed through his nose. “It was a prophecy.”

“A prophecy?” Ourea breathed, blue eyes as wide as the pools of water in Ilios’s forests. “But what…what could it mean?”

Apollo frowned, biting his lip for a moment as he considered the prophecy, absently snapping his fingers for a papyrus scroll and reed pen. He quickly scrawled the prophecy down, studying the words.

Prophecies were tricky things. They liked to make you think you figured them out, or successfully averted them, before pulling the rug out from under you. (Just ask Acrisius)

However…he squinted suspiciously at the words before him.

Unyielding walls, made of stone, heed my words and be known.

Apollo eyed the walls of Troy as citizens and slaves alike clustered around the broken wall, clamoring over each other about how to fix it.

None shall shake your roots of steel, but beware the tenth year.

Unease filled his stomach. Beware the tenth year…tenth year the walls were built? Or perhaps…

The sound of bronze weapons clashing and the ground cracking apart from an earthquake ripped through his ears once more.

No. Beware the tenth year of war.

Red-haired Pyrrus to pluck you down, and Ilion will fall by Aeacus’s crown.

The wall. The wall that fell…it was built by Aeacus, not a god. That made it the weakest point, the prime place for attack…

Or it meant —

Apollo shoved the thought away. No. No. Ilion couldn’t…

“Apollo?” Poseidon asked. “Do you know what it means?”

The younger god glanced between the intense eyes of his uncle and the anxious ones of his lover.

“I have…a suspicion,” he admitted. He met Ourea’s worried face and softly said; “I think it says the walls will fall…and so will Ilion.”

Ourea pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes widening as she held Ileus tighter, making him whine as he attempted to wiggle out of her hold, making grabby hand at Apollo. He held out his fingers and allowed Ileus to snatch them, lips curving slightly as the boy attempted to stick them in his mouth.

Poseidon had turned and stared consideringly at the walls. Apollo stiffened as he heard him mumble “Good riddance” with a slight vindictive gleam in his storming eyes as people darted around, beginning to hastily repair the damage done to the wall.

Apollo couldn’t find it within himself to agree. He knew Poseidon only said it because of how harshly Laomedon had treated them, but personally, Apollo didn’t believe Ilion deserved to crumble to the ground because of the actions of one lousy king.

Plus…Apollo fervently looked into Ourea’s concerned eyes. Placing a kiss on her lips before ruffling Ileus’s hair, making the child babble, he knew one thing about himself.

Ilion was his city. And he would do his damndest to circumvent its fate — or at the very least, delay the inevitable for as long as possible.

They were his people, just like he was their god. And nothing would ever change that.

He eyed the palace with wariness. Steeling himself, he tapped Poseidon’s shoulder and said; “We should talk to Laomedon. He needs to know.”

Poseidon hummed and shrugged. “Very well. He’s also due to pay us back for our work.”

With that, his uncle marched towards the palace, leaving the commotion of the crumbled walls behind. Apollo took Ourea’s hand and gently squeezed it, smiling lightly as he clutched the papyrus with Ilion’s fatal fate written upon it.

“We’ll be back,” he whispered. He hesitated, then drew both her and Ileus into a hug. Ourea’s free hand rested on his arm as she laid her head on his shoulder. “And don’t worry,” he added quietly. “I’ll keep Ilion safe.”

“How?” Ourea’s words were muffled slightly. “If it’s prophesied…”

Apollo rubbed her back and kissed her hair. “I’m the god of prophecy,” he grinned. “I’ll find a way.”

I hope, he left unsaid.

----------

“No.”

Apollo blinked, mouth slightly open as he stared incredulously at Laomedon. The king sat on his throne, as relaxed as a lazy lion, the side of his face leaning on his hand as he coyly smirked at the two gods.

“No?” Poseidon spat. “That was the deal, you ungrateful, impious bdelyròs!”

Laomedon clucked his tongue, shaking his head. “No need for that kind of language, Poseidon. Especially around your nephew.”

Apollo glared at him. “I’ve heard worse, thanks.”

The king shrugged. “I suppose you have,” he agreed, raking his gaze over the younger god. “You have had some…choice words, at times. But I digress,” Apollo scowled at how relaxed Laomedon looked, like he wasn’t insulting them — oh, he knew very well how demeaning this was! It wasn’t enough that ordered them about and yanked them around for his own amusement, abusing the control he had over them, but now he denied them their deserved pay!

“You have made a very unwise decision,” Poseidon softly stated, mouth curving slightly into a snarl. “When we regain our places on Olympus, we are no longer in your service, nor under your command. We are free to do as we please…” he narrowed his eyes and gave the bored king a mocking smile. “I can promise you my wrath will be felt quite soon.”

“Ah…” Laomedon clutched his chest, as if suddenly struck with a heart-attack. Apollo secretly wished for it to happen, for the terrible man to bite the dust. “The thing is, Poseidon…neither of you are allowed to harm me, even after your punishment is finished.” He bared his crooked teeth in a grin. “I’m untouchable, while I can still very much touch you.”

Apollo clenched his fists, the papyrus in one of them crumpling, before crossing his arms. “Says who?” He demanded.

“Says your father,” Laomedon’s grin was sharp as he sat up straight in his throne. “After all, the lesson was all about not challenging a king, was it not? Taking vengeance on me would mean you haven’t learnt your lesson.”

Apollo was furious. He wasn’t allowed to give Laomedon a piece of his mind? To throttle him for everything he put him through? Completely unfair! How could father let him do this?

Angry, Apollo stalked up the stairs and slapped the papyrus onto the throne’s arm. “Maybe this will get you to rethink,” he hissed as Laomedon’s dark stare first roamed over him before idly glancing at the papyrus. “Or do you not care about Ilion’s destruction?”

Laomedon’s face twisted and he seized Apollo by the strap of his chiton, yanking him close enough for him to murmur darkly; “Careful there,” His hot breath made Apollo flinch away. “I still own you.”

He ripped himself out of Laomedon’s grip and gave him a vehement stare. “You own nothing,” he muttered contemptuously. Apollo glanced over his shoulder to Poseidon, who had his arms crossed and face twisted into a mean scowl.

Apollo turned back to Laomedon. He pointed to the papyrus. “The future of your kingdom is on that scroll,” he darkly warned. “I really think you should reconsider this choice — it may lead to Ilion’s ruin.”

Laomedon gave a disbelieving snort. “Ilion is the crown jewel of Anatolia,” his nose scrunched up as he gave the younger god a condescending look. “Our warriors are of the highest caliber. My children married to powerful allies. Very few would dare to challenge us — let alone be able to destroy us, dear Apollo.” 

He then leaned forward, finger tapping idly on the papyrus as he hummed. “Not to mention you are our patron god, duty-bound to come to our aid.” He glanced at the scroll and lightly snorted. “Barely half of this makes sense! Garbled nonsense.”

Apollo’s jaw clenched. “Smart men can decipher a mystery,” he growled. “Wise men learn from it.”

His stomach twisted as Laomedon pretended to not hear him. Apollo glanced at his uncle, whose stormy expression made him shiver.

He had warned Laomedon. He warned him of the present and future danger to Ilion. But he refused to listen.

And that arrogance will cost him. Dearly.

It is, after all, part of the duty of a god, Apollo reflected as he and Poseidon silently exited the throne room, stalking through the grand halls with glowers. Hubris is so commonly a mortal’s fatal flaw…and Laomedon will be no different.

 —

I refrained from my usual rambles so if you want my rambles see my Ao3 for the fic upload there! :3

#submission #toasecretsanta #firealder2005 #literallyjusttoa #trials of apollo #toa #trials of apollo fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfic #pjo apollo #pjo poseidon #pjo laomedon

[softsnzstuff]

OF/MD - Kraken!Ed with a Cold

Based on this post thread. Have a snippet of what myself and @snzsnchillz-afterdark think menacing Kraken!Ed would be like when he’s got the worst cold and is trying to still be threatening. This one goes out to my OFMD buddies - @friv0lite @peach-plumb-pear2 @sniffles-and-tickles @softersteve

Based on the new promo pictures because Taika could choke me and I’d thank him Ed looks so good 🫡😍

Set between seasons 1 and 2 (before canon S2 has come out if anyone finds this post 10/05/23)

CW: intentional contagion

The crew of the Revenge were well used to Ed’s overnight personality changes at this point. At first he’d been all weepy and switched to being one with the Earth and musical and personifying his soul…whatever that meant.

The second switch happened a few days later. Over night. When he had reached the point in his breakup that condoned anger and violence. He’d cut off Izzy’s toe and fed it to him in the night, also tossing plenty of Stede’s things overboard - partial crew included.

He’d been in full swing as Blackbeard for a couple of weeks now - ravaging ships, looting them, and leaving men for dead in ways more unimaginable than skinning them with the snail fork.

This third personality shift happened when he came down with the cold from Hell… or rather - tried to convince everyone that he hadn’t.

Ed had been up Izzy’s ass the the last day, quite literally screaming orders in his ear, pausing occasionally to cough wetly. Izzy would just close his eyes and force a smile before responding with, “Yes, Captain.”

This morning, Izzy had awoken the crew early - somehow managing to be both yelling at them and quiet as not to wake Ed.

“Alright listen up, dogs! Blackbeard is… under the weather… and is more irritable than usual.” Izzy started. “I want you lot to just do what he says and try not to fucking upset him.”

“Why is that our job? He’s the one being a dick.” Jim muttered, twirling their knife.

Izzy sighed, having known Ed the longest. “Because the sooner he is well again, the sooner he stops being a cunt.”

“Yeah, that’s a good enough answer for me I feel.” Frenchie looked around for agreement. Everyone stayed silent, but Fang gave a single nod in solidarity.

“I want you all to keep your heads down and stay out of his fucking way. If he asks anything, you say ‘yes captain’ and fucking do it. And you-” Izzy points to Frenchie, “I want you find what’s left of any medicine that Bonnet left on board. Is that understood?”

There were some silent nods.

“I SAID IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!?” Izzy screamed.

“Yes, fucking Christ.” Jim grumbled, bringing some hands up towards their ears.

“H’iszzzSCHEW! K’tCHuh!”

Just as they were finishing up, Ed kicked the door in, sniffling thickly against his gloved hand.

“What the fuck are you all doing down here???”

Izzy quickly came up with a lie, “I was just telling these fucking idiots that it shouldn’t take this long to clean the floor!”

Izzy shot Frenchie a glance and he immediately dropped to his knees, using a piece of his shirt to scrub at the floor.

“I’m sorry captain Blackbeard sir, it’s just hard to clean the floor without any.. water?” He tried to play along with the charade.

“Hmm. You’re right.” Ed hummed thoughtfully before spitting on the floor right in front of the younger man. “There. Now you’ve got something.”

Frenchie held back a gag as Ed stormed out the other door to the deck of the ship, Izzy and crew following behind. Jim have Frenchie a hand up and he scurried off to go find Stede’s medicine stash.

*****

One thing about the gentleman pirate is that he was bound to have loads of the unnecessary - books, fine fabrics, and medicine. It only took a few minutes for Frenchie to find the bottles in the Captains’ chambers bathroom, but seeing as he couldn’t read, he just grabbed everything and shoved it into a crate to bring to Izzy on the upper deck.

Hands full of different bottles and vials, he turned on his heels to leave the Captain’s chambers. Slamming into the chest of the captain…

“The fuck are you doing in my room?!” Ed hissed, looking the man up and down.

“I uh… you see Mr.Blackbeard sir… I just.. I was…”

Ed’s scowl gave way momentarily to something more relaxed. He turned to the side out of habit, sneezing openly at the air.

“Eh’tSZzZiew! Snlrff”

“Shut up! You’re fucking taking too long.” Ed held up a hand, making Frenchie stop.

The crew member was frozen, staring wide eyed, his eyes locked on the small trail of mess leaking down Ed’s upper lip.

Ed had him pinned against the wall. “The fuck are you staring at?”

“You’ve just…. You’ve got a little…on your face…” Frenchie stammered, gesturing towards Ed’s nose.

He watched in horror as Ed’s nostrils flared once again right in front of him. He squeezed his eyes and hoped for the best.

“H’ekTSZZZuhew!”

Frenchie scrunched his face as he felt droplets hit his cheek.

“Well now you’ve got a little something on your face too.” Ed released his grip on the man, throwing him against the wall and rubbing his own nose again.

“This is so unsanitary.” Frenchie whined quietly.

“What was that???”

“I said uh… sanctuary! Thank you for providing us with such a great… sanctuary….” The fake enthusiasm trailed off at the end before he scurried away to the upper deck.

When he arrived topside, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. Jim was standing at Izzy’s side.

“Jeez what the fuck happened to you?” They asked.

“Here’s your fucking medicine.” Frenchie aggressively dropped the crate of medicine on the barrel in front of Izzy, pausing to wipe at his face and swiping one of the bottles, “this one’s for me now.”

Izzy huffed a knowing sigh and rubbed at his temple. “He sneeze on you?”

Jim made a face of disgust as Frenchie nodded. “Yup…”

“He’s worse than I thought.” Izzy groaned. “Never thought I’d say this but we need Stede back.”

#of/md #sickfic #sneezefic #snzblr #snz kink #kb writes #t/aika w/aititi #I/zzy H/ands #s/tede b/onnet #f/renchie #e/dward t/each #kraken!ed

[urmammy]

I got impatient and decided to post early with careful consideration.

I shouldn't have hurt you.

Miguel O'hara x fem!reader smut/fluff one-shot

+18 content warning

Summary: You had been dating Miguel off and on for months, your act of celibacy remaining the only sort of trust you had in one another over the months as you tried to repair what shouldn't have been broken, but Miguel broke his vow of celibacy and decided to come clean.

"I would never deliberately hurt you and you know that, (Y/N)-"

You were pacing about the room, hands running through and tossling up your already messy hair, nothing but sadness and disappointment was displayed on your face as Miguel was sat on the edge of the bed in front of you. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head hung low, he spoke quietly, silent whispers against the wind of your sorrows.

"It was just a mistake, I didn't even know her name.."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better!?"

You stopped your pacing to look at him, but he refused eye contact, seemingly lost in the color of the carpet beneath his feet while you express your betrayals.

"We agreed to keep sex with others OUT of the equation, I have done nothing besides keep that promise to you-"

"- I'm not even the one who suggested the act of celibacy that was you!" He finally lifted his head to look at you, anger and disapproval etched across his face as he tries to manipulate his way out of the situation he was in.

"Oh don't you dare pin this on me, you're the one who can't keep it in their fucking pants for ten minutes because you're SPIDER-MAN you DESERVE to have what you want you're the PROTECTOR of the universe-"

You were mocking him and the words he's said to you months ago, repeating them again even after he's apologized and showed how sorry he is, the words were still engraved in your brain like markings on a tombstone. And within moments, you and Miguel were back to square one, going head to toe in a heated argument as you pace about the room, tears raining down your face like an April shower, only to the kill the flowers that have bloomed within its wake.

"Okay, let's just pause, we're not getting anywhere-" Miguel finally huffed, placing his hands on his hips. You had now swapped positions, you sitting at the edge of the bed as he stands in front of you, your hands cuffed over your face with your elbows on your knees as you slowly stopped the tears.

"Now I know-" he started slowly "-for a fact, we can come to some sort of conclussion-"

"-I haven't been fully honest."

And you haven't, you were keeping it down, the guilt eating away at your insides until it spilled out of your throat like a black ooze.

"-I may have kissed someone once or twice. I didn't have sex, their was a witness to the kiss, you can literally ask my sister."

He was looking at you with a shocked expression until it slowly turned.

Was he laughing?

"You kissed somebody?" He barked through laughs, leaning over to hold his stomach as you sat there with a shocked expression, your body slowly giving in as you giggled nervously.

"Yeah what's so funny about it?"

"Because I don't care." He stated simply, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

"You could kiss thirty-men, -I won't say a thousand because that's asking for an STD-, and I would still come back to you happy, knowing we share a bed every night.."

His words and gaze were soft as he stepped closer to you, his fingers gently pulling your chin up to look him in the eyes as he spoke with sincerity, his love for you echoing across the halls of bitter toxicity within your relationship.

"You could tear my heart out of my chest, stomp on it with a hundred shards of glass, and it would still only beat for you."

You smiled slightly, his lips hovering deathly close to yours as his warm breath fans out over your face gently, igniting a fire within you that you've kept hidden for months.

"And yet you find it okay to shove your dick inside somebody else-" you say just above a whisper, eyelids lowered slightly as his lips brush against yours and he snickers.

