#hang your halo universe

[lovebugism]

band!eddie and reader finally having some alone time in the tour bus *wink wink*

18+ rockstar!eddie universe <3

It was one of those rare occasions where the rest of the band wanted to go out and you wanted to stay in. There hadn’t even been a show that day, just interview after interview after interview. It left your social battery at an all time low. So when Jeff and Gareth wanted to barhop the night away, you lamented that you were way too tired to accompany them. 

And Eddie, being the nice guy he was, opted to stay in with you. “Someone’s gotta make sure the lady stays safe. Wouldn’t want someone to steal ya,” he’d half-joked.

You scoffed. “Because, god forbid, you lose your bassist, right?”

“Well, if I lost you, I think I’d die, but…  yeah, having to find a replacement would definitely be more emotionally taxing.”

Eddie Munson was the only person in the world who could rival your sarcasm. It was so easy for the both of you to cover up a sweet thing with something so playfully sour. The boy finishes his quip with a stupid, lovedrunk grin that nearly makes you melt. 

“Obviously,” you retort.

The rest of the boys disappear for the next several hours, enough for the sun to have set and stars to sprinkle the sky. If you had to guess, they’ve probably got a running bet on how many bars they could get free drinks from. It’ll go on until they can’t see straight anymore, no winners or losers — unless you count your manager, who’ll no doubt have to escort them back to the bus. 

With them gone, the bus is practically silent for the first time all tour. There is no boyish yelling or tuning guitars or video games. There’s not even the muffled sound of tires on gravel with the tour bus parked. It’s total silence filled only with the faint sounds of Charlie’s Angels coming from the common area. The episode is practically on mute, though, because Eddie knows you’re tired and doesn’t want to disturb you.

The soft quiet ushers you into its velvet arms. It almost lulls you to sleep several times over, but something in the back of your mind refuses to let you slumber. You were annoyed at first. You were squirming in your tiny bunk for nearly an hour until you realized you were filled with a need of a different kind.

You didn’t need sleep. You needed Eddie. Like a child needs their baby’s blanket — you can’t be without him for too long, or you might start screaming. The sudden ache to be close to him hits you like a freight train.

The sliding door of the bunks glides open with a mechanical schlick. You lean against the frame of it, clad only in a too big shirt that probably belonged to all the boys before it got to you, and admire your boy in his element.

He’s all spread out on the leather couch, curly hair untamed and in a messy chestnut halo on his head. He wears a piece of outdated Corroded Coffin merch from back when you only played gigs at The Hideout. The shirt clings to his torso while a pair of old pajama pants hang low on his hips.

Eddie’s eyes are firmly trained on the small television in the corner of the bus. The chocolate of them dart around the screen as Farrah Fawcett turns flips beneath a shoddy cable service. He barely acknowledges your presence, too engrossed in the climax of his show.

“Thought you were sleeping,” he says without looking at you.

“I’m too bored to sleep,” you practically whine. 

Your feet shuffle along the carpeted floor as you walk the short distance to him. You all but flop onto the couch at his side, burying your face into the warmth of his neck.

“What do you mean you’re too bored to sleep?” he mocks with a soft laugh. He turns to press his lips to your head, not exactly kissing you there, just resting against you. His words are muffled: “Why didn’t you go out with Jeff and Gareth?”

“Didn’t want to,” you answer shortly.

“Solid answer,” he nods. “What do you wanna do then?”

He doesn’t necessarily mean it suggestively. He’d probably go lie in traffic if it’d make you less bored, he loves you so damn much — but fuck if a million dirty things don’t pop into your head all at once.

It’s practically the first time you’ve been alone all tour. 

Now that you think about it, every time you’ve fucked Eddie, it’s been at the discretion of prying eyes just behind a door or in a room over. Hotels are few and far between, and you and your boys are the tightest clan the universe has ever seen, so it leaves little room for opportunity time for you and Eddie.

But here you were now, with no one around, and practically all the time in the world (or rather, until sunrise, when the rest of the band shuffled back onto the bus).

“I don’t know,” you lilt, though you’re already hooking a leg over his thighs.

Eddie feels like a teenage boy all over again as you settle onto his lap. A wide grin tugs slow at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t bother to hide his excitement. “What are ya doin’, doll?”

“Nothin’,” you shrug, feigning innocence, like you’re not slipping your fingers through the hem of his pants. The tips of them inch into his boxers and trail down the thin patch of coarse hair there with a touch that’s smoother than water.

His cock is already half-hard when you take him into your hands, warm and soft and stiffening in your grip. Eddie exhales deeply through his nose at your gentle caressing, his gaze now turned down to where work him harder.

“Keep watching your show, baby,” you tease with a knowing grin as you slip his dick from the confines of his pajamas.

“How can I—” he tries to joke, but the words get lost in his throat when you slide your panties to the side. He goes instantly stupid at the sight of your slick collecting along the manicured thatch of pubic hair just above your pussy. His brain all but ceases to function when you rub yourself along him, drenched folds parting to welcome the bulbous tip of his cock.

You feel like silk, he concludes, or maybe something somehow softer. 

Eddie swallows thickly while his obedient hands settle on your hips to steady you. He continues, this time with a tremble in his voice. “How can I when you’re pullin’ this shit, huh?” his button eyes flit back up to look at you, a smirk forming on his pink lips. “You just wanna ride me, huh? That’s what you need?”

You don’t answer him. You’re barely listening, if you’re honest, too concentrated on positioning him at your opening. You gasp softly when you pierce yourself with him, then exhale low moans as you sink slowly onto his cock. The burn is a minimal one, somewhere in your lower tummy, that washes away with a flood of velvet-coated pleasure. 

Eddie fills you so perfectly, just like he always does, like he was made to be seated inside you.

“Well, this is an excellent way to pass the time, if I do say so myself,” he manages to quip through bated exhales from where he’d been holding his breath. You rock your hips over his lap without warning. His pink lips form a tight line as something short of a growl bubbles in his throat and rumbles in his chest.

You watch with a proud grin as his eyes flutter shut and his head falls back. You push his curls over his shoulder to press open-mouthed kisses along the pale expanse of his neck, occasionally dragging your teeth along the milky white tendon there.

Eddie hums to himself when he feels you mewl softly against his skin. Your hips sway back and forth over his thighs, moving to a rhythm of their own accord — all slow and methodical. It’s a pace that always gets him pussy drunk. A steady rise and fall that forces him to feel all of you and makes him swear that you’re some kind of succubus.

“Oh my god,” he says within a dragged out exhale. He starts to babble to himself while you work yourself over his lap. “Fuck me… This is so… so fucking hot. Shit— your pussy is so good to be, doll…”

He forces himself to open his heavy eyes to watch you mount him. His chin tilts down towards his chest and he shifts his hips so he has the perfect view of you. Your honey coats his lap, leaving his cock and pubic hair glistening with your slick. The sight of him all shiny with you makes him dizzy.

His palm leaves your hip and seeks purchase on your ass, not really thinking about it, just gravitating to hold you there. He grips you with guitar-string calloused hands that encourage you to rock harder against him.

Your hand trails from his shoulder down to where the two of you meet. You start to rub your clit with a lust-fueled fervor that just about makes him implode. You whine when your fingers meet the sensitive button, clenching somehow tighter around him as your pleasure begins to crescendo.

“That feel good?” he wonders through bated breaths. His hand leaves your ass, rising for no more than a moment, only to come down again in a practiced slap that makes you jolt against him. The sting of his palm adds gasoline to the simmering embers of your impending orgasm.

You whine, louder this time, arching your back and keening shamelessly against him.

It makes him grin. “Huh? Feels good on your pretty little clit, doesn’t it, doll?”

“Fuck yes…” you cry through a tight throat. “Feels so good, Eddie— fuck.”

Your hips lose their rhythm as your body fights to find its own pleasure. 

You’ve got his dick locked inside you with a grip so tight it’s got him seeing stars, and it makes him wonder if you’d stop. Like, if the boys barged in right now, would you keep going, too far gone and dumb on his cock not to see it through. 

Something about that, you riding him for all he’s worth, whining while you come on his cock with your friends watching — seeing firsthand who you belong to — makes him want to burst all at wants.

“God, this pussy’s amazin’, baby… ’S gonna— holy fuck… You’re gonna make me come if you keep riding me like this... Shit, yeah, just like that, doll.”

When you come, you do it together.

It’s a borderline spiritual feeling, one that doesn’t happen very often because Eddie’s usually adamant about you coming twice before he has the first time. But now, both of you are sensitive and whining through your orgasms, heaving out incorrigible moans and grasping tightly onto one another.

Eddie takes to fucking up into you while you reach your simultaneous highs. He grips you hard enough to leave bruises while his thighs audibly slap slap slap against your more slick ones. You cry at the oversensitivity — electric shocks that contrasts heavily with the warm feeling of his come spitting into your fluttering walls.

You shake violently in his hold, moaning his name over and over like it’s the only word you can remember. Your orgasm comes and goes, and you’re left whining pathetic Eddie, Eddie, Eddie’s into the mostly silent tour bus.

The boy isn’t in much better shape either. He fights off a cramp in his foot from where he’d curled his toes too tightly and blinks away burning tears that sing the backs of his eyes from coming so suddenly.

Your hips come to a slow stop over his lap, too quickly and yet not soon enough. You rest your forehead over his own, knocking your nose with his before you lean in to press several lazy pecks upon his lax mouth.

“See?” you manage to tease through heavy pants. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I guess that wasn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Eddie quips with a wide grin and eyes that are still slightly glazed with dispersing pleasure. He rubs his hands over the skin of your ass to soothe where he’d held you too tight. It’s soft, too soft for what he’s about to tell you. 

“Now, how about you spread yourself out on this couch and let me clean you up, ‘kay?”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #rockstar!eddie #eddie spaghetti drabble #st drabbles

[dilemmaontwolegs]

FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!

Sorry for the profanity, but i BAWLED at the Bucket list fic😭

I read it when I had some time at work, and i cannot tell you how my heart BROKE!!!! I had to hide my face and wipe my tears because GOD HELP ME i almost choked on them.

Absolutely loved the fic, but can’t help but wish you’d broken our hearts more by letting is witness her last moment with Cha by her side!! Masochistic much??

Adore you and your work so much🥰

- May✨

Great, now I’m crying again. Fuck 😭😭😭

The Bucket List

Charles remembered every second of your last day. For a moment it seemed like you were doing better, you had energy and you got out of bed. You walked to his piano and asked him to play your song, smiling like it was the first time hearing it all over again. He played it until his fingers cramped.

“Can we put the Christmas tree up?” you asked as you looked at the empty corner by the fireplace. It had been forgotten in the week since you returned home, usually it would have been up and decorated on the 1st of December.

Charles didn’t feel like he had much to celebrate this year but he nodded and closed the lid on the piano. “I’ll get it from the loft.” He left with a kiss to your temple and a small smile.

It took longer than it normally did to hang all the baubles and drape the tinsel but you wanted it to be perfect. Charles held the final piece in his hand, a delicate porcelain doll with a gold halo above her head. It was new, one he found that looked just like you and he rose on his toes to reach the top of the tree. “Mon ange.”

You didn’t speak as you took a seat and watched the lights flicker on the tree but he felt connected to you when you placed your hand on his thigh and rested your head on his shoulder.

“I’m tired, Cha,” you said with a yawn. “Will you come and lay down with me?”

“Of course, mon amour.”

Charles helped you as the day came to an end, his arm bearing most of your weight as the energy you had earlier faded with an exhaustion that came from deep inside your soul. You felt no pain as he lifted you onto the bed and went to close the curtains to defend you from the setting sun.

“Will you hold me while I go to sleep?” Your eyes were already getting heavy when the bed dipped on his side and he carefully cradled you to his chest.

“Of course, mon amour.”

You forced your eyes to open just enough to see those gold and green eyes you had fallen for. Your chest was getting heavy, each breath requiring more effort and you closed your eyes to focus on each inhale and exhale.

“I love you, Charles,” you whispered weakly as his warm lips pressed to your forehead.

“I love you too.” Charles felt his universe shatter with the shuddering breath you took before the world fell silent. “Forever and always.”

Click here for Two Years Later.

#ollie answers #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #tw: death

[amywritesthings]

a silver truce in snow. / a levi holiday ficlet

pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) word count: 1.8k summary: Snow is a mythical thing in the Underground City. Now, on a Scout mission, you get to experience the real deal. Naturally that means starting a snowball fight with Levi Ackerman - but make it horny. tags: 18+ MINORS DNI! pre-aot, explicit language, snowball fight, secret relationship, kisses, power/authority kinks, sexual tension, implied sexual content, touch-starved idiots, friends to lovers, fluff w/a little slutty note: set in the universe of silver underground credit: dividers by @saradika

welcome to the fourth day of the twelve days of amymas 2023 !!

Snow was such a bitch.

Beautiful, something people in the Underground City would never get to see in the flesh, but such a bitch.

Carrying the last of the supplies up the mountain yourself towards the rendezvous cabin had been one hell of a choice.

Captain Levi was explicit about trudging on foot and leaving the horses behind, so it was up to the team to meet with the rest of the Scouts waiting with Erwin.

