#on top of my only fucking remaining fa

[angelstrawbabie420]

i am so completely entirely wholly overcome with grief right now i dont even know what the fuck to do

[daydreamgoddess14]

Red Card

MASTERLIST

Roy Kent x F!Reader

It's the first time in 135 years that the Premier League has allowed a female referee to official a match... Remaining neutral is absolutely key. Plenty of fluff and smut and flirting 😏

The anticipation was at a whole different level. For the first time in history, a woman would referee a Premier League football game. The FA had played a blinder from a marketing perspective - a local girl from Richmond itself - refereeing a Richmond vs. Man City match - the top two finishing teams of the previous season. Sky Sports, BT Sport, Match of the Day, ESPN… every single football broadcaster or news outlet was on site. It couldn’t get any more high profile. It had been all anyone had talked about for weeks on end. Roy was sick of hearing about it, talking about it, and reading about it.

“New Trent?”

“What do you think about a woma-”

“Reffing the next match? It’s about fucking time. Should have been done years ago. The league might be saying all the right things and making a big deal out of it, but it’s only disguising the fact that they haven’t bothered utilising female referees until now.”

“And what do you think of the referee chosen for the match?”

“Did I offer you a fucking follow up, New Trent? She’s a fantastic ref, and has a great eye. I’ve seen her run some lower league matches and it’s high time she had a role in the Prem.” He looked around for his next victim, “You with the… bald spot?”

“And will you be saying the same thing if she books one of the lads next week or a decision doesn’t go your way?”

“Course I fucking will. I don’t suddenly change my opinion of any of the other refs? We’ve all got jobs to do and roles to play. I don’t think we can ask for anything more than for any of the referees to be fair and equal. I don’t give a shit who we’re on about, that applies to all of them.” He looks around for any other burning questions, “Right, fuck off then you lot. I’m done for the day.” He rose from the desk and left the bustle of the press conference. In the office, Beard and Nate were looking over plans for the next week while the team milled around the gym and treatment rooms.

“Tough presser?” Beard asked.

“No more than fucking usual. All anyone is talking about is the new-”

“Female ref? The news is everywhere. As if the match wasn’t high profile enough as it is.” Nate filled in, a bundle of nervous energy.

“Yeah, well we’ll be fine. Just gotta make sure the boys keep their heads down. The new ref isn’t their problem, they don’t need to even be thinking about that.”

“But they will, because that’s all they’re hearing about. We haven’t had this much press coverage for ages, the match sold out months ago. They may not have to think about her, but the whole situation does impact their whole build up to the game.” Beard declared.

“Right, get ‘em in here.” Roy grimaced. Nate dashed off to assemble the team. “Alright lads?” There were a few murmurs and replies. “I know there’s a lot of noise around this one - some of it is to do with us and the City game, some of it is none of our business. I suggest you steer clear of the news for a few fucking days. There’s no need to watch it at all. No Twatter or whatever you fucking use. Just stay off that shit for the rest of the week, yeah? Any news you need, you hear from us. I want to keep the positivity we’ve got for the new ref, so if you’re asked about it by the paps on the car park, be fucking nice. Otherwise, you don’t watch or listen to all of the fucking fuss about the weekend, alright?”

“Coach.” Isaac nodded in agreement, the other players followed his lead.

~~~~~~~

The noise was deafening, the stadium packed to the rafters. You hovered at the side of the pitch with the other officials, warming up until it was time for the meet and greet of the team managers. The two managers were like fucking titans of football royalty. You were about to meet Pep Guardiola for god sake. And if you even think for one second about meeting Roy Kent, you might just pee your pants. Pep is great, wonderful - the boss! But you grew up not twenty minutes down the road, so Roy is firstly, the literal definition of local hero, and secondly, the big crush of your early 20s. You spent many Euro Championships and World Cups in the pub singing his chant and ogling his legs. Fortunately when the Premier League and media ask about your neutrality, they don’t ask whether you’ve experienced sexual fantasies about any of the players or managers. At least you’d only be admitting that about one person and not, like, a whole team. And you would never admit it publicly. The home crowd roars as the Richmond team is announced, you make your way to the space between the two dugouts ready to greet the players. They all shake your hand as they pass you, with a few nods of encouragement and words of support. The same applies to the Man City team, you’re determined not to be starstruck in front of Pep Guardiola so you shake his hand with a big smile and wish his team luck. You turn to Roy Kent and his large hang engulfs yours. You whack on your big smile and offer the same affirmation as you did to Pep. On the pitch, you speak momentarily with the two captains and blow your whistle for go time. 

The trouble with Premier League football is just that, it's Premier League. Top flight. The best of the best. Keeping pace with these players was a job in itself, being in the action without impacting it or getting in the way was another, and being the all seeing, all knowing one was… yet another. Your mind (and body) are pulled from goalpost to goalpost, and it's really no surprise that the referee is often blamed for poor decisions. It's impossible to see every single thing that happens on the pitch. You're making good decisions so far, nothing out of the ordinary. Shortly before halftime, one of the Richmond defenders nearly dislocates his shoulder, going in hard on Haaland. It feels cruel to punish him, but it's part of the job, so you have to award Man City the free kick. From the other side of the pitch, you can hear Roy Kent over the sound of 60,000 people screaming the same thing. Haaland scores, of course. You hang back while the teams leave the pitch at halftime, but he's waiting for you in the tunnel. 

"The fuck did you give a free kick for?!"

"You shouldn't be collaring me out here, but to answer your question, the tackle was too much."

"Bullshit, it was a fair tackle and McAdoo would have hurt himself more than Haaland."

"Bullshit. Haaland has got about 5 inches and half a stone on McAdoo."

"5 inches is fucking nothing." He smirks.

"Really?” You arch an eyebrow at him, “did you seriously choose today to make a dick joke?" Utter disbelief is written all over your face, you shake your head and leave him cursing himself in the tunnel. Halftime was supposed to be a moment to catch your breath, not waste it on fighting with Roy Kent. You knew better than to get into it with managers. They saw the action from the sidelines and only had so much impact and influence. They took their lack of control out on officials all the time, it was supposed to be your job to stay calm and walk away, not engage. You ignore him on your way back to the pitch, he's just inside the exit of the tunnel and he could be there to apologise but he could very much be there to shout at you some more. The second half is just as eventful, Richmond are pushing hard for at least an equaliser, and Man City are loath to let them get it. When Obisanya has a shot on goal, which goes wide, City are pleading for a goal kick, but it's not. You award the corner, and Rojas sweeps a beautiful pass into Tartt, who sends the ball straight into the corner of the net. City scores again shortly afterwards, and you have to keep your head to make sure no one is deliberately trying to cause injury to anyone else. When Tartt goes down just outside the area, you request VAR footage to aid your decision before calling for a free kick. He scores, but it's an immediate offside and Roy Kent looks like he might explode. When play resumes, Colin Hughes gets a goal straight away. The game ends in a 2-2 draw, but the fans and teams both seem appeased. 

~~~~~

By the time the press conferences are over, Roy's had more than enough. He (respectfully) disagreed with your first free kick decision, but praised your other choices and overall declared you "No better or worse than the other pricks." The stadium is starting to clear, and the Man City bus has just left. Richmond players make plans to get food at Ola’s. When Roy sees two of the officials only just leaving, he sends the others ahead and makes his way down to the away team and visitors facilities.

“I hope you’re here to apologise.” She states dryly as he approaches.

“Yeah,” he looks bashful, “the dick joke was a dick move. Sorry.” She looks so serious, he’s not sure the apology is accepted until he spies a tiny smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“Was pretty funny. In alternative circumstances.”

“Noted. Congratulations anyway, noise from the press has all been good so far.”

“Nice to know my performance will be scrutinised forever while every mediocre male referee gets a pass for another week.”

“I’m sure your performance will only improve.” He inwardly groaned. She was going to laugh in his face. A dick joke and then godawful flirting? It was only what he deserved.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’ll pass that direct quote on to The Sun.” 

“They’ll have a fucking field day. Richmond manager does shit job at flirting with the only female ref in the league? They’ll probably go and interview the poor woman I called my girlfriend when we were in year 6.”

“Flirting?” 

“No,” he scoffed, “no, course not. I didn’t mean that. Just a joke.” You cocked your head at him,

“Should we start again? Hi, you must be Roy Kent, I’m the first female referee in a Premier League game in 31 years. Well, actually it’s more like 135 years but the FA are trying to make themselves look marginally better.”

“Nice to meet you. Great job on the match, I respectfully, completely, disagree with that fucking free kick in the first half but other than that… no complaints.” He steps closer, you’re showered and changed but he can still smell the fresh grass mingling with the citrus and spice of the products you use. The combination is incredible - like summer and sunshine.

“I wouldn’t give a shit if you did have any complaints. Looking after your feelings isn’t in my job description.” You take in his height, broad shoulders and dark eyes and the long dormant crush rises to the surface immediately. You hadn’t taken much notice since you stopped having posters on your walls all those years ago, you’d only caught a few of his appearances as a pundit. He’s gorgeous, despite his surly appearance there’s an unmistakable twinkle of mischief in his eyes. Like he’s having fun with whatever this tension is that bubbles between you. And when he does smile at your commitment to fairness, it takes your breath away.

“Good to know the FA can rely on you staying neutral then.” He says quietly. Anticipation crackles in the air and fizzes in your stomach. You match his playfulness in your response, and step into his personal space,

“I don’t think there’s anything here that could sway me to any team in particular.” You smile, “not yet, anyway.” He waits until you’ve definitely left the room before he lets go of the breath he’s been holding. 

~~~~~

You’re dragged out by your friends to celebrate that night, even though your legs ache like you’ve done a 10km run. It wasn’t so much the running, you specifically trained for that, it’s the constant change in direction and the intensity of having your attention focused on so many things at once. If the FA thought they could throw you under a bus by giving you such a high profile game, you’re pleased you proved them wrong. The bar is crowded and noisy and you’ve already spotted a couple of the Richmond players - it was bound to happen in a relatively small town if they couldn’t be bothered to go right into the city. You’re at the bar ordering when you feel a hand on your hip and someone standing very closely behind you, a hand raises above you holding a credit card, and gestures to the barman. You’re about to lose your shit when you hear his voice rumble behind you,

“I’ve got these, mate.” He steps to your side when the person next to you moves, but his hand lingers, “I hope buying you a drink doesn’t make you question your bias?”

“Not at all, I’m afraid you’d have to work much harder than that.” He looks even better than he did a few hours ago, desire coils inside you and you instinctively draw your thighs together. It doesn’t help when he noticeably looks at your mouth, red lipstick is your ‘go to’ for a night out.

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Your drink is put on the bar next to you and you lick your lips before taking a sip. Neither of you has broken eye contact. You hear your name from a few feet away at the edge of the dance floor.

“Excuse me,” you raise your glass to him, “thank you for the drink.” 

“Bruv, is that the ref from today?” Isaac steps up beside him.

“Yeah, yeah that’s her.”

“She’s fit. You gonna ask her out?”

“Dunno Isaac, bit fucking old for that shit now.”

“Nah man, I just seen the way she looked at you-” he shakes Roy’s shoulder, “ooooh! Get it boy!” Roy rolls his eyes and smirks, watching you get dragged to the dance floor. He knows he must be old because he’s only been standing pitchside for the match and wouldn’t be caught dancing. You’ve run your legs off and then still managed to get them into that sequined mini skirt and up dancing. You can feel his eyes on you but you’d rather keep your back to him and try and carry on as casually as you can, if you turn around you know you won’t be able to stop staring. At least with your back to him, you can ignore him. Plus you know your arse looks great in this skirt, it was literally the sole reason for buying it in the first place. With all the running and training you do, you’re conscious of your strong thighs and hips but sometimes, just sometimes, they make you feel powerful. Eventually, you have to duck out of the dancing - mimicking a timeout to your friends. Roy is exactly where you left him at the bar and the alcohol makes you bold. You squeeze back in next to him and take a sip of his drink, yours is long finished. 

“Help yourself.” He smirks, his hand moving to your hip again, hidden by the darkness of the bar. You put a hand on his thigh and lean in slightly, taking some of the pressure off your feet. You’re close enough that he can see your breath hitch as his thumb finds a patch of exposed skin at the waistband of your skirt. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” You ask quickly, pushing your nerves down. He nods and finishes most of his drink, offering the last of it to you. Outside, word has gotten out that half a football team is at the bar and everyone is out for a glimpse of Jamie Tartt. You push past the photographers with Roy’s hand at the small of your back and into a nearby taxi.

~~~~~

“Please tell me there aren’t any fucking rules about this,” Roy mumbles somewhere in the valley between your breasts.

“I have no fucking clue, and I don’t really care right now.” You gasp, breathless as he leaves a mark on your soft skin.

“No? No danger of a red card?” You laugh and it’s musical and magical and neither of you have had this much fun in ages.

“No red cards for Roy Kent. Probably makes a fucking change.”

“Oi, cheeky. I never got that many.” He’s moved down again, unzipped your skirt and thrown it behind him somewhere.

“Fucking liar. They literally use you as an example of trouble players. Oh, fuck-” he bites your thigh.

“A good example or bad example?” His tongue sweeps over your clit and you nearly rocket off the bed until he hooks his arms over your thighs and pulls you back down to him.

“Oh god, bad example,” You feel him hum against you as he works you to your peak,

“Shame, I’m a changed man.” 

“Uhuh, ok,” you whisper, unable to think or speak any more coherently.

“How's your neutrality holding up?” Your hands tangle in his hair,

“Fuckkk, sooo good.”

“I’ll have to fucking try harder then,” he chuckles. You’re about to beg for mercy when he pushes two fingers into you and curls them to just the right angle that has you seeing stars. When he comes back up to kiss you, you rock your hips against his and he helps roll you both over, sitting up so he can still kiss you. His kisses are rough and needy, making you grind down against him. When you nip his neck, he pulls gently at your loose hair, whimpering and god, you’d do anything, anything to have him make that sound again. It only makes you rock harder against him, desperate to feel him inside you. When he finally pushes into you, your body clenches. You rise and fall onto him over and over, grateful for those powerful thighs he can’t keep his hands off. When he brings a hand between you both and circles your clit, you drop your head into the crook of his neck and bite down to stifle your moan. You feel his hips stutter under you as you both come, making you drop your own rhythm. You collapse in a tangle of limbs and sheets against him. 

“If you ask me again if you’ve swayed me yet, I’ll bite you.”

“You’ve already fucking done that,” he laughs. “Still need to try harder?” 

“Hmm, there’s no harm in trying again. You might win me over.”

“And over and over?” He kisses you again, so slowly it’s intoxicating. 

When you wake in the morning, it’s to the sound of his phone ringing. He tears himself away from where he’s curled behind you, the length of his legs against yours, his chest against your back and his arms around you.

“Yeah,” his voice is low and rough with sleep and it’s enough to have you roll over and press your body back into his. You can’t hear the other person, but he hangs up quickly and opens a link they’ve sent. It’s a picture on Twitter of the two of you leaving the bar together with his hand on your lower back with the headline “RED CARD FOR KENT?”

“Told you you were fucking trouble.” You laugh.

FIN

[spitefulwriters]

JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera (1k) How do you turn a haunted house into a home?

“Hang on, just gotta finish laying out all this plastic that you brought over. Nice to see money hasn’t changed you.” 

JJ barely has time to duck before the still wrapped paintbrush goes flying over his head.

Glowering in the doorway, Kiara holds an unopened can of paint in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. She’s doing that thing where she’s pretending to be angry but is a little too high to keep up ruse. He gives it five - ten seconds, tops - before she gives up. 

“Don’t worry, already signed us up for tomorrow’s beach clean up. We’re leaving at dawn. Knew you’d want to clear your guilty conscience as soon as possible,” she says, a challenging stare lighting up her eyes.

The most obnoxious part? He can’t even be mad at her, ‘cause she’s standin’ there in overalls, bandanna wrapped over her braided hair, in the middle of his living room.

Kiara fucking Carrera, in his house. The same one he never let anyone inside. The same one he had to enter through a window when they returned to the mainland. The same one that used to hold nothing but empty beer cans and pill bottles and the screams of a thousand past screaming fits.

That house.

“Only way I’m showing up to the beach that early is if I got my board with me.” 

She smirks, kneeling down to open the can of paint, fingers covering the suspiciously scrawled White Dove label. “They’re already tied to the surf rack.”

One of these days, he’s gonna stop walking right into her traps. Maybe.

He grabs the painting off the wall, doing his best to keep his calloused fingers away from the delicate canvas. It’s the only halfway decent thing left here. JJ thinks his mom picked it out, has a hazy memory of her crying - with happiness, for once - when they stumbled across it at the thrift store. Luke was sober enough to hammer a nail into the wall, steady enough to hang the painting level over the mantle.

It hasn’t come down since. Not when her favorite dishes were smashed and thrown on the porch. Not when her remaining clothes had been tossed into the yard since she ain’t ever comin’ back for ‘em anyways. 

JJ stumbles, unprepared for the weight of the frame, and takes a shaky step backwards. And then Kiara is by his side, calm and warm and smelling so strongly of coconuts that it makes him think of the island. The thought steadies him, even more than her light grip on his elbow.

His next step is more confident and he manages to turn, painting now securely in his grip. Her hand falls away silently and she retreats, the way she does when she’s trying not to make a big deal out of something. Like she’s trying to defuse a bomb before the spark is even lit. And maybe in the past that would piss him off enough to call her out on it, want to prove that he’s not that fucking fragile, but they just threw out the last of Luke’s shit. He won’t fling anger and pride and resentment back on the walls, not when they’d taken so long to scrub clean.

Instead, he sets the frame down in the kitchen, safely hidden, and returns to find Kiara struggling with the lid. She’s pulled back the curtains in the room, a haze of sunlight filtering in. JJ’s a little surprised to find the place capable of holding so much light, so much space. Maybe there’s no such thing as a lost cause after all. 

Messing with the screwdriver, her brow furrows in frustration as she mutters out a string of curses, JJ only catching every third word. After her second sadistic piece of shit, he snorts out a laugh and joins her on the floor. 

“Alright. Hand it over. This is a man’s job.”

Fury covers her features as she thrusts the tip of the screwdriver at him in what’s probably supposed to be a very threatening manner. Thing is, he knows when Kiara’s about to detonate too. Sometimes, he likes to light that fuse himself.

Sue him.

“JJ, I swear to god, I will walk right back out that -”

He cuts her off with a kiss, the screwdriver jabbing him in the chest before it falls between them, her hand snaking up to his neck. 

Kiara pulls back first, the fire in her eyes changing hues. Slightly out of breath, she whispers, “I hate you.”

“Hate you too,” he replies, throwing on the smile he knows drives her just a little crazy. And it’s not that JJ can’t say I love you. 

He has. He does. He will.

But they’ve figured out there are so many other ways to say those words, ways to show those words too.

JJ investing in his childhood home, working to repair something he could have easily torn down or run away from. Kiara showing up to help without being asked, despite all the shit he’d hurled her way the last time she was here.

Yeah, there are a lot of different ways to show it.

He shows it now by picking up the abandoned screwdriver, leveraging it just right, and flinging the newly opened lid at Kiara’s overalls. She grabs a paintbrush from her back pocket in retaliation, dunking it in the can, and flinging paint right at his face.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” he cries, diving across and tackling her to the ground. Her laughter rings through the living room, nestling into the walls, swirling with the light and dust in the air. 

The house finally starts to feel like home.

-Lydia (SW4)

[roo-bastmoon]

Thinking of physical confrontation is a bit of an overreaction?Taekookers are acting up because they are now getting taekook content.It is higly unlikely anyone from that group will hurt JK or Jimin.Specially when JK is half of their preferred ship.Also on twitter more Tae fans fight on behalf of Jimin against Taekookers than Jimin fans do for Tae against Jikookers.No one is physically attacking anyone.

This type of inflammatory remarks and overreaction should be reserved in thoughts only.

Excuse me, Nonie, but no, absolutely NOT. Now is exactly the time to raise the alarm.

I'm not sure which parts of Twitter you hang out on, that you can remain blissfully unaware and think the majority of Taekookers fight on behalf of Jimin or champion JK as half of their ship (instead of treating him like a prop), but why don't you join some JM and JK report accounts for a few weeks and take a good long look at the daily hate comments, death and rape wishes, stalking tips, and targeted attacks toward JM and JK fans? Stay on those accounts for at least a month so you can see how many Taekookers get suspended and then make new usernames and come right back on to keep doing it. The volume will shock you.