"And I'll never beg for you to forgive me if you don't want me to. But if you ask nicely: I'll get on my knees and scream for your touch again."

And with that, you became enveloped in each other's brace, your arms wrapped around his neck as one of his hands tangles itself in your hair and the other holds your lower back with a possessiveness you can't contain from him, your lips tangled in a heated dance for the depravity of your love for each other, -even though it may seem hopeless some times.

Most of the time.

Neither of you seemed to care about the act of infidelity he had committed, laying back in the bed and lifting your arms as he hastily removes your shirt and begins leaving a choker of hickeys along your neck, your moans and whimpers of approval giving him all he needed to drive your desires even further for each other.

"Don't think I've forgiven you yet-" you breathed out finally, your hands on his shoulders with your head tilted to the side, giving him easier access to any untouched skin on your neck.

"Then I guess I'll just have to try harder."

He sat up slowly, your thighs open as he sat perched between them, taking his shirt off slowly, revealing his sweat glistened tan skin and muscles protruding from his body in all the right places. Your gaze was locked on him, and his locked on yours as he slowly unbuckled his belt and moved himself around better to take his jeans off and throw them to the side, and that's when you noticed the protruding bulge causing a tent in his boxers.

He looked you up and down, his hand sliding down your stomach slowly and grasping the hemline of your pants as he awaited your approval to take them off, and when you gave him a small nod, he did so eagerly, unbuttoning your pants and taking them off you gently as you lifted your hips ever so slightly to give him an easier time.

"If I gave you a ring would that be forgiveness enough?"

He said softly, and the words caught you off guard causing you to snap your head up in his direction and look right at him.

"What? No!" He laughed lightly at your sudden surprise, leaning down and holding you in an embrace that could make an angel cry as he kisses you with a tender lovingness you never knew he carried.

And when your underwear and bra were discarded to the side along with his boxers, you felt like you were floating, he was everywhere, his fingers gliding across your skin with a gentle touch that left shivers running down your spine and caused goosebumps to form on the skin he was oh so gracefully dancing across, and when he finally slipped himself inside of you, you couldn't contain the gasp that left your throat.

"Easy now." He said against your neck just above a whisper, one hand braced soothingly on your ass as he pushes your hips flush against his own, your warm heat enveloping his length with the ecstacy he had been craving for far too long. You were a lustful mess beneath him, your skin glistening with sweat, chest heaving and voice crying out in pleasure for the actions he's committing with your bodies.

His thrusts were slow, deep and passionate, words of meaning and love being spoken with nothing but your arousal for each other in the empty room that secluded the auditory pleasure that was created from such a tender moment, and as his breathing became uneven, his hips bucking for that release you've seemed to memorized by heart, you leaned your forehead against his, uttering the words he begged to hear.

"Just let it out." And without a second to think, he was in shambles, crying out into the night as his hips bucked and twitched, your own cries of pleasure being mixed with his as his cum spurts and flows deep within your walls, coating them generously and throughly before he collapses ontop of you, resting his head against your chest to listen to your heart as it slows itself gently.

"I can't tell you how much I love you and how sorry I am."

His voice cracked, and although you couldn't see his face, you could feel his salty tears as they pooled between your breasts and cascaded down your stomach, giving you the solitude you needed to be able to speak with your fingers running through his chocolate hair.

"I know and I love you too.." you say softly "But you can't keep doing this. WE can't keep doing this."

He lifted his head slowly to look up at you and rest his chin inbetween your breasts, revealing the true nature of his sadness, bloodshot eyes and a red nose with those same salty tears leaking from his red orbs.

Well, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed, honestly I focus solely on one-shots because I'm not creative enough to find up with a series but if you have any suggestions, I'm always open! Thank you lovelies, I hope you have a good kinktober ❤️

"I'll do anything I need to do to keep you, (Y/N)."

#spider man #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara x reader #fanfic #oneshot #spiderman 2099 #Spotify

[tikus-library]

"Save Her"

Avengers AU - Drabble

Characters: Brock Rumlow x Reader, Jack Rollins

Posted: Mar 23rd

WARNINGS: angst, heavy angst, violence, gun violence, blood, cursing

A/N: I couldn't find the good but found this one which adds to the orchies in this story :) Also, it's taken a good minute to get this one done but this is the last one for the february drabble day!!!

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

**Please Do Not Repost or 'Fix' My Work**

*******

@witchygagirl

"Are you hurt?!"

Brock smirked, "ye-hahhh- no, no.. not hurt-" he leaned against the wall, dropping his head back with a small thud, "that was too close."

You nodded, still close enough that you could drop your head to his broad chest. He had saved you, somewhere Captain America and his team were saving the day. Brock and his team, you included, were backup, cover- to take on the lesser dangers. And you did a great job, but you had been pinned down, the enemies weapons shrieking with brightly colored flashes that hit hard and took chunks out of concrete.

Jack had gone down and been unable to get out, you had moved in, offering cover fire and getting him out. You had run out of ammo just as you followed and that's where Brock had come in. Literally out of the crumbling building just as the ugly motherfuckers had followed on your heels.

And maybe Jack was right, the fact that you two were intimate was a bad thing. Cause you would do anything for the other, including getting in a tight spot and just as Brock took out four he had missed the one you caught in your peripheral vision, it was a split second and you had barely managed to pivot on your heel, but you sprang back towards him, crashing into him bodily as the bright flash went off. You had snaked his back up out his back holster and taken the alien down.

And here you both were, struggling to catch your breath, you took a step back as Jack swung back around from your left. "Fuck, the two of you are a goddamn mess," he growled, three more of your team rounding the corner to join you.

You grinned, shoving a hand through your hair and glancing at Brock, worry hitting you as you realized he had slouched against the wall, eyes closed and hadn't moved.

"Brock? BROCK?!" Your voice pitched higher as you spotted a large patch of red on his lower right abdomen. You rushed back towards him as he opened his eyes, Jack following your movements, you dropped your weapon as your heart sank into your stomach, a sob breaking out as you scrambled to tear his tee out of his tac pants.

Brock felt the air escape him as you broke into tears, your hands on his bare gut. "Baby," he soothed, reaching up to cup your face in his hands. "It's fine, nothings wrong, I'm okay, see?" He straightened and leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips. "Just got the air knocked out of me is all."

You smiled against his lips as he pressed his forehead to yours. "Yeah-" the word came out shaky and you couldn't believe the terror that had run through you, the shock had made your hands go numb.

Jack scowled, "the fuck all that blood come from then?"

You turned to look at him, "what?" His words were not registering. You heard him, saw his pale blue eyes go wide as they shot down, you felt Brocks hands on your shoulders and he turned you back to face him harshly. "Brock–" You murmured knees giving out suddenly, relief was funny like that.

"I got ya– fuck, fuck thats… baby… Jack?!" His voice broke as he wrapped his arms around you, catching you midfall, looking to his best friend for help.

"Sorry baby-" you slurred, "guess that adrenaline hit hard… nngh, wha-what's happening?" You asked as Jack rushed over, throwing his weapon over his shoulder as Brock moved you to the ground. You looked down as both men pressed their hands on your abdomen. "Oh, OH! Oh god!" It had torn through your vest, blood had soaked through your clothes on the right side of you, which is why Jack hadn't spotted it till you had turned towards him. You could feel it in your boot.

"Shhh, shh, I'm right here Y/N–" he looked over as Jack barked at the three behind him, one dropping beside you and scrambling with the medic bag he carried, a small thing, you wondered if there was anything in there that would actually help?

"Kevin?"

"Hey, your good, we got you" he grinned at you, though he looked pale as he pulled out packs of gauze and finally tore his vest and shirt off, stuffing it into your side.

You cried out as he and Jack sat you up, using duct tape to secure the dressing. You felt dizzy, nausea swamping you as you glanced up at Brock.

"If you don't fucking save her I WILL MAKE YOU FUCKING REGRET IT," he bit into his comm.

"Brock?" You sounded small, even to your own ears. But it was the look in his unwavering gaze that scared you more; Brock Rumlow looked scared.

"We gotta move her," Kevin said. You cried out as he wrapped an arm around your waist, trying to lift you, "we can't wait–"

Brock shook his head, "I got her," he moved in close, taking Kevin's spot and smiled at you, "it's gonna hurt baby, but gotta get you moving alright? Gotta meet that stupid goody two shoes halfway." You whined but nodded your head, "that's my girl," he said, wrapping an arm under your knees and another around your lower waist, "hold on okay?" You nodded and howled in pain when he lifted you quickly, the team surrounding the two of you. "Sorry," he murmured against your temple.

Brock swallowed, you were beyond pale, nearly ashen. You leaned into him, whimpering as he moved, every step he took jostling you and exhaustion beat at you.

"Do NOT fall asleep," he growled as you dropped your head against his chest. "Y/N I swear to fucks sake, stay awake or so help me–"

You glanced up at him, vision blurring, "sorry babe," a nervous giggle bubbling up, "tired…"

Brock didn't pray, he didn't believe in some God that let shit like kids with cancer or abusive parents be a real thing but when you tucked your head under his chin, he found himself doing exactly that. "Y/N!" He shook you as he ran, but you didn't respond, so he dug his fingers into your side.

"FUCK!" You jerked in his hold, feet kicking as new tears sprang into your eyes. "Fuck that hurt you fucking BASTARD!"

Brock was grateful to have your palm slap against his jaw, he would take a hundred more so long as you kept your eyes open, he would listen to you curse him for the rest of your life, so long as you had breath. "Stay the fuck awake or I will break up with you."

You scowled at him but found it incredibly hard to keep your eyes open. Another delirious giggle bubbling up, "I love you." You had to say it, at least before you couldn't anymore.

A chill ran through him as he glanced down at you, watched as you lost the fight to stay awake, he felt you go limp in his fucking arms and his throat tightened. He was still running. He couldn't stop. You couldn't– if you didn't… what was there if you weren't there in the morning? He hadn't even said it to you, but you had to know. Right? You knew, even if he hadn't said it…

"We're here!" Jack cried out as the team broke out of cover.

He looked up, damned Captain leaning out of the quinjet and reaching out; it went against his whole fucking being to hand you over. Emotions he had never felt sweeping through him as he lifted you up and let you go, your body pulled out of his grasp by Steve.

He would catch the next one, it was right there, but his legs didn't work quite well as you disappeared from his line of sight, the quinjet zooming away.

Brock heaved a strangled broken cry as Jack crashed into him, pushing him to their own ride. "She's gonna make it–" he bit through clenched teeth, hoping to whatever fucking god people prayed to as Brock stumbled along after him. He glanced up before boarding, the remaining three of their team right behind him and looking haunted. It wasn't just Brock, the team needed you.

"He better fucking save her–" Brock murmured as the quinjet jerked off the ground.

#save her #drabble day feb 2023 #brock x reader #brock rumlow drabble #avengers au

[k-u-m-a-c-h-a-n]

Drippy shoes

Hawks x reader one-shot (crossposted)

Now, before reading this, keep in mind that:

I am by NO MEANS a (good) writer, writing is not my passion, I simply enjoy doing it for fun, sometimes (rarely)

I wrote this story a few months ago, I just wanted to post it on my Tumblr account too

If you find any grammatical mistakes, tell me!

Crappy fanfic or not, please do not repost this anywhere

I literally just copy and pasted it + the A/N (a.k.a. I didn't re-read it)

It's very...cringy

Reader is female! (this is why)

" Can't wait to see his face, pff.. " you chuckle.   What are you doing, you ask? Well, you see… It's nothing too scandalous, just a little prank between boyfriend and girlfriend… Best friends… Boyfriend and girlfriend who are best friends…like… Let's say, pouring sweet chilli into Hawks' shoes… Really, no big deal.

" Oh my fucking God, he's going to be SO pissed, holy shit-.. " you say to yourself, wheezing, while pouring the rest of the sauce in his 'Yoyogi Park Pack' adidas x atmos forum shoes.

Oho… Now THOSE were some expensive shoes (they aren't THAT expensive, I think they cost the average adidas price? Idk, but let's just pretend they're super duper expensive). Actually, YOU got HIM these shoes for Christmas, you know, a special occasion. It's not like you had a choice, he had to beg on his knees just to get you to buy those damn shoes. You asked him why couldn't he buy them on his own, but he never really gave you a proper answer, something like " Ehh… You know me, always broke, haha-" or " I don't like wasting money on something that someone else can buy me. " and even " I'm saving up a bit for something special. ". That 'something special' turned out to be some video games that you hadn't gotten yet, AND an expensive short trench coat that you'd always wanted. And hey, you WERE grateful, I mean, why wouldn't you be? Video games and a trench coat? Score!

My God, you still remember his stupid little face when he used to beg nonstop, "But baaabe… They look so COOL??? Do you NOT like them? They're so fashionable AND they're inspired by the Yoyogi Park! THE Yoyogi Park! Do you have any idea how many times I went there? Like… TWICE. ". So… With a little bit of more bickering,  you ended up buying his oh-so-' fashionable' shoes. And boy, was Hawks happy when he got a glimpse of the somewhat heavy adidas box.

But AAAAAAAANYWAY… What you did last Christmas doesn't concern you right now, BACK TO YOU.

After filling his lovely shoes with your sweet chilli sauce, you decided to hide the half-empty bottle in your purse/bag/backpack, and wait for Hawky-baby to arrive. (You guys do NOT live together, yet, at least. You were just hanging around his place). " Note to self, buy more of the godly sauce. " You know… Now that you think about it, Hawks shouldn't even be that mad, you took your TIME to fill up his shoes with such an appetizing CONDIMENT, that, by the way, did NOT come in CHEAP.

Half an hour later, while watching YouTube videos on his Smart TV, you heard the door being unlocked (YES, he locked you inside, ok?? FOR SAFETY REASONS). "Hawks?" You asked, even though you knew it was him. " No, it's Dabi. " Hawks chuckled.  "Haha. Very funny, Hawks. How was work? How come you're home early?", " Why? Did you want to spend more time in MY house? You know, the place where I live? Did I interrupt something? " You rolled your eyes, a small smile on your face  " No, of course not." "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. I need to go somewhere else, but I want to take a quick shower and change clothes first. " he said, while taking off his jacket, and heading to the bathroom. " Go on, am I stopping you? " you answered, sitting back down on his sofa.

The sound of clothes being scattered on the floor could be heard, as well as the shower curtain being shoved away, and the water hitting the ground.

As your excitement grew, you unpause the video you were previously watching and wait for Hawks to come back, trying to calm down a bit, not wanting Hawks to hear your giggles from the living room.

When your dear boyfriend came out of the bathroom, in nothing but a towel around his waist, you don't spare him a glance, and neither does he, heading directly to his room to get some new clothes, muttering something about ''getting new shoes because the pair he was wearing had become dirty from all that fighting and he doesn't have enough time to clean them up right now.'' You ask him what was he going to put on then, and he says that he would like to wear the shoes you had bought for Christmas.

Mentally smirking, you tell him that it'd be a great idea to wear some clothes with earthy colours, to match with his shoes. He agrees, and in no time, he comes out of his room looking good as new, and very stylish.

'' How do I look, (y/n)?'' '' With your eyes, Hawks.'' '' You are no longer welcome in my house.'' '' You can't do anything about it now though, can you?'' Hawks hummed in amusement, not really trying to find a comeback because he was running late.

'' Where are you going, anyway?'' you asked, realising that he never told you where he was going. '' Somewhere important.'' he replied. '' Somewhere important… where? Elaborate.'' '' Wouldn't you like to know, weather girl?'' '' Alright then, keep your secrets.''

The moment you were waiting for was so close…just a little bit more… '' Phew… keep it down, (y/n). Don't wanna blow your cover now, do you?'' you quietly tell yourself, sighing.

'' Well, I'll be off now, take care and try not to damage my stuff too much.'' '' Who, me? I would NEVER.'' you dramatically gasp. '' Pff…yeah, sure you won't.''

Finally! The moment has come! In 3… 2… 1…

'' WHAT THE FUCK?!''

Not being able to contain your excitement anymore, you burst out laughing, tears of hilarity rolling down your burning cheeks.

'' WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?? (Y/N), DID YOU DO THIS?? ANSWER ME, DAMMIT!!'' After you settled down a bit, you answer: '' Hawks, I already told you, I would never do such thing! I'm a Saint!'' you chuckle, the image of Hawks putting on his juicy shoes playing in your head.

'' This is DISGUSTING. Seriously, (y/n)? It's just downright NASTY, it feels HORRIBLE. Especially after you took a goddamn SHOWER.'' '' Oh well, it is what is is.'' '' Eugh… God give me strength…''

Your partner, clearly in a bad mood, decided to go inside the bathroom once again to clean up his feet, socks and…shoes.