It's not a competition to get there, but of course it's a competition to get there before Oluo — not that beating him is hard to do.

Petra and the others are eons ahead, likely already nestled inside tonight's shelter. You move slower, somewhere between a purposeful and accidental pace.

Because it's snow. Real, tangible snow.

At first you were excited to see the flurry, experience the cold, for yourself — snow was just a fairytale in smuggled books for the kids in the Underground City.

Now?

Now you’re sinking one foot into another pile of snow, and you’re really over the novelty.

(You can’t remember the last time you felt your fingers in these mittens.)

“Tired already?”

A voice calls to you from the top of the hill, and the snow beneath your feet illuminates.

Your cold-worn chin lifts to the sudden array of light: Levi Ackerman stands over you, nose pink from the chill and brow quirked with interest.

The fire from the lanterns illuminating the cabin create a halo effect behind his emerald Scout hood.

His words are meant to be a jab, but you know what he’s really saying:

Sorry I couldn’t help.

Helping signals favoritism.

Favoritism would sell you out — to Erwin, to Hange, to the team — in five seconds flat.

(You could — and have — argued that most of the squad already has an idea. Forever bound to the cards held to his chest, Levi insists keeping your secrets to yourselves.)

“And you’re not?” you ask in an exhausted huff.

“I can carry supplies double my weight,” he replies in that playful monotone, “unlike someone I know.”

“Oh?” You exhale again. “You calling me weak, Ackerman?”

“I’m not the one out of breath, am I?”

Levi retorts in jest, a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Well, then — if that’s how he’s going to be.

“You might wanna check on Oluo,” you add, taking one last step to land on flatter earth. You wipe the sweat off of your forehead with the back of your mitten and drop the supply bag to the ground. “I think I lost him down the hill.”

“He’ll make it up the mountain eventually,” Levi reassures, relieving the second sack off of your hands.

You relent, not willing to spoil the moment by pointing out that this can be considered helping.

“He’s all the way down the hill?”

He tosses the sack to the cabin’s stoop, then bends to remove the first supply bag from the snow. He tosses that, too, and fully turns to greet you.

His cheeks are equally pink from the cold, and you can't stop staring.

(It's adorable. He'd hate being called adorable.)

"Yeah," you nod.

Levi trudges through the snow towards you.

“All the way?”

"Yeah, why?" you repeat with confusion.

You see where it’s going as soon as he crosses the threshold into your orbit.

"And, Lieutenant, in your best estimation," Levi continues, feigning professionalism, "it will take at least ten minutes for Oluo to reach the Scout cabin?" 

A smile grows on your face, careful yet delighted.

“Fifteen minutes, Captain, at the very least.”

Your body is compelled forward when Levi loops an arm around your waist, dragging you to him.

The laugh on the tip of your tongue dies when he presses a freezing kiss to your lips.

It's risky, but you're so glad he's willing to take it.

When it comes to expeditions, your lives are a simple mosaic of stolen kisses and phantom touches. Alone time is impossible when you’re traveling on the road.

(Except it's just usually you who makes the first move.)

The dark-haired man sighs, breath hot in comparison to his lips, when you return the kiss with equal passion.

He turns his head to deepen the stolen kiss, eager for a moment — only a moment — where he can have you.

Everything feels warmer in this small pocket of two.

Emboldened by his spontaneity, you flick his lower lip with your tongue.

Without fail, Levi makes a noise of want.

His fingers under his gloves squeeze your side for foundation.

( Maybe tonight, if you’re quiet.)

Except you had your own plans.

Surely he'll veto a midnight tryst at your childish desires, but what you're about to do to ruin the moment was decided upon well before this surprise kiss.

Somewhere around the time of Levi leaving everyone else in the snowy dust and now, Gunther had taught you about things kids on the surface did when it snowed.

Build snowmen.

Make snow angels.

Snowballs, though... a packed little ball of snow, ready to launch at a moment's notice.

A fight.

Levi Ackerman was so focused on the two bags over your right shoulder that he never saw the traveling ball you'd made while climbing the mountain.

A sizeable weapon, not wholly round but resembling enough of what Gunther showed you on the road.

And now he's focused on the kiss that he doesn’t see your arm rise—

Slowly, without detection—

Abruptly you pull away, sliding back to create space.

His eyes belated flutter open, lips pursed in warmth by the kiss — then explode wide when he sees a glob of white.

Bam.

It's a successful first throw.

Levi stumbles, sputtering and wiping his cheeks and chin with gusto.

"James—!"

You back up with a laugh to the gray sky, all too proud of your accomplishment.

It’s a full belly laugh, giddy with childlike excitement that you managed to pull that off.

"That's what you get for going way ahead of the rest of us, Ackerman."

The hair framing his face is dipping with water, pout palpable.

He looks like a human-sized cat, sopping and annoyed.

“You little shit,” he growls, but it’s not out of anger.

It's determination.

He bends at the knees to gather snow into his gloves with quick precision, leaving you little time to run backwards.

“Where’re you going?” he calls. "What, you thought you'd get one hit and win?"

"Levi!" you shriek when he throws the first snowball.

Humanity’s Strongest doesn’t miss.

His snowball lands against your white trousers, wetting the fabric.

You use the hem of your cloak to try and protect yourself from the inevitable war you’ve started.

“I’m sorry!” you exclaim, unable to stop laughing.

(Clearly not sorry enough, since you reach down to start making up a sphere in retaliation.)

“Uh-huh,” he huffs, doing the same. “Should’ve thought that one through before you threw snow in my face.”

“You had us walk up a hill!” you call to him, and he holds up another snowball as a threat.

You continue sliding backwards, doing your best to quickly compact a ball.

You fail, miserably.

“So now my Lieutenant complains?” Levi asks, and a fire ignites in your belly.

You’ll never get over him calling you his. 

(Mine, he whispers in your ear at night when your wrists are pinned over your head, one crossed over another, as his other hand holds your chin in place. Levi has to make sure your eyes are on him and only him when he enters you, slow and deliberate, to witness your eyes flutter from the stretch. You’re mine.)

He throws another.

It hits you square in the chest.

Every time you throw another pathetic little snowball back at him, the dark-haired man easily dodges the attack.

He’s agile, focused, as he steps closer and closer.

You yelp again when you manage to finally dodge a fluffy puck coming right for your face.

Your hands shoot high, parallel to your head, to surrender.

“Truce!”

Levi squints, making up another snowball.

“A truce? I don’t think you get to call one.”

You take a leap of faith, dropping to your knees in the heavy snowfall.

Your clothes are going to be soaked right through, but you don’t care.

The look in Levi’s eyes when he realizes you’re giving up in this fashion is enough to make the chill running up your body worth it.

He nears, snowball in hand.

You lift your chin, your gaze meeting stern gray eyes.

You have to pray those cabin windows are as frosted on the inside as they look on the outside, but Levi blocks you from view as he stands directly in front of you.

“What are your terms and conditions, Lieutenant?” he asks, voice heady.

He rips the mitten off by his teeth, ripping it clear off of his free hand.

A pale hand reaches for your chin, thumb pressed against the center of your lower lip.

You don’t move, hot in the face from sudden arousal.

“I—”

His thumb glides along your frozen mouth, back and forth, allowing you time to contemplate your answer.

Nothing comes to mind.

You’re too focused by how warm the digit feels against your weather-worn skin.

“Speechless?” he mocks. “That’s unlike you.”

When you fail to speak again, Levi leans down to whisper in your ear.

“We can call a truce for now, but this? Isn’t over.”

All the air escapes your lungs when his lips press a gentle, open-mouthed kiss to your earlobe.

“Meet me at midnight, my door. We'll draw up a peace treaty, but on my terms."

That kiss turns into a nibble, and you make a small nose of desire.

Levi's voice is an octave deeper.

"Is that understood?”

If it wasn't so cold, you'd fuck him in this damn snow storm.

Unable to help yourself, you turn your chin and give a kitten lick to his jawline.

“Yes, sir,” you mock in return.

You’ve only ever called him sir to grate his nerves.

Now isn’t any different.

He pulls away.

"Good."

Opening his other gloved palm, Levi makes a point to show the readied snowball — only to drop it back to the pillowy earth below.

"I won't tolerate lateness."

Before he turns, you see it:

A grin, gone as fast as it appears, on his lips.

You can't help but grin yourself, heart racing at the night that lay ahead.

Yeah.

This fight isn't over.

And you'll gladly take the punishment that fits the crime.

.

#levi ackerman fanfiction #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x female reader #levi x reader #levi x you #aot x reader #levi ackerman smut #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan fic #captain levi x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #shingeki no kyoujin fic #holiday one shot #holiday fanfic

[morallyinept]

A little Ezra drabble for the eclipse. 🌕☀️

388 Words | Fluff/Angst | Ezra x GN!Reader

As the moon begins its slow dance across the face of the sun, casting its shadowy blink upon the world below, Ezra feels your grip tighten around him.

Your fingers curl into the soft padding of his glove and he can feel the warmth, even through the thick layers.

At first, it’s just a subtle nibble; a tiny crescent appearing to take a bite out of the brilliant solar disk. With each passing moment, the moon continues its inexorable march, its silhouette growing larger and more pronounced against the backdrop of the fiery sun.

He can hear you gasp at the approach, the awe-filled tremble in your stance as you grip tighter. He watches the way your lips curve into that resplendent arch before the melody of your chuckle tinkles in his ears.

He knows you’ll love this.

Ezra feels a sense of anticipation building within, a palpable energy that crackles in the air. It’s as if the entire universe holds its breath, awaiting the culmination of this celestial mantle and turn, birthing an otherworldly twilight.

Their meeting is not abrupt, but a sway of a lasting magnetism, gravity pulling them towards one another. Light and darkness. Fire and ice.

A lingering kiss that sweeps their surfaces, the soft brush of a calloused thumb across a smooth cheek, peace in the chaos. A halo of ethereal light wrapped around the moon like a lover’s protective arm.

Ezra observes the yearning of two souls to be reunited, hanging like orbs from the vast cosmos with eyes that itch and glass, blinking it all away rapidly before it’ll have a chance to fall.

"In the darkness of totality,” he whispers words longing, his voice a tiny, unanswered plea in the swampy void, "I miss you irrevocably," he confesses.

His words carry on the eerie silence that lingers. The corona is a perfect flaming ring in your eyes flashed at him, a bittersweet reminder of impermanence.

As the eclipse completes its passing, he feels your absence like his phantom limb; a heavy void that echoes with the memory of your touch, as painful as it is wistful.

The spectacle fades into memory, the golden light warms the surface of the barren planet once more, leaving behind only the lingering traces of its brilliance.

Ezra squeezes back, a gloved palm alone inside of his own grip.

Thank you so much for reading! Happy Eclipse Day! 🌕☀️

EZRA MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal #ezra prospect #pedro pascal x reader #ezra prospect x reader #pedro pascal characters #solar eclipse #eclipse #jett's writing

[mondsphere]

Luo Binghe: Original Drafts Edition! Who and why?

“[…] in fact, in his original outline, Bing-gē hadn’t even had a romance plotline; he had been doomed to fade away, alone and unaging forever.” — The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System, Vol. 4 (Mo Xiang Tong Xiu)

The drafts version of Binghe! Not Bing-gē, nor Bing-mei, but a secret, third thing! (I’m partial to Bing-xióng (兄) myself, just for thematic cohesion. Bing-mei remains as he is: Shizun’s special glass-heart maiden.)

So! Who is this elusive, mythical Binghe we never got the chance to meet? What is he? How do I get to pick this one’s brains?

Why is he haunting me! What does he want! So much to think about.

Listen: I love my trash sons, both the racoon and wet dog variations, but I am curious about this handsome demon lord who did not bed thousands, and did not steal his shizun to lovingly coax him into a loving and respectful marriage. Alas, Airplane-bro, as is custom, has left me hanging.

The solitary quote above has been floating around my brainspace for months. Intermittently, I would look up at the sky and sigh a big sad dog sigh, and think of this lonely demon-man emperor who seems to be both perfectly representative of No-Shizunitis Suffering Binghe, and on the exact opposite end of the line. I have spent many a night trying to rearrange the blocks of both SVSSS and PIDW like a sad toddler with no plan but plenty of amorphous longing.

Thus, Bing-xióng. My beloved new toy.

We know he is left alone and unaging. This means that:

He does not marry even once. (Sorry, Other Bing Variants. This one came broken.)

He is not defeated, killed, or left to suffer his not-father’s fate of sulking under a mountain.

From 1) we can assume two more things! Xin Mo either gets fixed/doesn’t influence this Binghe the same way, or: Xin Mo is completely written off à la Airplane Retconning, making Binghe potentially even more individually powerful than his younger counterparts.

(Or he just. Takes people’s cultivation ad-infinitum. Interesting thought, but too straight-forward for my tastes. Airplane’s thoughts? Unknowable.)

From 2) we can also assume Binghe cannot die, is under the influence of the Protagonist Halo unto infinity, and will only be put out of his misery once the heat death of the universe deems it a worthwhile endeavour. Either that or the story ends, but. It tickles a miserable part of my brain pink to think Binghe will not be let off even then.