Now I would expect some cat-fighting online and for Taekookers to constantly comment on their ship on the Vlives. People are people. But unlike the other fanatics and shippers, unhinged Taekookers and Jimin-antis have:

--doxed Jimin's personal info online (a huge security risk)

--published photos and private info about Jimin's family members (invasion of privacy)

--bashed JK and Jimin in group chats and then campaigned online by trending the "Free Taekook" type hashtags (defamation, lies)

--paid serious money to fly to Korea and show up at the airport with "Taekook is Real" signs where the boys saw (proximity, extreme behavior)

And in an effort to prove their ship and out two supposedly closeted members, Taekookers have harassed:

--a child from a music video

--Tae's hairdresser

--a necklace maker

--a ring maker

--collaborating musicians and artists

--models on instagram

--models in Paris

--an actor whose partner died

--JK's brother

--JK's tattoo artists

That's just what I have seen as a very new Army and remember off the top of my head. I'm sure if I went digging, I'd find more.

And look, Jikookers aren't angels--there are assholes in every subset of humanity. Jimin, Tae, and JK deserve better from everyone. But no one else is doing this amount of sheer toxic crap. Don't equate what some asshole Jikookers say about Tae; there's no way it's on the same level. This isn't normal fan behavior. They don't just celebrate their ship. Big accounts keep whipping up anti-Jimin sentiment and false narratives about Tae and JK. They flat out LIE. And I and other Armys are telling you: it is escalating.

Three years ago, Taekook fans used to say things like "Jimin and JK are just doing fanservice; Tae and JK's relationship is real and not for the cameras." Which was rude but not insane. NOW, some Taekook fans go around saying things like "Jimin is a slutty fat pig, a no-talent whore leech, who brags about doing charity work to cover up dodging his taxes and his father's right-wing connections, all while he fucks Bongo for payola on his songs that he makes with rapists, and then he forces poor Tae to watch him use JK's body for fanservice to appeal to Korean Jikook fans for money."

This kind of fantastical bullshit goes round and round until more and more people start to believe some or all of it (or they stop fact-checking it and shutting it down because it's exhausting). It's not just defamatory, it's dangerous. It's right up there with the smear campaign that Hillary Clinton runs a child sex trafficking ring out of the basement of a pizza shop in DC. Folks laughed that off and said not to indulge such fantasies with attention, right up until a crazed patriot with a gun showed up to shoot up the place.

Am I saying FOR CERTAIN that antis and/or Taekook fans are going to attack a BTS member? No, of course not. I don't have a crystal ball. But I am saying their unacceptable behavior is escalating, and BEFORE it turns into orchestrated blackmail or becomes violent towards members or other fans who don't support the Taekook narrative, we all need to shut it down. The company, the members, Army, and other Taekookers especially need to work to shut it down.

There are crazy people in every fandom and always have been and it shouldn't be our responsibility to police their thoughts--but their actions reflect on all of us. And unfortunately a few psychos is all it takes to make a huge problem for everyone. This rabid subset of Taekookers are going from having feelings and opinions to having a faith narrative and taking invasive actions. So rather than sit around clutching our pearls or rolling our eyes or keeping our thoughts to ourselves, NOW is the time for Army to recognize the extent of the problem and actively call it out.

If after you do a bit more investigating into the dark side of BTS fandom, you still think I'm being inflammatory and uncalled for by raising red flags here--come off anon. Comment on this post. State for the record your defense of Taekookers. I'll bookmark it and circle back with you in a year. And if by then, everything died down on its own, and Taekookers didn't keep escalating their anti behavior, I will personally apologize for over-worrying and remove this post.

I hope I'm never too proud to admit it when I'm wrong. But Nonie? I'm not wrong. Our community needs to check this behavior before it gets so far out of hand that people get hurt. If that stance seems too controversial to you, it might be best we part ways here.

[bakugohoex]

PLS IM BEGGING YOU continuation of Jean x reader undercover in Marley ?🥺💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

part two: “this isn’t a date jean, we’re undercover”

pairing: jean kirschtein x female reader

cw: season 4 spoiler for the latest episode, fluff, language, nsfw (basically sex, some nipple play and just a lot of love)

word count: 2900+

a/n: so yeah, heres a part two for the one request i got nearly a month ago, i cant believe you guys liked part one so much, hopefully you all like this part as well

summary: in which you and jean spend the night together after confessing your feeling’s for one another, with a long night ahead and the raid on liberio beginning, is it really possible for the two of you to be together in this hell hole 

part one  | part three 

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist 

His lips re-attached to your neck, sucking and biting along the thin strip that he had previously licked. Eyes filled with lust, his body encasing your own, you bit back a moan but at the feeling of his lips and tongue swirling across the bruises made you whimper his name. He looked back down at you, your fragile messy state, your dress half off of you, clinging to your thighs, he couldn’t wait to rip it all off. Make you his, he watched you try to cover your face with your arms, but straddling your lap allowed him to grab your arms.

“You’re not hiding from me baby.” He whispered softly against your skin, the way his breath sent a shiver down your spine. He had grabbed your arms putting both in one of his roughened hands, you remembered the days you’d spend outside holding hands whilst walking around Marley for intel. How these same hands were holding your wrists to keep you in place.

He smirked looking down at your fresh sweaty face, “we don’t have to do anything.”

“No, I want too, we know what’s happening soon and I want to…I want to be with you.” You spoke softly and it was heaven to his ears. He looked at your face, the face he had seen for the past 6 years. The face he’d grown to love, grown to have wanted and now here he was after all these years, standing in front of the love of his life. Stradling her and he knew his 15-year-old self who had seen her fighting real titans would be jealous of this scenario occurring.

He captures your lips again; he brings you up to meet his own body. Your arms around his neck as you bring your body closer to his bare chest, you felt his back muscles tense under your fingertips that brushed along his nape. He was always so beautiful, so pretty, gorgeous even and he was yours, he was going to be yours. “I want to fuck you so bad, baby, I want to make you mine.” He whispered through the kiss.

You didn’t speak, instead stopping the kiss, he watched your movements, how you slid the dress away from your legs and tossed it to the wooden floor. You were bare for him, but it wasn’t like before, it wasn’t like this morning and how you had easily changed in front of him. This time there were underlining implications, this time the sound of the bra being unhooked occurred and the sliding of your underwear away from your frame.

This time he was ready for you, he was going to make you his. You were bare to him, lying sprawled on the bed with a seductive enticing look. He knew that you’d do anything for him, that he’d do anything for you even but in this moment, he wanted to fuck you dry. The pace of everything from seeing you vulnerable to now seeing you become his had been quick and he couldn’t wait any longer. He had waited 6 years for this, you had waited 6 years for this.

The sound of the belt being undone was the only sound and the shuffling of his trousers being taken off. You could see the bulge in an instant, your eyes flickering between him and the indent. Well Eren might’ve been right about the horse part but it defiantly wasn’t his face. You took a deep breathe, you had imagined of course, the little looks you’d given to see it, but it had always been a failed mission. But now here he was ready to give you something ever so perfect.

“I want it in me, Sir.” The sound of you calling him sir sent him into overdrive, your body was laid out just for him. For him to cum in and make you feel every part of his cock.

He watched how you were almost begging for it and he wanted you to plead to him, “beg for me.”

“Plea…please fill me up Jean, I want to feel you spilt me in half, please Sir.” The pleading nature and how your mouth was almost watering at the sight made the boy grin. It was feeding his ego well and he loved how easily you’d do anything for him.

“This might hurt.” He whispers softly, he moved to trap you in his body again, but this time he had pulled you forward, making him feel just how wet you really were across his cock. Your legs rested on his shoulders as he went down to kiss you, one finger softly skimming your clit up and down, feeling the slick across his fingers.

“Sir, please.” You whimpered slightly, the pain of feeling your legs on his shoulders but it became relieved as he bent down kissing you softly. But all you could really feel were his fingers rubbing through the slick.

He moved his fingers back out, making you come closer to his body, he could feel your much smaller legs across his shoulders make no impact having carried a lot heavier. But looking down at your face, your messy hair he just wanted to make you feel pleasure. “Suck.” He shoves his fingers down your throat and you moan at the taste of yourself, just as you began sucking on his fingers, feeling the sweat still from his fingers mixed with the saltiness of your wetness, a much larger moan came from your mouth.

His cock having slammed right into your walls, he felt suffocated himself between your tight walls but the pleasure of having your warm cunt around him made him love it. “You’re so tight baby, keep moaning for me.” He loved the sight of you moaning his name, moaning anything really, his fingers rubbed against your lips, encasing your wetness onto your pretty little mouth.

“Jean, fas…faster.” You whimpered, as he went back out and slammed back in going deeper and picking a pace. His veiny cock had felt like sheer heaven, the way how one of his hands grabbed your breast, playing with your right nipple with his index finger and how his other hand had grabbed the headboard.

His pace becoming even quicker as you felt all your worried disappear, all the fighting against titans and Marleyans were gone and all you had was Jean, your Jean inside of you. “Y/n…fuck, baby, you fe…feel so good.” He was breathless at each time he thrusted back and forth, you felt your leg fall off his shoulder, feeling him bring your body even closer.

“Jean, please, oh go…god!” You were a moaning mess and the feeling of Jean’s hand moving from your tit to your hand felt even better. It was a sign of love, a sign of a future, not just the war that was about to begin but the future you two would have together.

The headboard and bed shook under the thrusts, Jean’s fingers laced in yours as his mouth went to your hard nipples. He left a swirl of saliva around both before sucking on the left making you move your other hand in his hair. You could feel the knot in your stomach occur, the way your cum had built up inside and how it was ready to realise right on top of his cock.

He could feel your heavy breath through the room, his sucking stopping as he looked up looking at your dishevelled face. Your chest heavy from the quickened thrusts he had been doing, you looked down to meet his eyes and, in an instant, he let go of your hand and headboard and brought his hands to your face. Before bringing his lips back onto your own, it was soft, passionate even and it was a sign of your future and love.

His thrusts more stroppier as the kiss went on, your hands reaching his back, feeling his skin between your nails. He could feel the scratches and even then, he didn’t care because he was about to cum in you and make you his. “I…cum.” You could barely speak through the kiss, but he understood, and he gave a soft whisper through the kiss.

“Cum for me baby, be a good girl and cum on my cock show me your mine.” It was a praise you had been waiting for and in an instant your insides melted away as you could feel yourself gush across his lengthy cock. Mixed in was the feeling of Jean’s own cum which had filled you right up, he remained inside of you as you were both breathless, cum coming from your insides as it leaked onto the bed.

He finally looked up at you, his eyes soft and mouth wet after your sloppy kisses. He felt like he had won, that he had gotten what he came for in Marley even though you had been with him all along. He had achieved what he wanted from life, you.

He had slid himself out of you, standing up with his whole body on show. The darkness had erupted to fill the sky, the sound of Marleyans walking around was still evident but all he could think about was you. Finding some discarded clothes he wore them but still remained shirtless before picking you up in his arms, your bare body sprawled out for him and only him. Before helping you to the bathroom to let you do what you needed to do. He was soft with you, helping you down and bringing you clothes before leaving you.

He thought out about the earlier events of the day, “sometime soon is our time to act.” Your words remained in his mind, it was happening, he and the whole survey corps knew it. If he lost you…he couldn’t bear to even think about it, he felt the soft arms around his waist.

Your head against his scratched back, he grabbed your hands across his waist. Small circles from his fingers, he turned to face you. The dark moonlight coming from outside as he watched your small frame in his clothes. How you looked perfect in anything and how your soft smile would be the death of him. “I love you.” He confessed through a whisper.

“I love you too.” You spoke going on your toes to hug him softly, he grabbed you helping you to reach his shoulders as you were able to see the outside. The true horrors of what was behind the walls and how this might be your last moments of happiness.

The days were long afterwards, hard even, everything had began to set in and you both began to spend less time in the place on top of the shop, and more time in the abandoned building. Having contacted Eren, the day was today, and the plan was in full suit.

Jean and you had been quiet about this new love for one another but here you both were. Hand in hand walking through the festival, you looked around noticing some men in military uniform. One in particular you could never forgot, the one of the beast titan. Children swarmed them and the group definitely had no idea who you both were which was a positive.

Jeans grip was tight as he spoke to you, “we could always just settle down afterwards.”

“I’d like that.” You leaned into his body; it wasn’t like before when the fake relationship where you both were getting used to it. You both looked like a couple, you went behind the group, reaching to pay for some candy apples.

“Here, let me.” A man with a pushed back undercut grabbing the candied apple for you.

“Thank you.” You smiled as you went to pay for it, Jean having let go to wait and watch the interaction.

The man stops you bringing out his own money, “I’ve got you.”

“I could…”

He interrupts you; you noticed the armband indicating he was a subject of Ymir, a Warrior who had inherited a titan, “don’t worry about it.”

You smiled at him, taking the candied apple. “Ooo does little Porco have a crush.” The youngest girl mocked Porco and you couldn’t help but smirk before leaving the scene. You knew in a matter of minutes Reiner would come back, the boy you had spent three years with would arrive and you and Jean would be in the shit.

“I don’t like how he’s looking at you.” Jean muttered watching you bite in the apple, the candy sticking to the side of your face.

“This isn’t a date Jean, we’re undercover.” You repeated the words you had said on the day that your relationship had bloomed and you both could still overhear the group with the add on of Reiner.

“I’ll take you on a proper date later then.” He spoke confidently, always having wanted to take you on a date back on Paradis Island.

“What before we raid Liberio or after?” You tease the boy.

He grabs your hand tighter making you look at him, “I should fuck that attitude out of you.”

“Mm I’d like to see you try.” You chuckle as you paid no attention to Jean who seemed to crave all of you at the moment. Not a good time when the raid was occurring in less than three hours.

“Porco has a crush.” The girl repeated to Reiner, both you and Jean listening from a lot further behind. Could they speak of something more interesting than Porco’s interest in you. Jeans grip had tightened but he knew that it was all for the mission at hand.

“I do not, I was being nice.” Porco remarked back.

The group of kids turned to the boy before laughing as if he was joking, “who pays for some strangers food.” A boy with glasses said, you recognised the boy next to him, the blonde hair being something Eren had said in the letters, the boy who was posting the letters in the first place. Falco, the boy who would wield the armoured titan after Reiner.

“She may have been a bit attractive but that was all.” Porco had moved the conversation on, and you both listened in.

“Don’t pout, he isn’t my type.” You mutter to Jean who you could almost feel the anger rush through him.

“I don’t pout.” He muttered holding your waist and leaning against you to listen.

“They aren’t speaking about tonight’s events so they must not know themselves what that Tybur guy is saying tonight.” You both began walking away, having received no information but more contact with them instead. You continued eating the candied apple right through to the base.

“Stop for a food break Y/n.” Levi rolled his eyes, already in the new survey corps gear.

Rolling your eyes, you had bought another candied apple on the way back and took it from your other hand. “Here, try it.” You pushed it the captain, who look horrified but took it anyway, not thank you, but you didn’t care.

“Y/n…” Sasha whined waiting to see if she got any food.

“Yeah, yeah don’t worry, Jean has more food.” Sasha in an instant ran towards Jean as if he was her God. He looked however frightened as fuck at the hungry girl ready to eat his arm off. Whilst the two of them were fighting you were met with the change of clothes.

The black with your ODM gear and spears, it was a lot, villainous even. Something that was long awaited and a change from the dresses you’d been wearing. You felt the material in the small side room and saw the blades you hadn’t wielded since you left the island.

The cold grip felt like a long memory away, the fighting against titans, the snap of their necks bringing them down. It was a distant memory and now you were fighting humans again, real humans.

Dusk began to set as you sat around, Yelena having already left to trap Porco and Pieck away. You stood around, the new clothes around you and the plan ready to occur. The cloak that covered your body felt refreshing, it reminded you of home, your family back in Paradis. It might've been hell but with without it all you wouldn't be here with Jean. You looked at Jean, he was talking to Connie about something but as soon as his eyes laid on you, it warmed. Whatever Connie was saying had been ignored as he watched you, both of you knowing this could end badly.

“Let’s go.” Hanje had arrived at the door and the sound of her dismissing everybody to the respective areas had occurred. You and Jean were lucky enough to have stuck together with his own band of people to control.

Jean and you stayed low on the building, watching the Marleyan soldiers watch Tybur, Jean looked at your delicate features, how you looked exactly the same as you did the day you two met. He softly touched your cheek, “whatever happens, promise me we’ll see each other again after this.”

“I promise.” You nuzzled your cheek into his rough fingers.

You both stood up Lord Tybur’s speech was ending, the confession of the truth behind King Fritz and why Titans had remained on Paradis island for these years.

“…that our war with the forces of Paradis Island begins now!” His last words the sound of Eren’s attack titan spewed out from the building, a shock running through everybody’s faces, rubble falling everywhere at the now discarded building. Eren’s roars boomed through the now ruined stadium and you and Jean were finally met with the boy.  

go back to part one | proceed to part three here 

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

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[uswntxfootball]

we should be rivals (leah williamson x chelsea!reader)

being the newest chelsea signing and a diehard fan all your life, you didn’t understand the arsenal hype until you saw her...

word count: 2541 ish

a/n: big thanks to @4stars-uswnt​ and @sauceysonny​ for ideas.. (though they were really creepy and both somehow gave me the exact same one at the same time...)

part 2 is out!

——

you’re jolted out of your thoughts when kerr slaps you on your back.

“you coming kid?”

you nod slowly, unable to tear your eyes off the wembley stadium sign.

“what’s up rook?”

“oh nothing nothing, i’m just taking it all in.”

after your stellar performance at ucla, it didn’t take long for you to be noticed by the big teams.

a longtime chelsea fan, to say you were beyond ecstatic when they wanted to sign you would be an understatement.

jessie signing with chelsea too was just the cherry on top.

kerr lets out a sigh in understanding.

“you’ve made it this far for a reason kid, don’t get intimidated. we’ve got a finals game to win.”

with that said, the forward patted your back and walked into the stadium.

you stood there for a bit longer, only broken out of your trance when your best friend, who had witnessed you standing in front of the stadium for a good ten minutes, finally just rolled her eyes and dragged you into the stadium.

“jess i was getting to it!”

“no you weren’t the dinosaurs literally went extinct in the time you stood there.”

“oh shut up.”

jessie let out a loud laugh at that, and led the two of you to your spots in the locker room, both of you bickering all the way.

you get quiet when you reach your spot and your silence causes jessie to turn around.

“damn no come back?”

you shake your head lightly.

“no i just can’t believe we made it ya know?”

jessie’s tone softens when she replies, “i know. i really can’t believe we’re here at wembley.”

you give the midfielder a hug, a moment cut short by sam, who yells for the two of you to hurry up.

~~

donning a #19 on your back, you made your way onto the pitch for warmups, to see that arsenal was out too.

as a die hard chelsea fan, you never quite payed any attention to who was on the other teams, and combined with your nerves, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to focus on the opposition at the moment.

playing your first ever fa cup final-scratch that.

playing and starting in your first ever fa cup final, the nerves were really starting to eat up at you now.

to combat your nerves you’ve learned to just get lost in what you’re doing.

to distract yourself, losing yourself in whatever you were doing.

you were so hyper focused on your stretching and warmups that you didn’t look up until it was too late, your body crashing into the red jersey in front of you.

in your haste you didn’t even notice who you ran into.

you scramble to your feet quickly and mutter a “sorry” before running towards a laughing jessie, your cheeks beet red.

“oh my god did anyone record that?”

you flush harder.

“shut up fleming.”

~~

on the opposite side of the field, leah was still laying on the grass, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

the flash of blue left as quick as it had happened , and the annoyed look originally plastered on her face was wiped away after seeing yours.

she was..

already...smitten?

daan poked her in the side with her cleat.

“stop staring off into space and get your gay ass up already.”

“i- right”

leah took daan’s outstretched hand and pulled herself up.

her eyes met jordan’s, who gave her a very knowing look.

“no.”

“i didn’t say anything.”

“just. no.”

