#( and you lot aren’t even ready for me to reach peak power )

[bokettochild]

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones

Angst! My Beloved!

Not a lot of whump here, but I put Wild through the wringer!!! Lots of BotW2 ideas and concepts here, but nothing really cannon.

Also, disclaimer: I think Flora is a wonderful person, a bit harsh and sometimes unkind, but I feel for her a lot. The prompt submitted to me however asked for her as an ass, so that's what's here, for angst reasons. THIS IS NOT HOW I PLAN ON WRITING HER NORMALLY!!!

When Wild left the Chain behind in the woods, it was with a soft smile and a hesitant wave of his right hand. It was with a gentle ‘See y’all later’ that made Warriors shake his head with a sigh while Twilight offered a wobbly grin.

He would join them again, he knew that. After all, Hylia wouldn’t have chosen him to go with them in the first place if he was only supposed to leave before they’d even really started to know what it was that they were meant to be doing.

He’d see them again, and he’d fall back into a routine with all of them, sparring with Warriors and teaching Hyrule to cook and shield surfing with Wind and learning to carve from Sky. He’d go back to sewing with Legend, to exploring with Hyrule, to learning the Ocarina with Time and teasing Twilight about his terrible singing. He could work with Four on the Sheikah Slate and experimenting with different plants he’d gathered. He would see them again, and he’d go back to being busy and smiling nearly every day.

For the time being however, he had to square his shoulders and harden his jaw as he stepped through the swirl of black that had repulsed all the others every time they tried to enter. He had to tame his mind and wild spirit and come to stand before the Princess of Hyrule in all of her stern glory and receive the scolding he was due for wandering off without permission.

He never had time to question what she meant by being gone for ‘two whole weeks’ before she was marching off towards the labs and explaining that there was a new task for them to complete.

Such a task was one that left in his mind no time for thoughts of his brothers save on the lonely nights in the sky when the islands above the clouds were silent save for the birds about him that reminded him of Sky, or when he ran across the forests and was reminded of the wolf that once ran at his side. And, alright, the tiny people in the grass and the fountains reminded him of Four and Hyrule. When the wind sang strong in his ears as he dove towards the earth from the highest places in the sky, he couldn’t help but envision a small hero whose laughter danced like the sea and who’s fingers mastered the currents of wind and sea both.

It was a lonely quest, just like his last before it, but somehow it was more painfully so, now that he knew what it was to have brothers at his side to catch a monster’s blade when he was too slow or to help him patch himself up afterwards. It was quiet when the Princess and he sat around the fires as night, she studying him as he sat still and stonelike as she worked.

The hand that had waved goodbye to his brothers now flickered green and ethereal in the night shades, iron bands clinging to the wisping appendage and acting as a bond to hold its form together. It was nothing like what he’d known or studied in the Sheikah technology, or even what he’d seen from the many worlds he’d traveled with the other, and it earned many a stare and twist of the lips from those he met and traded with during his journey.

The arm was only the first of many changes, it’s power seeping through his body and altering him before he even knew what was happening. He’d hated it at first, disliking how it changed him, made his eyes glow and his hair touch with the same ethereal shades, red bleeding through at the roots and earning him even more wary looks.

Ganon, in all his terrifying power, had been a surprising comfort during the quest, an aid to discovering his new abilities and training them to bend to his own will. The Princess had been wary of their relationship, but had accepted it when she saw what he learned to do, and every evening she would require a report of his newfound skills, as well as the occasional demonstration or examination.

It all came to an end both too soon and not soon enough.

Ganon was gone, as if he’d never been there at all, and the Princess was as cold as ever even after their second adventure at each other's sides. And now there was no use for the abilities that had fused to his soul like the arm had to his flesh. He’d asked Purah if there was something that could be done to restore his body to its normal Hylian state, without the glowing limb that earned his only stares and insults from the village people, but the Princess had overheard it and declared that such a thing should not even be attempted.