Anyway. Bing-xióng, of course, has the same source material to work off of. Up until the Abyss, and including it, the plotline should be if not the same, adjacent enough to be indistinguishable.

However. This means:

Bing-xióng never got coerced into sex by Qin Wanyue, thus not starting him on the path of sex-dependency/addiction, avoiding Bing-gē’s fate by virtue of the Butterfly Effect. (Read this post because it explains Bing-gē's whole thing better than a lot of things I've seen.)

Again, Xin Mo implications.

Alternate Universe Shenanigans make an appearance. (Shen Jiu’s fever and death was actually meant to happen, Bing-gē just got very, very unlucky and his Universe’s Yue Qingyuan very, very lucky. For a few years. Either that or there is a Shen Yuan for every Binghe! Again: sorry, Bing-gē. You need to find your own. Middle child issues…)

Once the drafts/original outline got lost, all bets are off and now the characters become real people, without narrative influence. This also has the very fucked up implication that Bing-gē is actually a result of exclusively external forces and would have never gone down that path if not forced onto it by Airplane’s unwitting hands. I do and do not love this version. Very Mo Ran-esque, if looked at from afar and squinting.

Other options I’m either too not-high to think, or too high to put together. (Cold medicine is insane?)

I am fascinated by this… Schrödinger’s Binghe. A jaded, lonely emperor left in the ashes of his world, gazing upon his own history and finding fucking nothing and no one. Metaphorically and, like, practically, if I’m understanding Airplane’s musings correctly. Isolated, cursed by his own blood in a completely new and fucked up way!

I need Airplane to speak with me for like, half an hour. This is paramount to my mental health, I’m losing my braincells by the hour.

What happened to this impervious, cocky, badass demon bastard lord to become so alone? How did it happen? Why did it not happen to the other two, or at least Bing-gē, who has had every horrible and shitty thing possible and impossible piled onto his head? What the fuck is up with Xin Mo? Why isn’t it eating away at Big Bro Luo? Or, worse: why is it eating away at him in such a way that instead of turning into a violent yet charismatic, horror-creature of a man, it turns him into the existential terror-fate I’ve contemplated and abhorred since I was seven?

Tianlang-jun as the final boss. Discovering Huan Hua Palace Master’s crimes, deceit and… stuff. Perhaps even uncovering Shen Jiu’s backstory.

Ooh! Worse! Or better? What if he finds out everything, after having followed Bing-gē’s path, and simply… gives up? A grown up Bing-gē, minus the marriage and surrogate-lover part(s).

(More unlikely than other options, but still there, I guess.)

Fucking insane of MXTX to do this to me, personally and specifically.

I can only speculate forever, I guess! Left… alone and pondering forever.

So. Not a Bing-gē, and not a Bing-mei. A Bing-xióng, if you will.

#svsss #luo binghe #svsss meta #if you like. want it to be #the fact that this is the first post on this blog is upsetting but also completely in-line with who i've become as a person #i'm sure someone else said it better than me asp #this is all to say i'm trying to plan a longfic with drafts!binghe as my one and only 2024 project #and it is eating away at me #because i understand and also NOT #the concept itself is so ???? #its insane that one single line of text from mxtx from almost a decade ago can do this to a person #scum villian self saving system #lbh #lbx #hey why would i say this to me

[flame-resistant]

He felt sick. Why did you look at him like that? Why were you being so nice? Why weren't you scared of him like everyone else? It made his skin itch just enough; he needed it to stop.

Content: stalking, death threats, yandere

He remembered you well, the look you gave when you offered him the soda. How you said it was an extra by mistake, a kind gesture that just didn’t sit well with him. What was your game? Didn’t know who he was? Even if you didn’t, how could you not see he was bad news, how disgusting he looked. A bitter feeling entered his chest as Shigaraki watched you leave, off to do God knows what, just a stupid little civilian who didn’t know any better. You made him sick.

It didn’t take him long to find your social media, only a few days of trying to fish for information. The area the two of you met in was near a university, you looked about his age, so a student fit and damn was he correct. Even there you presented as this kind individual who could do no wrong. Helping with the needy and deprived like some saint, an obsessive thought edging its way into his mind. What would happen if someone made you snap? A grin crossed his dry lips as the bright screen created a halo around his thin figure, but he was far from angelic, and he was damned to prove you weren’t as well.

“Hey who is this loser posting hate comments in your posts?” A friend had asked after you received a few hate comments, while cyberbullying and trolling wasn’t a new topic, it was odd that your small blog would be hit. Shrugging your shoulders, eyes skimmed the words from the anonymous user: “fraud”, “die in a hole”, “you think this makes you good?”; it almost seemed this user was taking everything personal. Though you couldn’t figure out just what you did to them specifically. 

“It’s probably just someone mad and taking it out on random blogs, no? We never interacted before so we can’t possibly know each other. Look, we don't even follow the same accounts.” That was a good point, your friend mumbled in agreement. Perhaps it really just was some spam account, they only told you to be careful in case it got more extreme.

“Just be sure to take screenshots if they threaten you.”

And you did, the comments not stopping only growing by the hour. It got to the point you had to block the account, something you usually didn’t do but felt pressured due to the volume of spam comments and your friend saying they deserved it. A part of you was tempted to just reach out and ask what their problem was, an idea that was dropped when mentioned in your social group. Brows furrowed as the others called you too nice, that people don’t think like you, that some are just fucked up.

It seemed to be going well, after the block the hate comments stopped, and things started to go back into the boring norm of college classes and hanging out in your free time. A notification on your phone distracted you from the recent discussion with your study group. Blood leaving your being as you read the message sent to you, a new account, but the same words.

“Did you really think blocking me would help? I knew it, you’re just like the rest of the trash in this world. One day you’re going to wake up and everything around you is going to be dead, that goody-two-shoes attitude won’t be able to help you either. You’re all going to die and I’m going to do it.”

All attention was back on you when your phone dropped to the floor, your face pale from the feeling of anxiety growing inside you. Saying a quick “excuse me”, they watched you leave to the bathroom in a fit of paranoia. The mirror staring back at you showed a reflection that was never crossed before; widened eyes and mouth agape as you caught your breath. Mind raced with thoughts as you moved to check the stalls behind you, a breath of relief seeing that you were alone.

After the lovely encounter with your new pen pal, your friends convinced you to go to the police in hopes of finding the creep. Though it was shown they couldn’t pinpoint a good enough address, something about a VPN, your mind distracted by other things than computer tech. Looking out the window, every person became a possible threat. Was it the guy in the hoodie getting into a cab? Maybe the woman who was screaming at her phone while ordering a coffee. Your trust in humanity slowly dwindles, a hand on your shoulder breaking those negative thoughts as your friends give a few reassuring smiles. You weren’t fighting this by yourself, you had support.

Taking the police’s advice on blocking the account and switching your social to private, you had a bit more hope that maybe this would end. The small group headed back to your apartment as your friends discussed how crazy the person was. Your mind once more lost in thought on trying to figure out just what you did. The person said you were a goody-two-shoes, maybe they just meant your social media likes and posts, though something in your gut said it was more than just that. It was like they took your existence personally, as if you had truly offended them. A part of you wanted to at least try and apologize for whatever the fuck you did, but the other part knew it would anger the anon more. For now, you decided to push it aside, you did what you could.

Again, things seemed to be calming down, while it was frustrating to be on private, you knew you had to wait it out until things died down. A few weeks, maybe a month or two? God, you just wanted this to be over with, surely the person must have moved on by now, right? Someone couldn’t be that obsessed with freaking you out. So, after a month and a half you opened up your social to the public again. A few happy comments from some mutuals on seeing you back, glad to hear you were doing well. It felt good, almost therapeutic to have that control back. 

Another week and still no hate comments from random accounts, maybe they really did give up? You could be so hopeful. Checking your phone for a notification at the store entrance, you moved to place it back in your pocket before being hit by an oncoming person’s shoulder. A quick apology was sent their way as you fumbled with your phone from almost dropping it. Not receiving a reply, you figured the person was just in a rush. The dark hoodie blending in with a crowd of bystanders. Hearing your phone beep caused your eyes to leave the crowd and until the new notification. A simple sentence message from a new account: watch it.

“So, the creep really does know you? We need to go back to the police!” After the encounter, you booked it to your friend’s place, not feeling safe going shopping alone. Shaking your head, you knew it would be pointless. You didn’t get a good look at the person; from what you could see they looked male but that was just a hunch. The police would just shrug it off like they did before, not enough evidence did nothing to help them possibly hunt down a culprit. 

“They’ll just blow it off again, tell me to put my blog on private again. It was torture not getting to talk to my friends outside of our group, I don’t want to do it again.” 

“Yeah, but this creep saw you! They literally shoulder bumped you!

“But I didn’t see them.”

The two of you fell quiet, a huff from them knowing you were right despite how annoying and stressful the situation was. “So, the guy can just keep stalking you and the police won’t do shit, ridiculous.” 

It was, but it was also legal. An agreement came after this that you wouldn’t be left alone if it could be worked out. More eyes meant more chances of seeing who the guy was, which made sense. Part of you felt bad that your friends made sure to be around before and after your classes and even walking you home. They would reassure you it was fine, that they rather do this than hang up missing posters.

Every now and then a new message would surface from a new account, statements about what you were wearing, even pictures taken of yourself and your friends. Screenshots saved before blocking the next account. It was almost starting to feel normal, as if on cue you knew he would send you a new notification on the dot. And one of those days you finally felt bold, what could he do anyway, you weren’t alone so he couldn’t exactly hurt you, besides you almost wanted him to do something in public to put an end to this and call the police.

moth.eater sent: You should try the mountain dew, maybe it would give some spice to your lame life. netizen.55 sent: Why are you doing this? What did I even do to you? moth.eater sent: I just want to see you tick.

That was it, all he wanted was to piss you off? He was doing a shitty job at that, if anything he was just scaring you into a corner. A phrase you remembered from your psych class came back to your mind, anger was a secondary emotion usually from rejection or fear. This guy was trying to scare you to the point of anger, the thought alone didn’t settle well with you. That rush of adrenaline hitting you once more before you could rationalize your response.

netizen.55 sent: I’m not scared of you.

That seemed to do it, it was the first time he blocked you. A feeling of pride filled your lungs, it’s been a while since you felt this satisfied. You won this weird argument; the block proved it enough. He should leave you alone now. 

It itched; his skin never stopped burning despite how much he scratched. Red eyes stared through the screen; past the words you so bluntly wrote. You weren’t scared of him? Maybe not right now, but you would be. Every single person in this stupid world would be, sensei said so after all. The chair rolled back behind Shigaraki as he grabbed his old hoodie.

Final exams were nearing, but now that your number one hater had been leaving you alone it seemed less daunting. Your friends were even able to do their own things again which helped the guilt die down, no more being some protected being. Picking up the last textbook from the library, it was a straight direction back to your apartment. The time showed just past 7:15pm meaning a few hours of studying before crashing. Sounded like a good Thursday to you, especially with no notifications! A need to skip home almost overcame you, though the look of bystanders kept you in check.

With the apartment door shut and books tossed on the desk, it was time to get to work. Cracking your balcony door just a bit to let a breeze in, your eyes moved to observe the text. It was a relatively quiet night, not yet the weekend in which other college students would be howling below after a few drinks. Sometimes a police siren would go by, nothing too dangerous from the sounds of it, besides a few heroes were patrolling the area. Getting up to take a break, the clock now showing 8:43pm, it didn’t hit you how long you had been reading for. A hand moving to massage your face and wake up. One more hour you told yourself as you walked towards the kitchen for a drink.

Weird, did you leave the kitchen sink on? Brows furrowed as you tried to remember each step you made when you got home but couldn’t really focus due to being in a slight daze. Maybe you washed a dish and forgot to turn the faucet off. Shrugging it off, you turned the handle and moved to the fridge. Cold pizza and a few beers stared back at you, a mental note to get more groceries this weekend was made as you went back to the sink. Maybe past you knew what they were on about with the sink being on.

Cup in your hand, you stopped dead in your tracks, eyes widening from what was staring back at you. The hallway that faced the sink was empty, a window at the very back that usually helped you see what was going on in the dark apartment was now blocked by the figure. Red eyes stared back at your own, each step you took to move back was followed by another from the person.

“You said you weren’t scared of me; you look like everyone else who sees me.” The voice sounded scratched, like he hadn’t drunk anything in years, as if he was the embodiment of a desert. If it didn’t hit before, it hit now on who it was. Quick to run to the bathroom door, the closest one that would get you away from the stalker, you let out a strangled grunt when you were shoved against it instead. Face now pressed into the wood as the palm of his hand kept you in place. “I knew it, once that little facade breaks, you’re just as shitty as everyone else.”

“Let go!”

Not caring about the panic in your voice, you tried to turn around or at least get him to move, a “tsk” was heard as the hooded man showed you the cup you were once holding. Confusion turned into fear as the cup began to turn into dust just by his touch alone, a silent warning that you would be next if you kept it up. Still processing everything that was going on, the only question that could come to mind was asked, your nervous system in full overdrive with logic out the window. “Why?”