~~

you stood behind jessie in the tunnel, the nerves visible on your face.

the vets all took note of your nervousness, each making sure to whisper a “good luck” or “you’ll do great” in your ear as they passed by.

it helped a bit.

a few of the arsenal players also gave you encouraging nods and smiles, something you greatly appreciated.

your breath caught in your throat when a certain arsenal player gave you a smile, the girl just stupidly attractive.

you gave her a quick grin and shook your head softly, trying to get your head back into the game and rid it of any distractions.

however, you couldn’t help but sneak one more glance as the opposing team walked out, catching a #6 and “williamson” on the back of her jersey.

the game began and you made an observation.

well it was more like a fact.

leah was good.

like crazy good.

every time the ball was at your feet the defender was there in a flash.

every.

single.

time.

her tackles were perfectly timed and just beautiful, with just enough on them to knock the ball from your feet without tripping you.

but as the game progressed and the score remained at 0-0, everyone was getting a little desperate, a little sloppy.

so when the next ball landed at your feet, leah overestimated the distance and as a result, her leg got hooked around yours and the two of you went tumbling down, you landing right on top of her.

you push yourself up onto your palms and the wind promptly gets knocked out of you.

the two of you look at each other, chests heaving and you make another observation.

and again, it’s more of a fact.

she was gorgeous.

absolutely,

without a doubt,

gorgeous.

you could feel your cheeks reddening and palms sweating as you looked down at her stuck, in a trance and absolutely smitten.

in your staring, you were unaware that this was the second time this had happened today.

leah however, was aware.

she was very very aware.

and you missed the way the defender’s breath hitched when you shifted your weight slightly, all too caught up in your own thoughts.

the ref’s whistle was what knocked both of you out of your trances, both equally flustered and cheeks equally red, you stood up quickly and stuck a hand out, almost staggering over at the sparks that shot up your arm when she pulled herself up.

the two of you were now standing, and you opened your mouth to say something, but leah starts first, the heavy english accent making your heart skip a beat.

“that was my fault i’m sorry”

“oh don’t be it’s fine” you reply quickly, the two of you falling into a silence right after.

never breaking eye contact, the tension was almost palpable.

its only when you hear jessie calling your name that you break it, turning to look at your best friend, before quickly looking back towards the defender to give her a nod and a smile before running towards your team, actions that she reciprocates.

~~

“i feel like if i didn’t call you the two of you would’ve started fucking right in front of us” jessie said, a comment that elicited a snort from eriksson, and a punch from you.

“ow! y/n!”

you stick your tongue out at her in response.

leah’s eyes followed you as you left, a soft smile forming when she sees you and jessie’s antics.. though she isn’t quite sure of the nature relationship between the two of you yet…

right. the game.

there’s an fa cup final still happening.

the rest of the game continued as usual, though you couldn’t help but notice that a certain defender’s eyes were on you every few minutes.

to be honest you couldn’t keep your eyes off her either, but you shook your head.

you had a game to win.

and win it you did, scoring your sixth goal for chelsea with a beautiful chip into the corner of the next and as a result securing the fa cup title for your team with a 1-0 win over arsenal.

you shook hands after the match, leah holding onto your hand just a little bit longer than normal, an act that kicked your heart into high gear once again.

a few minutes later, you walked slowly, making your way back to the locker room when you notice leah chatting with lisa, the latter who, upon meeting your eyes promptly disappears.

all of a sudden it’s just the two of you.

you break the silence first.

“you played really well, i’m sorry you guys didn’t win.”

leah thinks for a moment before she replies:

“it’s fine. i mean i had a hot girl on top of me twice today. i can’t complain.”

your cheeks turn red at her words, but you cock your head to the side in confusion when the words fully register.

“twice? what do you mean twice?”

“warmups?”

a little silence. and then, the lightbulb moment.

“oh my god. that was you? i’m so sorry i’m-“

leah laughs and brushes it off.

“don’t worry. it was cute.”

she was full on flirting with you now, and you really, really couldn’t handle it.

thank god for jessie, saving you from what could have been absolute chaos, when she calls for you from the locker room.

before leah turns, she gives you a wink, effectively freezing you in place, your cheeks painted scarlet.

jessie lets out a sigh from across the field.

“gay panic.”

~~

“i’m not! i’m just.. doing scientific research?” you answer hesitantly.

jessie rolls her eyes.

“sure y/n. whatever you say.”

you weren’t an arsenal fan.

you weren’t.

you just happened to catch all their games.

especially when leah was starting.

who were you kidding even leah sitting on the bench was attractive.

you had it bad.

“if you watch a live game i will make fun of you until the day i die.”

jessie pauses and then corrects herself:

“no scratch that. if you buy an arsenal jersey i will make fun of you until the day i die.”

you scoff.

“i would neve-“

you bought one.

a #6 arsenal jersey.

ugh an arsenal jersey? you were pretty sure your family would disown you.

at the very least jessie saw the hilarity of it.

“my god you are whipped,” she got out through a fit of laughter.

you debated telling her about the game ticket you purchased lying on your desk.

for the sake of the little bit of chelsea pride and sanity you had left, you decided against it.

~~

you wore a chelsea shirt.

granted it couldn’t be seen under your black hoodie, but you had to balance out the evils in some way, and slapping an old chelsea crest over your heart as you stepped foot in the arsenal stadium seemed like the best option to do so.

your seat was close to the pitch, right on top of the tunnel, and you hoped to catch a glimpse of the defender, all the while remaining anonymous.

the plan was for you to watch the game, and slip out when it finished without being seen and recognized.

lucky for you, the social distance seating was still in play, so with the 6 foot distance, your mask and baseball cap (and sunglasses when you came in), no one had noticed you.

you would never live it down if you were recognized.

the things you do for leah.

maybe you are a little whipped, but that’s besides the point.

arsenal was playing west ham today, a team you didn’t care all too much about.

your heart beat a little bit faster when the teams began walking out, it skipping a full beat when you saw the defender.

the game began and you couldn’t tear your eyes off of her, staring in awe at the absolute perfection of her crosses.

at halftime, arsenal was up by 4.

as you were sitting right above the tunnel, it was just your luck that when the teams made their way back into the locker rooms, leah looked up and her eyes locked with yours.

your eyes widened and you cursed internally.

leah shook her head and smirked, giving you a quick wink before she disappeared out of your sight.

you were panicking, and you had no choice but to give jessie a call.

~~

“you’re wHERE?” the canadian screamed into the receiver.

“i know i know but SHE SAW ME. i’m never going to live this down.” you groaned.

jessie couldn’t stop laughing.

“stop it. help me. before half time starts. please.”

“what do you want me to do?”

“i don’t know! give me some advice, tell me she won’t make fun of me, that stuff”

“okay okay, just be you. you haven’t scared her off yet so that has to mean something right?”

“oh shut up fleming.”

“hey! i’m trying to help!”

“fine fine continue.”

“so just keep doing what you’re doing. except don’t bang on the field this time. oh and don’t be an idiot. got it?”

“yes very helpful jess.”

“i know that’s why they call me the modern socrates. i’ve got the answers to everythin- you’re rolling your eyes at me aren’t you?”

you shrug even though she can’t see it.

“anddd now you’re shrugging. see this is the repayment i get for being such a dear and loving friend. wow i ca-“

“okay jess that’s enough, the second half is starting now, so bye thanks for your help, love you and don’t die!”

you let out a sigh before focusing again on the game in front of you.

arsenal’s performance the second half was even more spectacular than the first, netting 5 goals, bringing the total up to 9.

leah’s performance here was even better than that if possible.

the ninth and final goal was scored by none other than leah williamson herself, with a header from a perfectly placed corner by katie.

the whistle blew and arsenal won with a sweeping victory, leah coming away with 4 assists and a goal, something that you couldn’t help but be a little proud of.

your eyes never left the defender, who went around and took a few photos with fans before making her way towards you.

“fancy seeing you here, didn’t take you to be an arsenal fan.”

“oh i’m just scouting out the enemy” you retorted. “i’ve actually got a chelsea shirt on under this.”

leah gasped with mock offense, “a traitor, how dare you.”

you let out a hearty laugh at that, missing the way leah’s eyes soften at the sound.

“on purely observational note, you played great today,” you comment.

leah responded with a wink:

“was showing off a little bit for you.”

“i will say that was a beautiful header, but it still can’t beat mine though” you grin cheekily.

“oh? might you show me how it’s done then, if you’re oh so great”

“come watch one of my game’s and you’ll find out” you reply, giving her a wink.

“ick me attending a chelsea game? i would never. i’m too loyal to my club. unlike you.”

you let out a gasp.

the banter went on for a little while longer, before leah cut you off and asked:

“would you like to go get coffee with me sometime?”

and before you could say anything she added:

“like on a date?”

you pretend to give it a bit of deep thought before saying:

“only if you come to one of my games.”

“deal.”

[babbushka]

Something Incredible, Something Unstoppable

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren x Reader 

3.7k ; explicitly NSFW, warnings for mentions of murder & blood 

Also on AO3! 

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

You step out of the shadows, when he’s done.

When his lightsaber has pierced the heart of an Emperor long thought gone, when he’s breathing hard at the implications of this news, at the implications of this man and how it hits him, how it changes everything he’s ever known, everything he’s ever believed.

The room crashes and crackles around you, some deep dark chasm, some ancient cave, where statues of Sith legends peer down at you with their stony eyes. They judge you, but that’s okay, because as you shoot a glare back at them, at the ancient beings who have witnessed the murder of your husband’s tormenter, you judge them right back.

The crippled old man slumps in his throne, body sizzling, not having expected Kylo to turn on him, not expecting Kylo to be so quick to kill him. The old man has lived a thousand lives it seems, but now his last has finally come to an end.

“Kylo.” You say, voice soft. You do not need to shout, do not need to scream out his name, for he hears you, always hears you. You could be a thousand lightyears away and he would hear you, there inside his head.

You saw the whole thing, the entire thing, from your spot at the entrance of the cave, the room where Kylo dared not let you step into fully. Surrounded by the Knights of Ren, by your sworn loyal hounds, by your guards, you watched as your husband struck Palpatine down.

He’s shaking, trembling, his jaw clenched tight as he powers off the saber and turns towards you, desperate for you. If he doesn’t get near you soon, he’ll scream, his entire mind in shambles from the revelation that everything, everything, has been by Palpatine’s design. He wonders just how far the plan would have gone, if he had simply walked away, if he had taken up Palpatine’s offer and ran with it.

He wonders how that plan would have ended, a vision of the future that could have been; a twinge in his spine of phantom bones cracking in another universe where he did not just slice the man in half, sliced him into two in the same manner as he had done to his master not so long ago.

His master who, like everything else, was nothing but a puppet with invisible strings.

He does scream then, but it is not of fear, or of pain. He screams because there is too much energy and nowhere to put it, nowhere for it to go, as the power of the Force shudders through him. With Palpatine gone, there is only him, only his body for the dark side to call home. It is a harsh sound, his scream. Deep and primal, one that rips through the vocal cords in his throat, one that shocks through the walls of the cave.

His chest heaves as he storms across the chasm to you, to the squadron of protection he has wrapped you in. The danger is gone now, smote by his own hand, but still, still he demands your protection.

“Time to go.” You say gently, firmly, holding a hand out for him.

You want him out of here, want him away from this place. There’s too much to process, too much to sort through, you don’t want him here.

You don’t want to be here.

Kylo takes your hand, and you don’t even so much as bat an eye when your glove stains red from the blood on his gloves, you only let it drip between your fingers as you turn and lead him out of the cave, back to the ship where he has docked it, where he can shred your clothes and dig his fingers into your flesh and cling to you in the way he’s desperate for.

He follows, and as he does, so do the Knights.

As he does, so does the Force.

It’s like the Force knows, it’s like it agrees -- it’s like it adores you, adores Kylo. Adores the love and the bond you have built together. It creates an umbrella above you as you clear the short distance to the ship, keeps you dry. The rain is not worthy to fall on your skin, to dampen your hair, to darken your clothing. You are contained inside a bubble, one that no one in the universe could ever burst.

 Inside the ship, he barks an order, sets the coordinates for home, for the star destroyer that stalks the galaxy, the monument to the Order’s power. He will no doubt take control of the fleet which Palpatine has been so kind to amass, so kind to build. You are filled with the thrill of power when you think about how it will be under your command, under Kylo’s.

You are also filled with the heady anticipation of his adoration for you, his desperation for your body. You can feel it pulsing off of him, it’s oozing in waves so thick you’re sure everyone around you can feel it. You can’t help but let a small smile through, at the thought of everyone going to fuck the stars out of each other just from the few intoxicating moments of being near Kylo’s lust.

And oh, how that lust is intoxicating.

By the time you arrive to the quarters which have been lavishly furnished just for you, quarters with the lights turned down nearly all the way, the glow of the distant stars illuminating the space, it is as though every fiber of your robes are permeated with the smell of it. It’s nearly painful, the way which he craves you so feverishly. You had never had the misfortune of being struck by the lightning which he can summon from his palms, but you think if you were to, it would feel like this.

Electrifying, blistering, blinding heat – a tremor runs through your spine as the static charge of his love radiates in red crackling currents through your very soul.

He loves you, and that is a dangerous thing.

You love him back, love him with every cell in your body, love him unapologetically and openly, love him completely. And that is what will bring the remaining corners of the galaxy to its knees.

There is a ritual you share, no matter where you are, no matter when he wants it. A ritual you take great stock in, a ritual which you uphold with utmost respect. You begin by stripping him down to his bare skin, removing layer upon layer of his clothing slowly, folding each piece with care.

You begin at the top, with the cape which clips to his tunic. He is so broad, so incredibly broad, you think as your hands smooth down his chest to the buckle of his wide belt. You smile at the little tracker placed inside it, grateful for the technology as you rest it over the back of a plush armchair in the corner of the room.

Underneath his outer tunic of black ribbed weatherproofing fabric, lay a pair of high waisted leather pants and a protective layer of armored padding. He had learned, since being shot in the stomach by the bowcaster of an old friend, to not be so neglectful. You unclasp the padding, undo the buttons on his trousers, sinking to your knees along the way.

You kneel before him, before your Emperor, your Supreme Leader, as you remove his boots one by one. You bend down to kiss his ankles, open mouthed kisses that have his hands balling into fists, and now it is his turn to tremble. The boots come up halfway to his calf, and you suck and breathe kisses onto the leather as you move up them, unbuckling the straps and letting him step out.

All that remains of his stately attire, are his gloves and those trousers unbuttoned and slung on his hips. Trousers which you peel slowly slowly slowly down, down his thick muscular thighs, down his newly freed calves.

His cock is so hard that it curves up slightly, seeking friction, seeking heat.

You smile at Kylo’s restraint – though it is barely there – he knows he’ll have you soon. This slow sweet torture is not something to be skipped, anticipation of fucking making the fucking itself that much sweeter.

You nuzzle your cheek into the hardened muscle of his lower stomach, so close to his cock that occasionally your other cheek grazes the head of it, and he bucks his hips involuntarily from the sudden jolt of pleasure.

“Share with me a secret.” You whisper, when you have decided that he’s had enough torment.

He offers you a strong and steady hand which you take, and he hauls you up carefully to your feet.

“I’ve never felt stronger than when you’re with me.” He licks his lips, lips which are perfectly bitten from how his teeth had worried them while you made out with his boots. He licks his lips and swallows, cups your cheek with a calloused palm and tilts your face so he can better enter your space, so he can better kiss you. He doesn’t kiss you yet, instead he asks, “When I close my eyes, do you know what I see?”

“Tell me.” You breathe, as you feel the invisible hands of the Force slither around your body, an agreement with the universe that you need to be naked too.

“Paradise.” Kylo’s eyes flicker redorangeyellowgold, just for a moment, just for an instant.

“Show me.” You say, not quite a demand, not quite a beg, but somewhere in between.

And just as slowly and sensually as you had removed every stitch of clothing on your husband, he removes yours. The Force aides his hands as he carefully undoes the intricacies of your dress.

Your cape is not a separate piece of clothing like Kylo’s, instead it is made of yards of fabric which actually hang from your belt. The fabric folds behind you and drapes up over your throat beautifully in a criss-crossing manner, protecting the fragile anatomy there and providing a sense of elegance you were known across the galaxy for.

He unclips the big sleek metal belt-buckle, and lifts the looped fabric from your neck to allow the cape to flutter gently to the polished marble floor. The neckline of the dress plunges, held together by a single button at your navel which is normally hidden by the belt. When undone, the sleeveless bodice slips down your shoulders, and under the weight of its own it too slips down your hips.

You wear no undergarments, and when the dress is nothing more than a puddle of black satin on the floor, you stand in nothing more than your gloves and your boots. Unlike Kylo’s, your gloves extend pass your elbow, leather and shiny and black. Your boots rise all the way to your inner thigh.

But like you, Kylo falls to his knees.

His hands shake, when they ghost the flesh of your thighs. He begins as you did, at the bottom, kissing and licking the black leather boots. But he has a much longer way to go than you did, and as he kisses up up up your leg, he begins to shake more and more strongly.

You know his patience is being tested, but his patience will soon be rewarded, you both know this.

So he kisses up your leg, and finally, finally, when he reaches the top of your boot, he is mere inches away from the one thing he craved possibly more than anything in the entire galaxy.

More than the murder of his inexorable sister, more than the death of his traitorous uncle, more than the collapse of the rebellious organization that insists on terrorizing his precious reign – your beautiful, hot, glistening pussy.

“Take me.” You tell him.

And just like that, the patience breaks.

The Force rips the gloves away from both of your hands, peels them off and throws them into the corner so that when you and Kylo embrace in a meeting of fire and brimstone, it is with the electrifying spark of bare skin on bare skin.

The bed is large and soft, but he lays you down upon it with an urgency that has the whole mattress shaking, rippling under his power as he props your hips up with a silk pillow. He does not waste time burying his face in your pussy, his tongue insistent, impatient, demanding entry between your folds.

“Kylo!” You say, you say because you cannot say anything else, cannot express anything other than the love you have for this man.

Your hand grabs a fistful of his hair and grips him tight, holds him in place as he licks hot broad stripes with the flat of his tongue through all your slick, drinking it down with a fervor that would have you chuckling if you weren’t moaning instead.

His arms hook underneath your thighs and his grip on you is bruising, absolutely bruising with the way his blunt nails carve crescent moons into your skin. He is breathing hard, so hard, as he moans into your cunt with the way he tries to shove his mouth harder against your pussy, kissing and drooling and massaging your thighs with restless hands all the while. He bites the soft skin of your inner thigh, bites down hard enough for you to tighten the grip in his hair and yank slightly. Kylo only laves his tongue over the harsh indents he causes in apology, one that you’re happy to accept.

“Stars, fuck (Y/N),” Kylo pulls back for a moment, because he too is overwhelmed by his own acts of worship. He wants nothing more than to worship you.

He sucks on your clit then, out of nowhere. The pleasure is immense, nearly blinding, because as he latches his mouth around it, something cups and kneads your tits, pinches and tweaks at your nipples. The stimulation has your knees clamping down around his head, and your eyes shut closed so tightly that you can see stars forming behind your eyelids.  

“Oh, yesyesyes,” You arch your back off the sheets, pushing your hips up against his mouth further, “Kylo, yes please – oh fuck, fuck honey -- ”

He eats your cunt and toys with your nipples until your toes curl in the sheets and you’re gasping, coming coming coming on his tongue. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t stop, only continues to lick and suck suck suck on your clit, the force finding its way around your throat, into your mouth. Phantom fingers stroke your tongue, and you cry out Kylo’s name as you shudder so hard from your orgasm that your teeth clack.

He pulls away only once he can sense you’re overstimulated, but he’s not anywhere near done with you yet. His cock weeps for you, you can feel it dripping pre-come across your thighs as he positions himself on top of you fully. The wetness smears between your bodies as he drinks the nectar of your love from your lips, kisses you while the last legs of bliss from your orgasm ripples and shakes through you.

“Good, you’re so good,” Kylo pets the side of your face with one of his large mitts for hands, strokes your cheek. “So fucking good for me, you precious thing.”

Unlike his words, he is not gentle, when he fucks you. It is like much else about him – harsh, severe, explosive. He doesn’t even wait to bottom out before he begins to thrust into your sweet pussy, the blood pounding in his head too loud for him to even appreciate the sick squelch of your come as he grinds his hips against yours. He is fast, he is hard, he is angry.

All the anger that he felt, all that passion that was imbibed in his veins when he slaughtered the man who had ruined his life by his design, all that rage comes flowing out now, now that he has the sweet surrender, the infinite release of your body to take him.