“You don’t understand, Link. Don’t be foolish! We have here a scientific marvel ready for our investigation and exploration and you want to get rid of it just because it looks odd?”

He’s shuffled his feet slowly, resisting the impulse to rub at his chest where the Hylian part of him ended and the eldritch horror began. “I can’t live like  Hylian anymore.”

“Because you aren’t one!” Her Highness rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Sir Knight, after everything I certainly doubt that Hylian even applies to you anymore! Hylians do not possess the qualities that you now do, and they most certainly do not travel through stone or time or any other such thing at will. Think would you! You’re something else entirely, and I intend to find out what that is!”

Purah had frowned at that, eyes full of sorrow as they met his own with an apologetic sigh. But there was nothing the de-aged scientist could really say against the royal Sovreign of Hyrule, not as a Sheikah sworn to the service of the royal family. The woman/girl had offered him a sympathetic pat on the head later after climbing up to reach high enough to do so, as well as a few dumplings that Paya had sent on her grandmother’s behalf the day before. It was a welcome gesture, but amounted to so little on the grand scale of life. Not when so many others he had once called his friends had so blatantly rejected the mere sight of him.

Bolson and the other carpenters shied away from him with harsh whispers as they spat insults across the distance.

‘Half-blood’.

‘Gerudo Bastard’.

‘Freak’.

‘Demon’.

There were favorite insults spread from stable to stable and up and coming village to up and coming town and slowly all of Hyrule knew of the monster that had once been the hero. Gossip abounded, and he couldn’t even turn to shield his face with his hood without drawing attention to his arm.

It was only the koroks that welcomed him, themselves all too accustomed to the strange and ethereal. Them and the blupees.

Maybe it was the knowledge of how it felt to be shot at for his oddness that allowed him to ease into the graces of the flighty animals. And maybe it was his lonely heart crying for comfort, but when nestled in their midst, it almost reminded him of how it felt to be hugged by the salty veteran, on the rare occasional that the pink-haired hero had let down his guard.

The fairy’s tangled themselves in his hair and the blupees gathered at his feet, koroks dancing around him and flying to his side as if he was some sort of forest god, but the strange rise of his spirits in their presence shattered the instant a traveler caught sight of him.

Arrows and fire, once his favorite of weapons, were turned against him as words in every language of the New Hyrule had burst from the mouths of its people, and like his namesake, he ran before them, darting through the forest and fading in amidst the trees, hiding, incorporeal and translucent within the halls of the forest as those he’d once seen as allies pushed him away.

He’d begged the new Queen for aid, for relief or even just a word to the people that he wasn’t the evil they had come to think he was, but she only waved him aside with a purse of her lips. “You are not meant to be here without first asking.” The Child of Hylia declared, eyes as cold as the Shrine’s waters themself. “And why should I make a declaration on behalf of a man who refuses to even speak to me properly? You come groveling like a worm, yet for years it was I who you ignored. See how it feels, Sir Hero, to be the one left helpless at the hands of the country. Know what it is to be scorned by those who you thought would love you.”

He’d barely made it out of the window before the trainee guards of the newly repaired Hyrule Castle had caught him and Queen Zelda Diana Hyrule had stared after him with eyes colder than Hebra’s tallest peaks.

It was the Father Tree -the Deku Tree as the Queen had called it, but the koroks laughed at him for using the name, so he’d adjusted in kind- who suggested that he hide the changes, and he’d begun to wander Hyrule as much as possible to find the materials he would have needed.

The Queen still required his presence regularly so she could inspect him; her love of science no ways tainted as to stop her from ordering him to appear regularly, as there was now no need or safety in his acting as her guard. The Queen sought her people’s respect, and to employ such a being as himself, not Hylian and not quite mortal, would be to spark fear in the people. Indeed, when he skirted villages, he would wince at word of ‘the queen’s monster’ as gossip was traded. Those who didn’t see him themselves knew him as a beast of feral nature who lived amid the lost woods and destroyed any who came close.