“I told you; I just want to see what’s under that mask. You should really think twice on who you offer free drinks to.” 

Darkness was the final reply you got, the world shutting down around you. If you survived this, you would keep the extra soda for yourself.

#flameresistant #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki bnha #shigaraki my hero academia #shigaraki x y/n #yandere shigaraki #poor reader just had an extra soda

[royculkins]

the universal curse of sensitivity — igby slocumb

Part One: Smoke and Mirrors

PART TWO

Pairing: Igby Slocumb x reader

Warnings: Drug use, explicit language, underage nicotine use, underage drinking, neglectful parents, predatory adults, and more that can be found in the movie: Igby Goes Down

Summary: Troublesome kids will always reach to find love and acceptance, even if it means making a mess where it's unintended. They’re just kids, but the older they get, the worse their inner conflicts haunt them. They want to please, but long to be pleased. They’re dramatic and self-sabotaging, they can’t help it⸺its the universal curse of their sensitivity.

Authors Note: Giving Igby the love interest he deserves!!! (one that is age appropriate and doesn’t lay a hand on him!). also! i made this gender neutral but this is my first time writing this way so please let me know if i made any mistakes!!

4.5k words

Igby hated being a fucking drug dealer.

The money was fine, the freedom was liberating and questionable, but the people he met fueled him full of disgust and annoyance. It had seemed that every person he had come in contact with was stupid and unworthy of such carefree lifestyles. A part of him wondered if it was jealousy. How could these people live their lives while he was on the run from his? It was unfair. However, it wasn’t like he could stop⸺he needed this; he needed the place to stay. Russel wasn’t his first pick, but it was the only one he currently had.

Run around, deliver drugs, and get a sometimes vacant spot on a stained couch that held onto an odd odor and sticky substance. It was the deal of a fucking lifetime⸺increasingly better than anytime spent at boarding schools and military academies.

As the sun followed his deliveries closely, it hovered over him⸺almost judgingly. Staring up at the building, the boy could feel a scowl twist upon his face as he squinted against the glare of the burning star in the sky.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

The building stood tall and glamorously, mocking anyone who passed it⸺casting condescending glances at those who couldn’t even afford to stand in the lobby. It was destined to be filled with rich people with reckless habits and internal madness. Just fucking peachy. Sending a fleeting glance to the people entering and exiting the building, the boy worked to smooth his jacket down in hopes to blend in with the proper fucks surrounding him. Rolling his neck as his frustration of the day settled between his shoulder blades⸺he caught sight of you. Your upper body lazily dangling out the window seal.

The sun formed around you like a halo, the glare too harsh to make out your features, but its rays caught onto the smoke from the cigarette hanging from your mouth. Pulling the burning cancer from between your lips, you tilted your head at the boy standing directly under the blazing light from the sky, “Are you Iggy?”

A loud scoff passed his lips as his eyes rolled toward the back of his head. Annoyance seeped through his skin as he threw his hands up⸺a wide, fake grin on his face as his words dripped with mocked enthusiasm, “Yeah, yeah, that’s fucking me!”

From the window, you let an amused grin stretch across your face at the boy's dismay. He couldn’t see your reaction⸺every time he tried to look up at you, the sun would blind him mercilessly. However, his frustration was clear as he kicked a rock and muttered the name to himself with disdain, “Iggy, yeah fuck you, fucking Iggy.”

“Come on up!”

Igby looked back to where your silhouette once was, only to be met with the light reflecting off your now closed window. Gone without a single trace of existence⸺not even smoke lingered, it seemingly disappearing with you. Letting out a huff, the boy pushed past the people on the sidewalk and toward the building, sending the doorman a brief glance as he entered the complex. He tried to stay neutral as he caught sight of every expensive piece of furniture in the lobby as well as the prestigious population that the large building held. However, as he entered the elevator, he became suddenly aware that he’d be trapped in a moving box with the very people he had spent so long running from. A smirk slid onto his face as he made eye contact with a woman in the elevator⸺she looked like his mother⸺only uglier.

The older woman tried to look away, but his hazel eyes bore into the side of her face, his smirk unmoving. Giving the boy a side-eyed glance, the resident of the building shifted uncomfortably and edged closer to the door⸺ready to get off on a floor that wasn’t her own. The action sent a gleeful spark into Igby as he stepped forward as well, he was getting off on his rightful floor, but it was entertaining to see the woman stumble over her next move. As the elevator doors slid open, the boy stepped off and turned to the woman who watched him with wide eyes. Grinning madly, Igby waved his fingers at her, “Don’t worry, I’ll get off with you next time.”

As the doors shut with a horrified woman behind them, the boy laughed wickedly⸺tormenting people would never get old. Licking at his cracked lips, the boy was pulled away from his entertainment at the sound of an apartment door opening behind him. His eyes fell onto you as you leaned your back against the threshold of the door and crossed your arms over your chest. Your eyes scanned his features, analyzing him so closely that he felt annoyance tug at his chest. He hated being observed. He hated being perceived. The feeling it gave him brought a soured expression to his face. Quirking up an eyebrow, you scoff lightly to yourself, “Jesus Christ, you’re just a kid.”

He would have let it go. Truly, if you had been the first, second, even third customer of Russels, then he might’ve been able to let your comment roll off his back. However, you weren’t the first or second, and you sure as hell weren’t the third⸺you were the last fucking delivery of the day, and his thin layer of patience had been ripped from him when he made contact with a woman who knew his perfect fucking brother.

“You’re one to fucking talk,” The boy snapped as he pushed past you into your apartment, letting his shoulder connect harshly with yours. His eyes naturally rolled as he caught sight of your rich people furniture, and your rich people art, and your rich people decor. The air was stiff with precision, and the room looked untouched; as if ghosts were the only ones who paced the apartment. The only indication that you lived there was the glass of water and ashtray that idly sat on the window seal, as well as your jacket that barely hung onto one of the perfectly placed floral couches. He turned to look at you, and with the sun's glare being outside, he could finally take in the features of your face. Huffing out a bitter burst of air, the boy shook his head, “What are you? Fucking fifteen?”

“Seventeen.”

Igby watched as you shut the door, noting to himself that you were the same age, but making no effort to inform you of that fact. Instead, he let his face screw up into a distasteful look. You had a delighted look on your face, one that only rich people could perfect when they felt notorious. It was unnerving, but what you said next only further irked him.

“The last few people Russel sent were junkies in their late thirties trying to be featured in his next ‘phenomenal’ project⸺so excuse my surprise to see someone youthful, and sober, for once.”

You now stood in front of him, eyeing his yellow and red striped scarf before allowing the pads of your fingers to reach out and feel the fabric. He wanted to rip the piece of clothing out of your grasp, but you had beat him to it, lightly placing it back against his chest before turning around and walking toward the window, where you lit another cigarette. Scoffing lightly, the boy trailed closer toward you as you opened the window, sitting on the seal just as you had before when he saw you from the sidewalk.

“You’re telling me that the seventeen year old rich, spoiled junkie didn’t like when fellow junkies entered the posh and prissy castle?” Igby hummed in question, mocking curiosity as his eyebrows raised and sarcasm shone brightly in his hazel eyes. His tone brought a spark to your chest and a jump to one of your eyebrows.

Blowing smoke out the side of your mouth toward the window, you let your knee bounce involuntarily before smirking with a nod, “Uh-huh.”

Sending you back his own sarcastic smirk, the boy began to dig through his bag for his intended reason for meeting you in the first place. Pulling out the crumbled brown paper bag with your name lazily scribbled on it, Igby held it out for you to take. He watched closely as you ripped it open with ease, throwing the tube of cocaine and baggy of heroin to the side as you clung onto the bigger bag of weed. Opening the Ziploc bag, you brought it to your nose and smelled the drug that made the everlasting headache dull, a relieved smile ghosting your features before your eyes locked onto Igby. At the sudden eye contact, the boy looked away, cursing at himself for staring at you for too long. But he couldn’t help it. The way you reacted to the smell reminded him of his time at the academy, when he’d sneak smoke sessions with the other troublesome kids. He remembered the liberating sensation of the high, and your response to just the smell felt like looking in a mirror. They were so obviously two kids with bigger feelings and conflicts than what met the eye⸺too bad; neither would ever be willing to admit it.

Stabbing the nub that was left of your cigarette into the ashtray, you close the window and held the bag of weed up for the boy to look at. Once his eyes shifted from the drugs to your face, he could see a suggestive smile coating your features, “What do you say, Igby, you wanna smoke with me?”

His name falling from your lips made his stomach turn, but not because it sounded perfect or romantic. No, because earlier, you had called him Iggy. Meaning you knew his name the entire fucking time, and you were just being annoying. The thought made his eyebrows crease with frustration, and his lips curl into a scowl. His reaction only further intrigued you; it had been a long time since you received such large reactions to your harmless mischief. Maybe that was why you had asked him to join you. Maybe you missed having someone actually respond like a human being rather than a porcelain statue of perfection. Your suggestive smile leaned toward a teasing gesture as you tilted your head, “What? You don’t smoke?”

“No, I do⸺with friends. Never with my drug dealer, though,” Igby’s voice, you noted, always held onto a relish of sarcasm. You wondered if he liked the taste of it, if the sarcasm tasted bittersweet against his tongue. At his words, you let your eyes fall briefly to your lap, causing the boy to gleam with pride. The very smile that he hated, the one that all rich people perfected when they felt notorious, was now slapped onto his own face, “What’s the matter? Rich girl can’t buy any friends to smoke with?”

“You’re not my drug dealer. You’re just the delivery boy, Russels gone through a few of them.” You couldn’t let him have it; you were both too stubborn to not have the last word. Too stubborn to not have superiority over the other. It was rooted deep in your veins and embedded into your bones. The children of wealthy parents⸺always prepared to kick someone off a pedestal with a smile on their faces. Oh, how the nasty cycle of generational responses continued onto the children, “And I do have friends.”

If what you had said bothered Igby, he didn’t show it. Instead, he brought his finger up to his mouth and tapped on his lips as he scanned the area of your empty apartment. He hummed lightly to himself before his eyes landed back on you, his finger leaving his face to point at you and the rest of the room with a condescending smile, “Really? I don’t see any.”

You smiled⸺he had just insulted you and claimed you had no friends, and you smiled. If he had been anyone else, you would’ve never let him stay in your apartment this long. He would have been just like the other delivery boys that Russel had sent, the ones that never made it past the threshold of the door and never got more than a few sentences out before you’d reach for your drugs and slam the door in their face. But Igby was entertaining to you; his reactions felt theatrical, and his burning annoyance was delightful against your boring and cold apartment life. The bite of his words left you wanting more, only leading to you instigating more from him⸺refusing to let the easy banter die.

“That’s because you haven’t met my best friend, Hugh. He’s the apartments doorman⸺total gossip but does more cocaine than a rockstar. I’m sure if you say pretty please, he’d snort it out of your asshole. You seem into that.”

There was a faint recognition in the boy's eyes as he recalled passing the said doorman on his way into the building. The older man who looked one harsh wind away from disintegrating into thin air. Sure, your words were vulgar and explicit, but Igby still found it funny. Not enough to laugh, but enough to let the right side of his lips lift humorously. You stared at his lips momentarily, a powerful emotion glowing in your chest at the reaction before glancing out the window. Suddenly standing up, you moved around the boy who followed you with his eyes, watching as you began to put your jacket on, “Look, are you coming or not? I’d like to smoke before the sun’s gone.”

He didn’t want to. Truthfully, he found you annoying, even more so now that he knew you did it on purpose. However, he hadn’t smoked in what felt like forever. You’d think living with a drug supplier would lead to an unlimited source, but Russel had landed a hard smack to the back of his head, refusing to give away any for free. Besides, you had already paid⸺it was free⸺how could he possibly say no?

That’s how you both ended up on the roof of your apartment, trying to stay warm against the nip in the air. Igby stood with his body leaning over the ledge, watching the people walk below, his left leg bouncing as he shoved his face further into his scarf. You sat beside him, facing him as you straddled the ledge. One leg grazed the rooftop while the other dangled over the side of the building. If you had begun to swing your legs, you could easily kick the boy in front of you, but if you did, you’d also risk losing your balance and sending yourself plummeting toward the cement in front of your apartment. You tried to work quickly in rolling the joint as your breath became more visible.

Glancing at you briefly, Igby sniffed before speaking, pulling his face away from his scarf so you could hear his words against the wind, “How does someone like you even meet someone like Russel?”

“Someone like me?” Your eyebrows jump in question as your eyes lift to meet his while bringing the paper to your lips to moisten the side. Haphazardly, he watches your tongue touch the paper before looking back at the people on the sidewalks.

“Yeah, I mean, I can almost guarantee you didn’t meet in the millionaire row at the fucking–Kentucky Derby–or whatever you waste your money on.”

You smile to yourself as you continue your work, shaking your head while recalling your first encounter with Russel, “I went to one of those art exposés, or whatever the fuck they are. He was there; he had a featured piece or something. Everyone kept saying how amazing it was⸺it looked like everything else in the damn place. He overheard me shitting on it and told me I was a small-minded imbecile who didn’t have the capacity to understand such large-scale art pieces.”