And take him you do, happily you take what he gives, and you give everything you can in return. His cock is so fucking big, so skilled, so adept at maneuvering inside your body from the years of sex you have engaged in together. He fucks you skillfully, even if a little sloppy in the wake of all that rage.

He is some feral thing, unhinged.

Years ago, a crippled puppet had once described Kylo as having raw, untamed power.

Now there were no more strings, no more shadows behind closed doors a thousand lightyears away pushing the pieces – and Kylo felt free.

He grits his teeth and pinches his face up in anger as he rails you hard, fucks you up up up the mattress until your head nearly hits the ornate headboard, and you bring Kylo out of it for just a moment so he can see that soon there will be no more room for him to pound you. He nods – but instead of pulling out of you so you can shuffle back down the bed, he uses the force to drag your joined bodies to the center of the mattress once more, and he resumes his frantic pace.

“I want – I need – ” You pant, body jolting under him as he lifts one of your legs for a better angle that has tears spilling into your hair, chin trembling from how fucking good this new position feels. It all feels good with Kylo, but this, this is magic.

Once it has its hands on you, the Force doesn’t seem to want to let you go. You think it’s sweet sometimes, how it vies with Kylo to cover your body in its presence. Kylo is a large man, large in every sense of the word as he has to pin your hips down against the pillow, skin smacking harshly against yours. Kylo is large, but the Force is a greater power, and the Force wants you almost as badly as Kylo does.

Not more, because nothing could want you more than Kylo, but almost.

It anchors itself around you, opens you up further for Kylo to take and give more pleasure, more more more of his power seeping into you. Your flesh breaks into goosebumps, limbs shuttering as you feel the tendrils of the Force wind around your neck, plunge down your throat, wisp around your wrists and tug at your ankles.

It is an unbreakable rope that slithers and snares its way into every possible crevice and orifice that your body possesses, thick cord that binds you, binds you to him, to Kylo.

“Holy shit – ” You gasp, sharp and high and loud.

Kylo has found the spot inside your cunt that makes you go blind with pleasure, and he milks it both with his cock, which throbs at the realization that you’ll come around him soon, and the Force, which somehow has the power to intensify the feeling, getting in and stimulating the very nerve ending in your pussy.

“Please Kylo, your cock is so big I can feel it up in my throat, please, please, fuck, I’m coming, yesyesyes– ” You sob for him, beg beg beg for him, and he is drenched in sweat at the praise, teeth gnashing and hair tossed wild as he brings you to orgasm once again.

You’re almost worried for a moment, that you’ve blacked out. It’s happened before, the sheer overwhelming power of your orgasm simply too much for you to handle sometimes, too overwhelming that your brain doesn’t know how to respond to all the pleasure. Your entire body is convulsing, and suddenly, it’s as if a switch as been flipped.

Kylo’s hips drop to a slow grind, a screeching halt of the bruising smacking rough rhythm he had immediately set out with. You’re not sure which drives you over the edge further, the brutal fucking or this, this measured, restrained, even flow. It is almost methodical, almost too perfectly even, and it makes you sob.

You are wordless, fucked dumb by your Supreme Leader’s cock.

You don’t know how long this lasts, how long your orgasm rips through you. The Force keeps it strong, keeps it bright white hot behind your eyelids. Hands are all over you, and you’re not sure which are your husbands and which belong to the universe. Every part of your body is massaged, squeezed, groped, claimed.

Your voice is so high as you shout it out, you have to let it out somehow, or you’re sure you’ll die. Kylo milks it for all it’s worth, forces himself to maintain this slow and steady pace, to both of you practically snarling into each other’s mouths simply because you’re both so far gone.

When he finally comes, the alarms blare.

His release is so strong that it shatters the shields of his ship as it hurtles through time and space, hurtles toward a future of grand opulence and power – a future you will build together. The shields shatter, and the alarm blares, and Kylo looks down at you with a strange mix of fear and bewilderment and pure awe. He’s coming, still coming inside you, his eyes wide open from the shock of just how good it feels.

He gives you this look every time, and every time it fills your entire being with pride, fills you with a warm satisfaction that you can give him this, that you can allow him to feel this way.

He gives you this look every time, as if it’s the first time, as if it’s the only time he’ll ever have; but with this – the power the fleet the force – you know it won’t be, it’s just the beginning.

The beginning of something incredible, something unstoppable. You know this.

You know because unlike the feeling of your hips settling under his as he grinds his pulsing cock into you deeper deeper deeper, something in him is new. Something in him is fresh, is so shocking that the realization hits you both at the same time and has you both splitting into grins so wide it stretches the pearly white skin of his scar.

You know because when he presses his forehead against yours and lets the Force bond open up, lets his mind flow into yours, for the very first time inside his head, the only voice he hears, the only whispers which curl around his skull,

Are yours.  

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

Taggin pals :) If anyone would like to be added to or taken off the list, please let me know!

@dreamboatdriver​ @kyloxfem​ @heldcaptivebychaos​  @solotriplets​ @formerly-anonhamster​ @lookinsidemyhead​ @candycanes19​ @adamsnacc-kler​ @taylovren-types @whiskey-bumblebee​ @oberynmartell​​ @magikevalynn​​ @tinyplanet-explorers​​ @chelsjnov​​ @romancedeldiablo​​ @helloimindelaware​​ @elfieboxcat​​ @laurenshit​​ @autumnlovesadam​​ @peterisparker​​ @mp938368 @hidingp​​ @goodboybensolo​​ @intrestellarsarah @the-marvelatic​​ @miasera​​ @emily-strange​​ @proxyfoxy​​ @insanita​​ @disaster-rose​​ @hazydespair​​ @yosoymuyloca​​ @1-800-choke-that-snoke​​ @ktellmeastory​​ @anongirl007​​ @zimmerxman​​ @okk–maaan​ @flapjacques​

[orlissa]

AO3 Tag Game

tagged by the lovely @therealstartraveller776

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

56 at the moment, but most of my pre-2014 stories are only on FF.net (I started publishing in English in 2008). My whole work for several fandoms are not on AO3. I know I should crosspost, because FF.net is seriously dying, but it’s a lot, and I don’t have the patience to comb them through XD

2. What is your total Ao3 word count?

460648 right now

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Okay, so all of the fandoms I’ve ever written for: Harry Potter (My gateway fandom. I was 12-13, they were bad, and thankfully most of them only exist in Hungarian, but apparently I also wrote some in 2008?), RENT (2008), House of Night (2009-2010), Vampire Academy (2011-2014), (Fuck, I apparently wrote some Glee drabbles in 2011?!), How to Train Your Dragon (2011), Avatar: the Last Airbender (2011-2013), Castle (2013), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (2014-2021), All Souls trilogy/A Discovery of Witches (2019-2021), Shadow and Bone (2021)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1, Terrible, Beautiful, Unsaid Things

2, Through Wide, Grey Eyes

3, A Picture Worth a Thousand Words

4, The First Star in the Black Velvet Night

5, (De)Classified Files

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

When there is a direct question in the comment, I always do, but otherwise I rarely reply--it feels somehow wrong to “inflate” the comment numbers somehow.

But if people send me asks or write PMs, I always respond

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Ugh, so I’ve written two fics, one for RENT (So Sudden) and one for AOS (Goodbye), to deal with the loss of a loved one (a close family friend taken by leukemia in less than a week, and my grandmother). For me, those two definitely “win” this category.

7. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?

I remember I once started a Harry Potter/Wicked crossover in 2007-ish--I think I wrote maybe 3 chapters, but I never published it. And I once toyed with the idea of a Firefly/AOS crossover (or more like a Firefly AU for AOS), but I never wrote it.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don’t really remember recieving hate (even when supporting divisive ships, the hate trolls have mostly avoided me so far), but there have been some comments that made me go “damn, did you miss the point of the story.”

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, and I’ve been told I do it well. Although I pretty much remain in the realm of boy-girl, vanilla sex XD

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

...Not as fas as I know

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

There was one time when I wrote a little ficlet that ended just before the smut part could have started, and then @abedsmessedupmeta wrote the smut part for it, does that count?

12. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Always the one I’m hyperfixating on at the moment XD so, currently, Darklina :)

13. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter

14. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

...They are all my babies

Not tagging anybody, feel free to do it :)

[therenlover]

Cakes for the Evans Part One: The Kai Cake Disaster

Today, dear followers, I began the first step of a long journey that I hope to share with you. Today, I baked a cake.

I had a whole lot of free time this afternoon with a whole lot of nothing to do, so I was hanging out with my sister. We were watching AHS when suddenly, out of nowhere, I had an idea. A “brilliant” idea. I was going to bake a cake.

The original plan was pretty simple. I’d find some ingredients in the cupboard, bake a little cake, and call it a day, but shortly after I gathered up a recipe and an idea for the flavor I though ‘huh, I could make a series out of this!’ So, I did.

From today, whenever I have the time and can gather the ingredients, I’m going to start baking a cake for each Evan (all the Evans in AHS, Warren Lipka, Peter Maximoff, and Ralph Bohner). Today I started with Kai Anderson.

It was, to be fully honest, a fucking disaster, so it being Kai’s cake is fitting. 

At first things went well. I had a whole bag of tangerines in the fridge, as well as a few cartons of berries that were going to go bad soon. Me and my sister modified a few family recipes, and soon enough we had our idea. 

Originally, the cake was supposed to be a two layer tangerine cake, with blackberry frosting in the middle and an orange blueberry glaze on top. As you can see, that didn’t happen.

We made the cakes themselves with little error. It was delightful to have something work out with no kinks. We took that for granted. With all our success, our egos had soared. There was no way this could go wrong after starting on such a bright note, right? Wrong.

First, the blackberry frosting just... didn’t turn into frosting. Like, we followed the instructions but the berries had a looot of water in them, so it sort of just turned into a sugary mess. We ended up just tossing it in a mason jar and plan to use it for crepes tomorrow.

Then, while I was zesting tangerines, my sister watched in horror as the cakes just... fell apart. Neither of them made it out of the pan fully formed despite the fact that we had greased them with a ridiculous amount of butter. One was salvageable... the other, not so much. We rolled with it, found a can of frosting in the pantry, and made some extra cake pops.

The cake pops.... well, we’ll get to that later.

The tangerine blueberry glaze ended up.... well, it was too thin, so we cooked it down and ended up with another weird sugary syrup slop, only this time it had chunks! Delightful! It ended up tasting pretty good, but took more steps and improv than initially intended. 

Once all was said and done, we fetched the cake pops from the freezer only to find they had cemented themselves to the wax paper, and refused to budge. At this point, I was close to tears. 

I would not, in all honesty, recommend this process to anyone. It was time consuming, took way too many bowls, and the ending product was kind of a mess. The only thing I can say is that it was, in the end, very delicious. 

So, here is a full recipe and guide on how to make Kai Anderson’s Disaster Cake (and bonus cake pops). Good luck, you’re going to need it. 

Ingredients*:

Tangerine Syrup

1 1/2 cups (about 4) tangerines, fully peeled

1/2 cup water

1 1/4 cups white sugar

The Cake

1/2 cup butter

1 cup white sugar

2 eggs

Tangerine syrup (measurements above)

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 3/4 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 cup of milk

Tangerine Berry Glaze

2 tangerines, zested and fully peeled

6 oz. (one carton) blackberries

6 oz. (one carton) blueberries

1 1/2 cups of sugar, food processed but not powdered

4 tablespoons of butter, softened

4 tablespoons of milk

1/3 cup agave syrup

Cake Pops

1 9″ round tangerine cake

1/2 cup Pillsbury cream cheese frosting

Cake Pop Frosting

Remaining Pillsbury cream cheese frosting

1/2 cup tangerine berry glaze

* - These are pretty good, but general approximations of the ingredients I actually used because this cake threw me for a loop and tested my imagination. Nothing worked like it was supposed to... literally.

Now, on to the disaster. 

Instructions: 

The Cake

First, peel 4 tangerines. Separate each of the sections of fruit and peel the skin off of the small sections.

Add the peeled pieces of tangerine to a medium saucepan with half a cup of water and 1 1/4 cups of white sugar.

Bring the mixture to a boil, stirring continuously to prevent burning. Once a boil has been reached, lower the temperature and bring the mixture down to a simmer.

Use a tool of your choice to mash the fruit as the syrup simmers. Once the fruit is mashed, continue stirring the mixture as it thickens and boils down. This process will take about ten minutes.

After ten minutes, pour the mixture into a food processor and blend until there are no large chunks of pulp left. Then, set the mixture aside to cool as you prepare the batter.

Before starting your batter, set the oven to 350 degrees fahrenheit and allow it to heat up as you work.

Add half a cup of butter, cold, to a bowl with one cup of white sugar. Use a mixer to cream the sugar and butter together.

Once it’s been creamed, add two eggs and mix again with the mixer until the ingredients have been evenly incorporated.

Next, add the flour, baking power, and now-cooled tangerine syrup to the bowl. Fold the ingredients together until there are no chunks of flour and the syrup is fully integrated. Then, fold in the milk.

Pour the batter evenly into two, nine inch round cake pans that have been greased thoroughly with butter or a baking grease of your choice. Crisco is a great alternative!

Bake the cakes at 350 degrees fahrenheit for 30 to 40 minutes. Ours were brown at the edges and cooked all the way through at 35 minutes, but based on your oven the time may vary.

Allow the cakes to cool in their pans, and then carefully turn one of them onto a plate for glazing. If it breaks, no problems! You can just use the other one.

If both cakes survive their trips out of the pan, you can use the tangerine berry glaze both between the layers and on top of the cake. If only one survives, simply put the glaze over top, and set the other, broken cake aside for cake pops.

The Glaze

Take one cup of white sugar and put it in a food processor. Blend it, but don’t do it enough for it to be fully powdered. Be impatient. Cut corners. In the end, you should have sugar with granules that are smaller than normal, but not quite small enough to be considered powdered sugar.

Zest two tangerines. Once you’ve collected all the zest you can, peel them, section them, and take the skin off of the small sections.

Put the tangerine zest and peeled tangerine sections in a food processor, and add your blueberries and blackberries. Next, add your slightly powdered sugar, your melted butter, and your milk. 

Use the food processor to combine the ingredients. The mixture, when fully processed, should be slightly chunky, kind of like a jam! Transfer the mixture from the food processor into a sauce pan.

Bring the mixture to a boil, stirring regularly to prevent burning. Once it is at a boil, add your agave syrup. From there, lower the heat and allow the mixture to simmer for 15 minutes as you continue to stir.

If you are only making the cake, pour the glaze over the first cake, put the second layer on top, finally topping the whole cake with the remaining glaze. If you are making cake pops, set aside half a cup of glaze and use the rest to top your single layer cake.

The Cake Pops

If your cake, like ours, came out of the pan in five separate pieces, not to worry! There’s still hope for you yet, unlike Kai.

Put the crumbled pieces of your ruined cake in a bowl with 1/4 of a cup of pillsbury canned cream cheese frosting, preferably one that has sat in your cupboard for a few months after another failed baking experiment. 

Get your hands dirty! Crush the cake with your hands to combine it with the frosting and turn it into a thick, doughy substance.

Once the frosting and cake are combined, add half a cup of your tangerine berry glaze to the dough and mix it in by hand again. The ending product will look kind of grey-ish???? and will have little bits of tangerine and blueberry skin throughout.

Roll the completed dough into balls. It should make about ten large pops, but more if you make them smaller. 

Set the rolled balls onto a plate covered with wax paper, and add a cake pop skewer to each ball. Toothpicks would work too, I’m not one to judge. Even chopsticks might work if you really have no other options. 

Put the newly skewered balls in the freezer until they harden enough to withstand being dipped in hot frosting. While they cool, prepare that.

Melt the remaining cream cheese icing in the microwave. I put it in for about 45 seconds after ripping the label off the plastic container and it worked well. 

Add half a cup of your glaze into the icing and mix until they are fully combined. 

Once your cake pops have hardened, take them out of the freezer and dip them into the liquid frosting, returning them to their plate to cool. Once they’re all frosted, return the plate to the freezer until the frosting forms a shell around the cake pop.

When it comes time to enjoy your cake pops, remove them from the freezer and then cry, as you find that they’ve become very stuck to the wax paper and refuse to come off. Use a knife and your fingers to try to pry them off, only to smash them a little in the process. Even better, do this while the icing is still slightly tacky! It will make it all the more frustrating.

Then, viola! You have a cake and some cake pops to share with your divine ruler!

In Conclusion

This cake was an experience.

It’s hard to rate this, because I haven’t made any of the others yet, but I’m extremely sure that it will be at the back of the pack. I can only hope none of the others are as terrible as this one was. I give it a 3/10.

On the bright side, it was tasty. 

I like to think that this entire process is very reminiscent of Kai himself. It looks like a mess on the outside, and it’s a mess on the inside too. The only redeeming factor to both of them is that they’re yummy...

If I had to assign benign meaning to the actual parts of the cake, the blueberry glaze represents Kai’s awful blue dye job, while the tangerine cake is orange like the president he loves so much. A big thank you to @oublierlegarcon​ for giving me the idea of making this Kai’s cake. It’s extremely fitting

I have no clue who will come next, only time will tell, but I hope you enjoyed this disaster as much as I did. Until next time, goodbye!

[neon-junkie]

Obedience Training

Summary: Dutch isn't happy with the way Micah left Strawberry, so he asks Arthur to help punish him.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Micah Bell x Dutch Van Der Linde

Word Count: 2162

Rating: NSFW

Tags: A lot of sin, Threesome, Light dom/sub, Anal, Face-fucking, Anal creampies, Facials, Obedience training, First time, Orgasm denial, Humiliation, Degrading.

Notes: ahahahah my first time writing these three >:3 I'm a slut for these ships, so why not just combine them all together?! I'm also pretty happy with how I've written Dutch, considering he's not one of my strong points, so go me!!

"Dutch?" A concerned voice from outside asks. "Arthur! Come in, son," Dutch calls out to him. Arthur does as he's told, just like the loyal lapdog he is. Only he seems to regret it the instant he walks into the tent. He takes a step back, eyes trying to focus on anything but what was going in front of him. 