'' Ah fuck, I can't believe you've done this. I don't even understand the reason behind this stupid prank. Was it something I had done again? I told you, you can call me out whenever you feel like I did something to upset you.'' Hawks grumbled from the bathroom, easy to hear since he didn't close the door.

'' Oh, it's nothing like that, I just wanted to see your reaction. What's the problem? I thought you liked that sweet chilli sauce.'' you say in a relaxed tone. '' Yeah, I like it on CHICKEN, a.k.a. FOOD.-'' he yelled. '' Very poor choice of words, chicken wings. I see no difference.'' you smile at his suffering. ''-AND the problem is that: a) I'm late for dinner, AND b) my precious shoes are RUINED. What am I supposed to do now?'' Hawks sulked.

You were about to answer regarding his 'precious shoes' problem, how he could always just throw them away and get a new pair since he DOES have the money, or just find someone that would be able to thoroughly clean his shoes…even though you think that buying a new pair would be better since there are extremely slim chances of finding someone experienced enough for such a job…ahem…you filled those shoes up pretty good. (Props to you)

'' Hold up…dinner?'' you asked, curious, ''I though you were going somewhere important?'' '' Is dinner not important? People need to eat, (y/n). Jeez.'' the angry birdman answered. '' Where, exactly, were you planning to go?'' '' Isn't it obvious?''

'' KFC…'' he muttered. '' Oh my God.'' you facepalmed. '' What? What's wrong with KFC? It's not like I was going to bring you with me.'' '' Hawks, I thought you were going to an important meeting or something like that, not KFC! How are you even late? Were you going to meet up with someone?'' you said, confused. '' No…I was planning to go by myself, as I always do.'' '' Hawks…'' '' Me and the boys were gonna eat until we passed out.'' You sighed, but after thinking for a second, why were you sighing exactly? because you wanted him to be late to an important meeting that turned out to be a dinner date with his homies? To be honest, you can't be upset right now, I mean…You don't have a reason to be, YOU'RE the one who ruined HIS shoes, and it's not like he hasn't gone to KFC with his friends before. '' Ok ok, I get it, but why didn't you just tell me what you were going to do? It's not like you weren't allowed to go, you know.'' Zoning out for a second, he looked at you and shrugged, not knowing either. '' You're an idiot.'' You said softly. '' Hey! Sometimes I just do things…that make no sense, ok? It doesn't matter, important meeting or not, my shoes would've been filled with chilli sauce anyway.'' '' Yeaaaah, that's true…'' you replied, not knowing what to say next.

Now that everything has been cleared out, you didn't know what to do, and neither did Hawks. Hm… I guess that prank wasn't as funny as you thought it'd be. For some reason, after these events, everything felt kind of awkward, and you had no idea why (and neither did the author).

Sighing once again, you snicker and tell Hawks that he should hurry up, not wanting him to be any more late than he already is. He couldn't help but let out a stifled laugh, agreeing with what you said. Grabbing another pair of sneakers, he kisses your cheek and leaves through the window, but not before yelling "I love you, chickadee! Even though you poured sauce in my shoes!". "Oh, shut it! I bet you did something to deserve it anyway! And don't forget to bring me something!" you also yelled. '' No promises!'' he replied one last time, before receding from your view.

After making sure that he won't be home any time soon, you go into his living room, where you originally were, to lie down on his couch and wait for your winged doofus.

                                                                                                                 BONUS: An hour or so later, you felt your phone/tablet vibrate, a signal for you to pick it up and see who has sent you message, or, a notification from a youtuber. Turning on your device, you see a message from your so-called 'beloved': '' Oh, btw, you owe new shoes, boo.'' You groan and turn it off, pretending you didn't see his demand.

A/N: Now....idk if you have noticed, but I have kind of lost motivation halfway through the fan fic, and I also didn't know what to write because...it didn't really make sense, ya dig? Oh yeah, this fan fic was supposed to be about Hawks trying to get revenge on you, but I guess it didn't work out. I was thinking about making a part 2 about it, where he actually gets revenge lol. Umm...it didn't come out very great...as I thought it would...it looked better in my mind, but oh well...it is what is is.

#Kuma chan writes #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #mha crack #y/n #mha x y/n #bnha x y/n #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #hawks #hawks mha #hawks bnha #hawks x reader #my hero academia hawks #hawks boku no hero academia #fan fiction #mha fanfiction #hawks fanfic #mha funny #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo #mha takami keigo #mha oneshot #keigo x reader #hawks oneshot #oneshot

[ragingbookdragon]

Well That's Spontaneous!

Barry Allen x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1.5K Warnings: NSFW 18+ (this piece is literally just smut, NGL), Explicit Language

Author's Note: No one gave me a Flash idea so I made my own. Enjoy ya heathens. -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Barry wasn’t exactly the type of man who was prone to flights of fancy. Everything happened on a schedule, and he was never really one to deviate from it. He didn’t do spontaneity, he planned, meticulously for things, from work to his clothes, even to his love life—though that was typically a stretch because when it came to understanding romantic cues from people he was about as lost as last year’s Easter eggs. She, on the other hand, lived for spontaneity, like wildflowers popping up in between sidewalk crevices. And all of Barry’s hard-planned, meticulousness went out the window, because when it came to her, even he had become spontaneous.

***

They didn’t even make it through the front door, and she was already shoving the suit jacket from his shoulders, fingers deftly undoing the knot of his bowtie. Barry inhaled sharply when she pulled him into another kiss and he pulled back slightly, whispering, “Honey, let’s get inside.”

“Scared someone’s going to see?” she smirked.

“Honey,” he chastised, voice rising an octave when she curled her fingers in the front of his pants to grab his belt and yank him inside.

She used the momentum to spin them, and the back of Barry’s thighs hit the dining room table; her hands found his chest and she shoved back, watching as he went backwards onto the furniture.

Suddenly, Barry was very thankful that the piece was a four-legged and not a center post, but that didn’t seem to matter much as she wriggled her evening gown up enough to expose her knees, then she was planting one on the outside of his hips and hauling herself on top of him.

“We should go to the bedroom,” he breathed as her fingers tugged the white dress shirt from his pants and proceeded to start unbuttoning it. “Honey, the bedro—”

“Busy,” she replied, scowling at the rest of the buttons. “Why do you wear button ups all the time.”

“It was a business dinner,” he retorted, eyes widening when she grabbed one side and then the other and tugged as hard as she could. “This is my favorite shirt!”

She grinned and placed her palms flat against his chest, reveling in the warmth rolling off his skin. “I’ll sew the buttons back on, you nerd.”

Barry glared up at her and all she did was return his look with an amused one, then she was bending down to kiss him senseless. His hands fumbled for a second, not sure where to go, then he settled for her hips, pulling her closer against him.

When she sat up slightly, he whined low in his throat, but his eyes went wide as she reached up and unbuttoned the neck of her gown, tugging it down to expose her front. He swallowed thickly at the sight of her bare skin, and she smiled, “Like what you see?”

Crimson colored his cheeks and he nodded, letting out a shaky breath as he trailed his hands up her sides to her chest.

“Barry,” she gasped as his fingers brushed her nipples, and rolled her hips against his, causing his movement to falter as his breathing stuttered, head lolling back against the table as she did it again, harder this time.

Her fingers started fumbling for his belt and he reached down, grasping her hands. With a quick motion he had them pinned behind her, one of his holding her wrists, the other curling around her waist to keep her in place. She whined his name again, shifting in his lap and Barry couldn’t help but groan as pleasure rippled up his spine from the contact. His hips rolled up to meet hers and she tilted her head back, moaning so unabashedly that for a split second, Barry was afraid that the neighbors would hear.

“Barry,” she whimpered, “let go of me so I can take your pants off.”

He chuckled breathlessly, having to tighten his grip as she tugged at it. “Not yet. I want you like this.”

“Well, I want you in me,” she growled, suddenly spreading her knees outwards on the table so her pelvis was pressed right against his. “C’mon,” she plead, squirming atop him. “I want to fuck you.” Barry’s breath caught in his throat and his grip went slack.

With her hands free, she undid his belt and let it hang open as she unbuttoned the front of his pants with one hand and tugged the zipper with the other. She didn’t bother telling him to lift so she could remove the articles, she merely pulled the front of his boxers down and Barry arched up into her when she took him in hand.

“Shit,” he cursed, words dwindling into a moan as sparks crackled in his gut; his thighs tensed with every twist of her wrist and she hummed, pumping him until he was writhing below her, grabbing at her wrist to gasp, “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.”

“We don’t want that, do we?” she mocked, lifting her hips to line herself with him. she all but went slack as she lowered herself onto his length, panting as she took him. “Fuck, Barry, fuck,” she hissed out, planting one hand in the center of his chest, the other on his shoulder.

And Barry?

Barry looked wrecked beneath her, kiss swollen lips twinged red and wet, pupils blown so wide there was only a sliver of cerulean left around them, pale cheeks aflame. And he was breathing like he’d run for days on end, mouth hanging open as he panted, stuttering out, “Je—sus.”

“You look so pretty like this Barry,” she purred, lifting then coming back down; Barry cried out, hands gripping her hips. “I love seeing you all ruined and obedient under me.”

He couldn’t even find the words to speak, eyes rolling back in his head as she shifted up and down again; a ragged groan escaped him, and his head fell back against the table.

“Oh, fuck,” she moaned, tucking her legs in so she could gather a faster and more proficient pace to ride him with.

Sweat pooled at the base of her spine and around her middle where her dress still hung on her, and a light sheen of dew covered Barry’s flushed chest. She dug her stilettoed nails into his skin, watching the already blush tinted skin prick red underneath.

Barry’s hands squeezed her hips to the point that it hurt, but it only spurred her on as she leaned forward, bracing herself with both hands on his chest, rising and dropping above him. He pistoned his hips the best he could, body starting to phase in and out around the edges and she knew he was close.

“Barry,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath above him. “Barry, look at me.”

He obeyed, picking his head up to open his eyes and gaze at her with heat. Suddenly, he lurched up and wrapped one arm around her waist, planting the other on the edge of the table and he shifted forward for better leverage; he found it and snapped his hips up with an overwhelming force that had her crying out, arms wrapping around his neck.

Barry pressed his forehead to hers, staring into her eyes and he groaned her name. “Close,” he hissed, and she whimpered.

“Barry,” her voice hitched as he started vibrating against her body and she squeezed her thighs together as electricity shot through her veins, shaking in his arms as she unraveled.

He buried his face in her neck, pulling her as close as he could, stilling for a moment, then he shuddered beneath her, a long-drawn-out moan muffled against her skin.

They sat there for a moment, leaning against one another, trying to catch their breath, then Barry leaned backwards, pulling her with him. She pressed her forehead to his chest, aftershocks still tingling her body, and giggled breathlessly.

Barry couldn’t help it, and chuckled too, cupping her cheek so she’d look up at him. “Why are we laughing?” he asked. “What’s so funny?”

She shook her head and let out another laugh. “We just had sex on the kitchen table.”

“I tried to get you to go to the bed,” he countered, though his voice held no anger, merely amusement. Barry brushed his thumb across her cheek, eyes crinkling as he murmured, “I love you, honey.”

Smiling, she leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her grin only growing when he let out a content sigh. “I love you more, Barry.”

Pulling away, her grin morphed into something akin to an impish smirk and she flirted, “Round two?”

“We’re going to the bedroom,” Barry shot back dryly, though if the twitching in his thighs said anything, it was that he was just as up for it as she was.

They both inhaled sharply when she lifted off him and sunk back onto the floor, legs shaky, but her eyes were devious as she lifted a finger and beckoned him with a smirk.

#barry allen x reader imagine #barry allen x reader imagines #barry allen x reader #barry allen imagines #barry allen imagine #barry allen #flash x reader imagine #flash x reader imagines #flash x reader #flash imagines #flash imagine #the flash #flash #dc imagines #dc imagine #flashfamily x reader imagine #flashfamily x reader imagines #flashfamily x reader #flashfamily imagine #flashfamily imagines #flashfamily #dc comics

[one-sad-human]

•Dinner First• Vince Neil

Pairing: Vince Neil x Reader

Requested? Yes! By an anon

Theme: Angst(?) to fluff

Warnings: Language, drinking, peer pressure

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Just when I was starting to post consistently. Sorry! I took a break from writing for a little, but I’m back now! Also, did you guys here that new GnR song? Tell me your thoughts!

You grimace, pulling Nikki's hair back as he pukes into the toilet. You're in the cramped bathroom of a tour bus, wishing you were literally anywhere else.

"Alright, I think I'm good now," the man says, contradicting his statement when he starts heaving again a moment after.

This isn't the first time you've been in this position, you doubt highly it'll be your last. You've been in similar situations with all of the men in Mötley Crüe, although Mick usually handled himself.

You're something that could be compared to a babysitter, except instead of taking care of children, you watch over almost constantly intoxicated men on tour. Their manager had hired you to do so, as you're one of his old friend's children and the most responsible young person he knows.

You don't drink or do drugs, you wear put together clothes, and— in the nicest way to say it— are a tad stuck up. You're a goodie two shoes, you don't have a rebellious bone in your body.

You're the perfect person to take care of the Crüe. You're paid to make sure they make it to all their shows and don't overdose or do anything equally as stupid. The job isn't glamorous, but you get to tour the world and get paid along the way.

"Ok, Nik. Time for bed," you say, a mockingly sweet tone to your voice. Nikki nods, going along with it and leaning against you heavily as you walk him to his small bed. You make sure he takes two Advils before passing out.

You sigh, rubbing your temples as you feel a headache brewing. You take some pain relievers yourself before stumbling over to your bunk and passing out shortly after.

The morning comes too quick, and you heave yourself up. You half walk half shuffle over to the coffee machine, moving on autopilot to make a fresh pot of pure caffeine.

"Mornin' good lookin'," says Vince, the blonde leaning on the counter next to you.

"Good morning," you say, ignoring the nickname. "You're up early."

"Heard the coffee machine," he lies. He wanted to talk to you alone without anyone bothering him. "Listen, we have the day off in a new city. I was wondering if maybe you'd want to—"

"Coffee, outta the way," Nikki says, shoving past you and Vince. There goes that.

Vince has been desperately trying to get a date with you for months, ever since the tour started. It seems like every time he works up the nerves to do it, he's interrupted.

"Sorry, Vinnie, what were you saying?" You ask, patiently waiting for Nikki to get his coffee so you can. The blonde shakes his head, waving a hand to dismiss the question and walks away.

"Nothing," he says and walks to sit in a small booth. Vince has never feared rejection like he does with you, usually he has all the confidence in the world. Vince is usually the definition of cool confidence. He isn't sure what there is about you, but it makes him nervous and gives him butterflies.

"Day off, no gig, what're we doing?" Tommy asks, now coming to join everyone to get coffee.

"We're in fucking New York, we're hitting CBGB!" Nikki says, nursing his cup of coffee you can only guess he made Irish seeing as his eyes have opened all the way.

"Fuck yeah!" Tommy speaks up. Vince sighs, knowing he won't get a date and you'll end up taking care of all of their drunk asses by midnight.

     You sigh into your cup of soda, swirling it around and watching the bubbles fizzing and popping. It had ended up like every other night, in a bar with overly obnoxious, head pounding music playing.

     "Having fun yet, Y/N?" Tommy asks, doing that weird trick where he sticks the cigarette in his nose. You make a disgusted face, rolling your eyes before agreeing.

     "You're such a fucking buzzkill. Would it kill you to just live a little? Have a drink! Here!" Nikki chimes in, sliding a shot of liquor. You slide it back.

     "No thanks." He rolls his eyes.

     "They don't want to drink, Nikki. Just leave them the fuck alone," Vince says, narrowing his eyes at the bassist. Mick takes his leave and ventures into a darker corner or the club, not wanted to be apart of the fight that is sure to ensue.

     "Well, excuse me!" He says snootily. "I'm just trying to get Y/N to have fun! All they ever do is breath down my neck. Makes me fucking nervous."

     "Nikki's right Y/N! Have some fun with us!"

     "I'm not here to have fun, this is my job," you say, you're face getting flushed and hot with anger. "I'm just here to make sure you live to see your next gig."

     "Killjoy," Tommy mutters. "Just one shot? I'll do it with you!"

     "Shut the fuck up!" Vince suddenly yells, his fist hitting the table and making the glasses and bottles rattle. "Leave them the fuck alone, all you're doing is making them upset. They said no, so stop badgering them."