The boy listened closely to every word you said, your words tangling together to paint the picture of a memory in which he wasn’t a part of. His eyebrows knit together as he looked back at you. He was quick to notice the red tint at the tip of your nose and how your hands shook slightly from the cold. He didn’t understand how this story could possibly be true, but you didn’t look like you were lying. That morning, when Russel had given him the rundown of all of his customers, you had been the one Russel wanted Igby to take the most care of, claiming that you were his most valuable customer and told Igby to tell you that he sent all his love⸺Igby had yet to relay the message and still hadn’t planned on following through with the action. As you continued, it only became more unclear as to why Russel would ever send you ‘all his love.’

“He ended up inviting me to the afterparty, saying that maybe if I spent my time with those in tune with their creative side, then maybe, I could see the truth of the art. He was totally full of shit. It was just a bunch of junkies kissing each other's asses and repeating the same mantra over and over again⸺but the drugs were good, so I stayed. I told Russel that the whole art thing was shit, but he kept inviting me back⸺eventually started dealing me the drugs when I couldn’t attend any more of the parties.”

You finished your story with a nonchalant shrug, never lifting your chin from your chest, even when you could feel him watching you. Squinting slightly, Igby shifted on his feet, “Why would he keep inviting you when you kept shitting on his work?”

“Because I roll the perfect blunt,” You hold up the finished product with a playful and youthful grin on your face. Quirking his eyebrow, the boy smirked as he reached for it. As he took the joint from you, your fingers brushed together⸺both of you acknowledging that your fingertips had gone numb against the cold. Analyzing it briefly, the boy couldn’t deny your statement. It was perfectly rolled, unlike any of the ones he had let Sookie roll when they had smoked together. He could still remember his disdain when the blonde handed him the skinniest joint he had ever seen.

Putting it on the side of his mouth, the boy leaned back to search his pockets for a lighter, however, you had beat him to it. One hand flicked the lighter on while the other rose to shield the flame from the wind. Instinctually, the boy leaned forward, allowing the fire to light the end of the joint.

At the sudden closeness, you were able to see the faded freckles that littered across his nose, as well as the flecks of honey that decorated his irises. He looked young, and he looked beautiful with rosy cold cheeks and a slightly quivering lip. His eyes flicked up from the flame to your face as well, the both of you silently observing and collecting remembrances of the other's features. Even as you lowered your hands, the two of you stayed close in proximity, favoring the warmth that radiated between you.

It wasn’t until the sun peaked through the taller buildings and directly into your eyes that you pulled away from him. Rubbing at your nose and sniffling softly, you watched as Igby took the first hit, “What about you? How does a fellow rich kid meet someone like Russel?”

“What makes you think I’m rich?”

You roll your eyes as you reach forward and let your fingers grip onto his scarf, raising it into his eye line and slightly waving it as your main source of evidence, “It’s a dead giveaway⸺unless you stole it or something.”

“Maybe I did.” He smirks humorously as the smoke pushes through his nose, handing you the blunt as he spoke.

You take a hit of the joint, inhaling deeply before holding onto it, allowing the drug to spread through your body in a warm, tingling sensation. The feeling causes you to roll your head back before blowing the smoke into the sky, your shoulders no longer tense at the release. Letting your head fall back into place, you met Igby’s newly sparkling, intrigued eyes⸺you smile lazily, “I doubt it.”

The joint is once again passed into his hands, “And why’s that?”

“Call it intuition,” You shrug with a small smirk as he takes another hit. Truth was, it was all in the way he wore the scarf. If he had stolen it, he’d showcase it or even treat it a little better. Instead, Igby placed it on his neck out of habit and oftentimes forgot it was even wrapped around his neck. It seemed he only ever remembered it when you had it in between your fingers.

The boy watches you closely before exhaling, flicking at the joint softly before handing it back to you, “I met him through Rachel⸺I lived with her for a while.”

At the confession, your eyebrows pull together, trying to scan through your time spent with Russel and see if you could remember a Rachel. As the girl's face becomes clear in your mind, you begin to wonder what a kid like Igby was doing living with a twenty-something-year-old dancer. At the sight of faint recognition in your eyes, Igby rubbed his cold hands together, “You know her?”

“Yeah, I know her.” You recall the older woman sitting beside you at multiple different afterparties, yelling over the music and the noise about how evolved the expression of dance was and how influential it could be if the world weren’t so narrow-minded⸺like you. After nearly four different occurrences of the same conversation, you found that the only way to shut her up was by handing her a joint or a tightly rolled hundred-dollar bill with white residue on it, “How’s the bitch doing anyway?”

“She overdosed.”

You paused mid-inhale, your eyes locking with Igby’s brown ones as your body burned at the new information. Awkwardly pulling the joint from your lips, you shift on the ledge, your foot now heavily caressing the ground of your rooftop, “Is she..?”

“She’s alive.” For the most part. Igby couldn’t find it in himself to tell you that Rachel was a heartbroken ghost of a woman in a dying body. Not when your neck turned bright red at his words. You nodded somberly, handing him the joint before rubbing your hands against your thighs⸺a teasing smile ghosting over your features, “So you just brought that up to make me look like a bitch, huh?”

“Trust me; I don’t have to make you⸺you’re doing well enough on your own.”

You faked a laugh and gave the boy a wide, still fake, smile, “Alright, Igby.”

He caught sight of the way your face screwed up at his name. Obviously, finding it a little foreign to the tongue, even when you were lightly taunting him. And because of the pattern of people who mocked him or asked him what the fuck was up with his name⸺he decided to make the first move to avoid the dreaded conversation in the long run, “Are you going to ask me about it?”

“About what?” You look away from the setting sun and into Igby’s eyes, as he takes a hit, his eyes already trained on your face.

“My name. Don’t you want to know the story behind it or something?”

Your eyebrows pull themselves together as he blows the smoke out of the corner of his lips, letting the wind carry it out and away from you both. Crossing your arms in an attempt to warm up your hands, you shake your head, “Is it a funny story or something?”

“Oh, yeah. Just another story of how much of a disappointment I am to my family. Hilarious!” A grin had been slapped onto his face as his words dripped with fake enthusiasm. His eyes sparkled against the sun, a glimmer of dread disappearing before it had even properly introduced itself to you. The statement made you pause, finding yourself alerted by the similarities of your coping skills.

It was as if he had held up a mirror to show you how you looked every day. Dropping hints of unsettling family trauma with wide grins and humorous tones. But it was the eyes, it was always the fucking eyes. The window to your soul or whatever the fuck it was. They were always the one indicator of your truest emotion, shining dimly before being forced back underwater. You both had gotten used to pushing it away. Many didn’t see your emotions when it was present⸺no one considered you valuable enough to make eye contact, so your emotions went undetected. Everyone just assumed you took everything as a joke, unaware of how deeply your emotions crashed into your soul and bared a weight on your life.

But you saw it in Igby. You saw the dread that the statement brought before humor replaced it. You saw a little piece of him chip away as he said a mournfully honest thing with a laugh⸺as if he had this very conversation so many times that he was well rehearsed in turning it into a joke.

You saw it. So you decided not to pry for the haunting family stories, and you decided not to poke fun at his name so he wouldn’t need to continue on with act one of his neverending play. Instead, you took a hit of the joint, blew the smoke directly into his chest, and shrugged nonchalantly, “Eh, pass.”

Taking what was left of the joint out of your fingers, the boy's eyes jumped from it to your face. His stare was hard, heavier than it had been the entire afternoon⸺as if he was trying to dissect any microexpression that may have lingered. He also found himself waiting for you to change your mind. Neither came. Your face was smooth, and your decision was final. Maybe it was the effects of the weed finally catching up to him, but the longer he stared, the wider his captivating grin grew. It was only a mere second before a giggle pushed past his lips.

The sound caused your eyebrows to rise; you hadn’t expected the high-pitched noise. And maybe you had begun to feel the effects as well because soon your smile grew wide on your face until your own giggles easily escaped your lips, intermixing effortlessly with Igbys. And as the two of you continued to laugh, the chill of the air became warm with the unfamiliar sense of companionship.

Oh, how things would never be the same.

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛ ┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

PART TWO

#igby slocumb #igby slocumb x reader #igby goes down #kieran culkin x reader #kieran culkin #igby x reader #roman roy #roman roy x reader #rory culkin #rory culkin x reader #igby

[sofasoap]

Little swallow

Random idea that pops into my brain, thanks to @homicidal-slvt letting me using her fic ideas. Sorry supposedly our great Russian pilot Nikolai x Reader fic but... somehow it took a strange turn. I will write another one to make up to you later lol. No beta'd or proof-read. Set in the Mini MacTavish universe, after Zero Distance

“masterlist” for Mini MacTavish expanded verse.

“HOLD ON TIGHT!!” Letting out a loud scream ,Gaz tried and failed to grab you as you started sliding out of the helicopter. You were trying to patch poor Gaz up in the helicopter when you heard the warning from Nikolai before the helicopter made a sharp turn, narrowly avoiding the direct hit from the rocket launcher.

“MINI!!!” Arms out, trying to shield yourself from the falling debris as you tumble out of the side, thinking this is the end, you realise the cliche of your whole life flashing in front of you before you die was real, at same time you are mumbling apologies to everyone you know you will not see them for the one last time for a proper goodbye. You don’t know how you got roped into this mission. You were supposed to be just a medical backup. The boys were already not pleased that you were shoved into the frontline into the danger zone. But order is order, even with protests to the higher up from the team, you had to follow the order.

Feeling the jerk of the rope as it comes to a halt before you hit the ground, you realise you are still safe and sound. Thank heaven. You will not tell any of the boys, especially your brother, you nearly wet yourself in the process.

Braving to open your eyes,  you are hanging upside down, looking up towards the sky,the helicopter already pulling up, with sounds of gunshots and screams below you getting further away.

“I am going to pull you up now, stay tight!” You heard Gaz shouting down from the helicopter as you try to catch your breath, head still reeling from the near death experience.

“Status update Nik?!!” You heard Price’s voice through the comm. “Mini fell out of the halo, Sergeant is pulling her up right now!” “Say what?!!” You can feel Price’s anger sipping through even over the comm. 

“Nik.”Price growled as he pulled you into embrace after the helicopter landed at the rendezvous point. “I would really appreciate it if you stop making attempts to kill off any of my crews.” 

Raising his hands up, shaking his head, “I am sorry, I am trying. It’s either that or all of us go down together. I did tell them to tighten up the seatbelt before we lifted off. Luckily this ласточка (little swallow)  listened to me.” Nikolai gives you a wink as you feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“What do you say,  милая ( darling ), I'll buy you a drink as an apology?” “Nik.”

“What.” “STOP flirting with my wife.”

Nikolai has a tendency of throwing Price's crew out of the helicopter, to his dismay. Price is chomping Nik's head off for trying to flirt with Mini.

#captain john price #john price x you #john price x reader #john price imagine #john price #captain price x reader #captain price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain john price x female reader #call of duty #nikolai cod #kyle gaz garrick

[run2yoongi]

puppy love | jjk + kth x reader. ch.3

you’d met jeon jungkook and his best friend kim taehyung in your first year at university. it didn’t take long for you to fall for jungkook, however it was clear that he was less than interested in romance. you pushed down the frustration and jealousy when jungkook talks about his weekend exploits and dating app matches, telling yourself that being friends with benefits was better than being nothing at all. you didn’t expect that one of the benefits of your arrangement with jungkook would be his best friend, taehyung.

↳ pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x reader, taehyung x reader

↳ setting: college au

↳ warnings: 18+. explicit sexual content, fr this is pure smut, no plot this chapter lol poor taehyung, pwp, oral (f rec), fingering, penetrative sex, teasing, begging, biting, pet names.

↳ side note: word count is 3.6k. ahh! you all don’t know how happy it makes me that people are liking these chapters :)) thank u to everyone who rb’s, u are the cause of my euphoriaaAAA heyYyeeaahhH. also how good is Indigo!!! lmk ur fav track off the album :*

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you were chewing on the side of your mouth when your phone buzzed you out of your daze, snapping you back into your place in the university library. you didn’t know how long you’d been daydreaming, but you noted that the sun had just begun to set. 

you glanced over to the instagram notification, catching the username @jungkook.97. you picked up your phone to investigate. he’d replied to your story, an admittedly cute selfie of you completely surrounded by textbooks and revision notes at your desk. 

jungkook.97: nerd. when do you finish?

that was indeed, a good question. recently, you’d been staying at the library with taehyung until it closed at 9pm. however tonight, taehyung had been roped into some dance workshop with jimin. the invite had been extended to you, however, no matter how much you’d love to see those two covered with a thick sheen of sweat under studio lights, you’d declined. you weren’t too enthusiastic to embarrass yourself in front of either of them. 

y/n: about to leave, what’s up? 

you locked your phone and discarded it to the side as you began packing up your notes, cursing yourself for bringing so many study materials when you’d barely gotten through half. you fished through your bag to find your earphones before they became buried under your laptop and textbooks. 

jungkook.97: sent a photo. 

that piqued your interest. after glancing over your shoulder to make sure the coast was clear in case it was an indecent image, you tapped on the message. you smile grew on your lips at the photo of jungkook at the uni gym in a thin oversized tee and basketball shorts. your eyes darted over to the text typed over his torso. 

meet me outside mine in 10? 

with a visual aid like that, how could you refuse? you pressed your earphones into your ears and swiped up to open your playlist, determined to make him wait a little bit for your reply. you ambled over to the elevator, a dumb grin stretching further over your lips. after you picked up a chilled aloe drink from the vending machine on your way out, you finally typed your reply. 

see you then

the summer heat washed over you with a sickly sweet aroma hanging in the thick air. you’d nearly finished your drink by the time you found yourself outside of the male dorms, placing your weighty bag on the gravel between your feet as you waited for jungkook to find you. you’d only been waiting a minute before a tattooed hand swiftly picked up the bag from between your legs with an overdramatic groan at its heft. 