Dutch is in the middle of his tent, knees on the floor with the vilest human being beneath him. Arthur knows straight away what's going on, it's hard not to notice that Dutch has his cock buried inside Micah, who looks more than embarrassed in having Arthur walk in on them, his head down in shame. Dutch had beckoned Micah into his tent one quiet afternoon, promising him talk of his time in Strawberry. Micah was expecting to gloat about the score he got for Dutch, but he found himself being urged onto his knees as Dutch spoke down to him, telling him that he'll need to do a lot more than bring back some money to make up the mess he left Strawberry in. Micah will do anything for Dutch's approval. Anything. Dutch knows this and used it to his advantage, both punishing Micah and getting himself off. His grip on Micahs hair was tight as he urged Micah to suck him off whilst his own fingers prepped his virgin ass. And here he is, hands and knees on the wooden floor of Dutch's tent, with the man himself coming to a halt in his ass so he can have a conversation with Arthur, ignoring the man below him. Micah's trying his best not to make any noises, but his green neckerchief was untied from his neck and wrapped around his cock, tight enough to make any man whimper as they attempt to hold back on touching themselves. "Ain't this... uh... a bad time?" Arthur questions, as he turns his head around and stares at the tent flaps. "A bad time? Quite the opposite, son," Dutch laughs. "You're just the person I was hoping for. Won't you be so kind as to come and kneel down in front of Mister Bell here?" Dutch asks, though Arthur knows it's an order. And for once, Arthurs willing to question it. "You want me to what?" Arthur questions, his eyes briefly flicking over to Dutch, trying to ignore the mess of a blonde man underneath him. "You heard me right. It seems we need to give our newest member here a lesson in obedience. Maybe then he won't run around shooting up towns over such meaningless things like his guns," Dutch tells him, a slight grit to his teeth. "Well... alright then," Arthur pauses for a moment before walking over, kneeling down in front of Micah who's trying his best not to make eye contact with Arthur. Dutch watches eagerly, but his smile quickly fades when he realizes that Micah is more useless than he thought. "Well, Micah?" Dutch asks as he slams his hips down into him, knocking the wind from Micah's lungs. "You know what to do. Don't make poor Arthur here wait."   Micah's still hesitant before slowly looking up at Arthur. His eyes trail south, settling on his pants. He slowly reaches out and attempts to undo the button with one hand, the other hand still holding his weight up. Arthur enjoys watching him struggle but undoes his gunbelt in the meantime, letting it fall to the tents wooden floor with a thud. For obvious reasons, Arthur isn't hard, and Micah waits a good few moments before taking his flaccid cock in his hands and slowly begins to pump it. "Dutch, this is... erm..." Arthur fumbles about with his words. "I know. Don't view it for how it is on the surface. View it as two men teaching their newest member what loyalty and obedience are all about," Dutch hisses, slamming his cock into Micah again with a firm grip on his hips. He pushes his member all the way in, leaving it there whilst he continues to watch Micah slowly jerk Arthur off. Arthur pauses again, looking down at Micah who has his eyes on his cock. Arthurs is thankful that Micah isn't looking up at him again, wanting to burn that image from his memory. He eventually asks Micah "is that it?" To which Micah frowns at Arthur and feels like biting his dick off in the moment. "Just look at that scowl he's giving you, Arthur. He's quite clearly untrained, and the sooner we fuck that attitude out of him, the better," Dutch huffs, deciding to start slowly thrusting himself back into Micah, who reacts by clenching his eyes shut and lets out a whimper, still not use to the sensation. For some sick and chaotic reason, Arthur decides to side with Dutch on this one. If he ignores the fact that this is Micah Bell with his cock in his hand, then it really isn't too bad. He'll just pretend it's someone else and treat them like he would with any other common whore. "Well, you heard him. Get to work," Arthur tuts, and Micah scowls at him again. Finally, Micah begins properly pumping Arthurs shaft, his palm and fingers pressing tightly against it as works his hand up and down his length. Arthurs cock begins to slowly grow, more so if Arthur doesn't look down at the blonde beneath him. "Just put it in your mouth, Micah," Dutch spits. He's getting tired of being impatient and rewards Micah with a harsh slap to the rear as he picks up the pace. Micah shudders underneath him, hating that stinging feeling left behind on his cheek, but he knows that's just a minor punishment he'll receive if he doesn't start putting some effort in. So he begrudgingly opens his mouth and slides Arthurs's length in, scrunching his nose and eyes up the second his tongue presses against the base of Arthurs cock. There's a harsh tug to Micah's hair as he feels Arthur grip hold of it, his eyes looking down at him to make sure Micah doesn't try any funny business. Micah takes his time with bobbing his head along Arthurs's length, still reluctant to do so. There's another sharp slap to his rear, and Micah realizes he's being watched, so he picks up the pace. "Well, it's not the worst I've ever had, but it's still pretty bad," Arthur chuckles as continues to look down on Micah, whose eyes remain shut. They snap open the second Dutch replies "why don't you show him how it's done then, son?" Micah gags the second Arthur starts moving his hips, trying to push his head off his cock but Arthur keeps him firmly in place, tugging his hair harshly. Dutch continues to thrust into him, and Micah's ass has only recently stopped hurting. There's a thin beaded trail of precum dripping from Micahs cock, pooling on the wooden floor below, and more gets pushed out every time Dutch hits that spot deep inside of him, followed by a shiver down his spine. Having his mouth around Arthurs's length may not be the most enjoyable thing in the world, but Micah feels pure bliss whenever Dutch goes deep, though he'll never allow himself to show these men just how much he's enjoying it. However, a few whimpers and moans are pushed from his lips, mostly muffled by Arthurs's length. The more Arthur fucks his mouth, the more spit gets pushed from the corners of his lips, dribbling down his chin and onto the floor below. He already looks like a mess, with his scruffed shirt hanging off one of his shoulders, a few buttons missing, and the pool of precum beneath his cock that grows larger from the second. Micah is embarrassed at the state he's allowed himself to get into, especially at the hands of one of his least favourite men, but he tries to just enjoy parts of the experience. Micah is thankful that Arthur bathes often, as his pubes continue to brush against his nose every time Arthur bucks his hips against his mouth, forcing him to gag again. Dutch seems content, fucking Micah's virgin ass with one arm hanging by his side, the other lightly placed on the small of Micahs back as if he's lazily riding a horse. Dutch moves his hands to grip onto Micah's hips, pushing his shirt out the way so he can grab hold of the slight muffin top that Micah has. His sudden picking up of pace catches Micah off guard, who is pushed deeper onto Arthurs cock. He has to pull off so he can cough, and only gets a brief second to calm down before Arthurs grabs him by the scruff of his hair and puts him back on, holding his head in place as he fucks his mouth. "Mister Bell?" Dutch questions, leaning over the blonde man a little so he can speak more directly into his ear. Micah lets out a muffled response, his eyes snapping open as he tries to look over his shoulder at Dutch. "You won't go misbehaving again, will you?" Dutch questions. Micah lets out a muffled "no,'" shaking his head at the same time. "Good, good. Because if you do, there'll be much worse consequences. And I'll have you know, that it won't just be me buried in your ass. That's for starters," Dutch informs him, that usual sternness to his voice. Micah tries his best to let out a muffled "yes, boss," and has to snap his eyes shut again as Arthur forces his head to face forward, returning to his quickened pace. "You close, Arthur?" Dutch asks. "Yep," Arthur replies, his eyes meeting Dutch's. "Good. Make sure Micah remembers this, won't you?" Dutch asks him. "Course," Arthur replies, looking back down at the blonde who seems more than concerned. Arthur pulls his length from Micah's mouth, forcing his head to tilt back uncomfortably. He keeps Micahs head in place with the harsh grip to his hair, and Micah knows exactly where this is going when Arthur begins to tug on his own cock. Micah manages to shut his eyes and close his mouth just in time, his brows furrowing as Arthur spills his load on Micah's face. It splatters across his cheek and forehead, narrowly missing his eyes. Micah feels more than disgusted and shamed when he begins to feel Arthurs cum slowly dripping down his face, running along his beard and moustache. Is Dutch chuckling? His laughter quickly turns into a mix of a grunt and a moan when Dutch pushes his cock as far as he can into Micah's ass, holding it deeply as he cums against Micah's prostate, making the blonde shudder and whimper, his own cock begging for release. He can feel his balls turning blue, but he dare not remove his own neckerchief from his cock, not wanting to get a minimum punishment of a slap on the ass.   Dutch pulls out of him, letting out a sigh as he stands upright, tucking his cock away. Arthur does the same, wiping his hands off on his jeans as if that'll remove the sin he just endured. "I think we'll leave Mister Bell here to clean himself up," Dutch tells Arthur as he fishes a cigar from his pocket. "Sure," Arthur nods, getting ready to leave. "You heard me, Micah," Dutch says as he looks down at the man after lighting his cigar, the smoke beginning to fill his tent. "Clean up then get out there and do something useful for once," Dutch tells him. "Sure, boss," Micah manages to say as he sits back on his knees, his chest rising and falling heavily. Arthur leaves the tent, and Dutch is about to until he turns back to Micah. "Oh, and you can remove that neckerchief," Dutch tells him as he points down at his reddened cock. "Sorry, son. I forgot it was there," Dutch grins, exiting the tent to leave Micah to clean up. As much as Micah wants to finish himself off, he can't, especially when Arthurs load is still on his face, and Dutch's load is dripping from his abused hole. Micah undoes his neckerchief from his cock, using the cloth to clean himself as well as he can. Once he feels somewhat clean, Micah tucks the neckerchief in his pocket and attempts to clean up his appearance, tucking away his still throbbing cock and wiping down his shirt. He places his hat back on, making him feel a little more like himself, and exits through the back of Dutch's tent. Micah manages to get over to Baylock without anyone noticing him, not that the camp would anyway. He hisses as he gets in the saddle, his ass beginning to feel sore, but he pushes on and rides away, heading out to get a bath in town and hopefully finish himself off.

[yoongi-sugaglider]

Daegu Quarantine

Jungkook x reader

Gang/ zombie apocalypse au

Warnings:

Gore, violence, blood, gun shot wounds, zombies, mention of drugs and drug dealing, weapons discharge in self defense, main character death, zombies, course language, zombies, drinking, did I mention zombies?

Summary:

They were the top of their game, known throughout the city as the smartest and most dangerous crew to ever hit the Daegu streets. But what’s going to happen when this group of young men encounter something right out of a horror film?

Word count: 2172

A/n: Omgg I am soooo sorry!! I forgot to add a read more T.T I fixed it I promise!!!

Part 13===Part 14===Part 15

Jungkook was blind fury and rage, seeking those that'd dare harm what was his. He stalked through the halls, all caution thrown to the wayside as he mowed down body after body heading his way. It wasn’t the infected he was looking for though. 

“SEO EUN KWANG!!!” Jungkook’s voice rang through the hotel lobby, echoing in the empty expanse as he stopped in the center of the empty space to stare around.

“You know Boss…” A condescending voice drew his attention to the check in desk, “I never really wanted things to go down like this…”

Jungkook drew his gun to center mass, face a mask of emotionless disinterest at the man’s words. “Minhyuk and Sungjae are dead.” He growled the words out, vision tinted red at the corners as he watched Eun Kwang sigh and shake his head.

“I told them to take the night off. They weren’t even supposed to be at the warehouse. But you know how it is. Balancing out a mutiny with an apocalypse is just never going to go in anyone’s favor.”

“A fucking mutiny? What the hell is this, Pirates of the fucking Caribbean? You betrayed me Eun Kwang. After everything you fucking sell out piece of low end garbage. Not only that, you got HER shot.”

The older man shook his head once more with a laugh, leaning forward to place his elbows on the checkout desk’s high wall and tap at his temple with his gun. “Little dongsaeng, it was always in the cards for this to happen. You were just too blind to see that one little boy from Busan could never handle running the entirety of Daegu. You dreamed big, yeah. But kid, this city was just too big for you.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” Jungkook stalked forward, arms never wavering as he sighted the gun right for the center of Eun Kwang’s forehead. “I never wanted to run this whole town. You fuckers put that on me. I just wanted to make enough to get by. Make sure my girl had everything she needed. None of that included taking over a damn thing!”

“Easy there little cowboy. Another step closer and my boys are gonna have to protect me and the last thing I wanna do is end up killing you.” Eun Kwang smirked as Jungkook halted in place, eyes darting around to spot three men stepping from the shadows, each with their guns aimed at him and almost manic grins gracing their faces.

***

Pain.

Everything was pain and screaming.

“You’ve got to get her to wake up!”

I couldn’t help but to groan, hands reaching out to grab the nearest person as I fought against the pressure held against my outer thigh.

“It hurts...make it stop it hurts!” I whimpered, blurry gaze taking in the worried faces of Seokjin and Yoongi who were working to hold me down. Rose’s face appeared above me, panicked as she shushed me and pressed down on my forehead to keep me still.

We were in a room of some sort, no longer in the hotel kitchen so I couldn’t be sure how long I’d been out cold. Cleaning supplies surrounded us but the pain in my chest and leg kept me from being able to take in any more information as Yoongi had renewed the pressure on the molten mass of ouch that was my thigh.

“Can’t...breath…” I whimpered out.

“Release the straps on her vest. The ceramic plates will have shattered, if she’s got any broken ribs it’s gonna get a lot worse for her.” The voice in my ear crackled to life, startling me as I struggled for a moment to register Jimin’s calm tones whispering in my ear.

Seokjin released my uninjured leg, moving to lift my upper body. The pressure on my chest increased, blinding me for a moment as my lungs decided they didn’t want to work. I stared up at the ceiling, mouth open in a silent scream and tears chasing each other down my cheeks as Jin unzipped my jacket and fumbled to release the straps that’d been holding my tactical vest together.

As the straps released air whooshed into my lungs and I let out a sob of relief, though it didn’t last long as a strange shifting in my chest caused more pain to shoot through me.

“F...fuck…” I coughed, turning my head in Rose’s lap and shutting my eyes as a wave of dizziness rolled over me.

“Alright, once she’s breathing better shift those plates around and strap her back in.” Jimin’s voice came again and I turned my head towards Jin, eyes wide as I shook my head desperately to stop him. But it didn’t matter, and deep down I knew it as Jin pulled the straps tight and snapped them back into place. The pressure was a bit better, but damn did it hurt.

“Yoongi, have you got your silencer barrel on you?”

Yoongi grunted in reply, turning with one hand still holding pressure on my leg as he unscrewed the barrel from his sniper rifle. 

“I’d tell you to fire off a round or two but...not now…”

“I know what you’re gonna say…” Yoongi shifted upwards on his knees, placing the silencer on my chest for a moment and digging into his pocket. His hand reappeared and I watched on in a confused haze of pain and worry.

He nodded to Jin who groaned to himself as he picked up the silencer and held it delicately out to Yoongi. The silent assassin reached out, flicking a lighter and producing a flame that licked at the cold steel of the barrel.

My eyes widened in panic and I began to struggle, knowing deep down exactly what they were about to do.

“Keep her still.” Yoongi growled and Rose rushed to comply.

She grabbed my flailing arms, pinning them down to my sides as she shifted forward to keep a better hold on me.

Me struggling didn’t matter.

The pain no longer mattered.

The...the smell of my own flesh searing didn’t matter.

Only the bliss of one final scream chased closely by unconsciousness.

***

“Oh god…” Rose retched, losing her grip on the limp woman as Yoongi continued his grim work.

It really took no more than a moment to cauterize the bullet wound. It stretched less than 3 inches along the expanse of her outer thigh, but the blood loss alone would have caused quite an issue later on, not to mention the risk of infection. Yoongi treated the wound as best he could, wrapping it in the remains of the shirt Jungkook had tossed them before they’d locked themselves inside the supply closet of the hotel. 

Seokjin sniffed, covering his nose with the back of his wrist as he stared forlorn down at the cold sweat that glistened from the unconscious form of one of his favorite people. He shook his head, grinding his teeth before tapping the inner earpiece to signal to Jimin they’d finished the work.

The haggard doctor sighed through the communication device. “She should be safe to move. Just try not to jostle her ribs too much. I take it what Yoongi did made her pass out?” 

Rose whimpered, fingernails digging painful crescents into the palms of her hands as she struggled to regain control of the tears flowing down her cheeks. True, she’d been desperate for rescue the moment the news started rambling about people eating each other but...this? This wasn’t what she’d hoped for. She’d never wanted any of them getting hurt.

“I’ll hand things over to Tae, I’ve got to go get the infirmary prepped for when you guys get here. Try not to get hurt in the meantime…”

Yoongi grunted, eyes focused in on the hasty bandages as if waiting for them to bleed through. Taehyung’s voice returned, strained as if he’d been crying though none of them commented on his tone of voice.

“Alright, I’ve got visuals on Boss and Hoseok. The alley looks clear from this angle, along with the side streets that’ll lead you guys back in this direction.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Boss, I know you want to go after them...but we’ve got to get her back home. Yoongi hyung and Jin hyung could manage it solo but not without risking getting hurt or worse..infected…”

There was a brief moment of silence before Hoseok’s voice crackled over the line. “We’re headed back. Get ready to move out.” 

Yoongi nodded to the two figures either side of him, tucking the silencer barrel into a side pocket on his black cargo pants before handing the rifle itself over to Seokjin.

The trio were silent aside from the occasional sniffle from Rose but eventually they managed to pack as much as they could away, checking to ensure their weapons were all reloaded in the process. 

Yoongi worked gingerly, lifting y/n’s limp form into his arms bridal style and turning to nod to Jin. A single tap to the earpiece and the others were alerted that they were ready to move out and head home.

***

“Hobi hush. I’ve already told you none of the wounds are life threatening. If you wake the Boss I swear to all the high heavens that I’m blaming it on you and running.”

The whispering voices woke me, a welcome balm to the chaos that had been my nightmares.

Before opening my eyes and alerting them to my consciousness I took a moment to take stock of what I was feeling. The throbbing in my leg had gone away, probably due to whatever medication Jimin had managed to get in me. The weight alone let me know that it’d been treated and wrapped, though the weight in my chest hadn’t eased much.

I groaned, shifting a bit in an attempt to get a bigger breath of air. This got the attention of the two whispering voices which quickly stopped talking followed by the distinctive sound of shuffling bodies. After a moment a small hand slipped around mine, lifting it slightly as Jimin’s voice followed.

“Hey Boss Lady, you waking up?”

I peeled my eyelids open, one at a time before blinking to clear the blur and focusing on the two concerned faces hovering over me.

“Mmm...think I’m awake, though somehow I feel like I should be far more grateful for that stockpile of pain meds you like to keep around.”

Jimin gave me a shaky grin and a sniffle from beside him caught my attention. Lifting my head slightly I caught the sight of a forlorn Hoseok, eyes puffy and the normally sunshine glow of his grin nowhere to be seen. I let go of Jimin’s hand, fingers wiggling to catch Hobi’s attention.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m okay I promise.”

The poor boy whimpered, lower lip sticking out as he grabbed my hand in both of his. Closing his eyes he leaned forward, forehead pressed to my fingers as he sniffled his way out of the tears.

“Don’t...don’t do that to me again Boss Lady. I don’t like it when you get hurt….” 

I shook my head, giving a short laugh that only served to leave my head swimming as whatever was going wrong with my ribs shifted. “Ho...boy…” Releasing Hobi’s hand I arched my back as best I could, inhaling deeply and wincing as something strange popped in my chest.

“Alright now.” Jimin muttered, pushing me back down onto the bed with a frown. “I know it’s hard to breathe, but try not to breathe too deeply. You want those ribs to heal up properly you’re gonna wanna give them a chance to settle back where they belong.” 

I nodded, though relaxing back to where I’d been laying was harder than I wanted. I glanced to my other side, realising that the reason I hadn’t been able to move that hand was because a pair of incredibly toned arms was wrapped around it and a shaggy head of hair was currently pinning it to the bed.

I turned to the other two boys, arching an eyebrow at them in questioning.

“He hasn’t left your side since you all got back. Course...he hasn’t said much either.” Jimin sighed, rubbing his temples to release some of his pent up stress and then carding a hand through his hair. 

“Mmm… how long was I out?”

“Half a day. The Boss only just passed out about an hour ago though…”

I nodded, gaze returning sadly to the softly snoring form beside me. My heart ached for him, even knowing I was the one injured not him. I waved my hand, giving the two boys a soft smile to let them know I’d be alright on my own.

They left, Hobi sniffling the whole way as Jimin softly closed the door behind him. It was better to let Jungkook sleep. Things would run just fine without him for a while.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Sitting Room #1 (12/31/2020)

Click here if you’re like “what the heck is this about?”

Alastor decides that today is a good day to lay on top of a piano and sing. Valera @autokrates decides to accompany by playing the piano. Angel @sluttyspiderpolkacock plummets out of the sky and kills Alastor in one shot.

Alastor

What do we have here!

Alastor's been wandering the estate scouting out sources of entertainment—when he crosses paths with a sitting room stocked with a gorgeous grand piano. Entertainment located.

He trots over, plays a few keys to make sure it's in tune, considers his options, and then hops up to sit on top of the piano. Nice! Sturdy. He lays down on the piano.

What kind of song is appropriate to play while laying on a piano?

He thinks for a moment; then summons up his microphone, kills the lights, sends his shadow to play a dramatic arpeggio, rolls dramatically onto his back, and sings into the mic, "At first I was afraid~ I was petrified~"

Valera

Valera was happily sitting in the gardens, enjoying the ocean breeze of their home planet, the rustling of the leaves and the perfume of the flowers. It was only them and their thoughts out here.

How serene, how calm. You'd never guess their house was full of overpowered sinners hiding from a mass execution. All their fears were assuaged, not a single of the myriad of terrible incidents they'd expected had come to pass...

Wait. Was that... The opening bars for I Will Survive? Was that *Alastor* they saw through the gauzy curtains?

Fuck being alone with their thoughts, they *had* to get in on that good time. Hope Alastor doesn't mind if they hop right through an open window to offer some backing brass for his piano!

Alastor

Alastor sits up when the room is suddenly invaded—oh, how wonderful! There aren’t all that many places where you can start a musical number and fitting musical accompaniment just barges in! He’d thought he’d have to summon up his own private brass band.

Hand on his chest and hamming up as much as he can, he goes on, “Kept thinking *I* could never *live* without you *by my side*~”

Valera

Look at the man go, Gloria Gaynor would be proud. They plop themselves down next to his shadow on the bench, humming along under their breath while they ready themselves for their cue. In fact, while they're here...

A twitch of a fin, and a hazy amber spotlight flickers into existence to shine down on Alastor. There, mood lighting for the star of the show. Nothing but the best for a guest!