     "It's alright, Vinnie—"

     "No it's not! They're constantly pestering you and I'm fucking tired of it!" Vince suddenly stands up. "Come on, lets go."

     You hesitantly stand up, grabbing your coat and following Vince out the door. You're already embarrassed for them causing a scene, you wouldn't want to stay behind where you're sure to get strange looks.

     "Where're we going?" Vince shrugs, protectively putting an arm around your shoulder and leading you farther from the crowed club. It sends tingles all the way down your spine, and you have to be extra careful walking to make sure your knees don't give out.

     "Away from those dicks. I hate the way they try to pressure you into shit all the time." You raise a brow and turn your head to look at the handsome blonde. The street lights bounce off his tanned face in an angelic way, his light locks of hair swaying in the warm breeze.

     "Why did it bother you that much?" You ask him, your voice low. Vince suddenly looks nervous.

     "Because," his voice is quiet and shakes with nerves. "I like you, Y/N. A lot." He stops walking and turns to you. "You're always so cool and chill, you always have an answer to everything and you're put together. You so goddamn smart, if I have a problem I know I can always go to you because you'll have a solution. It pisses me off when they think you're some weakling who'll do whatever they say."

     You're shocked into silence. Your mouth opens and closes a few times but no words form. You had no idea Vince had any feelings for you, you always thought he just liked that you made sure he didn't kill himself doing something stupid.

     "Seriously?" You ask once your mouth and brain start to function again. "You really feel that way?"

     "Would I lie to you about this?" You answer him by pressing your lips to his, your soft plump lips moving against his slightly chapped ones slowly and lovingly. His lips taste of cheap beer and cigarettes but there's a shadow of minty toothpaste. Vince has had his share of make outs, but nothing has ever felt this close and intimate.

     "I really like you, too." You smile when you pull away, your head dipping down slightly with a blush tinting your face. Vince smiles back and places his hands on your hips.

     "What do you say to heading back to the bus? It's empty." You shake your head, and Vince deflates instantly and disappointment floods his eyes. Maybe he got his thoughts up too soon, maybe you don't like him as much as he likes you.

     "Dinner first, and if you're nice and gentlemanly, and only if you're nice and gentlemanly, I'll think about going further," you say, and Vince laughs a little in relief before nodding. "Deal?"

     "Deal."

#classic rock imagine #motley crue imagine #motley crue x reader #motley crue #vince neil x reader #vince neil imagine #vince neil #80s

[juletheghoul]

Oblivius Chapter 4

Am I insane for posting another chapter? Yes. Am I doing it anyway? Yes. Should you message me about how you feel about Spills & Francis? YES!

(Got a song you want added to the playlist? send it to me!)

I've gotten so much love over this series and I cannot tell you how happy it makes me that you guys love these two idiots as much as I do. <3

(Feo means ugly in Spanish but it can be used as a term of endearment between [male] friends)

Likes & reblogs are appreciated

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Angst, yearning, 18+ language, alcohol (Spills gets wasted)(Please let me know if I forget anything)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Part 3 Part 5 Playlist

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Age: 17

“No Francis I don’t wanna watch this - I’m gonna get scared.” It was late, you were both sitting in his cozy living-room, a big shit-eating grin on his face.

“Why, are you chicken? It’s just The Shining, it's not even scary.” He put it on and despite your protests, he settled and let the movie play, You gave him a pout.

“Okay if you really don’t want to I’ll change it you big baby.” He rolled his eyes to grab the remote but you stopped him.

“Promise you’ll walk me home?” You knew it was one of his favourites. He smiled wide.

“Of course! If it’s too much I'll change it.” He gave you most of the blanket that was draped over his legs and you sat very close to him. He was taller than you remembered him being, having gone through a growth spurt over the summer and he towered over you now. All knees and elbows.

When the room scene came on you burrowed your face into his neck and he wrapped an arm around you, you were so pretty. Your hair smelled so good and he buried his nose into the messy bun you wore. You practically clawed at him, trying to get closer - he made you feel safe.

“Is it still scary?” You spoke into his neck.

“Yes - don’t look yet, just a little longer.”

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

**Present Day**

Pope was holding up a shot-glass full of something and there were shots lined up for the three of you when you walked in.

“Catfish, I never thought it would happen for you feo, but I’m glad it did. Claudia, he’s lucky to have you.” He raised his shot glass and a chorus of ‘To Frankie and Claudia’ rang out before everyone tipped the liquor back.

The burn in the back of your throat couldn’t just be from the tequila, you’d swallowed a lump. You’d forced back the tears stinging your eyes when he dipped her back to kiss her. With her laughing and grabbing his neck they were the picture of romance and the smile you had plastered to your face must have looked manic. Popes eyes caught yours then and his eyebrows raised, a question in his features that you couldn’t quite read but he looked away and left you with your thoughts.

-

You got very drunk. Fall-down drunk. Forget about everything drunk.

“Spills, I think you should stop - you’re going to feel like hell tomorrow.” He was softly taking the shot out of your hand and you tried to fight him but his grip was iron.

“St-op t-telling me wh-what to do Francisco.” You tried to take it back but it seemed like the floor was coming up to say hi. An iron grip around your middle stopped you from losing a couple of teeth.

“Jesus Spills, okay - that’s enough. I’m cutting you off.” He held onto you and you wanted nothing more than to turn around and kiss him but you also wanted to throw up. Decisions decisions.

“I-think-imgonnabesick…” you brought your hand up to your mouth and part of you expected him to let go but he didn’t.

“Take a deep breath, it’s okay, Pope can you get me some water?” He was holding onto you, rubbing soothing circles onto your back and you tried to focus on his hands on you as the whole room spun dangerously. A few minutes later he was holding a cold glass of water to your lips. “Drink the whole thing, I'm going to hold it because if you spill it I'll kill you.” You chugged it down and he put it on the table.

“When did you get so strong, Francis?” Your words were slurred and you felt his chest rumbling with laughter at your question. “You smell so good.” You said it lower- more to yourself, but he heard and the laughing stopped.

“Oh no! Are you okay Spills?” Claudia was there now, her hands pulling your hair away from your face and before you could succumb to the urge to tell her never to call you that Frankie spoke up.

“She’s okay, just need to get her home. You’re okay right, Spills?” His voice was lower, so soothing you could fall asleep to it.

“Hey Frankie, you and Claudia should stay, tell me where she lives and I’ll get her home.” It was Pope, Frankie must have trusted him immensely because before you knew it he was putting you into the front seat of Pope's rental and buckling you in. Claudia was tying your hair back and putting your purse into your lap.

“Be careful please - this is her address, just make sure she gets in and lays face down. There should be a bucket somewhere in her bathroom - water and some aspirin on her night table.” Frankie was talking as you closed your eyes. When you opened them you were parked in front of your place.

“Hey honey, come on let's get you inside. I’m just going to look for your keys, okay?” Pope was taking your purse out of your lap. You nodded vaguely.

He helped you in and guided you to your bed. You could feel him taking off your shoes and throwing the blanket over you.

-----

Someone is driving an ice-pick into my skull.

The light was intense and you swore out loud when you cracked an eye open. You stretched and felt a piece of paper beside you on the bed.

“I locked your door - keys are in your mailbox. Drink the water - take the ibuprofen. Let Catfish know you’re okay when you wake up- he was worried. - Pope”

You groaned.

[Francis]: Spills, are you okay?

[Francis]: Can you answer me please?

[Francis]: Don’t tell me you’re still asleep? What, are you a teenager? Getting drunk and sleeping until 4pm????

[Francis]: Sorry Spills, just worried - can you please let me know you’re okay before I show up?

You could see the three little dots signalling that he was in the middle of typing another message and you quickly called him to stop him.

“Jesus, it’s about fucking time.” He sounded worried and relieved and it pulled on your heart strings in a way you both loved and hated.

“Stop yelling Francisco, I am begging you.” You threw your arm over your eyes to block out the light as you lay there, in yesterday's clothes. You didn’t even want to know what you looked like right now.

“Feeling all that tequila aren’t you? I haven’t seen you that drunk for a long time.” You could hear the faint smile in his voice.

“Yes yes I know - so fucking embarrasing. Did I do.. Or say anything..?” You were trying to ask him without asking him.

“You almost threw up, but if you’re asking me if you started table-dancing you’re good.” He laughed and you sighed with palpable relief. All you needed was for him to tell you that you’d confessed your love or told Claudia to fuck off.

“Thank god. That would have been all I needed. Can you tell Pope I said thanks? Okay, I'm going to go shower for a million years now.” You wanted to hang up, your head was pounding and you needed a few hours of silence and about a gallon of water.

“Okay - see you in a few hours.” You didn’t want to deal with both of them together, not with how you felt right now.

“No Francis I don’t want to entertain, I already embarrassed myself enough yesterday.”

“It’s just me coming and I’ve seen you much worse. I haven’t been home in a long time so, take a shower and do what you have to do and I'll be there at seven.” He hung up and you could have thrown your phone across the room.

Fuck.

---

The knock at the door at exactly seven didn’t surprise you.

What did surprise you was how nervous you were that he would be coming over.

You were literally attached at the hip at one point, he’s seen you at your worst.

“You’re looking much better than you did last night, Spills.” He laughed as he walked past you and into your home.

“Oh god.” You groaned as he laughed, why had you been nervous? You watched him as he set down the bags of what looked to be way too much food on your kitchen counter. Grabbing napkins and forks - completely at ease within your space. “What did you bring?” moved to peak into the bags.

“Chinese - “ He looked to see your eyes wide and the big toothy smile you were giving him and laughed. “Did you think I’d forget you always get Chinese when you’re hungover?” He laughed as he took out what looked to be all your favourites.

“You’re a lifesaver Francis, truly.” You were practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you served yourself.

“I know, I’m practically a saint.” He walked over to your couch and plopped down, an egg-roll in his mouth as he turned on your TV and looked for something to watch. This was it - this was how it was supposed to be.

This was easy.

He had come over in comfy clothes and seeing him on your couch in sweats and a soft flannel was almost too much. His hair had gotten longer than he had worn it before he went away and it looked so soft; practically begged for your fingers.

“Are you still a baby about horror movies?” He asked without looking at you, you saw that he had put on some cheesy zombie movie. A big smile on his face.

“No, I’m okay, as long as you check every single corner of this place before you leave.”

“God I love horror movies, Claudia hates them so we never end up watching.” He sighed. Her name cut through the air like a knife. An ice cube casually dropped into your shirt.

“That’s too bad.” You quickly shoved food into your mouth, stopping yourself from saying anything you’d regret but he knew you too well. He looked at you then, eyes narrowing a fraction.

“Do you like her?” He asked, point blank and your eyes widened at him.

Fuck, don’t make me answer this right now.

“Yeah, she’s great.” To your credit, you tried. You really tried to sound genuine.

“Why don’t you like her Spills?” He sighed heavily, putting his plate down onto your coffee table to face you properly.

“What are you talking about? I said she was great!” You could feel the flush creeping up your neck and licking at your face at the lie. She was great, that wasn’t a lie - you just didn’t like her.

“Seriously? You’re going to act like I can’t tell you’re lying through your teeth? Just tell me! I’m going to marry this girl. I have to know why you don’t like her.” He had a little frown on his face and you could see that he was worried, but what would he have to be worried about? Worried you’d picked up on something he’d missed maybe?

“I just don’t know her, Francis, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with her, you know I'm just weird. She seems really nice and I’m sure I’ll like her once I get to know her better.” You smiled at him sadly, you didn’t want to talk about her anymore.

He smiled back at you and picked up his plate, happy with your explanation.

---

It always seemed to happen this way, ever since you’d been teenagers. He’d put on something scary and you would end up with your face buried into his chest.

“Oh god - that is disgusting!” You shut your eyes as he laughed, his chest rumbling underneath you at a particularly gruesome scene. You felt his hand rubbing your arm, and it was such a comfort that you sighed lightly. The words bubbled up without your permission.

“I missed this.” You felt him rest his chin on the crown of your head.

“Me too Spills, I always missed this while I was away, missed you.” He spoke into your hair, you could feel his breath ghosting along your scalp and your heart raced, you wanted nothing more than to turn and kiss him. His hand stilled, and you felt his heart beating under your ear. You wanted to do it, your whole body seemed to tense with want and you turned slightly to look at him through your lashes. He was already staring at you, his mouth was so close.

His phone rang, snapping him out of his trance and you moved away from him reluctantly.

“Hey babe, what’s up?” He smiled apologetically. “Just take a deep breath, it’ll be okay. I’m on my way.” He hung up and gave you a look that said I’m sorry. “Gotta go, wedding emergency.” He sighed heavily as he got up, taking both your plates to the kitchen with him.

You wanted him to stay, you wanted to grab him and sit him back down on the couch and straddle him. Grab the soft material of the flannel while you kissed him but you didn’t. Instead you smiled and thanked him for coming and for the food.

He made his way through the apartment before he left, opening every door.

“Just checking every corner, so you can sleep.” He smiled.

I love you too.

————————————

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#pedro pascal #frankie x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #oblivius #frankie x female reader #frankie x you #frankie x f!reader

[burnedbyshoto]

my hero

— Walking alone in the middle of the night isn’t the best of ideas, but that’s okay, you had a hero waiting to save you.

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pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, pwp, exhibitionism, strangers fucking, dirty talk, praise, belly bulge, attempted kidnapping

word count: 5,197

a/n: and we’re back! sorry for the super late uploads, I hope you can forgive me. pls enjoy, I had fun writing it :D

kinktober day 18 main kink: exhibitionism | kinktober masterlist

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You really needed to stop walking the streets so late at night.

It was a bad habit you’ve grown in the past few months. Your building anxiety and untouched, restless energy made you bounce around your apartment. But you didn’t go anywhere, couldn’t do anything but pace from corner to corner. 

The wood of your apartment floor must have been streaked with the dye of your socks, and you swore you could see the small indents from where you drag your feet to and fro your wall. The restless energy you had was untouchable, and your friends soon became worried about you. Eventually, after one night of taking a new 5,000 steps in the small living room of your apartment, your friend said to go for a run.

Sure, it was six in the evening, and yeah, maybe the spring night was cold, but Jesus fuck please, your pacing made them anxious. So, that’s how you began your journey of running at night because your once six pm runs evolved into eleven pm jogs. You had always been one to carry your pepper spray in your pocket and had a concealed sharp key in your fist as you ran. You were still prepared, even if you never ran into a situation that caused you to need either item.

But tonight was different as it always was.

You were dressed in your black joggers and a dark grey sweatshirt.

The slight chill of the fall night barely seeping into your skin that was hot with your exhaustion. It was late out, and as you went from a jogging pace and slowed into a stroll as you entered the park approximately two blocks away from your home, you stopped. 

Stretching your arms over your head, you stretched out your slightly sore limbs and took in the tranquility of the park at night.

The park was a beautiful one, in your opinion.

It was thick with trees; every ten steps you took, there was a new tree. Wooden benches and picnic tables littered the floor and winding concrete everywhere, showing just how great the place could be to enjoy while the sun was out. There was a playground by the entrance you came through and a basketball court at the gate you exit from.

Altogether, it was beautiful and simple.

But as you pressed the sleeve of your sweatshirt to your forehead, wiping the beaded sweat on your skin, you froze when you heard the sound of leaves crunching behind you. 

You froze as you turned around, your eyes wide and lips falling open when you saw a man stumbling toward you. There was no reason to panic, probably, you thought as he looked occupied on his own phone, his head down, his steps quick and focused. But there was no denying the small, almost horrible feeling that pooled into your stomach as you watched him approach nearer and nearer.

You grabbed the pepper spray that was in your pocket as a premature, ready to fight movement, your feet moving to get out of the path in case he tried to do anything. Your breathing was soft, not entirely too loud, but to you, It seemed to ring loudly in your ears as he got nearer and nearer.

He passed by you, his eyes not even trying to look your way as he went one step, two steps, three steps away from you. You wanted to sigh in relief about your stupid freak out; of course, it was nothing, it was always nothing, so there was no reason for you to freak out. But then he stopped, and you were too late to see the twitch in his shoulder, the way he spun around faster than you could scream and tackled you to the floor. 

His hands were all over you, grabbing you, shoving his dirty, grimey hand into your mouth to silence you, fisting into your mouth so that even your biting, snapping closed jaw was stupid weak against him. Tears welled in your eyes as his knee buried into the center of your lungs, shortening your breaths as you struggled to get the pepper spray from your pocket.