“didn’t realise i was in for another workout.” jungkook grinned at you, the gentle golden sunlight dancing across his warm eyes in a way that made your heart skip a beat as you gazed up at him. a trick of the light made the burnt orange sky in contrast to his dark hair seem like a god given halo. he looked deceptively angelic, you thought. “you should know better than that by now.” you scolded, tucking your earphones away as you followed behind him. he escorted you through the empty common areas and into the elevator. 

he wrapped his arm over your shoulders as the doors closed in front of you, leaning in to taunt you with the closeness of his lips to yours. you could smell the delightful mix of his cologne, body wash and the faint scent of sweat. it was intoxicating in the tiny elevator, clouding your senses in your post-study haze.

too soon, the elevator doors opened to jungkook’s floor. he guided you out, your bag hooked over his shoulder until it hit the hardwood floor of his room. with a soft beep, the air conditioner turned on providing a wash of relief over your warmed skin. “just gonna shower quickly,” he muttered, tossing his shirt over his head and onto the floor as he sauntered into the bathroom. you averted your eyes from his torso, focusing on his neatly made bed in front of you. you’d seen him in worse states of undress, but his immaculate body still made you nervous. 

your head rested on his pillow as you brought your phone up to your face, tapping through instagram stories while you waited to hear the shower turn on. jimin’s story caught your eye, tapping over it to replay it again and again. to your delight, you didn’t need to attend the dance workshop to see what you’d been hoping to. the drumming of the shower drowned out the sound of your surprised hum.

the recording began with jimin darting back from the phone as he placed it against the studio mirror, revealing a lingering taehyung as the familiar beat blared over the speakers. they moved in sync, skin glistening under the warm lighting. it always impressed you how well they moved, how comfortable they were with each other. your eyes fixed onto taehyung, who bit his lip as he gyrated on beat. a charming habit you’d picked up on as you’d religiously watched these weekly stories. your mind drifted back to that night you’d gone out together. his hand on your knee, playful eyes boring into yours as he spoke in the summer heat. he’d always felt so far out of your reach, just a kind senior student who took pity on a struggling friend-of-a-friend. but as you rewatched the minute long video, you began to wonder if that was really the case. after all, jungkook had seemed to think it was plausible when he’d been spanking you over just getting drinks with him. 

you shook the thought of your head, exiting out of the story with a sigh. you couldn’t. he was off-limits. you couldn’t be friends with benefits with your friends with benefits’ best friend. jungkook had clearly been disturbed at the thought as he’d not-so-delicately explained. you scrolled through your phone, switching from app to app as your patience with jungkook grew shorter. the gentle ambience of the shower was cut short as you glanced over to the bathroom door that was left cocked open. from the gap between the door and it’s frame, you saw jungkook’s reflection on the steamed glass, his lightly tanned skin and mass of dark hair catching your eye. 

when he emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam with just a towel wrapped around his broad shoulders soaking up the droplets falling from his hair, you swore you could have died right there on his bed. “try to keep your eyes inside your head, baby.” he chuckled, seeing straight through your feigned collected composure. the fruity vanilla scent of his shampoo drifted over you as he sauntered closer, you tried to keep your eyes on his face and away from his…

he lazily placed his palms on either side of your head, a defined smirk tugging on his lips. “what’s got you all worked up, pup?” he teased cockily, knowing full well the effect he had on you. you had to bite back that jimin and tae’s dance video was working to get you as wound up as much as he was. “cat got your tongue?” he chided, filling the silence that lingered in his small room. “nothing i haven’t seen before, ‘koo.” you replied coyly, staring back into his darkening eyes. his eyes focused on your parted lips, before he began teasing your shirt up to your chest. his lips surrounded yours in a rough kiss, then he lowered himself down to press a trail of softer kisses from your lower stomach up to your breasts. he took a moment to unbutton your thin blouse and revel the way your tits sat round and full in your plain black bra. 

you helped him unbuckle the bra’s clasp, eager to feel his mouth on you once more. “so fucking sweet,” he sighed as his tongue slid across the surface of your skin. he took his mouth over your nipple, flicking it taut with his tongue as his palm teased and toyed with the other. you stared at his veiny, tattooed hand and let out a soft moan at his touch. he kissed his way up your neck, to your jaw and finally licked the shell of your ear, sending a fierce wave of lighting through you to your fingertips. he was too good, too practised. 

you felt the weight of his thick cock bob against your thigh, and cast your gaze down to appreciate the smooth, pink appearance of its tip. “is that what you want?” he whispered, his lips still pressed against your ear, granting a shiver down your spine and agitating your core. “you want it here?” he brushed his fingers against the fabric of your underwear, your skirt doing too little to hide your arousal. you nodded, looking back up to him as his tongue toyed with his lip ring. “tell me what you want, pup.” he smirked again as his mouth drifted from your ear to your jaw. you felt him all over you, the heat of the shower radiating off his skin and on to yours. you felt so dirty by comparison, feeling your essence pool between your legs. 

“i want you,” you whispered, hushed and breathless. jungkook flashed his eyes at you, expectantly. “i need to feel you in me, please jungkook.” you spoke up, batting your eyes at him. if he wanted you to beg, you’d beg. he gave you a satisfied smile and placed another kiss on each of your nipples, licking at them before lowering himself further. “you need to feel what in you?” he teased, spreading your thighs with his palms.”my fingers? my cock? my tongue?” 

you whimpered, his words lighting your insides on fire. you wanted to rub your thighs together in a desperate attempt to create friction, but he held them apart- his cheek resting lazily on the plush inside of your soft thigh.  “please,” you begged, pleading eyes desperately trying to reach his. his fingers looped around the thin fabric that pressed into your hip and dragged your underwear down, excruciatingly slow. “do you deserve it, puppy?” he asked, raising a mocking eyebrow at you. so cruel, you thought. “you been a good girl today?” 

you nodded your head, exasperated. you attempted to buck your hips, unable to stay still under the pressure he was placing on you. “s’ good.” you cried out, desperate for more. as your panties were discarded to the side, he licked his lips, teasing you further. “look at that, i’ve barely even touched you.” he sneered, his finger sliding in a quick stripe across your damp center. you saw the glistening fluid on his finger as he brought it up to his lips and placed it on his tongue. “please, koo’.” you begged again, frustrated by the restraint he had over your thighs. 

“okay, okay.” he sighed, generously placing his finger back on your core. you grinded against his digit, needing much more than that. the cool air of his room made the absence of his warmth on your skin all the more apparent, and you let out another desperate whine. he grinned up at you, a devious glint in his eye. before you could anticipate it, he gave you a hard swat on your clit making your walls pulse at his touch. you cried out, again. he loved teasing you like this, making you beg, watching you crumble. he rubbed the spot that he’d slapped, spreading your essence over your clit and chuckled as you writhed. “so good for me,” he grinned. “what should your reward be, puppy?” 

he brought his tongue to meet his fingers, licking a slow, languid stroke over your arousal, pooling onto his muscle. he withdrew his face and glanced back up at you. “cumming once? maybe twice?” he pretended to think it over. “maybe we’ll just see how many times you’re capable of.” 

you moaned. he wasn’t even touching you, and you still moaned. his sadistic grin turned into a smirk as he placed his tongue and fingers back on you. you grinded against his tongue, needy and desperate for more stimulation. you hitched your skirt up further, the only remaining piece of clothing you had to cover yourself with. his tongue plunged past your folds, searching for something deeper and deeper into you. you felt your coil growing tighter and tighter, ready to snap at a moment's notice. his long fingers circled your clit, spreading your liquid all over your core and trailing down from his lips. 

you tried to fight off your orgasm, eager to make the building sensation last. but it was no use, when his fingers joined his tongue deep inside you- you snapped. you slammed your eyes shut, hips rolling with the waves of your orgasm as you came. jungkook’s tongue on you didn’t stop, he kept licking you as you threw your head back. your toes curled as your uninhibited moan rang through the dorm, certain that half the floor could hear it. when jungkook continued his calculated attack on you, you pressed your palm to his forehead- trying to push him away. he just looked up at you from between your legs innocently, his chin coated with your sheen, lips puffy and glossed. 

“that was a good start, pup.” he spoke through his grin, his fingers still dancing over your clit, causing you to jolt every time they pass your bundle of nerves. his new nickname for you rang inside your head, vacant of all other thoughts. “jungkook, please.” you begged, uncertain what you were even asking for. “you need more?” he asked, wiping the juices on his mouth on the back of his veiny hand as he crawled on top of you. his length twitched against your cunt and you knew he wanted it just as badly as you did, despite his tone. 

he reached over to his bedside table and grabbed a condom from the basket in his drawer. you tried not to break your immersion as he used his teeth to tear the packet open and stuck out his hand, gesturing for you to lean closer. “wet it for me, baby.” he instructed, eyes trained on your mouth. you propped yourself up and licked your hand, saturating it with thick pools your spit before placing it on his hard, throbbing cock. he hissed quietly at your touch, a familiar bead of precum forming as your stroked your spit onto him. 

after he was satisfied, he rolled the condom on and lined himself up with your aching core. he slipped his cock over your clit, poking and rubbing it with his tip sending a bolt of electricity through your legs again. you wrapped them around his hips, pulling him closer to you as strands of his soft, dark hair fell from where they were tucked behind his ears. the familiar scent of his shampoo washed over you once again, and you relished in the sensory comfort it provided you. 

his length pushed past your folds, slowly rubbing against your walls as you fought to adjust. the stretch temporarily blinded you with pleasure, incoherent mumblings falling from your lips as he finally filled you. “let me know when you’re ready.” he whispered, pressing his forehead against your own. you were so full, so blissed out and ready to take whatever he gave you. your legs fell from their grip around him as he pushed your legs up closer to your chest. you took a deep breath and opened your eyes, steadily nodding at him. he placed his palm firmly on your knee and began to push in deeper, taking your breath away from you. as you gasped in for air to fill your lungs, your mind flashed back to taehyung- his warm hand on your knee, his eyes, his lips, that video. 

what the fuck?

you widened your eyes at the revelation, guilt sweeping over you for an unclear reason. jungkook’s eyes were pressed shut as he unsheathed his cock from you before guiding it back in, making you moan in ecstasy. you kept your eyes open and focused on the man on top of you, making sure your mind didn’t wander where it wasn’t allowed. “look at me,” you whined, needing his attention desperately to bring you back to reality. his eyes shot open, and his mouth pressed itsself against yours once again. he broke the kiss and looked your body over. from your lips to where the two of you connected, he was transfixed. 

“roll over, pup.” he instructed, trying to hide the smirk that was forming at the fitting nickname he’d given you. he pulled out of you and helped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips upwards so your ass was presented in front of him, for him. you felt his teeth nip at your flesh as his hand stroked your damp core from his position in between your legs. you heard him adjust on the bed and felt his cock line up with your centre once again. you lifted one of your legs up, flat against the bed, parallel with the wall his bed was set against. 

he breached your walls again, rubbing himself against your velvety insides. “play with yourself, baby.” you obeyed, stretching your hand underneath you to circle around your nerves as he thrust into you. he panted over you, letting out exasperated groans and grabbing at the flesh of your ass as he fucked you dumb. you couldn’t take much more, still sensitive from your first orgasm with your second quickly approaching. 

“fuck i can feel you,” he hissed as you twitched and pulsated around his cock. the sound, scent and feeling of him completely engulfed you, and the rub of the mattress massaging your breasts with his thrusts sent you over the edge. you let out another unrestrained moan, a mixture of your essence and cum leaking onto jungkook’s duvet. he slowed his strokes but couldn’t bring himself to stop completely, rocking his hips as you moaned and gasped immersed in your sudden rapture. “fuck, baby,” he breathed, placing kisses across your back. 

it felt sinfully intimate, something he’d always consciously avoided. in that moment, he was too occupied with the feeling of you around him to care. when he finally pulled out and turned you over, he didn’t look remotely close to done with you. he looked ready to eat you up, a starved man. 