Alastor

Oh! Look at that! Proper lighting! They could be in Hell’s finest jazz club. Alastor’s really warming to his new role as a diva. “But then I spent so many nights, thinking how you did me wrong, and I grew strong~ I learned how to get along~”

He winks at Valera—time to really let loose—and belts out, “And now you’re *back*, from *outer space*—!”

Angel

Shielding his face from the glass, Angel continues to fall as he wildly fishes through his fluff for the charm Valera gave him for emergencies. It was so nice ( for his once human aesthetic appreciation ) that he told himself he'd never have to use it.

Then again, putting himself in this predicament wasn't exactly a conscious decision of his either. Making a clean enough break to salvage as he fell to his certain death was an unorthodox placement of priorities, but time was wasting. SOMETHING flashed before his eyes.

_ " ... And now you're **back!** From **outer space - !** " _

_Alastor...? I thought this was gonna be takin' me to Valer -_

And DOWN he sailed like a crimson comet into a cacophonous landing of glass, rattling keys, strings, once immaculately polished wood, and ( 1 ) local Radio Demon. A singular beat of moaning and groaning before he locked eyes with the island's Hostess with the Galactic Mostest and sprung to his feet, hip popped and arms dramatically jazzed.

" CIAO, MI LUCE DEI MIEI OTTO OCCHI ~ !! How's my BABY ~ ? "

Valera

An inhale as Valera prepares to start laying into the trumpet, smiling around the mouthpiece as Alastor belts out the lyrics. An inhale, and-- uh oh.

A tingle runs up their spine, eyes widening as they drop the instrument and jolt to their feet. Too late for any warning, here comes Angel, streaking from the ceiling in a blaze of glory and glass and splinters flying up from the shattered remains of their poor undeserving piano. They'd be more upset if they weren't immediately distracted by Angel Dust's darling voice.

Beaming fin to fin, Valera lunges forward to wrap their arms around their friend, tail all awiggle behind them as they bury their face in tit fluff. "Il mio amore! Mio caro! I'm so glad you could make it! Seapup is doing great, he'll be over the moon to see you here." A happy sigh, and they look up at Angel through his fluff and purr... Wait. Shit. Pull back, they have to peer around him to the wreck of the piano where their diva had once been.

"Alastor, do you need a medic?"

Alastor

Of all the ways to go, Alastor wasn’t expecting a meteor made out of red velvet.

And then the meteor climbs off of him and starts speaking Italian.

Alastor blinks up at the ceiling, half-dazed. “Probably, but that’s never stopped me before.” He sits up gingerly, leveraging himself out of the pile of devastated piano. “You know—I actually came to this universe to *avoid* getting murdered by an angel.”

Angel

It was very possible to not have enough arms with which to hug a dear friend, even when you had six. Angel gave her a big squeeze, tight enough to momentarily lift clawed feet from the floor as he nuzzled his face between her horns.

" GREAT! Place blew like ya wouldn't BELIEVE, Babe. Emergency getaway fa SURE ~ " he sang with a flash of an open palm of charm debris, which would promptly disappear into his fluff before he swept his cloak behind him.

" ALASTOR! THERE ya went! " Angel extended his hands to offer some help. " Ya ok? Sorry about that, uh, sudden change a plans. "

Valera

Oh to be a fish wrapped in the arms of a spider. What warmth, what comfort. A few seconds of bliss leave Valera's hearts feeling ready to melt, what could be better! A mental note to see about getting Angel Dust another charm, and she moves around to look Alastor over from a barely respectful distance. Poor thing got GOT.

Alastor

He sure did get got. He actually takes Angel’s hand to help haul himself up. “It’s not the change of plans I mind so much as your choice of landing pad!” Audience laughter. He cracks his back a few odd angles, then straightens out and starts brushing himself off. “You were at some big overlord shindig, weren’t you? Did the exterminators get in?” Oh, wouldn’t that be a delightful way to ring in the new year, getting rid of that rotten lot. The only overlords he cared about were either not the type to go to such a party or else excluded from the exterminations anyway. “Glad *you* made it out.”

Angel

" Uh... " It was settling in little by little, now. The foreboden consequences of his actions. " Yeah! They did! Uh, I wouldn't check into the place right now! Y'know, signals goin' haywire, S. O. S. 's off the shitshow... Thinkin' of it's givin' ME a headache, so I can't IMAGINE what it'd be doin' t' YOU, Smiles... Lucky ME though, ah? " _He used to be a much better liar._ Angel's ceaselessly sheepish smile left little to be assumed. Knowing this, he whipped back towards Valera, arms wildly animated as ever. " SO! How's e'ryone holdin' up over here? " He started a strut about the room, testing the soreness of his leading leg. " Ya DO have room fa one more in this fancy schmancy pad, yeah? "

Valera

She steps back, satisfied that Alastor wasn't about to keel over dead, and reaches out to take two of Angel's hands in hers to squeeze. Friend is here, nothing else matters yet! Even if the way he's acting is super sus, he's probably in shock from his DYNAMIC ENTRY to an ALIEN PLANET. That's the story she's sticking with until proven otherwise. Nobody needs that stress.

"Everyone's doing great, Angel! We've got four different Alastors, two Pentiouses, and we haven't even had any..." A glance towards her ex-piano. Another glance towards the radio demon brushing himself off. "... *Major* damage! I'll show you your room, if you want!"

Alastor

“No major damage *yet,* anyway! There’s still time to knock down a lighthouse or two!” He sounds absolutely gleeful.

At the moment, he doesn’t trust Angel at all. The dramatic entrance is perfectly fine, of course—he’d do no less himself—it’s this *insistence* that Alastor not check in on their universe. He absolutely needs to check in on it, as soon as possible.

But he’d rather hear about it from Angel first.

Not in front of their host, though. For the moment, he continues quietly straightening out his clothes and bones.

Angel

" PROPERTY DAMAGE ~ " he sang with a playful swing of their clasped hands, " Ain't a party wit'out a HEFFER of a BILL... " Angel then shadowed Valera's glances. Might be true of _some_ places, but certainly not HERE, his best friend's grand estate they've opened to such a handful of sinners out of the goodness of their heart.

" Sorry... about ya piano, though. I'll get ya a new one! " _No, you won't._ " I've got connections! " _Not anymore._ " Might not 'ave any special Veci designin' on it, but I'll do ya good! " _You just made THE worst mistake of your life. You're fresh OUT of GOOD._

**_YOU'RE never gonna know peace AGAIN._**

" I'm ON YA TAIL. Lead the way ~ " Angel belted playfully with a brush of those flickering fins and a glance back at Alastor. " Ya all good, there? If y'all wanna finish ya song later, I've got m'strings on me ~ "

Valera

"What, you want to replace my piano?" She scoffs, arms reaching up to give Angel's shoulders a gentle squeeze before dropping down to twine a hand with his. "Darling. Mio caro, I don't care about that old thing. You're alive! You made it here! You're in one piece! That's all that matters to me."

Trilling cheerfully, she rocks in place. Hand in hand with her best friend, safe in her home, decidedly not murdered by Heaven's dogs. The ominous stress could come later, for now she had to be a host. "We'll get you set up with a room, get you a warm meal, and then we can all play some music together, since you've so *generously* offered. Sound good to you two?"

Alastor

"Considering what happened the last time I tried to sing it, I think continuing 'I Will Survive' would be tempting fate." He plays the whistling sound of a falling missile and a distant explosion. "You don't both need me there to assign a room, do you? Perhaps I should head down to the kitchen and get that warm meal going!" Angel certainly hadn't gotten anything to eat at that big overlord function, Alastor would bet anything on that.

Angel

Angel clung to Valera's words and the way she fussed over him with such tender loving care like a lifeline. _This_ was what he deserved, ( wasn't it? ) He planted a kiss off her temple and smiled meekly. " Sounds good t' me! But uh, " he started with a sweep of a free arm in Alastor's direction, " Ya just gonna up an' be a host e'rywhere ya go? Valera ain't got this place staffed better than ours so you can chill? I'm already here, an' no one CRASHES as hard as ME ~ "

Valera

"Oh, I don't know, Alastor. Maybe tempting fate is where the REAL entertainment is."

Valera snorts, idly plucking a few stray splinters off of Angel's fluff. "I'm pretty sure I'd have to hold him at gunpoint to keep Alastor out of the kitchen. And unlike you, I simply don't have enough arms to keep all four in check. You might as well accept your fate of trying alien cuisine prepared by the radio host himself."

Alastor

“TEMPTING fate, sure! But it loses some of its charm when fate succumbs to temptation and pile drives me!” He pauses thoughtfully. “Although ‘falling man lands on innocent grand piano’ is a delightfully ironic twist, isn’t it?”

He flings an arm around Angel’s shoulders. “You’d rather have me cooking, anyway! Valera’s helpfully provided a list of Veci recipes that are *edible* to humans—but I’ve been tweaking them to make them *palatable* to humans.” Palatable by Alastor’s standards, anyway, which are either “freakishly high” or “raw bloody meat” with basically nothing in between.

Angel

Angel combed some more splinters from his chest with his hand before abruptly bending his knees to level with Alastor's pull. " Guinea piggin' it is, then! I don't think ya ever made anythin' I passed on. " Raw bloody meat included. _Everything_ was appetizing after a hard day's work. " DO ya worst ~ " With a pat of his back, he again took Valera's hand. " I'll sample the edible stuff anyways, t' compare an' not let all ya hard work go wastin' ~ "

Valera

Gods, Angel was comically tall compared to the other two, it was easy to forget that the spindly spider was slouching all the time. She purrs and gives Angel's hand a squeeze, bumping her nose to his cheek in the approximation of a kiss. "You're a peach."

A moment, and she turns to lead Angel away. So much to do! Did she have brushes..? Yes, she could brush him off, make sure he was splinter free without needing a whole shower... Don't mind her, she's already ten steps ahead trying to figure out how many extra pillows she should put on his bed.

Alastor

“Sample shmample! You’re getting a full plate. I’ll bet the closest thing you got to a proper meal at that party of yours was an olive in your martini.” He half-bows in farewell, and leaves them to head for the kitchen.

Angel

_Well he wasn't WRONG._ If memory served him, that last shot wasn't meant for his taking, either. Lightly chewing the inside of his cheek, he gave Alastor a shallow curtsy and fell into Valera's stride.

" So ~ ! " Angel whistled as he panned his sights over the architecture and decor of the hallway, affectionately hooking his arms about Valera's elbow and shoulders. " How big IS this place? I been t' Hell's palace fa a job before, but if I learned ANYTHIN' about VECI... " He snorted to himself before he could even finish his joke. " Y'all's style is... _outta this world ~_ "

Valera

Valera saunters along, an arm looping around Angel in return to give him the gentlest squeeze. "That joke was *terrible*, darling. As far as the estate goes? Fifty bedrooms, twenty of which are meant for guests, twenty nine for staff, and then the master bedroom. Though I'd call it more of a master apartment, the previous owner sure liked having plenty of space to themselves."

The size of the place was really one of the reasons Val barely ever visited this place, too much room. But that made it perfect for this visit. Space, isolation, plenty of areas for sinners to hide away if they needed privacy... And bedrooms big enough for the stupidly tall sinners to feel comfortable in. Here's Angel's! A twelve by ten four poster bed, white marble and gold from floor to ceiling, a balcony suitable for any necessary brooding or swooning over a sea view... Just what a spider needed. Plus a tiny orange ball comfortably sleeping in the middle of that luxurious bed, but don't mind him.

[dontshootmespence]

A Good Business Transaction

Summary: Desperate for money after getting into trouble, Y/N enters into a ‘business transaction’ of sorts with resident Thrombey asshole, Ransom.

Pairing: Ransom x Reader

Word Count: 2,368

Warning: Gambling problems, paying for sex, p in v, blow jobs and gagging, fingering, squirting, name-calling, biting, creampies, canon divergent. I really went all out on this one. See below.

A/N: You can all blame my horny-for-Chris gf @heycasbutt​ for this.

You have money - not Thrombey money - but you have it. While waiting for Meg to finish with the will reading, you step outside the palatial Thrombey mansion to light up a cigarette, hoping it will quiet your nerves. Unfortunately, you probably have to smoke the entire pack in ten minutes and subsequently die to feel like you aren’t on edge anymore, but hey, that’s life. 

With shaky hands, you tap the lighter and watch the flame ignite, hoping that maybe you’ll spontaneously combust and not have to deal with your looming money problems.

“You know that shit’ll kill ya, right?” 

There goes the cigarette taking the edge off. “Eat shit, Drysdale.” Taking a drag, you let the smoke go into the subtle breeze making its way past the mansion. “What happened with the reading?”

“Family business,” he replies as the corner of his lips turns upward. “You can ask Meg. We’re all fucked.” Something on his face doesn’t read like he’s fucked - like he has something up his sleeve.

Meg’s been your best friend for years, despite you being a few years older, so you were hoping that she might be able to help you with your money issue, but if the whole family is fucked, you assume the entirety of Harlan’s money went to his caretaker Marta. “Well, fuck.”

You put out the half-finished cigarette on the side of the house and pull another one from the pack, quickly lighting it up as you try to wipe away a tear. Last thing you want to be doing is crying in front of Ransom Drysdale. Meg is the only reason you’ve ever met him. He’s sexy as hell but all the looks and money in the world can’t stop Ransom from being the world’s biggest asshole. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, the smallest note of caring entering his voice before he continues with his usual self. “Can’t milk Meg for all the money she’s not getting?”

“Fuck off, Ransom. Meg’s my best friend. I don’t do that kind of shit to people.”

“Everyone does when money’s involved,” he said confidently. “You got money problems?”

“I’m into it with a bookie, alright?”

“How much?”

“Fifty large, and my dad’s basically cut me off because he’s got a new whore he spends all his money on. The child he never wanted from the now dead mother isn’t his priority anymore.”

“What a cocksucker.” Ransom seems genuine for one of the first times in his life. “I can help you out.”

The red ember of the cigarette draws your attention for a moment. You know what he wants. He’s made no secret over the years. “With what money, Drysdale? You just said you’re all fucked.”

“I’ve got my ways.” The glint in his eyes said he was about to fuck his whole family in the ass, including Meg, but you had bookies on your ass and if he was about to come into some money, you needed it. 

You take a step toward him and take another drag. “I don’t what you’re about to do, but you really mean that? You’d keep the bookies from killing me? Because I’m headed six feet under if I don’t pay up by the end of the week.”

“Yea, I’m not completely heartless. My family can eat shit and die, but you-”

“You don’t want me to die when you haven’t had the chance to sleep with me yet.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“When do you expect to come into this money?” Despite Meg being your best friend your need for self-preservation trumps all. You’re about to fuck Meg over and yet you can’t bring yourself to care. 

“Few days. A week tops.”

“How about I give you a hint of what’s to come if you get me out of this?”

A raised eyebrow tells you that you’ve got him on the hook. He could be bullshitting about money, but your gut says he isn’t. “Any good business transaction needs some good faith, right?”

What an asshole. Grabbing him by the coat, you guide him behind the house. With his family losing their minds inside, no one will notice if you indulge Ransom’s dirty mind. You back yourself into the wall and slide down, feeling your hair catch in the roughness of the reddish brick.

“You think about this a lot?” He asks. “You got down on your knees pretty quickly.”

You glare at him through hooded eyes - the ‘eat shit’ implied. As you fumble with his belt, you hear him chuckle. God, you hate him. You pull him free of his boxers and run your tongue along the tip, catching the little drop of pre-cum that sits there. Despite his cocksure attitude, he shivers and slips his hand into your hair. “You gonna suck my cock, little girl?”

“I’m going to gag on your cock, Drysdale. Let you fuck it like it’s my pretty little cunt.”

Groaning, he grasps either side of your head and braces his forearms against the brick wall. “Open.”

You do as he says, sticking your tongue. “Fuck my mouth, Drysdale. And if you come through for me, you’ll get so much more. After I get paid of course.”

“Of course,” he says suredly. 

Reaching out, you grasp his balls with your dominant hand and guide him into your mouth, wrapping your lips around the velvety smooth skin. You moan around him and watch his jaw drop. This is gonna be the best head he’s ever gotten, if only to ensure that he pays up when the time comes. While his family fights somewhere in the distance, you take him over and over again, making a point not to swallow. If Ransom is anything, it’s dirty, nasty and messy.

A trail of spit drops onto your shirt. “Look at me,” he demands. “Stay still. It’s my turn.”

He places a hand behind your head. At first, you think it’s the act of a gentlemen, but then you realize it’s just Ransom ensuring that if he fucks your brains out he won’t actually fuck your brains out against the brick wall. It’ll be hard to get his money if he’s a convicted murderer. Ransom steps closer to the wall and guides his cock into your mouth again, unrelenting when he feels you gag. Your reflex forces him out and you laugh. Against your better judgement you have thought about his cock in your mouth more times than you care to admit. 

Arousal pools between your legs. If it weren’t for the fact that you need money, and the fact that Ransom would 100 percent fuck you senseless and then go back on his promise, you’d be him to fuck you right here, right now. As he thrusts in and out of your mouth, his cock heavy on your tongue, you hollow your cheeks and try to look up at him. You want to watch the cocky bastard lose his damn mind. 

When he sees your unfaltering gaze, he picks up the pace, his cock getting harder and harder with each pass. “I’m going to come down that pretty little throat.”

You swallow him down and grab his ass, anchoring him there as he pulses down your throat. You hate how turned on you are, shaking as you come. His right hand slinks around your neck so he can feel himself in your throat. “Little slut likes getting her throat fucked?”

“I do,” you reply, swallowing the last of his come as you rise to your feet. “Come through for me next week and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

As you walk away, you wipe the remnants of your ‘business transaction’ from your lips, confident that he’ll deliver.

                                                            ----

Meg’s been crying to you all week. Marta had the inheritance for all of a couple of days when she was found to have killed Harlan. She didn’t. You knew it. Something to do with Ransom you’re sure. But with your deadline to your bookies looming, you can’t bring yourself to care. 

As you knock on Ransom’s front door, you glance around, hoping that no one sees you, especially Meg. She knows about your money problems, so if she sees you’re still alive after walking into Ransom’s place she’ll put it together. She’s a smart girl.

“Come in,” he says, swinging the door open unceremoniously. “You got the account you need it routed to?”

“Yea,” you say, handing over the paper.

He says something about routing the money through various accounts so it’s safer, safer for him obviously; he wants to make sure your bookies can’t come after ‘his’ money. “Alright, call your guy and make sure the debt is paid.”

With shaky hands, you dial the number and wait for him to pick up. “Got my payment?”

“Close call, girl. Don’t let it happen again.” The disembodied voice responds. 

“It won’t.” Because you don’t plan on being here much longer than you have to. You’re going to pay your debt to Ransom, because he’s hot so why not, and then you’re planning on stealing what you can from your father and bouncing before he can do anything about it. Shouldn’t be a problem considering he doesn’t pay attention to anyone but his new whore. “Done,” you say, turning toward Ransom. “I appreciate it. I’ll be out of your hair soon. But I am ready to pay my debt if you’re so inclined.”

“You wear the type of lingerie I asked for?”

Unbuttoning your top, you show him a peek of the nude, see-through lace bra you’re wearing. “Panties match, too.”

“Good girl.” There’s a glint in his eyes that makes you weak in the knees. You’ve had plenty of sex in your life, but something about Ransom’s brash demeanor, give no fucks attitude and search for his own pleasure and his alone gets to you in the best way possible. You have no misgivings about your relationship with Ransom. It’s a business transaction. Money for sex. You got your money and you like sex, so why not follow through? “Strip. Leave the lingerie on though. I plan on destroying it.”

His red gaze remains fixed on you as you let the shirt drop to the floor and your jeans pool around your ankles. “Best 50k I’ve ever spent.”

“Bastard.”

“You like it,” he says as he begins to circle you.

Behind you, he pulls off his light blue sweater and throws it who knows where. All you hear is its soft thud on the ground before he spins you around and pushes you back toward the couch. You fall into it and watch him reach for what appears to be condoms. “Don’t,” you say. “I’m on the pill and I was just tested. I want you to come in my tight little cunt.”

“You are a little slut.” Happily, he throws the box to the side and drops to his knees in front of the couch, pulling the lace to the side so he can lap at your arousal. “I’m going to make you squirt. Scream my name. I plan on ruining you for every man that comes after me.” 