You found that you couldn't.

You couldn't grab the canister from inside your pocket as the man's smile grew wider, terribly cunning as you struggled to do all that you could to get him off you. 

Pathetic.

Useless.

Weak.

Tears began to stream from your eyes, the fear that twisted and rotted in your stomach festering like a stench as you cried against his fisted hand. You wouldn't be heard, wouldn't be seen. You were being assaulted with no way of being saved because no one went out here this late at night. You cursed your inability to do anything on time, cried that your dumb anxiety only felt better after running for an hour, and your lungs burned with the slowly depleting oxygen coming to your veins.

But just as your eyes were beginning to close, your hope and ability to wish for the best outcome was simmering into nothing but ashes and smoke, something large, hard, and fast knocked onto the man on top of you. You gasped for air as you immediately turned onto your side, your hands and knees buried into the dirt floor as you gasped and choked for air. 

There, finally, was the sweet taste of grass and nature that filled your senses, but your watering eyes fell onto your attacker and the... the man?!

Your savior was another man.

His red hair still somehow easily discernible in the darkness of the night, and his large, strong muscled body absolutely punching and keeping your attacker down.

"What the fuck is your problem, man?!" your savior demanded, his hand grabbing the hair of your attacker and slamming his bruised and swollen face to the ground, the win most obviously won by your savior. You looked at the anger-fueled rage on your saviors’ face, the way his eyebrows were knitted together, and how his lips were pulled back into an angry snarl. The fight had been obviously won by your savior, and you couldn’t help but keep staring as the workout clothes clad savior took a few more deep, almost shaky breaths before he turned his gaze onto you. “H-Hey? Are you okay? Call the police, and I’ll keep on this bastard!”

“I-I’m fine!” your voice rasps, your hand rising shakily from the floor to softly rub your tender throat. “I’m fine, it’s okay! You can let him go!”

Your savior freezes, his eyes looking at you like you’re batshit crazy, and honestly, you probably are, but you don’t want to deal with writing up a police report or anything of that. It just wasn’t worth it since you ended up okay.

“You… do you want me to let him go?” your savior asks again, his eyebrows shot up, obviously not buying your words in the slightest.

You nod your head, you collapse down so that you’re sitting on your knees. Exhaustion is slamming into your body post the sudden demanding rush of adrenaline.

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” you smile weakly as your red-headed savior frowns. He sighs, obviously not in agreement with what you wanted to do, but he turned his attention back down to your attacker, who was still struggling against his weight and strength.

“You’re going to get the fuck out of here, or else I won’t hesitate to kick your ass and call the cops myself,” the man snapped, shoving the man further into the ground for good measure before climbing off of him. The red-headed angel walked in front of you. His considerable height incredibly intimidating to even you as the man on the floor wheezed before running off, his tail between his legs until the echo of his feet hitting the grass can no longer be heard.

“Wow, that was crazy,” he spoke softly to the wind, his hands resting on his hips before he turned his head to look at you, his eyes wide with concern. Even with the minimal light of the light post in the park and the moonlight that barely pierced through the canopy of tree leaves, you could see as clear as day that your savior was handsome. There was a scar over his right eye, and his red hair was styled and pushed back with a bandana. He had a windbreaker on and gym shorts but still looked ridiculously handsome. He turned to face you, crouching as he spoke, “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you flush, your eyes dropping to your dirt-covered hands that rest on your lap. “I’m fine now, at least. That was pretty scary, I have to admit.”

“Fuck, I bet,” the man agreed, his head nodding as he drops onto his butt. “I’m glad I decided to come through the park to get to my car today. Typically I walk all the way around this park.”

Indeed seemed like fate, you thought, your smile spreading small and thin on your face. “I was running; it helps with my restless energy. But, this is the first time anything like that has happened.”

“I’m sorry that had to happen at all,” he frowned, his face full of genuine remorse and guilt. “That was entirely cowardly of that asshole to do; I’m glad you weren’t hurt, though.”

“Ah, I got thick skin,” you slightly joke, enjoying the way the sweet smile spread on his face. Remembering your manners, your eyes shut, your head shaking slightly at your rudeness. “Um, I’m y/l/n y/n, though. Thank you for saving me from whatever that could have become.”

“Kirishima Eijirou!” the man cheerfully introduced himself too. “And it was no problem; literally, any good person would have done what I did!”

Modesty was somehow disgustingly, hotly attractive on the large, muscular stranger, and you wet your lips as you stretched your body closer to his. “It wasn’t just ‘no problem,’ though,” you state, matter-of-factly. “You quite literally saved my life; you’re a hero. You’re my hero.”

Although you couldn’t see the color flushing against his skin, you were without a doubt that he was blushing as profoundly as his hair if the riddled embarrassment in his eyes and face had anything to say about it. 

“I-I, oh, aha, um, well, that’s very kind of you to say! I was just trying to be a manly guy, and really that was nothing?” Kirishima embarrassingly rambled, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as you found yourself drawing nearer and nearer to him. 

Your warm hand found itself pressing onto his strong knee, your upper body leaning even closer to his flustered state. His eyes were shifting everywhere, not quite looking at you, but would linger on your body as you drew nearer and nearer. For some reason, you couldn’t help the jarring sense of attraction you had for your hero before you, the way the familiar warmth in between your legs made your voice hum as you grew nearer.

You wanted to show him just how grateful you were to have had him saving your life.

“That was nothing? You saving my life was nothing?” you tease, your words slow and thick on your tongue as you find yourself by his side, mouth brushing teasingly soft against his jaw. 

“W-Well, of course not! It was a valuable life, don’t get me wrong! It’s just me doing that was nothing! I’m no hero!” Kirishima stammered, his voice in a soft whine as goosebumps flashed across his neck, where your breaths warmed his skin.

“Hm, that’s too bad,” you whisper, your tongue wetting your lips as you drew in closer. Your heart was hammering loudly in your ears, but you didn’t care, way too transfixed on the way the heat emitting from between your legs demanded Kirishima’s cock. “I like showing my gratitude to heroes in the world, ya know?”

His face finally turned to you, his wide eyes meeting your half-lidded ones in an electric gaze. No one spoke; only the softly chirping crickets and the wind brushing through the leaves made noises. 

“Y-Yeah?” he whimpered out, his voice weak and caused great pleasure to crawl down your spine. “How do ya’ suppose you show your gratitude?”

You hum, thinking about it, but as the adrenaline from your attack finally was replaced with the blatant, blistering want for the huge red-headed man before you. You find yourself straddling his lap, slowly sinking onto him. Your knees once more buried into the soft, dewy grass of the park.

Your arms wrap around his neck, his eyes wide and incredibly expressive as his large hand’s press to your waist. 

“Any way you crave me,” you speak with finality, placing the future of your actions into his hands. 

“Holy fuck,” Kirishima curses, and without a second more of hesitation, his lips and mouth are crashing against yours. 

There’s something unworldly attractive about making out with a practical stranger in the middle of a public park at nearly midnight. Your hands move possessively against his back, fingers digging into his fabric as he draws you nearer, your torso pushed tight against his. His lips move expertly against yours, the sharp points of his teeth dragging and biting into your bottom lip until he pulls away, your lip in his teeth, his eyes dark and full of lust. That lasts less than a few seconds as you’re back on him, mouth desperate against his, tongue curling into his mouth to move languidly, possessively against his. 

His body radiates heat, the warmth of his body quickly seeping past the sweaty thickness of your own sweatshirt as your hips begin to roll against his growing bulge. 

“S-Shit,” he gasps, your lips trailing down his hot neck, his throat muscles clenching as he gulps. Your smirk against his skin, sucking and nibbling on a concentrated spot as he helps you to roll your hips against his hot, thick length. “I-I don’t live nearby; it’ll be a bit of a drive.”

“I’m two blocks away,” you confess, pulling away from the dark purple and red bruise on his neck that makes you drunk with lust. “But I don’t think I can make it.”

Kirishima splutters, his hips instinctively bucking against your slowly throbbing core that sends your teeth biting into his thick skin again. “Do you wanna, fuckk… Are we gonna—?”

“Don’t tell me my hero is afraid to fuck in public?” you tease, your hands traveling down his tight, muscular torso. You admire the way you can feel his trembling abs against your hands, and you grin when his head dips backward when your fingers find their way against the waistband of his sweats, your weight shifting harshly against his cock as you tease along his upper crotch. “It’s late. No one’s around. I got a strong man to protect me. And I want him now,” you speak against his jaw, your lips pressing hot kisses between every sentence.

You notice that his eyes are red as your lips come up to brush against his, teasing the both of you as neither of you moves to seal your fates. Your position on the situation needs to be resolved, needing an answer from him.

“Whatcha gonna do, big guy?” you asked, lips ghosting against his, and at that moment, you shiver at the way his pupils expand to the edges of his iris.

His mouth is against yours in a renewed passion, lips pressing and pushing fervorously against yours, making you tremble in his arms, completely lust-taken. You kiss him back with equal force, hips rolling against his in your accepted need. 

“Fuck, you know what you’re doing, huh?” Kirishima gasps the moment you grind your increasingly wet cunt against his mountain bulge in a way that has his hips snapping up towards yours. You laugh, teeth pressing onto his lower lip and pulling away, eyes focused on his through the curtain of your lashes before you let go of his lip.

“I aim to please,” you bat your lashes, your hands working their way under the waistband of his shorts. “Now, you want me to suck your dick, or what?”

You had never seen a man’s face go through such wild, intense agreement. The blackened look in his eyes and the way a shiver so obviously tittered down his spine had you smiling like a champion.

Mouths came back together in a blazing, needing kiss; you shift up onto your knees, the kiss becoming a clash of sharp teeth and simmering tongues. Blindly, your hands come down to his shorts and assist him in getting his pants off. Shock and amusement rushing through you the second you feel the top of his cock slap the back of your ass. The heat emitting from the skin burning through your own layer of clothes.

With your lips sucking onto his tongue, your hand moves behind you, grasping and pushing the throbbing, thick cock between your ass cheeks. And for a moment, for a few painfully slow grinds, you press him to your ass as you grind against him. Kirishima moans loudly, his hands shifting all over your body, fingers rubbing your skin from the dips of your hips to your soaking wet cunt. 

The air is static, disgustingly hot that you swear with the heaving, panting breaths emitted from both of your mouths, you swear you can see the condensation.

“C’mon baby,” Kirishima rasps, his tongue finally permitted back into his mouth, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your throat. “I thought you were going to suck my dick?”

“What if I don’t want to anymore?” you gasp, your eyes fluttering closed, your thumb that is on his cock pressing onto the slit of his dripping cock. “What if I want you in me now?”

“Suck my dick with that pretty little mouth of yours, and I promise you — your hero promises you that I’ll fuck you better then any other fucker has,” Kirishima grunts into your skin, his biting kisses bruising your skin.

Well, you didn’t need to be told twice. 

You shift backward, the tip of his pre-cum leaking cockhead spreading his pre-cum all over your own leggings. But that doesn’t faze you, nor do you care enough as you finally get to see the near monstrosity of a cock Kirishima has.

Long, thick, veiny, and with curly soft black pubes.

“Not a natural redhead?” you tease, your body leaning down, making sure to accentuate your breasts as you begin to slowly stroke his thick length. Kirishima can only shake his head as your tongue pokes out to give his swollen head a kitten lick. “Mm, I bet you look hot with black hair too.”

There’s no room for a second opinion for your mouth sinks entirely onto his length, just enough to be the slightest bit uncomfortable, but the results were immediate. Kirishima’s head slammed to the wood of the tree, his hands gripping your head as you bobbed against his length. The musk and scent of his dick were strong yet pleasant. You found yourself sinking lower and lower onto his size, pleased with the way he was tearing into his bottom lip to keep his ringing moans from being heard, his fingers tugging at the roots of your hair as he meets your sinking mouth in sloppy, restrained thrusts.

Your tongue traced the bulging veins on his length, swirling and twisting around his girth, a desperate attempt to show that his size didn’t scare you, that you were taking him all in. But his lust clouded gaze on you thrilled you. The pure, unadulterated passion that settled on his eyes and gaze made you shiver; he was so responsive, moaning, and gasping for you in every right action you made. But you want to get bigger, bolder reactions out of him, and closing your jaw just the slightest bit, you let your lower teeth scrape just gently against his sensitive skin.

The result was immediate, and much wanted.

Despite the immediate relaxation of your jaw and throat, Kirishima burying his entire length down your throat made you choke, gagging as your nose buried into his pubes. He was entirely large, uncomfortably thick in your throat as your muscles flexed and fluttered around him.

“Take it, take me all in,” Kirishima gasps, his hips shifting into small, tiny thrusts to ram his cock further and further into your awaiting mouth. “That’s i-it, holy fuck, that’s it! You are so good at this shit, baby. F-Fuck… you’re amazing! So fucking perfect!”

The praise makes you whine, the drool that seeps from your mouth helpless and joined with the tears of discomfort from your eyes. But you continue to impress him, continue to let him fuck your mouth and throat wholeheartedly without restraint or worry.

Soon, the wet gagging noises fill the air, your throat feeling raw as Kirishima is unashamedly fucking into you with more significant, more powerful intent. He praises you without hesitation, the words curling warmly into your gut, making your cunt throb and demand attention as you hollow your cheeks. Kirishima nearly howls at the vacuum sensation, the lustful, long noise growing in his lust as you raise up to his cockhead, your tongue lashing around the salty pre-cum that is weeping from his swollen tip.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, wait!” Kirishima gasps, his hips bucking wildly, trying to go further into your mouth again. But your grip and commanding are more robust than he could ever be, and he can’t sink his cock further into the wet heat he so craves. “Wait, wait, wait! I want to cum in you, baby! Please let me cum in you!”

You’re off him immediately with a sharp, loud pop.

His eyes are unashamed in his request, and you think about the issues of an absolute stranger busting a nut inside of you. Your tongue dips out of your mouth to lick the pre-cum that’s dribbled onto your lower lip, and you whine at the back of your throat.

“O-Okay.”

His response to your approval is immediate.

You shriek in slight fear when he tugs you up onto your feet, twisting you and shoving your back against the cold hardness of the tree he was resting upon. Your breathing is unsteady, heart absolutely pounding in your throat as his lips consume yours again. Just as you did before, you melt into his kiss, his touch as his hot, calloused fingers shove your shorts down your legs, exposing your throbbing, wet cunt to the cold air.

Hissing at the contact, you feel your voice being smothered by a wet moan that escapes your mouth. Kirishima has his cock rutting between your wet folds, his fingers leaving lasting bruises on your waist.

“Want you so badly, baby,” he grunts, his mouth swallowing your moans and pitched whines as you grind against him, shaking against his hold. “Want to see you take me all the way in.”

“Put it in,” you keen, hips bucking and thrusting faster and faster against his waiting cock, your actions pathetic and needy. “Put it in Kiri, I want you in me, fuck me already, please fuck me.”

In what you could only describe as being the strength of god, Kirishima lifts you up, hands shifting from your soft waist to the mounds of the flesh of your ass and pressing you into the tree. You squeak, embarrassed, and entirely self-conscious of your weight despite the lust haze clouding your mind. Your struggle in his arms is fruitless, his broad, thick chest pressing up against yours as you find your mind absolutely melting when his thick cockhead pushes against the clenching wet cavern of your cunt.

“P-Put me down,” you gasp, squirming despite the fire that burns in your core and cheeks. “I-I’m too—”

“I’m your hero,” Kirishima speaks calmly, his forehead pressing against yours, eyes locking on yours in such a way that was too intimate for strangers, too world-shifting for two unknowns. “I can carry you just easy, ya know. These muscles aren’t just for showing off.”

The grin on his face is childish, almost too boyish if it wasn’t for the fact that his eyes held that profound, pristine promise and want for you. So, in an action that has your back arching against the wood, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your legs tightened firmly around his waist as he buried his cock into you.

Melodious moans echo between your mouths, horribly silenced by your crashing mouths because, dear god, you’re fucking in a public park. 

He kisses you with a passion and a soul that strips you bare, and his hips begin to fuck up and into you without hesitation, the full feeling in your core stretching and fluttering with every driving intent from him. In and out, his cock goes into you, up and down your hips grind against him.

It’s a synchronized dance, a coming of your bodies that sends your toes curling as he begins to fuck into you just a bit harder, just a tad faster. It makes you shiver, makes your fingernails bury into his skin as you moan and beg for his name.