“what brought all this on?” you stammered between urgent breaths. he wasn’t normally so passionate. it was uncharacteristic, even if you were acquainted with his sadistic streak. he just smirked at you, picking you up from your position on your back and slipping in underneath you. “wouldn’t you like to know.” he mused, uninterested in divulging how your cute little puppy dog eyes in your instagram story at the library had got him so worked up while at the gym he had to leave right after seeing it. 

sitting on top of him, you squirmed as he placed more kisses down your neck and gently bit at your shoulders. “wanna show me how good you can be, baby?” he asked between teasing bites on your skin. you nodded, eager to bring him to his release. you lined his solid cock against your core as you lifted yourself above it, sinking down and taking all of him inside you with a relaxed moan. your head lulled back in pleasure, grinding down as you rested on his thighs. 

impatient, he gripped your ass and began lifting your weight up before setting you back down. he really was getting another workout. you bounced on his lap, straining your leg muscles to aid in his efforts. “wanna come in you so bad, fuck” he moaned, eyes locked on your tits as they jiggled in front of him. you clenched around at him at his words, digging your fingernails into his back and riding him with fever. he fell back onto his elbows, stretching his torso for your viewing pleasure. you stroked his abs, elated at the vision of him underneath you, hair a mess, lips parted and eyes glassy. you knew he was close. 

you reached behind you to touch his balls which earned an excited hiss. his eyebrows furrowed and he panted, looking as if he was on the border of pleasure and pain. you continued to ride and grind on his cock, before he laid back completely and held you up by your thighs. he forced his cock into you as deep as it could go and fucked you brutally right from under you. 

you felt another fucking orgasm creeping up on you as he filled you and withdrew at such a rapid pace, all you felt was the building pressure of his cock and the incidental stimulation of his pelvis smacking into your clit. your moan cut through him, seeing droplets of your cum fall onto your skirt, his lap and his cock. in tandem, you came at an unforgiving volume. his cum shot out of his cock, the feeling prolonging your orgasm as you released onto him.

you’d both cleaned up and fell into a shallow sleep, too sticky and exhausted to put your clothes back on. you hadn’t noticed jungkook’s phone buzzing with people from his floor begging you both to keep it down. 

nor had you noticed a text from taehyung, asking if you were still at the library- he’d just got back to his dorm. 

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x yn #jungkook x y/n #jungkook smut #jungkook one shot #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk x yn #jjk smut #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #mine #puppy jungkook

[kryptonitejelly]

it’s your fault I’m into tgm so I have to bother you with all of my nonsense from now on hehe >:) I’m thinking about Jake putting his hand on your back RELIGIOUSLY. You think it’s stuck there by now ‘cause he just always has it hanging out on the small of your back 🛐

i take full responsibility and welcome you into my ask box whenever (but delayed responses to be expected) >:)))

aldjskfhksks but uhmmm OF COURSE, because where else would his hand be, please. something similar > here as well but in the Flyboy universe

-

once again ft. Halo, Phoenix and Penny + Fritz because <3

“5 seconds,” Fritz says immediately.

“C’mon Fritz, it takes longer than 5 seconds to even walk from the door to here,” Halo snorts while eyeballing the door to The Hard Deck, “I say 20.”

“25,” says Phoenix as she pulls a twenty out of her pocket before thumping it down onto the small pile notes of the same denomination that Fritz and Harvard had shelled out.

“15,” Penny says without looking up from the screen of her POS terminal, fingers of one hand flicking across the screen as she skims her inventory, her other hand pulling a twenty out from the back pocket of her jeans and setting it down on the small pile.

“Alright ladies, here goes,” Fritz mutters, as he sees you cross the threshold, his fingers immediately hitting the timer on the screen of his phone with a trained precision, his thumb remaining poised above the stop button.

The three Naval Aviators have their gazes fixed on you, their heads following each movement of yours, from the moment you crane your neck to search out the familiar group of uniforms, gaze searching for that familiar head of brown-blonde hair and piercing greens. They see your eyes brighten, and their heads whip left, only to find Jake already crossing the floor, easily clearing the path and making his way to you. The heads of the three flick right again, as they see you smile, legs winding their way through the crowd towards Jake. He meets you right smack in middle of The Hard Deck, his hand planting itself on your waist as he bends to kiss you hello, and Fritz stops the timer.

“15 seconds,” he states, reading off the numbers on the screen.

“Thanks kids,” Penny laughs, finally looking up as she reaches for the small pile of eighty dollars set out on the counter of jer bar.

“How did you know he would meet her halfway?” Phoenix asks, slightly curious and half accusatory, as if Penny had an unknown edge.

“He meets her halfway every time, you lot are usually too occupied to notice,” Penny hums back, amused, as she takes in the three faces staring back at her. She glances over the heads of the three, watching as Jake says something which elicits a bright smile from you, that causes a similar one to reflect right off his face. Penny watches as Jake places his hand on the small of your back, body angling behind yours as he guides you towards the group of uniforms in the back, “want to bet how long he’ll keep his hands on her? Would give you three a chance to win your cash back.”

“Please,” Phoenix snorts as Halo shakes her head; the three turning back to watch you and Jake, each leaning back against the bar counter.

“We aren’t that foolish Penny,” Fritz voices out, stating something even he knew, “his hand practically lives on her lower back.”

“Don’t need a genius to tell you that,” Halo chuckles, nudging Fritz lightly in the ribs only to receive a squirm and scowl in return that makes Phoenix let loose a bark of laughter, and Penny a chuckle as they watch you curl yourself, unconsciously they are sure, into Jake’s side, his hand not leaving its position on you even as you greet the rest of the group who are shouting their hello’s.

#jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #hangman x you #hangman #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #hangman seresin x you #hangman seresin x reader #hangman seresin x y/n #hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #callie halo bassett #billy fritz avalone #natasha phoenix trace #penny benjamin #not cm

[adorastarot]

Hey 'Adora'ble... 😜

I hope you are doing well... 💜

You mentioned jk fs isn't normal and I quite agree because the fanbase they have already without even knowing who they are is quite admirable..

What are they like?? Why are they so special or what makes them special??

OMG anon you're too cute! How are you? I hope you're well 💜 Thank you for being here and asking your question!

♡ Want a personal reading? Check out my Ko-fi

What makes Jungkook's fs special?

Ok, so I am going to try my best to answer these questions for you!

Temperance, The hanged man, 6 of cups, 6 of swords, The emperor, 10 of cups, 4 of swords

The first thing I noticed was the “halo” on the temperance card, it’s not actually a halo but if you look at the card it kind of look like one! I feel like in this lifetime this is someone who has had a lot of patient and who has found and bought a lot of peace to people around them. They may have sacrificed a lot for others around them and cared a lot too. This is someone who genuinely gives themselves away no matter whether they get it back or not. Once you are close to this person they would go to the end of the universe for you. I also feel liek this person has 1 or 2 siblings who they may have…kind of had to raise themselves?! They are genuinely someone who has faced a lot of difficult times but still gives a lot of love to others. 

They’ve been blessed due to their struggles in this lifetime and other lifetimes too, they seem to always have been able to conquer what the world has thrown at them. They take control of situations and are very disciplined themselves. They have managed to build a support group that is like family to them. They have learned to heal themselves and have been open to learning. I believe that it may be their willingness that makes them special, a willingness to evolve and not stay stagnant. 

#bts tarot #kpop tarot #bts tarot readings #bts fs #jungkook tarot #jk tarot #jk fs #jungkook ask #jungkook q

[wanderingblindly]

i see landoscar in this image don’t ask me how or why! (also i promise i’ll get round to ur lovely ask for my prompt one day awagrgh)

LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS PHOTO OH MY GOD!! very much fits into this au i've been turning around in my head like a microwave, oscar as a photography student and lando as his muse (set at the university of washington for,,,, reasons)

pls feel free to submit more fun photo prompts!!

Strangers (Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri, 600 words, drabble)

Oscar pulls in a deep breath, the autumnal chill burning on the way down; it makes him cough, nearly knocking him off his unsteady, drunken feet. The green around him spins – it’s too fucking green in this state –, the forest in the distance black under the moonlight. It would be beautifully eerie if Oscar’s world didn’t feel tilted on its axis, if he couldn’t still hear the distant thumping of a club remix that would have been outdated in 2012. 

He walks away from the house slowly, shuddering as a damp breeze grazes his skin. That’s another thing, it’s never really dry here – constantly drizzling, constantly misting, constantly green. Spongey. Wrapping his arms around himself tightly, Oscar steps off the pavement and into the road, a quiet neighborhood street that’s wider than anything he ever saw back home. 

Nothing here is like what he’s seen back home, really. 

With a heaving sigh, breath ghostly white in the moonlight, Oscar sits down on the curb. He can see the gentle mist, nothing more than static suspended in the air, as it drifts in the beams of the moon, the warm glow of the streetlights. Like a mix of silver and gold, Oscar takes in the lights around him – dividing the night into two different worlds. 

It’s finally quiet, the rumblings from the house party just far enough away that he can tune it out. If he strains, he can hear the faint rustlings of evergreen needles in the woods, the gentle brushing of barren deciduous trees’ branches. And footsteps behind him. 

A man comes to stand in front of him, a soft head of curls and full, feathery white wings illuminated from behind – the golden light of the streetlamp like a halo, the full moon overhead like a wash of purity. Oscar stares up at him, the angel, and takes in the way the lights play with the sharp angle of his cheekbones, highlighting his collarbones through his sheer shirt – growing damp in the midnight mist.

He looks down at him as Oscar continues to look up, chin tilted back to take him in – mouth hanging slightly agape. 

“Youuuuu –” Oscar starts, the word coming out misshapen on his tongue. The angel smiles down at him, the sharp curve of his cupid's bow making it look like a heart. Oscar’s never seen anyone, even anything, look so ethereal. 

“Cat got your tongue?” He laughs, accent sounding closer to home than anything he’s heard since he moved. The angel reaches out with sure hands and plucks the cat ear headband off Oscar’s head, placing it on his own with a wink. It nestles perfectly in the home of his curls, that part of Oscar. 

“You – can I –” He tries again, eyes caught in the confusing kaleidoscope of the angel's eyes. “For class, can I? Pictures. Of you.”

“You an art kid?”

Oscar nods, words dying in his mouth as the angel raises a brow at him. His wings ruffle in the breeze, almost like he’s agitated at the suggestion. The moment of silence stretches on between them, Oscar desperately trying to remember the way the light casts delicate shadows under his eyes and the angel looking down at him. Contemplating, maybe. 

“Let’s make a deal.” He says, reaching his hand out again – running his fingers through Oscar’s hair like he’s done it before. “If you remember this, if you ask me again, then yes. Ok?”

Oscar lets his head lull back completely, like the angel’s hand snapped it back. “Anything.”

“Right, no need to be weird ‘bout it.”

#wrote this in one sitting based truly on vibes #this photo is IMMACULATE thank you my darling!!! #landoscar #f1 drabble #landoscar drabble #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf fic #ask me :)

[hoshologies]

PARTY PACK, LEE H.

⌗ syn. you spent the entire summer telling your family that you weren't going to join a sorority. now not only are you an initiated member of delta eta sigma, but you've been elected to the social chair position for you chapter. you've planned a runout with the social chair of lambda rho, heeseung lee, and gotten close to him in the process. after an eventful night, you've got some big things to discuss.

⌗ gen. romance, fluff. meet-cute, friends to lovers, college au, greek life au. warnings. mentions of (over)eating, lapslock intended.

⌗ word count. 1.5k.

⌗ prev. read all greek love here ! it is recommended you read it before reading party pack because this is not meant to be a standalone piece.

⌗ note. i am beyond ecstatic that all greek love was received so well. i haven't written that much in about a year due to mental health and a massive kpop/writing adhd burnout, so seeing people enjoy it so much made me incredibly happy. thank you all for reading it. i mentioned wanting to do a little bonus scene/story to wrap up agl!heeseung and reader's story, so that's this. i'm not sure they really need a sequel or anything, but i may be open to exploring their relationship more in the future if i can come up with any good ideas.

again, thank you so much for enjoying all greek love so much. i'm really glad to be back to writing.

as expected, with the clock on heeseung’s dashboard closing in on two in the morning, the taco bell drive through line is packed bumper to bumper and still leaks out onto the street. all you really wanted was some soft tacos and fiesta potatoes, but now you’re stuck in between two very rowdy, very loud cars, drunk college students hanging halfway out of the windows talking to each other. heeseung puts his car in drive maybe every ten minutes to inch forward; it’s agony.

he turns your own music down just a little bit and then lets his hand come to rest palm up on your thigh, wiggling his fingers a little. you laugh and rest your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. like clockwork, a habit he’s already picking up, his thumb starts tracing lines where it falls against your skin. it’s something you find comfort in, the soft ghost of his touch against you. even before you got together, he’d let the backs of his fingers brush yours when you ended up studying at the library or your shoulders when you’d walk together across campus.

his hand stays in yours until he shifts gears from park to drive and back again, his hand finding yours each time there’s a lull in the drive through line. he orders your food for you, hand resting on your thigh instead, curling into the skin just above your knee, pays for your late night meal, even though you insist it isn’t necessary. he smiles bashfully at you and tells you to not worry about it; he wants to do it.

and then you end up sitting by the university lake, watching the fountains in the middle light up with the university colors. he’s spread a spare blanket he had in the backseat of his car on the ground and you sit shoulder to shoulder, sharing a large soda and a party pack of supreme soft tacos, you with your lone order of fiesta potatoes and his cinnamon twists. you eat mostly in silence, only broken up with the rustle of wax paper and the rush of the fountains, until he finally turns his head to look at you. when you look at him yourself, he’s haloed again, backlit by the orange streetlamps in the parking lot.