His tongue slides up and down your slit a few times before he slips two fingers inside. With his other hand, he rips the panties to shreds and discards the material on the floor next to him. You grab his head and silently beg for more - faster, harder - anything. When you clench your legs around his head, he starts to fuck you with his tongue, his hands clasping your thighs like his life depends on it. 

Pulling away, he leaves you wanting as he rough fucks your pussy with his fingers. “Squirt for me, slut.”

Your orgasm crests in an instant and then you’re doing what you haven’t before, crying out his name as you squirt. He laps it up like a man starved as you shake, his fingers still inside you. “You’ll never find another woman like me either, Hugh. Every woman you fuck until the end of time. You’ll wish she were me.”

He says nothing. You use his real name, knowing it’ll anger him, but he’s speechless. You’re right and he hates that. Pushing his pants down, he kicks them off and spreads your thighs with his roughened palms, bearing all his weight on you. 

With no ceremony whatsoever, he plunges into your wet heat, groaning at the fit. “God, your pussy is perfect.” Each slam of his cock makes you cry out, back arching into the couch, nipples taut against the thin, but confining fabric of your bra. Whether he senses your frustration or just wants to see all of you, you don’t know, and you don’t care, because he pushes the lace above your breasts. 

As he pounds into you, he bends down to take one of your nipples between his teeth. “Fill my pussy up Ransom. I want it.” You wrap your legs around his waist and use your heels to push him into you harder and harder. 

His sweat-slick skin meets yours as he bends down to take your mouth in a searing kiss. It’s filled with lust and hatred and leaves your head spinning as another orgasm threatens to turn you to jelly. 

Each groan and growl says he isn’t far from coming himself. He grasps your inner thighs and scratches at the skin, pulling out all the way before pumping back in. When he comes, you cry out, “Ransom!” You rub your clit and arch up, muscles spasming as his cock twitches inside you, hot thick ropes of come pooling inside you. 

“Fuckin hell,” he breathes. “I’ll be thinking about this pussy for a long time.”

You dip your finger into your pussy and feel his come, bringing it to your mouth for a taste. You make a point of not breaking his gaze. Sure you’re leaving, but you want to make a lasting impression on the asshole. “Take a picture, Ransom, it’ll last longer.”

Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he finds his phone and replies, “You know what? I think I will. For posterity’s sake.” He smirks.

Blissed out and filled with come, you smile for the camera. “Eat shit, Drysdale.”

[taetaespeaches]

“Yes, your socks are cute, but I’m trying to get your pants off, Kid”

Yoongi x Reader (or oc)

Word count: 2.6K

Genre: smut; fluff

a/n: In a conversation with one of my thottiest and dearest friends, we decided it would be really hot if Yoongi’s girlfriend was wearing sexy underwear underneath her baggy lounge clothes, causing Yoongi to basically lose his fucking mind. So that’s what this is. Enjoy my fellow perverts, thots, and freaks alike. (It’s really not that freaky, don’t get too excited.) 

Sandwiched between two of your boyfriend's bandmates on the small love seat, you tried to focus your attention on the younger man's phone screen as he showed you a dumb meme video that would typically have you bursting into laughter.  Taehyung leaned over your frame as he watched the video with a big boxy grin paired with an outpouring of amused giggles. On your other side, your ear rang with the sound of Jungkook's cackle. When he noticed you weren't laughing, Jungkook nudged his arm against yours, peering at you with a wide smile.  

"You ok?" The smile on his face got just the slightest bit smaller as he expressed his concern for you. Were you ok? Yeah, actually, more than ok.  

Nodding, you smiled. "Just a little tired." Were you tired? No, quite buzzed actually. You observed the understanding nod from Jungkook as he went back to watching the video in amusement before your eyes moved across the room. To the source of your distraction.  

There, directly across the coffee table from you, sat your boyfriend, on the floor with his legs neatly crossed underneath him. Yoongi sat with his chin in his hand, his other hand tucked into lap, his posture slouched, a pretty pout, and his intentional eyes on you, scanning up and down your form. Why was he looking you up and down? You had no fucking clue, your body clad in baggy black track pants and an even baggier gray sweatshirt on your upper half, your feet snugly tucked into a colorful pair of fuzzy socks, your hair freshly washed but still damp and unkempt.  

Your cheeks heated under his gaze, the warmth spreading across your skin as a small smirk formed on his lips.  Averting your gaze to your lap, you folded your hands together, feeling your body tingle in response to the breathy chuckle that sounded from your boyfriend. He was teasing you. He knew exactly what his attention was doing to you.  

What he didn't expect, however, was the slow flicker of your eyes as you locked your gaze on his, your teeth lightly digging into your bottom lip. Yoongi scoffed at your attempt to tease him, though you both knew it was working. Unfolding his legs, he groaned as he stretched his arms and legs straight out in front of him, his legs extended underneath the table. Tensing his muscles before relaxing with a feigned relieved exhale, it appeared to be a simple stretch, no one taking a single glance at him. When his foot brushed along your own, however, the innocent  touch sent electricity throughout your body, making your heart race in excitement. 

As nonchalant as you could manage, you slowly rose from your spot on the sofa, both the men at your sides easily filling in the space you left behind as their eyes remained glued to the screen, starting yet another video. Making a quiet escape from the room, you glanced at your boyfriend, his eyes following you as you exited the room.  

You paced the dorm hallway, lined with doors leading to the boys' respective bedrooms, impatiently awaiting your boyfriend. With a huff, you leaned against the wall next to Yoongi's room, folding your arms across your ribcage. Looking to the floor, you watched as your sock covered toes tapped against the wooden boards. The sound of feet hastily shuffling along the floor drew your attention upwards, your eyes falling on your boyfriend as he made his way towards you, his pace slowing as your gaze followed him, as to appear not too eager.  

Casting your gaze straight forward, playing along with his not too interested act, your lips curved upwards just the slightest bit as the sound of his footsteps neared. When the steps stalled, there was a moment of complete stillness before Yoongi pinched your chin between his thumb and the side of his pointer finger, turning your head to look at him. Your eyes fell on his lips first before they dragged up his pretty nose to meet his gaze. 

“Hey, Kid,” he smiled at you.

“Hi,” you whispered as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth, only giving you a slight taste of what you wanted.  

Slowly moving his mouth to your ear, he reached for his bedroom doorknob, whispering, “Come on,” as he stepped away from you and entered his bedroom, grabbing your hand before he completely slipped through the doorway.  

“Mm,” you hummed, “what makes you think I want to go in there with you?” You resisted your own urge to follow him and pounce right on him. Yoongi simply looked over his shoulder at you with eyebrows raised. “The guys are all here, what kind of girl do you take me for?”  

Yoongi’s tongue pushed at the inside of his cheek as his mouth spread into an amused gummy smile, a small, breathy snicker just barely greeting your ears. “I don’t know, I guess I took you as the kind of girl who let me fuck her in the shower last week—”

Lunging forward with your hands up, you tried to cover his mouth, feeling your ears heat up already. 

“As Guk brushed his teeth just a few feet away,” he continued, his smile morphed into a teasing smirk.  

Inhaling in a small gasp you stepped forward, giving his chest a small shove. “I didn’t know he was there at first,” you reminded him, “and you’re the one who didn’t lock the door. Also, why was he using your bathroom anyways, it makes no sen—” 

Yoongi cut you off by pulling you further inside the room and throwing the door shut, roughly shoving your back against it, all in a series of quick movements.  

“Don’t tease,” he warned you as he caged you against the door, his arms on each side of your head. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to your collar bone. Lightly nuzzling his nose against your jawline, he smirked as you tried but failed to hold back a whimper. “I saw how you were looking at me out there, you knew what you were doing.”  

“You,” you exhaled, “you were the one giving me looks.”  

Pulling away just slightly, he dragged his eyes up and down your form for a brief moment. “How could I not? You’re fucking gorgeous.”  

Shooting him a genuinely confused look, you let out a completely bewildered, “What? I look like a hobo, Yoon.” Chuckling, he kissed your cheek, trailing pecks down to your jawline, softly traveling down your neck. At the curve where your shoulder meets your neck, his hot breath fanned across the skin.  

“You’re always gorgeous, Kid. You don’t get to tell me when you do and don’t look fucking amazing.” Slipping his fingers underneath the neck of your grey sweatshirt, he pulled it off your shoulder. As you prepared to protest his words, he trailed his lips along the expanse of your shoulder, his lips soon meeting the strap of your bra. Black lace. His eyes widened at the realization, biting his bottom lip as he met your own orbs, which were watching his every move.  

Digging a finger underneath the strap, he felt the lace between his thumb and pointer and middle fingers, releasing it with a snap, briefly stinging your skin. “Hobo huh?” His eyes bounced around your face, pausing on your lips for a moment as his hand reached underneath the hem of your top, his fingers grazing along your abdomen as they dragged upwards towards your chest. Returning his eyes to your own, his fingers felt at the bottom of your bra, causing chills to spread across your skin.  

Leaning back a bit, he cast his gaze downwards as he lifted the shirt over your chest, revealing the sexy black lace bralette. “Did you wear this just for me?” He smirked, lifting his gaze to meet yours briefly before bouncing back to your chest, drinking in the sight.  

“Always prepared,” you smirked, causing him to look into your eyes again with a chuckle. Pulling the shirt over your head in one slow easy motion, he pressed his body against your half naked one, bringing a hand to cradle the side of your face, moving his lips closer to yours.  

“So that’s the kind of girl you are,” he smiled. The sudden touch of his fingers sneaking underneath the waistband of your trackpants had you jolting, Yoongi chuckling at your responsiveness. His fingers ran over the tops of your panties, feeling the lace material, a groan rumbling from his chest at the realization that you were wearing a matching set.  

His lips crashed onto yours hard, his hand grabbing the cotton material of your trackpant’s waistband, tugging downward as he pushed you further against the cool wood of the bedroom door. As his tongue ran over your own in a heated needy kiss, his hand left your face, finding your waist, squeezing your flesh.  

Without warning, Yoongi lowered to his knees, your breath getting caught in your throat as you anticipated his next move. Both of his hands pulled down your pants, the clothing dragging down your ass before sliding off your thighs, revealing more and more of the legs that Yoongi has praised a million times before. As the cotton material gathered at your ankles, Yoongi took notice of your colorful socks, a fond smile taking over his features for a moment, replacing the hunger that was there just seconds before.  

Reaching for your foot, he looked up at you, gummy grin on full display. “These are cute,” he said adoringly, slowly pulling the sock off your foot. You giggled at him, pink tinting your cheeks.  

Tugging the pants off your leg, he chuckled at your comment that you, “Wore these just for you, too. They are pretty cute, huh?” Moving to your opposite leg to do the same, you wiggled your toes as he pulled the sock off, Yoongi trying to hold back his ever-growing grin.  

“Yes, your socks are cute,” he sighed, hiding his smitten amusement, “but I’m trying to get your pants off, Kid.” His eyes flickered up to your face for a moment, an amused smirk written in his features as he tore the sock and pants off.  

As soon as the clothing was removed, his expression returned to its previous state, his eyes locking on the black lace panties that hugged your hips, just barely covering what his eyes craved to see the most.  

Your hand settled on his head, your fingers settling into his dark locks as he dug his pointer finger underneath the hem of your panties, pushing the lace to the side, revealing you to him.  

He started slow at first, just a few gentle swipes of his tongue, up and down. When you whined for more, his lips spread into a smile, loving the sounds of your desperation for him. Placing a few small kisses to the area, you pushed your lower half towards him, one of Yoongi’s hands grabbing at your hips, stilling your movements, as his other hand continued holding the lace material out of the way.  

Looking up to meet your hooded gaze, he smirked, mumbling, “Be good.” Rolling your eyes, you didn’t even have a chance to sass him before his lips were wrapped around your most sensitive part, falling into a pattern of sucking and flicking his tongue back and forth in a quick repeated motion. Your fingers squeezed in his hair, pulling at the locks, Yoongi letting out a throaty groan at the feeling.  

Wanting more access to you, Yoongi briefly removed his mouth from you to grab the waistline of the panties, quickly pulling them down your legs. You looked at him, your expression dripping in adoration as your thumb massaged against his roots lovingly. Yoongi leaned into your touch, rotating his head to the side to kiss your wrist before wrapping his hand around the back of your knee. 

He quickly lifted your leg, allowing the panties to slip off your foot, pooling around your opposite ankle. Guiding your limb to rest on his shoulder, he moved his hands to your hips as he leaned back in to continue his actions.  

Tightly holding him in place, you began writhing in his grip as he restrained your motions. Enjoying the way you tried to move against him, his palms slid down your hips, grabbing at the flesh of your upper thighs, freeing your body to grind into his face. He let out a muffled, “fuck,” as he continued to work you towards your high with just his mouth.  

There was nothing Yoongi found sexier than how you responded to his mouth on you, and you both knew it. 

You sucked in a sharp breath when Yoongi’s tongue flattened against you, his head smoothly nodding up and down. Your grip in his hair loosened just a bit as you let him get into a groove.  

Pointing his tongue, circling your nerves, you tugged on his strands as you stifled a moan. Humming against you, Yoongi’s lips spread into a smirk, knowing you were close.  

“Oh my god,” you groaned out, your jaw falling open as you directed your gaze to the ceiling, your climax nearly there. “Fuck, just like that.”  The sound of your hoarse voice sent a hunger through Yoongi’s body, growing increasingly hard underneath his own clothing. 

Yoongi peered up at you, taking in the sight of your chest rapidly rising and falling, your abdomen contracting and expanding shakily. Running your hand down the back of his head, your eyes fell to the man on his knees, your orbs locking on his as his mouth continued to work you. You threw him a lazy smirk causing him to groan against you, increasing his gestures, easily bringing you to your high.  

You threw your head back, bumping it against the door, a blissed-out whine leaving your lips as you squeezed your fingers in his hair, causing a light sting to his scalp. The heel of your foot dug into Yoongi’s back as you pulled him closer with your leg that was slung around his shoulder. One of Yoongi’s forearms hooked underneath your thigh, his fingers digging into the muscle, as his opposite hand gripped your hip, helping to stabilize you as he rode out your climax with you, his tongue keeping a gentle rhythm against you.   

When the sensation became overwhelming, your body involuntarily jolted, your hands pulling on Yoongi’s hair to lead him away from you, Yoongi’s eyes staying locked on the area he had just been so well acquainted with. Pressing a sweet kiss to the sensitive spot, he leaned back, his gaze dragging up your frame, over the black lace bra, meeting your own eyes.  

“What was that, five minutes?” He asked you with a cocky smirk.  

Scoffing, you undraped your leg from his shoulder, positioning your foot to the side of his chest, gently shoving him away from you, sending Yoongi to fall back on his ass. Looking up at you, chuckling at your annoyed expression as you fought back a grin, he stretched his legs straight out in front of himself, his prominent bulge in his jeans catching your eye. 

Leaning back on his hands, he cocked his head, his gaze following you as you made your way to his bed. Turning to look at him, you nodded your head to the bed, asking him, “What are you waiting for?” Yoongi’s mouth widened into a gummy smile before biting his bottom lip.  

Within a few seconds, Yoongi was scrambling to his feet, his hastiness almost embarrassing, giving away how desperate he was for some relief. Approaching you clumsily, he shoved you to the mattress just as you posed the question, “Should we find out how long you’ll last?”  

[rainandhotchocolate]

Golden Couple

A/N: Hello! I know I keep saying sorry, I’ve had a rough few months but I’m feeling better and hoping I’ll be back writing regularly very soon - here is the cheeky smut I promised, and I’m currently writing another Marbles chapter also so praying for myself to get off my ass and finish that this week also!

 “Do you two ever get your hands off of each other” James groaned, rolling his eyes over exaggeratedly as he pulled open the common room portrait door with Lily and the other two marauders in tow.

“Oh, shut up” Sirius smirked, but pulled Y/N in closer to him, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

“Brought you some snacks, in case you had decided not to move to get lunch in the last 4 hours.”

“Guilty” Y/N smiled a little sheepishly, grabbing at the fizzing whizzbees James had thrown onto the couch for the couple.

“I don’t know how you just hang out like this, all day long.” Remus sat down in the armchair next to them, not taking his eyes off his book and sinking deeper into the chair.

“It’s pretty comfortable”  

“He’s basically a giant cushion”

“A firm, muscular cushion you mean?” Sirius squeezed her a little tighter making Y/N squeal, giggling at him. The remaining marauders feigned a collective groan.

“It’s been months, are you able to keep your hands off each other for one day?”

“Oh come on, they’re like the Hogwarts Golden Couple” Peter chirped, earning himself a glare from James and giggle from lily who pulled him back from a theatrical lunge in Peter’s direction.

“They’ve got nothing on us, unrequited love, persistence, dedication, intrigue-“

“I think you’d be closer at stalking” Lily raised an eyebrow at him and he poked her in the ribs, “What! I mean it’s a pretty cute story…” she shrugged, an evil glint in her eyes. James turned to her, a look of indignation on his face.

“How dare you say such a thing!”

“Well at least the Golden couple never fights…” Remus chimed in, putting his book down.

“Wow. Of all the people to crush my spirit!” James shook his head, standing up, “I’m off to find new friends who will treat me how I deserve to be” He surreptitiously swiped the chocolate sitting on the coffee table, zooming out of the common room.

“That was my chocolate wasn’t it” Remus growled, turning quickly and storming out of the portrait hole.

“Annnnnnd that’s my queue to stop any potential animal fight,” Lily chuckled, grabbing Peter’s collar and not-so-subtly winking at the couple still cuddling on the couch.

“We might be gone for a while… we can meet you at dinner later,” She continued, still grinning as she pulled the very confused Peter out to the portrait hole.

“How long do you think it would have taken Remus to find him?” Y/N laughed, curling her back further into Sirius’ chest.

“I’d say he’s already gone, we should be paying our condolences.”

“Or… we could make good use of the very, very empty dorm room?” Y/N murmured slowly, feeling Sirius smile into her shoulder blades.

His thumb was making circles around her stomach softly. He began to softly kiss the edge of her neck, pressing his lips all the way down to her collar bone. Y/N took in a deep breath, biting her lip at his touch. Even now, even after the honeymoon period had worn off there was something about his touch that both excited and calmed her. There were far past the butterflies in the stomach phase, stolen kisses in the hallways, nervously reaching for each other’s hands during dinner. But having him know where to touch her to make her feel amazing, it was so much better than she could have imagined.

Sirius picked her up quickly, bridal style, making Y/N laugh loudly, and the remaining few people in the common room glare.

She couldn’t help but continue laughing as he gallantly jumped the stairs two at a time, careful to keep her head away from the bannisters. He pulled the door closed behind him, grinning mischievously at her as he placed her down on the bed.

He watched her for a moment, standing up above her with his head cocked to one side, a small smile playing on his face.

“We are pretty evenly matched you know” He said finally, leaning over the bed and placing his hands on either side of her legs. He began crawling up on top of her, moving slowly up to her face.

“Is that so?” Y/N replied smiling up at him.

“Yeah, you know, we are both extremely good looking” Sirius grinned even wider at her as she laughed at him.

“Incredibly smart” He kissed the top of her head, and then her neck.

“Mmm,” Y/N couldn’t bring herself to reply, breathing in the smell of him standing over her and biting onto her collarbone. She gasped as he began to suck down, mentally noting to wear something a little high-necked tomorrow.

“But I don’t love the whole Golden Couple thing”

“Oh? And why is that huh?” Y/N pulled her hands around his waist and lowered her hands to pull his t-shirt up and over his head. He lifted himself up slightly and put his arms up to let her slide her fingers into his hair and then throw the shirt onto the ground beside the bed.

“I prefer something like… Power Couple” Y / N laughed at him and he pulled her over and on top of him.

“So are we going to take over the world?” She gripped her legs tightly around his waist and kept her eyes on him as she pulled off her top as well. She couldn't help but grin at his slight groan at the sight of her in nothing but a bra and skirt.

"I mean, honestly, there's not a lot of things you couldn't convince me to do"

“I think the only thing I'd want to convince you to do would be to make me scream” Y / N leaned into his ear, biting down lightly so that he moaned again and pulled his hands down and around her ass.

“Anything you wish” he laughed at her but pulled her underwear slowly down and off her legs. She pulled off the buckle on his pants and slid them down and off him to reveal his already hard penis pressing up against her.

“Aren't you going to get this off me?” Y / N pointed at her bra and wiggled her breasts at him making him laugh and unhook the back of it.