Kirishima curses as you clench around him, his hand grabbing your wrist and slamming it onto the tree, holding it there as he fucks you with growing strength and speed. Every snap of his hips sends a burst of colors to the back of your eyelids, and every squelch of your meeting, sloppy wet sexes sends a blabbering, incoherent sentence from your lips.

“More, more, more,” you beg, the tree trunk absolutely uncomfortable against your skin, but you can’t feel it anymore; you don’t care about the pain. You crave it, you want it. “Give me more.”

The curve of his cock, the girth, and the veins that drag up and down your puffy velvet walls are driving you insane. He holds insane power with every admittance of his cock in your clenching cunt, and he buries his nose into the crook of your neck and nods his sweaty head.

“Can you take it? You gonna be able to take my cock fucking you entirely?” Kirishima gasps, almost as if he was afraid of hurting you, and for some reason, that makes your brain shut down.

Fingers buried into the dyed red hair at the nape of his neck, you tug his head back, your legs tightening around his waist so much that he can’t fuck you anymore. The both of you are there, staring at one another as you hold him, bottomed out in you, your stomach stretching just a bit from having him entirely within you.

“If you don’t fuck me with everything you have,” you breath, your nose brushing against his, lips avoiding his that seek yours out for contact. “I’ll scream.”

“You seem like a brat,” Kirishima teases, his hold shifting on your ass, pressing you even more uncomfortably onto the tree.

“I’m just a girl who knows what she wants,” you bite back, allowing him to shift your arms so that you were supporting part of your weight onto the tree, allowing for a better balance.

“Brat,” Kirishima enunciates, his lips spreading into a teasing, seductive smirk. 

But before you could fight back, before you could argue that you were, in fact, not a brat, Kirishima begins to fuck into you yet again. Your jaw drops immediately, the burning nearly exquisite pain-filled pleasure of his untapped strength fucking into you.

Your voice begins to scream out, the feeling of his vicious, thick cock snapping into you, shoving your shoulders further and further into the tree was sending your head spinning. Your body is convulsing as he fucks you with new vulgar need and strength. But before you could scream your praises, Kirishima’s fingers shove into your mouth, silencing your words and noises as he fucks you again and again and again.

“You’re so fucking loud, baby,” Kirishima chuckles, his voice strained with his exertion of energy, his hips slamming so powerfully into your clenching core that his balls were slapping against your soring ass with no restriction. “So fucking loud, but we’re not in the place for you to be wailing my name unless you want to be caught. Do you wanna be caught, is that what it is?”

You shake your head pathetically against his fingers, your tongue lazily swirling and inserting itself between his parting fingers as you moan. Your head is spinning, the overstimulation of his conquesting cock, the rising orgasm in you, and the thought of someone walking through the park and seeing the two of you fucking under the yellow light of the park light making your walls flutter. His cock twitches with the flutter, and the both of you moan inexplicably loud. 

“Such a good wet cunt,” Kirishima gasps, his fingers beginning to reciprocate the length and rhythm of his pounding cock in your throat, something you take without a second of hesitation or doubt. “I’m so glad I got to be your hero today, aren’t you so glad?”

“Mm-mhmm,” you gag around his fingers, your hips bucking with near madness as your vision swims with lust and need. You were so happy that he found you, so delighted he saved you, that he was your hero. 

But the building tightness and demanding need in your cunt was growing louder, hotter, completely undeniable. Your teeth sinking against his skin as you whimpered loudly, absolutely pathetically as you shifted faster, fucking against him harder.

“C-Close,” you manage to gag out, and a sharp escape of air comes from his nose.

Kirishima nods, removing his fingers from your mouth, the string of cold saliva dangerously cold against your blazing hot chin. “I want you to look at the way your belly bulges when I fuck you, I want you to watch it bulge as you cum, baby.”

You whimper, the strain in your neck almost insufferable as you peer down at your hastily exposed stomach, and you nearly faint at the pornographic, near-insane image of your stomach bulging with his hammering cock. And just like that, you come tumbling down from the heights of your building orgasm. White heat and light spread through your body, your jaw slacking as you moan loudly, screaming his name as you convulse against him, body entirely limp. Kirishima, who was barely hanging by a strand, completely loses it when your core clenches like a vice against him. 

Hot, thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock, his heavy, shaking gasps the only thing you can hear as he fucks into you once, twice more for good measure before the both of you sink to the grass. It’s hot, almost too hot as he lays on top of you, the sticky fluid of his cum radiating against your already blazing walls, and for a bit, there’s silence.

“So um,” you rasp after a moment, the silence warm and comfortable. “You gonna walk me home?”

“Depends,” Kirishima mutters into your sweaty neck.

“On?”

“Will you give your hero your number?”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

[sukifans]

aahhh I’m so excited I love your writing!!! your sokka “help me” fic is one of my favs ever I seriously think about it at least twice a week. in a similar vein, would you be able to combine prompts 10 & 12 for sokka x fem!reader? thank you!!! :)

SOKKA + “can i try that new chapstick? i wanna have a taste” + “i hadn’t noticed but my sweet, funny, goofy best friend is kind of hot, especially since they’ve been on this fitness kick”

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

“nastiest skank bitches” Group Message

loml: ladies, i need a girls night

loml: desperately

babygorl: god i’m down, this semester blows

fugly slut <3: i’m in!! always here for a girls night 🥰

loml: y/n??

you: gals. pals. as much as i would love to...

fugly slut <3: ughhhhhhhhh

babygorl: you better not be blowing us off for sokka again istg

you: 😅

loml: TRAITOR BITCH

fugly slut <3: HOES BEFORE BROS

babygorl: WHORE

you: bruh.mp3

you: he’s coming by after the gym to help me with my physics homework!!! I NEED THE HELP PLS I PROMISE ILL BE THERE NEXT TIME

babygorl: lying is a sin y/n

babygorl: sinner

loml: if sokka’s gonna b there maybe she’ll be sinning in........ other ways...... ahaha

loml: fuckboy_emoji.jpg

fugly slut <3: when you gonna tap that fr

you: NEVER LITERALLY NO EW

you: HE’S MY BEST FRIEND

you: UNLIKE YOU RATS

fugly slut <3: he do b kinda yummy tho liiiike 👀

you: STOP

loml: yeah he’s hot sorry queen

you: HE’S NOT HOT

babygorl: i almost hate to admit it but...

babygorl: his biceps 🥴

fugly slut <3 emphasized “his biceps 🥴”

loml loved “his biceps 🥴”

you: hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!

fugly slut <3 disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

babygorl disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

loml disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

babygorl: uh huh yeah sure

loml: yall hear sumn?

NEW MESSAGE from sokka :^)

“hey i’m omw up!”

you: whatever you guys suck

you: i gtg

fugly slut <3: AND YOU SWALLOW

babygorl: bye girly!! get that bestie dick!!

loml: save a car, ride an engineering major >:)

you: desgostang.jpg

You dropped your phone onto the bed next to you with a groan. Your friends really and truly could be such freaks about your relationship with Sokka—or lack thereof. They’d been especially adament ever since he started some stupid bet with Zuko about who could get the most “gains” by graduation, incited by Aang making the mistake of commenting on Zuko’s more pronounced muscle mass.

Idiots.

That’s what Sokka was. Your idiotic best friend, who was funny, and sweet, and intelligent. You loved him, of course, but not like that. And he was not hot.

Definitely not.

The pounding on your dorm door interrupted your musings before Sokka let himself in, dropping his gym bag on the floor and kicking off his slides. His hair was loose and still damp from his post-workout shower and he wore slim joggers with a loose muscle tee.

“Hey!” He smiled brightly when he spotted you sitting in your bed. “What’s up?”

“The usual.” You moved your legs out of the way so he could flop down onto your mattress. “How was the gym?”

Sokka groaned. “Cardio. I’m already sore.” He stretched his arms up to fold behind his head, pulling his muscles taut.

Hm. He does kind of have nice biceps...

You shook yourself internally. Thoughts like these had been creeping out of your subconscious for weeks now, no thanks to your rabid friends.

“My leg’s been killing me, though,” he continued, rubbing his opposite foot across the skin that covered that metal pins and plates holding his bones together after a nasty break in high school. The leg often still gave him problems, ranging from the dull ache he could ignore on the day-to-day, to throbbing pain that left him limping.

You frowned, looking away from his arms to meet his eyes. “You should probably rest up before you hurt yourself,” you said.

“I’ll be fine.” He shrugged and propped himself up on his elbows. “Gotta catch up to Zuko, y’know.”

“Why? You’re already taller than him.”

“So? I wanna be more yolked, too.”

You rolled your eyes. “Buncha dumbasses.”

Sokka quirked an eyebrow. “You want this dumbass to help with your physics homework or not?”

“Haha,” you chuckled nervously, “just kidding, buddy! I meant Zuko and Aang. You—definitely not a dumbass. Nope.”

“That’s what I thought.” He shot you a smug look as he pushed up to sit cross-legged across from you on the bed. He held his hand out with a dramatic, world-weary sigh. “Alright, give it here.”

You opened your laptop to pull up the website that hosted your homework practice problems. “You know I love you, right?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, grabbing a notebook and pen from your desk to work out the math as you handed over the computer. He paused before standing to retrieve his bag, plopping it on your desk chair so he could root through it and pull out his glasses case. You felt your cheeks warm a little when he set the frames on the bridge of his nose.

Fine—he was kinda cute. You could concede that without having to dig too deep into your somewhat jumbled feelings for your best friend.

But you would certainly not “tap that.”

Well...

No. You would not.

You watched his eyes flick over the screen as he tapped the pen against his chin, catching the cap between his teeth while he thought about the formulas he’d learned in a past semester. He nodded to himself and started scribbling out a diagram and the math to go with it. You found yourself a little mesmerized by the way he simply just knew what to do, confidently scratching away at the paper as easily as one might write the alphabet. Your eyes trailed from his long fingers and calloused hand sweeping over the page, up his toned arm (lingering on his bicep a little longer), and to his face. He chewed at the inside of his cheek in concentration, sometimes parting his lips to murmur the logic to himself.

For someone who often said a lot of stupid shit, he sure had a pretty mouth.

You considered what he might do if you snatched a fistful of his shirt and yanked him into a kiss. Would he shove you away and leave? Awkwardly but kindly reject you? Or, would he kiss you back—throw the work out of the way and grab your face to coax you in deeper? Maybe push you back onto the bed and—

“Okay, so basically—”

Jesus Christ, get a fucking grip.

“—from the problem and draw it out like this to apply the formula, yeah?”

Sokka looked to you expectantly and you blinked at him as your face burned. “Sorry, I zoned out. What did you say?”

“C’mon, I know you hate physics but you gotta at least pay attention to me if you wanna pass,” he teased, shifting close enough that the sides of your bodies pressed together. Was it getting warmer in your room, or was it just your best friend?

He launched into the explanation again and you nodded along while internally willing the blood to leave your cheeks. Even as your thoughts ricocheted around inside your skull he managed to break it down in a way that somewhat made sense. He sat back and watched as you slowly worked through the next problem. You glanced up when you heard a soft pop to see him applying chapstick.

“Is that a new flavor?” you asked.

“Yeah, chocolate orange or something.” He held the tube out to you. “Wanna try?”

Fuck it.

Before your rationality could catch up you pressed a hand to his cheek to turn his head and pulled him in for a kiss. Your lips only slotted together for a brief moment before you pulled back to stare wide-eyed at each other. You could feel the fire creeping from your cheeks down your neck, mirrored in the reddening of his tanned skin.

He blinked. You blinked.

The chapstick slipped from between his fingers. Rationality arrived late.

You bolted.

“Uh, see ya later!” you shouted as you threw the door open and rushed out of the room.

“Wait, (Y/N)—“

You didn’t stick around to hear the end of his desperate call. Even thought it was your dorm and you were barefoot you still raced down the hall, wincing at the sound of a door slamming behind you.

“(Y/N)!”

Damn that lanky bastard. You were booking it and he was already hot on your heels. You barreled into the door leading to the stairwell and almost made it down the first step when he grabbed you around the waist and yanked you back. Despite your struggles, the arm hooked across your middle was unyielding until he pushed you into the corner and crowded you against the wall, hands caging you in from either side. Your heart was racing and you weren’t sure if it was because of your escape attempt or that he was close enough you could smell his body wash and deodorant. It was almost enough to make your head spin.

“Sokka, I-I don’t know why—I’m sorry, please, I shouldn’t’ve—“

“(Y/N),” he said firmly and your mouth snapped shut. “Why did you run away?”

“Uh, I—well, um...” You shrunk down against the wall and swallowed hard. “I-I don’t know.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance to respond.”

“Look—“ You paused and stared at him once you processed what he said. “What?”

He laughed, dropping one of his hands to brush against your cheek before threading into your hair to cup the base of your skull. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

With that he surged forwards and kissed you enthusiastically, making you gasp into his mouth. You balled your hands into the front of his shirt to keep yourself steady as you melted into him. His free hand pressed into your lower back to bring you in closer. His tongue slipped out to tease at your bottom lip and he chuckled when you had to quickly grab his shoulders as your knees almost buckled.

“Get that,” he murmured against your lips, pressing his forehead to yours as the two of you gasped for air.

“Oh,” you breathed, “that.” You hummed happily when he kissed you again, his stubble scratching against your chin and under your palms when you cupped his face.

You both looked up when a stairwell door somewhere above you slammed open, followed by a group of jostling male voices. Sokka grinned when you glanced at him with wide eyes and shiny, swollen lips. You tried to hide behind him as the clamor bounded closer and closer. The group of guys rounded the next flight and gave shouts of recognition upon seeing you two standing against the wall.

“Sokka!”

“Hey, man!”

“Hey, guys,” Sokka said, holding his hand up in greeting.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, is that (Y/N)?”

“Nice, dude!”

“Ah, yeah...” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and you raised an eyebrow at his turned head. They all cheered and congratulated him, slapping his back as they passed and disappeared down the next set of stairs. When Sokka met your eyes again you cocked your head.

“Who were they?” you asked.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.”

“Sokka.”

“My reputation precedes me, what can I say?”

“Mine doesn’t.”

“Well—“ he suddenly became very interested in the underside of the stairs above you “—my reputation may or may not involve talking about you. A lot, apparently.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t do it on purpose!” he interjected quickly, taking your hands in his. “It’s just—I dunno, I guess I think about you a lot, so...”

“Oh.”

“Fuck, okay, that sounded weird.” You laughed a little at his embarrassed floundering. “I just mean, like, things that remind me of you or, y’know, stories that involve you...” he trailed off, flushing at your amused smile. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Making fun of me!”

“I didn’t say anything,” you giggled, hooking your arms around his neck.

“You’re still laughing at me,” he whined, lips turning into a frown. His hands slipped back down to your waist.

“You’re cute.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Without preamble, he ducked down and hoisted you over his shoulder as you shrieked in protest. “Sokka! Put me down!”

“No can do, baby; we have unfinished business to attend to.” He said as he marched you back in the direction of your room.

“You’re gonna finish my physics homework?”

“Nope.”

Oh.

A/N: 2k words bc, again, i have no self control. thank you for the request!

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @blazedbakugou @protect-remus @akiris @sunflowerazula @wooscottoncandyhair @chewymoustachio @ohno-caroline @sunflowerr-mami @1vitamin @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @u-4iia @nymeria-targaryen @tommy-braccoli @dizzy-miss-lizzieeeeee @a-sloppy-bitch @nomin-rights @siriuslyslyslytherin @starryncn

SOKKA TAGS: @fiantomartell @avatarayeaye @zvkta @sher-lockedmarvel @grandmascottlang @captainshazamerica @yuesallura

#sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #x sokka #sokka fluff #sokka imagine #sokka fic #atla sokka #atla x reader #sokka #mine #requests #atla fic #avatar the last airbender

[kingandfireheart]

The Lady of the Autumn Court: what the fuck is happening in Autumn (part 2)

As I said in my Eris Vanserra post, it seems that the Lady of the Autumn Court is a bigger piece to the Eris and Lucien puzzles.