“so,” he starts, resting his elbow on his tented knees and nestling his head in his hand. “the big stuff.”

you’d almost forgotten about that, the big stuff, and now you’re having to fight back a cough because you almost choked after he reminded you. but he’s right. you kissed and then slept together (there was no second round in the shower, save for some kissing, but it was nice either way, heeseung there to work you over and ease the tension with deft hands and nice smelling body wash) and now here you are, sitting at the university lake and sharing far too many tacos. you need to sort things out.

“right,” you say finally, swallowing back the last bite of your fourth taco. “the big stuff.”

you fall silent again, neither one of you quite sure how to go about this. so you’re both sitting at the lakeside, clueless and blinking at each other and somehow it becomes one of the funniest situations ever and you just start giggling. heeseung stares at you bewildered for a few seconds before he joins in too, his face cracking open with a bright smile as he leans towards you, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“we’re ridiculous,” he says between chuckles, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth under the bronze lamplight.

“losers, more like,” you respond, meeting him halfway and letting your shoulder press tight against his. “wanted to talk about the big stuff and couldn’t even do that without being awkward. liv and yeonjun would have a field day with this if they knew.”

you sit there for a couple long minutes, passing quiet giggles between the two of you, heads bowed together. anybody walking by would think you were conspiring rather than sharing a laugh. eventually, your laughter does fizzle out and you’re left looking at the lake again, shoulder to shoulder, knees almost touching now. heeseung’s arm tentatively drapes over your opposite shoulder and you lean into him.

“i want you to know i don’t do this very often,” he starts, his voice quiet and almost lost to the three am air. “i’m not really one for hookups and all of that; i know you’ve hooked up with a couple of others — which is not a problem, of course. i just… want you to know that this was serious to me. you’re serious to me.”

you nod, but don’t offer anything in response because it sounds like he wants to keep speaking, like he has something else to add. while he fishes for what he wants to say next, you turn his words over in your head. he’s right, you have hooked up a few times since starting school here, but none of them have been as cute or as sweet as heeseung is; you’ve never wanted them to stay with you in your too small twin sized bed the way you want heeseung to. it’s not that you’re a player; maybe you were just waiting for him to waltz into your life.

“the kiss at the party… you said you were tired of waiting for me to make a move and i guess in the moment, i thought that meant you liked me back too, but i never really considered whether you just wanted to sleep with me or—”

you can’t take it anymore, heeseung’s second guessing. you’ve never been so serious about anyone or anything in your life. maybe you did something to make him think otherwise or maybe you didn’t and this is just him being that shy, nervous boy you’ve come to adore over the last month, but either way, you’ll do what it takes to prove to him that this was always more than a one night stand to you.

so you pull him to you, kiss him slow and soft and gentle. there’s no tongue involved, no clashing of teeth. it’s just your lips molded perfectly to his, your hand pressed featherlight to his cheek, his sharp inhale of surprise before he melts into your touch. it’s three am and you’re sitting at the university lake kissing the only boy you think you’ll ever fall in love with, his leg pressed to yours from hip to knee, his fingers curling into your sweater sleeve tight, unyielding. nothing could be more perfect than this.

you pull away, but don’t move far, glancing up at him through your eyelashes. “it was serious for me too, heeseung. i promise.”

he breathes a sigh of relief, his eyes fluttering closed as his forehead tilts to rest against yours. there’s more silence for a few long moments, just your breaths mingling between you, his fingers as they brush over the soft cotton of the sweater wear now, one you borrowed from him and never returned all those weeks ago after you got caught in a downpour.

“good 'cause i really don’t know what i would have done if you said you wanted to keep it casual,” he says at last, laughing a breathy little laugh at the end. “honestly. i really might have died on the spot because i like you so much.”

you let out a loud laugh, one that resonates from deep in your chest, and you push at his shoulders, leaning away from him. “you’re such a dork.”

he recovers from the shove and leans back in, wrapping both of his arms around you now, his chin on your shoulder. “maybe so, but you like me anyways.”

you look at him and smile, still laughing. “yes, i like you anyways.”

he smiles, all starlight and sunbeams, and he nudges your nose with his, smiles impossibly brighter when you giggle. “so much you’ll let me take you on a date later?”

you pretend to think about it before you nod resolutely. “i’ll like you even more if we go on a date.”

heeseung mirrors your nod and then presses one, two, three short pecks to your lips before he pulls away fully, smiling still. he nudges at the cardboard box between you, the bottom still full of soft tacos. he says that you really need to finish the party pack because if he has to take the leftovers to lambda rho, there will be a fight over who gets them and he doesn't want to get caught up in the crossfire.

you go back to heeseung’s dorm, closer than yours this time, with a tiny stomachache, but it’s worth it when he lays you down in bed and holds you to him. he promises your date will not involve tacos or meddling friends; you tell him you don’t care what the date is or involves as long as he’s with you.

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

#k-labels #kvanity #heeseung x reader #heeseung fluff #enhypen fluff #kpop fluff #enhypen x reader #writing.fic #fluff.fic #stories.fic #heeseung.fic #enha.fic

[butmakeitgayblog]

Hi! It’s so fun reading your ranking of which Clarke is loudest in bed. Do you have a moment to share more about the reason(s) behind your top 3 rankings?

Well

1. Demon Clarke, I mean. That's kind of a dead giveaway 😅 She is completely, unapologetically demonic in her transgressions. Where Lexa was, is and always will be a sassy little shit, the truth remains that she is as much angel as she is demon. She has pulls for both good and evil, right and wrong, morality and immorality. Clarke, quite simply, does not. Not really, not anymore. Now she lives a life of unabashed hedonism. Pleasure, passion, untempered want are the virtues she lives by. And to make things so deliciously debauched it practically makes her head spin, out of everyone in the existence of the universe and before time was even time, she managed to land herself The Fallen One. There's layers to that. It's as easy to get off just to the thought of dirty fucking one of God's once most beloved creations as it is actually being lucky enough to have sex with her. Every time she gets fucked, she's quite literally getting fucked with the intensity of both heaven and hell. The sheer power of Lexa's body - wiry muscles that can snap steel and punch craters into the earth. Having all of that strength turned onto her? Feeling those hands and that body and, goddamn, that fucking mouth. Having that power focused on her worshipping her in all of its sensual destruction would be enough to have anyone moaning like wild animal.

But, and very importantly, beyond that - it's Lexa. Even when all the sacrilege is stripped away, she just simply loves Lexa as a person and a partner. She loves her kindness and thoughtfulness every bit as much as her righteous anger and damnation. She loves Lexa's violence, and her bloodshed, and the broken heart that beats its sorrow against the cage of her ribs. She loves the crooked hang of Lexa's halo when she's at her most vulnerable, as rare as those times can be. But it's in that vulnerability that Clarke knows that only together are they safe to be exactly who they are. So aside from just the actual physical prowess of getting absolutely obliterated by a fallen angel, Clarke just really, really likes to show Lexa how loved she is, how not alone she is, and how appreciated she is whenever they're intimate. And frankly, she does not give one shit who hears it.

2. MBFW Clarke is even more simple. She was Lexa's first, and really Lexa was her first in a lot of different ways too. She was the first person Clarke ever actual fell in love with. Not in lust or infatuation, but that actual terrified, ruined-for-everyone-else kind of love. Clarke found a piece of herself she hadn't even known was missing when she met Lexa, and then she was just... there. And it was like. Oh. Oh. There you are. Wow I've missed you...

Also, they met young and experimented together without having the baggage of trying to impress each other from ~experience~ looming over their relationship. They took a lot,,, and I mean A Lot of time learning and teaching each other what they liked. Before Lexa, Clarke had never thought of herself as particularly vocal in bed, but then suddenly she was apparently the kind of person who begs her girlfriend to go harder, just a little faster. Who whimpers that she needs to be fucked deeper. She realized that apparently she is the type of person who can wake up an entire door block when she comes 😎 It is nOt strictly her fault that Lexa is a fast leaner and an habitual overachiever.

3. CoA Clarke is just plain beyond help or explanation. Like that's,,, there's no other reason beyond that. CoA Clexa both are just horny filthy whores and I make no excuses for either of them. They fuck constantly and have no manners

#anon #demon!lexa #mbfw #CoA

[thedroneranger]

The Drone Ranger's Be Kind Rewind ⏪ startrekfangirl2233 Edition!

A rec reblog series dedicated to the fics that we love so much, we've re-read them!

The Be Kind Rewind is back with @startrekfangirl2233! Star! You were so thoughtful in the presentation of your re-reads and so appreciative of the creators—thank you!

While we continue to churn out amazing new content, let's be kind and rewind to some of the OG content we love! And don't forget to reblog when you re-read! Continue to show your comfort fics and favorite creators some love. It helps keep the fresh content coming :)

To keep this going throughout the summer, I'll continue to invite friends—other creators and readers—to share their lists. Stay tuned!

If you're interested in participating in the Be Kind Rewind, message me. The more, the merrier—let's keep this going as long as we can!

If you want to know when a new Rewind drops, join the tag list, and check out previous Rewinds!

fics below the cut (listed in alphabetical order by title)

A Gun Amongst Daggers, Jake Seresin, @desert-fern This fic is amazing! What would you say if I told you that Jake finally met his match? That match is none other than SEALs Team Leader and the most badass bitch of them all, Bear. He's whipped. Whipped, I tell you. It's so refreshing to see Jake's soft side and to see his dynamic with a woman who knows exactly what she wants and how to go get it, too!

Ghost, Jake Seresin, @dakotakazansky Dakota Kazansky has a legacy behind her surname and her dad's blood runs through her veins. It's no surprise then that she ends up flying. On her journey to Top Gun, she meets one Jake. They're instant friends, but what happens when they take the jump from friends to something more?

Hang Your Halo, Jake Seresin, @mayhemmanaged This series is amazing! Secret missions, angst, fluff, smut and more?! Hell yes. Also, Jake and Beckham have one of the best relationships I've ever read!

Is It Working for You? (+ Roo x Baby Girl universe), Bradley Bradshaw, @roosterforme Alright, so next up, I want you all to meet the queen of the Roo-nicorns. Em is a unicorn of an author and a unicorn of a person. Everything she writes is amazing! With Roo and Baby Girl, she creates the richest, most beautiful universe I've ever read.

Landslide, Bradley Bradshaw, @roosterbruiser So if you guys are in the Top Gun fandom at all, then you 100% should read Landslide. Millie is one of the best author's and sweetest people you'll ever interact with. And this story? It'll make you laugh, it'll make you cry, and it will 100% make you want to throttle some people.

Opposites Attract universe, Jake Seresin + assorted daggers, @topguncortez This series is amazing! G covers such a wide array of relationships so beautifully! Whether you read this for Coyote and Val, Jake and Shy!Wifey, Cerberus and Phoenix, or Dragon and Rooster, you will not regret it.

Red, White, and Rooster, Bradley Bradshaw, @cherrycola27 It's politics + the Daggers. But this AU has a sexy President Bradshaw and an equally sexy Vice President Seresin. This fic has its fair share of jaw-dropping, angst-inducing moments, and I loved every minute of this rollercoaster ride. Wise-woman is one of the most powerful female characters, and I adore her.

To-Do List collection, Jake Seresin, @thedroneranger In addition to curating this Be Kind Rewind, Jay is also one of the most amazing writers in this entire fandom. Her entire To-Do List collection is beautiful. Jake and Mrs. Seresin have a relationship that defies the ages and is way too damn sexy to boot. The chemistry these two have with each other? It's electric!

Creator's Own

Sometimes All You Need (A Getaway Car), Jake Seresin Jake's a getaway car driver and the sweetest man in the world in this series. I'm obsessed with him, and it's not just because I wrote him the way he is! 🤭

Tag list and friends: @petcr3 @desert-fern @Sagittarius-Lovewitch @mygyn  @sweetwhispersofchaos  @horseshoegirl  @the-annoying-fan  @dingochef  @moon42flight @thecitysgraveyard @ereardon  @roosterforme  @cherrycola27 @galaxy-of-stories  @taytaylala12  @malindacath  @violyn20  @awildewit  @potato-girl99981  @shanimallina87  @blue-aconite  @djs8891  @linkpk88  @furiousladyking  @daggerspare-standingby  @princess76179  @jstarr86  @hecate-steps-on-me  @darkheartcherry  @soulmates8  @roosters-girl  @dempy  @roosterisdaddy36  @hangmanscoming  @s-u-t  @mavrellover91  @chicomonks @averyhotchner 

A kind reminder, this is a 18+ blog. While not all stories in the recommendation list are 18+, please respect boundaries and do not interact unless you are 18 years of age or older.

#tgm be kind rewind #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick #tgm #top gun #startrekfangirl2233