He began kissing down her front, biting down on her hardened nipples, sucking lightly until she began squirming on top of him. Finally, I have reached her inner thigh, frustratingly slowing down. I touched softly closer and closer, his hands grabbing at the edge of her vulva.

“Sirius, oh Merlin that feels good” Y / N finally gasped, her clitoris beginning to throb lightly, her stomach tensing at every touch.

“Come on Golden Boy” Y / N gasped lightly at him circling her clitoris, speeding up lightly every second, “Can't you do better than that?”

Sirius chuckled at her words and looked up at her momentarily.

“That's all I've been waiting to hear” He looked up at her and winked, tracing a finger slowly up and down her clitoris, and then he pushed two fingers into her.

He bit his lip, and grinned up at Y / N, watching her grasp at the sheets next to her hips as he pushed into her deeper and deeper, pushing another finger into her when he saw her buck her hips down into him.

She moaned loudly as she felt him move his fingers lightly inside her in a circle. She lifted herself up slightly so she could reach underneath and feel the tip of his penis. Sirius moaned as she began to lightly pull up and down on his shaft.

I have grabbed at his bedside table and pulled out a condom.

“You read my mind” Y / N moaned, pressing herself closer up against him.

He smiled widely at her response and opened the condom carefully, rolling it tightly along his penis. He then grabbed the lube next to him.  

He moved his hand down to place his dick to her entrance and looked up at her again. Y / N knew I liked watching her as he pushed inside of her, watching her reaction, her little gasp at him.

“Yes” She took a deep breath, relaxing her body as in clenched slightly at the shock of something push into her.

He eased himself in until Sirius pushed himself completely into her in one quick motion. They both moaned together, Y / N's hands gripping onto 

“Merlin, you feel so, so good, Y / N” Sirius said roughly, his eyes examining every inch of her body moving underneath him, “You always feel amazing”

“You are amazing” She moaned loudly, loving the feeling of his head push in and out of the entrance to her vagina. She could feel him pushing inside of her again and again, gripping the back of his neck and pulling them closer together so she could feel his chest up against hers as they moved together.

“Merlin, I love you” He moaned, rocking into her, the headboard creaking underneath his hand, “I love you so much Y / N”

Y / N moaned louder, gasping for air as she watched him bite his lip, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“I love being inside you” I have grabbed her arm roughly, trying to hold off from finishing before her. Y / N moaned again, bucking her hips up as she felt every inch of his push up and into her.

Y/N watched Sirius closely as he began concentrating on his building orgasm, watching her body moving with him. Sirius brought his hand down between her legs and placed a thumb on her clitoris, rubbing soft circles. He grinned as she moaned loudly at his touch, loving how he knew exactly how to get this out of her. 

“Yes, Y/N moan for me” Sirius moved harder, his stomach shaking and breath catching as he watched her arch her back into his hand, hands grabbing at the sheets underneath her. 

He thrust in harder and harder until he bit his lip and moaned loudly. He moved his hips into her as he came, moaning loudly as his orgasm peaked. 

“Fuck, Sirius, Yes” Y / N felt her eyes roll back into her head and her orgasm builds bigger and bigger into her stomach until it rolled over her. Sirius pulled out but continued to flick his finger into her as she rode out her orgasm.

“Stop, stop” She laughed, moving off his legs and lying next to him. Sirius curled himself into her, pulling her warm body up against him, breathing heavily.

“Never sure which is better, the during or the after”

"Oh, definitely the during, DEFINITELY" Sirius shook his head wildly.

"Yeah ok fair" Y / N laughed at him, "I just, sorry being lame"

“I love you being lame”

Y / N smiled into the pillow, his arms wrapped tightly around her. She couldn't think of anywhere else she wanted to be.

 taglist: @averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbook @ cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana @avengersassemblee @maraudersandco @ SLY-vixen-up2nogood @katbernoulli @ sirius-lysad @ cherrie511 @siriuslyjanhvi @evyiione @ minerva26love @katbernoulli  @aikeia

[darkblueboxs]

Behind the Scenes: Iron and Ember

These are scenes from earlier versions of Iron and Ember that ended up getting completely rewritten in later drafts. I felt bad about leaving them to rot in my files forever though, so consider this an insight into the writing process/ an au of an au/ bonus content/ whatever

(Link here if you haven’t read I&E!)

This one comes after Neil and Kevin are attacked by Riko in the forest. It was later replaced by the boat confrontation to fix issues with characterisation/plot holes, but I’m still a sucker for the angstier elements, so:

 They wait until the dawn of the following day to return to what remains of the Fox’s camp. The battlements lie in smoulders, their tents shredded and their shelters kicked to pieces. There is no sign of the other foxes. No blood, no bodies, nothing.

In the middle of the main pavilion they find the body of a fox-antelope, its orange fur matted with red. Neil levers the scroll out from beneath its head and scans it over before handing it to Kevin.

The Foxes have been captured. Riko will release them on one condition; Kevin hands himself over. If not, they will all be killed.

The sound Kevin makes is not recognisable as he falls to his knees. Neil stays standing, but barely. For as long as he can remember, being captured by the Fire Nation was Neil’s greatest fear. It’s only now, faced with the loss of his Foxes, that he realises there is something he fears more than his own death.

He hauls Kevin back to his feet despite the shaking of his own limbs. Kevin’s expression echoes the white-hot fear shaking through Neil’s body. For months, both of them have lived in the relative safety of the Foxes’ encampment, both leaning on the sturdy foundations of Andrew’s protection. The steady presence both of them have grown accustomed to has been ripped out from beneath them, and the ground no longer feels sturdy beneath Neil’s feet. It takes a few moments to remember how to breathe again; when Neil opens his eyes, Kevin is bolting towards the camp’s perimeter.

Thankfully, Neil has always been the quickest of all of them. He tackles Kevin to the ground. The following fight is quick, vicious, and without a clear winner, both of them too exhausted after a night of fight and flight to come out on top.

“You’re not going back to them,” Neil snarls, hands fisting in his collar. “One of us has to survive! Don’t you understand? One of has to make it.”

Kevin grips Neil’s wrist, trying to wrench it back. “And it’s going to be you.”

“No,” says Neil, and it’s as though all the fight leaves him in one syllable. “No, it isn’t.”

Kevin doesn’t understand; Kevin can never understand, because the day he discovers who Neil really is will be the day that Neil’s life with the Foxes is over. Neil can barely live with the danger he puts them in as a runaway of the Fire Nation. Now Kevin and Riko know he isn’t just any runaway, but the Butcher’s son, and the danger has doubled. If any of them discovered that he was an avatar, they wouldn’t stand a chance. Riko would tear the world apart to get his hands on Neil, and destroy anyone who tried to stand in his way.

And they would try to stand in his way. Neil’s Foxes, stubborn, obstinate, endlessly caring. They never know when to back down from a fight, and he loves them for it. They wouldn’t give Neil up without a fight.

This leaves him with only one option.

He has to let them go.

“I have a plan.” He lets go of Kevin’s collar, taking his shoulder instead and squeezing. “I need you to trust me.”

Kevin has no reason to trust Neil now; he understands better than anyone the past which Neil has kept hidden. He knows their opposition, and he knows the fate that will meet them should they fail. All the same, he places his hand over Neil’s and nods. His skin is hot against Neil’s; the blood of firebenders calling to each other in perfect understanding. “I trust you.”

Neil leads the way, and Kevin follows.

*

They find Riko’s camp a mile north. The distance is insultingly short, like Riko has left the welcome mat out in the surety that Kevin will soon be kneeling on it. The guards lower their weapons and step aside as they approach, granting them access without comment. A circle of red tents have been erected around a central firepit. Riko stands before it, cast in silhouette by the bonfire at his back. Their encampment has not been erected with even the pretence of military strategy; the thin canvas tents are unprotected, and were it not for the presence of armoured guards it would look like a leisurely camping trip.

As Neil’s eyes adjust, he can make out the figures on the far side of the campfire, and his heart falls through his stomach. He had wondered how the small group of Ravens had disabled and kidnapped eight foxes with so little fuss and bloodshed. The answer comes in the form of Jean Moreau, who stands at the end of the kneeling row of Foxes in a frozen ready-stance. Despite coming from the Southern Water Tribe, he wears the Fire Nation’s red garb, which drains the colour from his sea-grey eyes. Kevin has told Neil of the Fire Nation’s vicious attacks on the Northern and Southern tribes, and how the Fire Nation dealt with the prisoners it took. Some, like Jean’s family, took any deal they could to get into the Moriyama’s good graces, up to and including selling Water Tribe secrets to gain a position at the royal family’s side. Those that could not please or provide for the Fire Lord…

Kevin hadn’t needed to finish that sentence.

Jean was the only waterbender to be admitted to the Raven Academy, but despite a lack of instructors and guidance in his native element, he appears to have mastered waterbending as well as anyone.

It isn’t his waterbending, however, which holds the Foxes in place as though cuffed by invisible ties. Jean Moreau is bloodbending.

Kevin makes the realisation at the same time Neil does. The noise he makes is strangled as though an airbender has sucked all the air from his lungs. By the time they reach Riko, they are close enough to hear the sick gurgle of suspended blood, hanging thick and terrible in the air. One wrong move, and Jean could halt their blood flow entirely, starving their brains of oxygen and leading them to a slow, painful death. Sweat is beading on Jean’s brow, and when he sees Kevin his eyes slide closed, jaw clenching, somewhere between disappointment and relief.

“Kevin.” Riko opens his arms, as though expecting him to walk into them. “And you bought Wesninski too. A peace offering?”

At the sound of Kevin’s name, several of the Foxes’ eyes fly open, and heads jerk, fighting against their invisible constraints to look their way. He hears a slurred motherfucker from Matt, a low groan from Nicky, a stream of curses from Aaron and Dan. Their voices are horse, worn out from screaming or because of the pressure on their bodies, it is impossible to know. Neil looks to his family. He can’t help himself. He has never been on the receiving end of bloodbending, but he has heard second-hand experiences. The pain, the fear, the total loss of control. Matt is the closest; his expression is twisted as though possessed, and every vein stands out against his skin, swollen and blue. Dan is next, twitching constantly as though trying to beat back Jean’s bending with every movement. Nicky and Allison’s eyes are wet, but Allison glares with the fury of a saber-tooth lion, her arms straining against the lock holding them at her sides. A gag has been tied around her mouth, but Neil knows her muffled tones well enough to catch the gist of her intent. Aaron’s gaze is distant, and beside him, Renee’s eyes are closed, her body loose and relaxed, although Neil isn’t sure how she can expect to meditate her way free of this.

Andrew. Andrew’s gaze is the hardest to meet. There is no twitch or strain to his suspension, but unlike Renee, his body remains tense, as though caught mid-seizure and held there. His jaw is clenched tight as a trickle of blood paints his temple deep red. His eyes burn with questions, accusations, betrayal. Neil was supposed to keep Kevin firebending, keep him rebelling from the nation that was once his home. Instead, Neil has walked him back into the arms of the man Andrew swore to protect him from. Neil tries to put a thousand words into his answering gaze, but in the end settles only on one. Trust.

“Where’s Seth?” Kevin says lowly. Neil realises with another panicked twist of his gut that one of the Foxes was missing. Seth wasn’t a firebender, but he was from the southernmost Fire Islands, and officially a Fire Nation citizen. He was just as much a runaway as Neil.

“The non-bender? He should have known better than to put up a fight,” Riko says, eyes dancing with unrestrained delight. “We have to make an example of draft-dodgers, Kevin. I’m sure you remember.”

Neil’s eyes move against his will to the bonfire at Riko’s back. “No.”

Kevin jerks forward with fire in his eyes and in his hands. Normally, Neil would be delighted to see that he had grown a spine at last, but now is not the time for heroics. Not for Kevin, anyway. He holds out an arm and pushes Kevin back, placing himself once again between Kevin and Riko.

“Don’t be a fool, Wesninski. I am willing to let your insubordination slide in exchange for my brother’s return, but you would do well not to press me. Many people back home would love to watch you die a slow and painful death, many of whom are good friends of mine. Don’t tempt me to bring another little present home for them.”

“Neil, Kevin, what are you doing?” Matt hollers. “Get the fuck out of here!”

A guard steps forward and strikes Matt with the butt of his spear, and Matt’s head lolls.  

Neil forces back the acidic taste of fear and bile at the back of his throat, throws water on the burning hatred stoked by Seth’s death. They were never friends, but they were a team. “I have a better deal for you.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“You let Kevin go. You let the foxes go. In return, I will give you something far more precious.”

Riko cackles. “Do you know how much time and effort we have exerted in bringing our lost Raven home? What could you possibly have to offer us?”

“I can give you the avatar.”

Riko goes very, very still. Neil swears he can hear a collective intake of breath from the surrounding soldiers.

“What?” Kevin’s voice comes out strained. “Neil, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Shut up,” Neil answers through gritted teeth. He turns back to Riko. “Do we have a deal?”

Kevin and Riko have been raised from birth to be the Fire Nation’s very best. The search for the Avatar has lasted years, crossed nations, caused countless bloodshed. Finding the Avatar is perhaps the only accomplishment that could render Riko worthy in the eyes of the Fire Lord, and this is what Neil is counting on. Everything depends on Riko’s need for his family’s acknowledgement outweighing his need for Kevin.

Riko’s eyes flick from Neil, to Kevin, to Neil. He steps forwards, close enough that Neil can smell the bonfire on his clothes. “We have a deal.” The hunger in Riko’s eyes is bottomless. “Where is the Avatar?”

“I will tell you when the Foxes are free and far from here,” Neil replies levelly despite the thudding in his chest. “Not a moment before.”

Riko flicks his fingers, and Jean drops his arms, falling into a heap as the Foxes are released.

“Don’t,” Neil says sharply before any of them can start a fight. “Go. Now.”

“Neil.” Dan fits a hundred questions into the single syllable, but it’s all Neil can do to shake his head.

“I said go.”

She nods. “We’ll meet you at the rendezvous point.” She casts Riko a look so venomous Neil is surprised it doesn’t kill him outright. “When he said the Foxes, he meant all of them.”

“All who remain,” Riko corrects her sweetly. Renee grabs Allison around the waist before she can react.

Neil can’t meet Dan’s eyes. He doesn’t know what will happen to him when Riko discovers the truth. He can only hope that a kinder version of his story makes it back to the Foxes, one that explains that he wanted to return to them. One that cuts around the pain, that of Neil’s past and that which surely awaits him.

The Foxes file out of the camp, passing between the silent sentries, quietly promising that if Riko didn’t hold up his end of the bargain there would be hell to pay. Andrew steps smartly over Jean’s form, which still shakes with exhaustion, and stops dead in front of Neil.

“Go on, mutt,” says Riko. “Take your master and go.”

Neil tries to force his features into some approximation of a smile. “Thank you.” He can’t bring himself to elaborate with Riko standing between them; for the bending, the kisses, the trust. “You remembered the firebending moves.”

Andrew’s gaze doesn’t move from Neil’s. Kevin glances at Riko’s expression and takes Andrew by the arm, pulling him away and after the others. If Kevin has any suspicions, Neil can’t read them in his expression, only panic, and an underlying vein of betrayal. Riko wasn’t the only one who spent a lifetime searching for the Avatar.

Neil counts to ten in his head in every language he can think of, counting the distance the Foxes will have placed between themselves and Riko. He’s startled from his thoughts by the press of a blade against his jugular.

“Tell me what you know.” Riko’s smile has tipped over the knife-edge from mirth to mania. “Where is the Avatar?” Neil looks at the mounting hysteria of the man before him and feels an ice-cold calm settle over him.

“Right in front of you.”

Riko’s expression freezes, as if unable to decide between laughter and fury. Before he can accuse Neil of lying and gut him like a fish, Neil pops open the waterskin at his hip and pulls a twisting trail of water from within.

His second-ever attempt at waterbending doesn’t last long; he holds the form long enough for comprehension to dawn before letting the shape collapse into the earth.

“Earth kingdom,” Riko says, barely audible. “You were supposed to be from the Earth Kingdom.”

“My mother was.” Neil flicks the lid of his skein closed. “Worked out pretty well for me, really. Just think, I was right under your nose for all that time. How many years have you wasted searching the earth kingdom? Fair warning, it doesn’t matter. You could find a thousand Avatars, it still won’t make Daddy love you.”

Neil feels the crackle of charge build in the air as Riko’s smile twists and falls in on itself.

“Jean,” Riko says without turning. “Hold him down.”

Jean drags himself to his feet, and suddenly Neil’s body seizes, his blood turning to thick slush in his veins. A scream catches in his throat and stays there and his lungs burn.

The last thing Neil remembers is Riko drawing back, lightning cracking and flashing around him, and then everything goes black.

  This one came after Neil’s reunion with the Foxes. It ended up being replaced with the scenes in the air temple (and a more peaceful fall of the Fire Nation) but I still like the andreil dialogue soooo:

  “Show me again.”

Andrew sighs. “Junkie.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Neil smirks even as Andrew clamps a hand over his mouth.

“That mouth,” Andrew growls, infusing enough emotion into the two words that he doesn’t need to complete the sentence. They stay that way a moment, waiting each other out. Andrew’s palm is warm against Neil’s lips, and he can feel the pulse roaring beneath.

He’s better at this now, sensing out the shift and glide of the world around him, layers upon layers of intermingling elements pulsing with a nameless energy, calling to him. He can pick Andrew out anywhere in a crowd, in the pitch black space between asleep and awake, in hurricane or thunderstorm or earthquake. He knows the weight of Andrew’s body and the pace of his footsteps, he knows the way he holds himself like he can take any hit the world throws at him. He knows the way the air fits in his lungs and the way his blood pumps in his veins and the way fire burns in his heart the same way it does in Neil’s, no matter how well-hidden. He feels Andrew in constant orbit like they’re celestial bodies caught in each other’s pull.

He isn’t sure if this sense is a side effect of being the Avatar or a side effect of being with Andrew.

He feels the huff of Andrew’s breath ripple the air around him as he gives in to Neil’s request. He turns to the nearest statue – another horrendous effigy of the deceased Fire Lord, singed but not destroyed in their takeover of the capital – and plants his feet on the ground, pulling the metal figurine apart.

The metal tumbles to the ground in twisted pieces, lost instantly to the scattered debris that litters the Royal Plaza. Reconstruction is well underway already, invaders and invaded joining together to rebuild a better world.

“Your turn,” Andrew says.

Neil approaches the next statue – Ichirou, whose profile still sends a jolt of panic down Neil’s spine. The man himself is safely confined in Boiling Rock, where he will remain until negotiations concerning the Fire Nation’s future governance and territory are complete. Neil’s earthbending remains next to non-existent, but he squares his stance all the time, imitating Andrew’s movements. He seeks out the call of the earth within the metal and comes up blank.

“Shit,” Neil says. It was only in the aftermath of storming Capital City that Kevin grudgingly admitted that Neil had mastered firebending sufficiently to move onto other elements, but Neil already feels miles behind. Kevin was insistent that Neil begin airbending, as was the traditional order of the Avatar cycle; Neil was equally insistent that he avoid the element for as long as possible.

“You’re trying to run before you can walk.” Andrew flicks a pebble at him, which bounces off his forehead. “Learn to earthbend. Worry about metal later.”

“I’ve done it before,” Neil says snippily. Andrew’s eyebrows twitch upwards. Through the course of their travels, they have yet to encounter anyone else with Andrew’s metalbending abilities. Neil says Andrew is a pioneer; he has discovered an entirely new form of earthbending, one which no one else in the world is capable of. Andrew is highly doubtful. Neil calls him the greatest earthbender who ever lived; Andrew tells him to shut up. Andrew still remains strangely detached from the element he has mastered so thoroughly, but Neil can see the change in his eyes, feel it in his pulse. It comes in times like this, where Neil watches him with hungry eyes as Andrew leads him, step by step, into the rocky core of his abilities.

Andrew steps between Neil and the statue with sudden focus. “You metalbended.”

“So you care about metalbending now, do you?”

“No,” Andrew says. He takes Neil’s chin between his finger and thumb. “Tell me.”

“Just the once.” Then, because he can say things like this to Andrew, and Andrew will accept it without horror or disgust or fear, “On my father. It killed him.”

“Good.” Andrew steps out of Neil’s path, opening his view to the statue once more. “Do it again.”

 I hope you found these snippets from my recycle folder interesting - I have a lot of fragments like these but these were the ones I wanted to save most. Thanks for reading!