We don't know what the fuck has been happening in the Forest House but we do the following:

The Lady of the Autumn Court is/was extremely powerful

Lucien (and to some extent Eris) are mama's boys (even though Lucien has been exiled for centuries)

The Lady met Helion before she was married to Beron

At least one of the seven brothers - Lucien - is Helion's child, but Helion saved the Lady after she had already had some kids (so Eris probably isn't his, even though they both have amber eyes)

The Lady chose to stay with Beron

Beron is aware of the affair between Helion and the Lady

Beron is physically abusive towards the Lady and had tortured Eris

Helion does not know Lucien is his heir, but Eris seems to know Lucien isn't Beron's son

Things that aren't mentioned below the cut, but are interesting:

Eris is the ringleader of the brothers, the commander of Beron's forces, and is Beron's most trusted son (the other three don't even have names)

In ACOWAR, Eris says has never denied Beron anything - except to save Lucien - but is angling for the throne and betraying him in ACOFAS and ACOSF (this reminds me of Lorcan betraying Maeve for her own good in TOG)

Beron wanted to kill Lucien for wanting to leave Autumn and marry Jesminda (this doesn't seem like a good reason if he isn't in line for the throne - or isn't part of their bloodline, but I guess Beron doesn't need a reason to be cruel)

Helion alludes to having trouble at home in ACOSF

The remaining unnamed brothers are all angling for the throne (this reminds me of the Khaganate in TOG and the Cruel Prince)

I got a little carried away with the color coding, but here's every major scene involving and discussing the Lady of the Autumn Court (and some breadcrumbs because I'm convinced SJM is purposeful in her writing)

Rhysand uses the Lady of the Autumn Court taunt Lucien in ACOTAR:

Rhysand’s venom-coated smile grew. “You draw blood from me, Lucien, and you’ll learn how quickly Amarantha’s whore can make the entire Autumn Court bleed. Especially its darling Lady.” The color leached from Lucien’s face, but he held his ground. It was Tamlin who answered. “Put your sword down, Lucien.” Rhysand ran an eye over me. “I knew you liked to stoop low with your lovers, Lucien, but I never thought you’d actually dabble with mortal trash.” My face burned. Lucien was trembling—with rage or fear or sorrow, I couldn’t tell. “The Lady of the Autumn Court will be grieved indeed when she hears of her youngest son. If I were you, I’d keep your new pet well away from your father.”

The Lady of the Autumn Court also helps Feyre with one of her tasks:

A door clicked open somewhere down the hall, and I shot to my feet. An auburn head peered at me. I sagged with relief. Lucien— Not Lucien. The face that turned toward me was female—and unmasked. She looked perhaps a bit older than Amarantha, but her porcelain skin was exquisitely colored, graced with the faintest blush of rose along her cheeks. Had the red hair not been indication enough, when her russet eyes met mine, I knew who she was. I bowed my head to the Lady of the Autumn Court, and she inclined her chin slightly. I supposed that was honor enough. “For giving her your name in place of my son’s life,” she said, her voice as sweet as sun-warmed apples. She must have been in the crowd that day. She pointed at the bucket with a long, slender hand. “My debt is paid.” She disappeared through the door she’d opened, and I could have sworn I smelled roasting chestnuts and crackling fires in her wake.

Rhys (while wearing the mask of hte High Lord) uses her to taunt Lucien again in ACOMAF:

“Little Lucien,” Rhys purred. “Didn’t the Lady of the Autumn Court ever tell you that when a woman says no, she means it?”

“Prick,” Lucien snarled, storming past his sentinels, but not daring to touch his weapons. “You filthy, whoring prick.”

Lucien explaining how he was treated since Beron may suspect he's Helion's heir and as we know from Tamlin: future high lords have physical markers:

His jaw tightened. “As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn’t particularly needed or wanted. Perhaps it was a good thing. I was able to study for longer than my father allowed my brothers before shoving them out the door to rule over some territory within our lands, and I could train for as long as I liked, since no one believed I’d be dumb enough to kill my way up the long list of heirs. And when I grew bored with studying and fighting … I learned what I could of the land from its people. Learned about the people, too.”

“I’d say that sounds more High-Lord-like than the life of an idle, unwanted son.”

A long, steely look. “Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?”

This may not relate to the Lady of the Autumn Court's relationship with Helion, but I'm gathering all the crumbs (why does Eris hesitate before calling his brothers brothers?)

“You hunted me down like an animal,” I cut in. “I think we’ll choose to believe the worst.”

Eris’s pale face flushed. “I was given an order. And sent to do it with two of my … brothers.”

Eris has no love for Beron (he literally asks Rhys to kill him), but he does seem to protect the Lady during the High Lord's Meeting:

“If you want proof that we are not scheming with Hybern,” Rhysand said blandly to them all, “consider the fact that it would be far less time-consuming to slice into your minds and make you do my bidding.”

Only Beron was stupid enough to scoff. Eris was just angling his body in his chair—blocking the path to his mother.

Helion and Lady of Autumn lock eyes:

The violence simmering off my friends was enough to boil the pool at our toes as the High Lord of Autumn filed through the archway, his sons in rank behind him, his wife—Lucien’s mother—at his side. Her russet eyes scanned the room, as if looking for that missing son.

They settled instead on Helion, who gave her a mocking incline of his dark head. She quickly averted her gaze.

The High Lords discuss the past war:

(also reminder: Eris has Amber Eyes like Helion)

Helion shrugged, the sun catching in the embroidered gold thread of his tunic. “Indeed, though it seems Tamlin is already ahead of me. The Spring Court must be evacuated.” His amber eyes darted between Tarquin and Beron. “Surely your northern neighbors will welcome them.”

Beron’s lip curled. “We do not have the resources for such a thing.”

“Right,” Viviane said, “because everyone’s too busy polishing every jewel in that trove of yours.”

Beron threw her a glare that had Kallias tensing. “Wives were invited as a courtesy, not as consultants.”

Viviane’s sapphire eyes flared as if struck by lightning. “If this war goes poorly, we’ll be bleeding out right alongside you, so I think we damn well get a say in things.”

“Hybern will do far worse things than kill you,” Beron counted coolly. “A young, pretty thing like you especially.”

Kallias’s snarl rippled the water in the reflection pool, echoed by Mor’s own growl.

Beron smiled a bit. “Only three of us were present for the last war.” A nod to Rhys and Helion, whose face darkened. “One does not easily forget what Hybern and the Loyalists did to captured females in their war-camps. What they reserved for High Fae females who either fought for the humans or had families who did.” He put a heavy hand on his wife’s too-thin arm. “Her two sisters bought her time to run when Hybern’s forces ambushed their lands. The two ladies did not walk out of that war-camp again.” Helion was watching Beron closely, his stare simmering with reproach.

The Lady of the Autumn Court kept her focus on the reflection pool. Any trace of color drained from her face. Dagdan and Brannagh flashed through my mind—along with the corpses of those humans. What they’d done to them before and after they’d died

After Nesta makes her speech:

She looked to Beron and his family as she finished. Only the Lady and Eris seemed to be considering—impressed, even, by the strange, simmering woman before them.

After Azriel attacks Eris:

Beron struck—only for his fire to bounce off a hard barrier of my own. I lifted my gaze to the High Lord of Autumn. “That’s twice now we’ve handed you your asses. I’d think you’d be sick of the humiliation.”

Helion laughed

---

Eris, wisely, averted his eyes. And said, “Apologies, Morrigan.”

His father actually gawked at the words. But something like approval shone on the Lady of Autumn’s face as her eldest son settled himself once more.

Thesan rubbed his temples. “This does not bode well.”

But Helion smirked at his retinue, crossing an ankle over a knee and flashing those powerful, sleek thighs. “Looks like you owe me ten gold marks.”

Feyre loses her shit:

Beron shielded barely fast enough to block me, but the wake singed Eris’s arm—right through the cloth. And the pale, lovely arm of Lucien’s mother.

---

The Lady of Autumn was clutching her arm, angry red splattered along the moon-white skin. No glimmer of pain on that face, though. I said to her as I reclaimed my seat, “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes lifted toward mine, round as saucers.

Beron spat, “Don’t talk to her, you human filth.”

Helion tells the story of the Affair:

Helion tapped a finger against the carved arm of his couch. “He played games in the War and it cost him—dearly. His people still remember those choices—those losses. His own damn wife remembers.”

Helion had looked at the Lady of Autumn repeatedly during the meeting. I asked, carefully and casually, “What do you mean?”

--

Helion’s jaw clenched. “The Lady of the Autumn Court was sent to stay with her sisters, her younger children packed off to other relatives. To spread out the bloodline.” He dragged a hand through his sable hair. “Hybern attacked their estate. Her sisters bought her time to run. Not because she was married to Beron, but because they loved each other. Fiercely. She tried to stay, but they convinced her to go. So she did—she ran and ran, but Hybern’s beasts were still faster. Stronger. They cornered her at a ravine, where she became trapped atop a ledge, the beasts snapping at her feet

--

Helion didn’t so much as shift in his chair. “She was still young—though she’d been married to that delightful male for nearly two decades. Married too young, the marriage arranged when she was twenty.”

---

But it was Mor who said coolly, “I heard a rumor once, Helion, that she waited before agreeing to that marriage. For a certain someone who had met her by chance at an equinox ball the year before.”

I tried not to blink, not to let any of my rising interest surface.

The fire banked to embers and Helion threw a half smile in Mor’s direction. “Interesting. I heard her family wanted internal ties to power, and that they didn’t give her a choice before they sold her to Beron.”

--

“How long did the affair last?” I asked. That withdrawn female … I couldn’t imagine it.

Helion snorted. “Is that a polite question for a High Lady to be asking?”

But the way he spoke, that smile … I only waited, using silence to push him instead.

Helion shrugged. “On and off for decades. Until Beron found out. They say the lady was all brightness and smiles before that. And after Beron was through with her … You saw what she is.”

“What did he do to her?”

“The same things he does now.” Helion waved a hand. “Belittle her, leave bruises where no one but him will see them.”

I clenched my teeth. “If you were her lover, why didn’t you stop it?” The wrong thing to say. Utterly wrong, by the dark fury that rippled across Helion’s face.

“Beron is a High Lord, and she is his wife, mother of his brood. She chose to stay. Chose. And with the protocols and rules, Lady, you will find that most situations like the one you were in do not end well for those who interfere.

I didn’t back down, didn’t apologize. “You barely even looked at her today.”

“We have more important matters at hand.”

“Beron never called you out for it?”

“To publicly do so would be to admit that his possession made a fool of him. So we continue our little dance, these centuries later.” I somehow doubted that beneath that roguish charm and irreverence, Helion felt it was a dance at all.

But if it had ended centuries ago, and she’d never seen him again, had let Beron treat her so abominably …

The Lucien Paternity Revelation:

While we spoke, I said down the bond, Helion is Lucien’s father. Rhys was silent. Then— Holy burning hell. His shock was a shooting star between us.

I let my gaze dart through the room, half paying attention to Helion’s musing on the wall and how to repair it, then dared study the High Lord for a heartbeat. Look at him. The nose is the same, the smile. The voice. Even Lucien’s skin is darker than his brothers’. A golden brown compared to their pale coloring.

It would explain why his father and brothers detest him so much—why they have tormented him his entire life.

My heart squeezed at that. And why Eris didn’t want him dead. He wasn’t a threat to Eris’s power—his throne. I swallowed. Helion has no idea, does he?

It would seem not.

The Lady of Autumn’s favorite son—not only from Lucien’s goodness. But because he was the child she’d dreamed of having … with the male she undoubtedly loved.

Beron must have discovered the affair when she was pregnant with Lucien.

He likely suspected, but there was no way to prove it—not if she was sharing his bed, too. Rhys’s disgust was a tang in my mouth. I have no doubt Beron debated killing her for the betrayal, and even afterward. When Lucien could be passable as his own of spring—just enough to make him doubt who had sired his last son.

I wrapped my head around it. Lucien not Beron’s son, but Helion’s. His power is flame, though. They’ve mused Beron’s title could go to him.

His mother’s family is strong—that was why Beron wanted a bride from their line. The gift could be hers.

You never suspected?

Not once. I’m mortified I didn’t even consider it.

What does this mean, though?

Nothing—ultimately nothing. Other than the fact that Lucien might be Helion’s sole heir

#LONG post #lady of autumn #lucien vanserra #autumn court #beron vanserra #eris vanserra #helion spell cleaver #acotar #lady of the autumn court #forest house #a court of wings and ruin #high lord's meeting #a court of silver flames #kp analysis #acotar series #mtp

[queenshelby]

The Last Semester – Part Five

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,888

Warning: Smut, Age Gap

The Age Gap Issue

It has been ten days since you started dating Cillian and things were great, at least mostly.

Over the past ten days, you spent every single night at Cillian’s apartment, enjoying his company. Neither of you even thought about tuning it down, maintaining distance from each other or taking things slow. It was simply too perfect and there was so much you had to talk about. Then there was the sex. The most incredible sex. You couldn’t get enough of each other.

At university, Cillian managed to keep things professional during the group sessions and largely avoided one on one contact with you during classes. Of course, you had questions for him but, unlike the other students, you simply asked them when you were alone with him, often over a glass of wine or over dinner. The arrangement worked well and, thus far, you haven’t arisen any suspicions.

The deadline was near and secrets didn’t have to be secrets anymore for very long. Cillian’s involvement in your unit was going to come to an end in two weeks and the final assessments for the semester were taking place in as little as four weeks. After that, you could be together without having to hide it.

But there was still one thing that you haven’t quite managed to juggle just yet and this was the difference in age between you and Cillian.

While it didn’t bother you at all, you occasionally noticed that Cillian struggled with it, questioning the feelings he was developing for you.

There was one conversation in particular triggering Cillian’s doubts and that was when you brought up your younger step brothers who were 14 and 12, the same age as Cillian’s sons.

Cillian was rather reserved when it came to conversations about his sons Hendrix and Charlie but, the more he got to know you, the more he told you about them.

You loved that he did share these details with you but, at the same time, it made him realise how you were at totally different stages of your lives and that this might pose problems for the future.

As such, whilst Cillian and his ex-wife Laura had a good relationship with each other after having divorced five years ago, bringing a much younger woman into a step family dynamic at some point was possibly a bad idea.

The other issue that he thought might possibly arise is that you would likely want children yourself at some point. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to start all over again.

In addition to these warranted concerns, there were little things as well that made Cillian feel self-conscious about the difference in age and you couldn’t help but tease him about them.

The Grey Hair

For example, the night before Cillian was due to fly to Dublin to see his sons, he became rather self-conscious about his hair turning grey. It had been turning grey for quite some years but, when you met several weeks ago, he had just finished filming his TV show Peaky Blinders. This meant that his hair was short and coloured dark.

Over the period of six weeks, it grew out slowly, featuring some grey streaks which, this time around, he noticed much more than he ever did.

In addition, Cillian was featuring a few grey hairs on his chest as well and it was that evening, when you arrived at his apartment that you caught him coming out of the shower, his intimate parts covered by a white towel and his chest hair…Gone!

‘Whoa’ you said as you walked inside, noticing immediately that he had shaved his chest.

‘What?’ Cillian went on to ask before giving you a kiss.

‘Why did you do this?’ you pouted, running your hands over his bare chest. ‘I loved running my hands through it’ you said somewhat disappointed as you really enjoyed playing with the small amount of hair on his chest when you cuddled up against him.

‘Well…some have turned grey’ Cillian said somewhat reluctantly and you couldn’t help but laugh.

‘As is expected at your age’ you giggled teasingly before realising what this was all about.

‘Yeah, that really makes me feel better’ Cillian laughed and you pressed your lips onto his for a passionate kiss.

‘I have no idea why you are so self-conscious about a few grey hairs Cilly’ you went on to say, slightly amused.

‘Because you are twenty years younger than me’ Cillian responded and you sighed.

‘Here we go again’ you chuckled before pushing him backwards to sit on the lounge while you stood in front of him.

‘Listen, there are a lot of women younger than me who are very attracted to you’ you said and Cillian recalled the Instagram posts you had showed him a few days ago, which made him shake his head.

‘Also, I really like your grey hair. It’s fucking sexy. You are fucking sexy’ you then went on to say.

‘I am just saying that you could be with someone your own age Y/N’ Cillian responded.

‘And why would I want that?’ you asked. ‘We connect perfectly and you are literally the first person I have ever met with whom I am never running out of conversation. You are intelligent, funny, kind and very handsome. In addition, the sex is fucking amazing. I don’t want anyone else and I want you to let this damn hair grow back’ you demanded all while you seductively unwrapped your dress and revealed your black lace lingerie.

‘Jesus Y/N’ Cillian barely managed to say as you stood there in front of him.

‘I bought it today. For you’ you winked before walking over towards him, kissing him passionately and then unwrapping the towel around him like you were opening a present.

As he sat there in front of you, completely naked, you pulled a pillow from the lounge and put it onto the floor before kneeling down on it, right there in between his legs.

Your mouth opened and you leaned forward just enough to catch the head of his cock between your lips.

‘Fuck, yes’ Cillian swore and you sighed, your eyes fluttered at the feeling of him, fighting to open your mouth wider to take more of him in. He was hot, and you tasted the sweet savory drop of precum that leaked onto your tongue.

Watching Cillian like this was enchanting. You sucked harder, feeling him pulse against your lips and tongue. His eyes widened and he moaned. Oh, you would do almost anything to hear him make that sound. It was an incredible turn on for you. Your tongue swirled around him, flicking the crown and massaging under the head.

‘Oh god Y/N’ Cillian murmured, and he reached for you. You felt his fingers clench in your hair so little prickles of pain burned your scalp. You met his eyes as he pulled your face into his crotch, and his cock hit the back of your throat. Your eyes watered but you kept your eyes on his expression, and watched him fall apart above you.

‘Shit’ Cillian eventually jerked away, wrenching himself out of your mouth. A long trail of spit connected you, and eventually broke, slapping against your chest. You caught your breath.

‘I want you so fucking much’ he growled, his voice strained. He caught you under your arms and helped you to your feet before picking you up and carrying you to his bed.

‘Cillian, please I need you inside of me’ you whimpered and Cillian shoved you against the bed, your back facing him, and you shivered as you felt his hands squeezing at your ass and hips. He stood directly behind you, and you could feel the hair on his legs tickling the backs of your thighs.

‘You almost made me lose it there’ Cillian said as he unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the ground before quickly pulling down your lace panties.

‘I could tell you enjoyed it’ you grinned as Cillian moved one of your legs with his hands, bending your knees one at a time so you were crouched on the bed. He paused behind you, and you closed your eyes, listening to his ragged breathing, trying to stay calm.

Cillian’s finger traced your slit gently, and you gasped and let out a shaky moan as he dipped into your wetness.

‘So wet for me already’ Cillian smirked and you simply nodded. You couldn't talk. You could barely breathe.

Within seconds, you felt the head of his cock press against you, and then he grabbed your hips, and shoved it inside.

You cried out as he invaded your body. A hot flash of something went through you, and your arms buckled under you as you fell face first into the mattress.

You could hear Cillian behind you, grunting and swearing, holding your hips tightly, his nails biting into your skin. He pulled you back against him roughly, and another hot flash of pleasure shot through your body. You felt like you were going to explode any minute.

‘Y/N’ he growled, and shifted behind you, and then you felt his arm snake around your waist and up to your face. He pulled you up and held your chin firmly with his hand. You could feel his chest pressed against your back, like he was holding you tight against him in a hug as he continued to thrust into you.

‘Oh god Cillian yes’ you moaned as he was dropping his head and caught your neck with his teeth. He bit you gently, and then sucked hard at the bite, thrusting deeper and deeper into you in a way that you still couldn't understand.

‘Open your eyes’ he growled into your ear and your eyes flew open. Across from you was the mirror of the nightstand. Your eyes widened and you gasped as you took in the sight of Cillian buried inside your body, holding you close.

‘Cillian’ you moaned again as your whole body caught fire, and burned, and burned. You saw fireworks behind your eyes and your brain went all staticy.

It could have lasted an hour, or been just a moment in time, but the next thing you knew was that your legs began to shake violently and your walls began to clench around Cillian’s hard cock.

‘Oh god yes fuck’ you moaned as your orgasm washed over you and your juices squirted onto the wooden floor.

At the same time, Cillian reached his high as well, thrusting into you with several loud groans as he filled you with rope after rope of his warm cum.

‘Jesus that was amazing’ Cillian huffed just before he pulled out of you gently and you both collapsed on the bed together.

‘So, tell me again Cilly, why would I want to be with a younger guy?’ you giggled.

  Tag List (Cillian):

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang @0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney @missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo​ @vhscillian​ @ysmmsy​ @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  ​

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby

#Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

monster ii, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: Once again, mafia boss Min Yoongi and his bodyguard Jeon Jungkook have some fun with you. Nah, you didn’t do anything this time. They’re just horny. 

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; intense smut (fem reader, m/m masturbation, a cock ring is involved, threesome (kinda?), unprotected sex [get tested please], creampie); abuse; non-idol!AU - mafiaaboss!AgustD!Yoongi (black-haired Daechwita AU), longhaired!tattooed!Jungkook; mercenary!reader; Jungkook has a praise kink; you have a pain kink

I wasn’t actually going to post this, but it seemed like a lot of people enjoyed monster so this is my gift to you. :)

--

The first reason you woke up was sound. 

The second reason was pain. 

You didn't open your eyes yet, focused on the pins and needles of your legs from being in one position too long. Holy shit. Whatever tranquilizer they gave you fucked you up, hard. Your head throbbed, hazy and disoriented. You weren't even sure you were awake yet. There was a firmness against your ass. A chair. The wood dug into your back and shoulder blades. You were sitting and your arms were sore. You tried to move them but realized they were tied to the back of the chair with rope. Not the normal, lazy kind of tie, no. Intricate knots, beautiful handiwork. Shibari. 

Park Jimin's work.

You were wearing a ridiculous black lace lingerie set and matching stockings, the kind that was completely see-through with select... openings in certain key places. What was even the point of these things? Surprisingly, the openings at the nipples and crotch weren't freezing you to death. There was a warmth around you and you cracked your eyes open to see a black velvet robe draped around the chair and your body, the lace accents matching the set.

Very pretty, if you gave a shit.

You could hear the sound of skin on skin. Even though the light in the room was low, it hurt to open your eyes. This is why you hated tranquilizers. You ended up squinting. 

Again, you heard the familiar whimper.

Your neck was killing you. Part of you wanted to continue playing dead. The other part of you remembered the last words Kim Taehyung told you as he pinned you down for the injection.

“Hyung doesn’t treat his other women like he treats you.”

The anger that flared within made you raise your head. 

A hotel room. It didn't matter which hotel or where. The only thing that mattered was that Min Yoongi was standing at the foot of the bed. He was wearing a loose white t-shirt that revealed his pale chest and silver chains. Black hair pushed back from his forehead, the red scar on his right eye out in the open. Black jeans and black underwear at his knees, because he was stroking his dick.

His pale hand moved up and down, slowly, as if he was relishing in the pleasure. The muscles of his arm flexed as he moved, his index finger leisurely spreading his pre-cum over the angry red head. Yoongi wasn't making a sound. 

The one making noise was Jungkook.

He was on his knees in front of Yoongi, completely naked, feverishly stroking himself with his right hand as his eyes transfixed to Yoongi's hand getting himself off. The tattoos on his right arm seemed to dance with his movement. His other hand was on his thigh, nails digging into his skin as he whined.

"Hyung, let me suck you off," Jungkook pleaded, tearing his eyes away to look up at Yoongi and his teasing smirk.

"Take your hand off. Let hyung see what a good boy you are."

Jungkook whined again, removing his hand from his dark red, throbbing cock. Ah.

The fucking sadist had made Jungkook wear a cock ring. Poor thing couldn't even cum.

Yoongi seemed to sense your burning hatred because his eyes flickered towards you. You cracked your neck in attempt to relieve some of the kinks, not taking your eyes off him. His smirk grew wider. The entire time, your hands were searching for a way to get out of your restraints but Jimin was a fucking pro. How annoying. 

"Look, Jungkook, your favorite cockslut is awake."

Jungkook turned his head to look at you. You weren't sure how long Yoongi had been teasing him, but it must have been a while. His long black hair was sweaty and sticking to his forehead, pupils blown wide with lust, pink tongue licking his lips as he panted. His jaw was tight, sharp with tension. He looked thoroughly fucked out and you could guess Yoongi hadn't even let him orgasm yet. 

You didn't say anything, not because you didn't have anything prepared, but because you knew Yoongi was doing this on purpose. He was trying to get a reaction out of you. Yoongi barked Jungkook's name and the younger man faced him abruptly.

"You've been a good boy," Yoongi purred, low and deep. Jungkook bit his lip, looking up at him expectantly.

"Open your pretty mouth for me."

A strange feeling coursed through you. It was like your veins were on fire. You realized your mouth was open and you shut it immediately, breathing hard. You watched Jungkook open his mouth, tongue lolling out, hungry and desperate. Begging his hyung as Yoongi stepped up, stroking himself faster. You saw his jaw tighten with effort as Yoongi shut his eyes, softly moaning. Why were you so angry watching this? Every muscle in your body wanted to ram into Jungkook to push him out of the way. After a moment, Yoongi snapped his eyes open and stared directly at you. Directly at your hunched form, body half-shrouded in shadow from the robe, eyes fixed on his dick, breathless.

Yoongi came with a hiss, all over Jungkook's tongue, shooting thick white liquid down his throat, splattering on his chin and cheek. Jungkook groaned, swallowing greedily before opening his mouth again to receive Yoongi's last residual pumps of dripping cum. Yoongi was breathing hard, exhaling as he came down from his high. After a moment, Yoongi removed his hand and held it out. Jungkook licked it clean, palming himself despite knowing he couldn't get off. 

You blinked slowly, finding your entire body tense. Your eyes drifted over Yoongi's form, his long legs, his defined waist, his large hands, his broad shoulders. You finally stopped at his face to see him smirking at you. You narrowed your eyes at him. 

Yoongi chuckled and tucked himself away with one hand, pulling up his pants. The other was wet with Jungkook's saliva. He tilted his head as he walked towards you. You wanted to kick him in the nuts, but you must have been on some fucking horse tranquilizer or some shit. Your legs felt like lead.

Yoongi didn't say anything. He just slapped you across the face with his wet hand. Your head jerked to one side from the force, skin stinging sharply from his open palm. He wasn't wearing his rings because he had been masturbating, otherwise it would have been much worse. 

Silence. 

Centimeter by slow centimeter, you turned your head back to face him. Your face stung with pain but it was nothing compared to the daggers you were glaring at him with. 

Yoongi grinned. “I love it when you’re angry.”

You bared your teeth and snarled.

His hand shot out and clamped around your throat, pushing your head back and forcing your spine to arch painfully. The velvet robe fell onto the floor, leaving you exposed to the cool air as Yoongi’s hand tightened around your throat, jamming your shoulder blades into the chair. You tried to fight him but he slapped you again, harder, making your see stars.

“Fuck you,” you choked out, strength draining with each passing second.

“Not tonight,” Yoongi said calmly, slapping your tits repeatedly. You flinched at the contact, trying to twist away. Jungkook was losing his mind. You couldn’t see him very well, but he was moaning, probably jacking off to Yoongi smacking you around. Bastard.

Yoongi pinched one of your nipples, hard, and you bucked, black spots dancing in your vision. He released you and kicked the chair. Your whole body toppled and you hit the ground hard on your knees, thankfully having enough strength to twist and skid across the carpet with your shoulder. Your shoulder burned painfully and all three points hurt from impact.

You were breathing hard, neck on fire, your entire body rattling as it struggled to breathe. Your eyes flickered upward as Yoongi looked down at you with a bored expression. Something must have pissed him off because Yoongi wasn’t usually the one who beat you. Usually it was Jungkook, Jimin, or literally anyone else. He also usually let you fight back because he enjoyed watching you fight. You cackled, tasting iron in your mouth.

“This is how you treat the other women, huh?” you taunted.

You saw him pause. His black hair was shrouding his dark eyes so you couldn’t read his expression. Your knees were fucking killing you. You exhaled sharply and leaned your face against the carpet. After a moment, Yoongi reached into his pocket and pulled out his switchblade. He moved around your body and cut the top of the rope, freeing you from the chair. You tried to pull your arms apart but, of course, they were still tied.

Fuck.

Yoongi yanked the chair out from under you, smacking you right in the shoulder blades. You hissed, twisting your body to get on your knees. Yoongi just calmly grabbed your arms by the rope and dragged you along the ground, throwing you onto the bed. It was unceremonious. He continued to shove you around until you were on your face, kneeling, ass up in the air. You tried to lift your upper body but he pushed you down roughly. You suddenly felt his lips next to your ear.

“Jealous?”

You froze.

What?

Before you could even fathom what he meant by that, you could hear Jungkook climbing onto the bed, and the next moment you were almost screaming into the bed as Jungkook plunged his thick, rock-hard cock right into you. A loud, wet squelch paired with Jungkook’s wail of satisfaction. Fuck. You were wet from Yoongi hitting you. You hadn’t even realized it. Jungkook’s rough hands grabbed your ass and began to thrust into your roughly, already hitting you so deep that you gasped in pain.

“Jungkookie,” Yoongi purred patiently, still holding you down with a hand on your upper back. “You forgot to take the cock ring off.”

Jungkook whimpered, slowing down a bit as he sank fully into you.

“But hyung…”

You could hardly register what the fuck was going on. You could barely breathe being face-first into the sheets, Jungkook was setting your hips on fire with how tight he was gripping you and you were sure the head of his cock was smacking your cervix with every thrust. His cock throbbed against your walls. Tears stung your eyes.

“Hyung, I thought you liked seeing me with it on…” Jungkook was saying. You could imagine the unsure look on his face, the hesitant lip bite. “I’ll do anything you want, hyung. I want to make you happy.”

This guy was fucking whipped for Yoongi. You couldn’t even begin to think what that was like.

You felt Yoongi shift his weight and lean forward, pressing your further into the sheets. You didn’t even bother making noise. They were in their own world. Maybe if you passed out you wouldn’t have to remember any of this.

“Take it out for me. Let hyung see your pretty cock.”

A soft, choked sob came out of you as Jungkook pulled out, cock glistening with your juices. You prayed Yoongi didn’t hear, but his nails digging into your back told you otherwise.

“Come.”

Jungkook groaned as Yoongi freed him. There was a thunk as the cock ring hit the wood of the chair before falling to the floor.

“Show me how much you can give her,” Yoongi murmured, leaning back. “Let hyung see how full you make your cockslut.”

Jungkook rammed himself into you once again. You winced, your entire body shuddering as he began to thrust into you mercilessly, strong hands holding you in place as he fucked you. You felt cool metal against your skin as Yoongi sliced your ropes free. Before even computing you could use your arms again, you were gasping in pain was pins and needles ravaged your arms, sputtering as Yoongi grabbed you by the hair to lift your head up. It took all of your power to claw for something, anything, to give you some hold. You found yourself clutching his shirt, gasping as you looked straight into those dark eyes, that familiar red scar. Your body was jerking forward from the force of Jungkook’s thrusts but you could only helplessly stare at Yoongi as he smirked at you, flashing his white teeth.

“This is the way I treat you,” he breathed.

You clenched your jaw, your hands clenching into fists on his shirt. “I hate you,” you grinded out.

Jungkook moaned so loudly that it was almost a scream. Your eyes widened as suddenly a torrent of cum was shot inside you and you pitched forward, scabbing at Yoongi’s shirt and holding onto him. Oh, fuck. So much. So fucking much that you couldn’t even think straight. It felt like your pussy was being stretched out and at the same time you could feel it oozing out of you, splattering onto the sheets. Oh, fuck, you could even smell it. Your hips felt numb as Jungkook began to rolling his hips into you again, groaning at the slick sensitivity. Your thighs were shaking, covered in Jungkook’s cum mixing with your juices.

Yoongi chuckled.

You looked up, face to face with him. Eyes wide, panting, clutching onto his shoulder and shirt for dear life as he grinned at you. Your pussy felt like it was going to explode with the amount Jungkook shot into you. In fact, it was actively dripping and making a puddle underneath you two. Something touched your face. You froze, feeling Yoongi’s hand against your cheek, thumb running over your lips. He sighed, dark eyes finding yours, pupils blown wide with lust.

“Want to fuck your mouth so fucking bad. Want to feel my cock being squeezed by your throat.”

Something inside you snapped. You heard a moan, a long, wanton, pleading moan – oh, fuck, that was you. Pleasure racked through every fiber of your being as your walls clamped around Jungkook, forcing another orgasm out of him as you came, Yoongi’s name leaving your lips like a fucking prayer. His eyes widened at your reaction, lips in a soft ‘o’ as you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to you, teeth sinking into his neck as you screamed in pleasure.

His skin, his taste – it filled your mouth and seared its memory into you. Was there ever anything that tasted so good? So erotic? You could feel the wave coming again and moaned against Yoongi’s neck as you came again, licking your bite, pressing your lips against his skin. Your hands snaked around him, splayed against his back and digging your nails into him as Jungkook pulled out, gasping, splattering cum on your back and ass. Who was mumbling Yoongi’s name like that, so soft and sweet as if you were lovers?

You.

And then the pain came crashing down and you couldn’t think anymore.

-

click here for part iii

--

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #min yoongi x you #min yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #jeon jungkook smut