“A specter that glows with the light of the shrines.” They would tell each other over campfires. “It has eyes like a ghost, empty and lost, with no care for humanity or Hylia’s chosen. They say it was once the Hero of this world, but he died ages ago.”

“I heard it’s the body, possessed by a being beyond this realm, a monster escaped from the edges of reality that tried to hide in our midst but corrupted it’s host so that it only scares away others, leaving it roam the earth in a shattered body. If you get too close to it though, it’ll take your instead.”

He’d stayed away from towns after that.

The blupees and koroks had been happy to help him to find what he needed to hide among the Hylians should he wish though, and two in particular guided him; the korok swinging little twigs like they were batons and humming swinging little shanties as it hopped along the path, the blupee snorting softly and nipping at his heels when he wandered too far, unnatural purple eyes staring up at him with something that was fondness and a reprimand all at once, and in their care he’d made his way across the land of Hyrule to find what would be needed to return to his once life.

The fairies and their Great cousins had been welcome help, and in time, he’d been able to walk amid the populace of Hyrule like any other, as long as he kept a long cloak about him and his hair pulled back to hide where the roots would begin showing again in gold and ethereal blue.

Once Hyrule had talked about needing to hide in his world, about the curse that followed him and made the Hylian people afraid. He’d thought it bizarre and ridiculous of the people at the time, but now he understood what it was to live it.

When the portal opened beneath his feet the day that the Queen had reprimanded him for concealing and potentially damaging the strange limb, startling the Skeikah scientists and Queen both, he’d nearly cried tears of relief.

He was going away, somewhere where he wasn’t a science project and where, unless they traveled to his world’s future, no one would know how much he had changed. His copy of the slate had enough hair dye to last him a few months, and he was certain he could make more over time, and as long as he continued wearing the tunics and gloves the fairies had helped him to adjust to hide the glow the others would probably never catch on. Or well, he could extend it anyway.

His brothers greeted him with open arms and teary eyes, and in a strange parallel to his adventure, he found himself thinking of blupees when Legend had curled against him, stiff and cold on the outside, but with fingers that clutched his tunic just a bit too tight to really be reluctant. And Four, Hyrule and Wind’s exuberant hugs and chatter brought to mind tiny forest people and koroks with twigs for batons.

It was good to be home.

It was good to cook for other people again, and they were glad to have him cook for them, even if his fondness for both Gerudo spiced dishes and fae like sweet things had increased exponentially during his newest adventure. It was good to fight at their sides, even if it was strange to once again have to take others into account before he could select a weapon. It was good to sit around a fire and talk with the others too, but that was perhaps the hardest one; it had been ages since he’d had a proper two-way conversation with anything other than a tree or a korok, and neither of those was good at either staying awake or staying focused for very long.

There were some harder things to adjust to though. Fire, for one. Unlike before when he’d have been happy to burn an enemy camp to the ground, now he was wary of using faming weapons or spreading heat further than necessary. The same went for hunting; he couldn’t bring himself to shoot an animal unless it attacked first or they needed the meat it would provide, and even then, he felt a bit bad for doing so. Is this what Twilight had felt like? Is this why the rancher never liked hunting? Because he too knew what it was like to be on the other end of the bow?

But the hardest thing by far to readjust to was his name.

‘Wild’ they had called him again, and after months of ‘the wild one’, ‘wild beast’, ‘monster’ and every other insult, slur or title that had been used on him, it made him flinch ever so slightly at the words. And unlike the other things where his brothers dismissed it as a change caused by his adventure or an increase of maturity, it was something that the others seemed to either not notice or to excuse as situational.

He had adapted though, learned to keep a smile on his face where blankness had once been required in his knightly duties, and the more he wore the mask the easier it was to put on again.

He’d reveled in traveling across time again, in dancing through battles and exploring the world without the Queen reprimanding him in her cold tones to stop wandering off. He’d pushed himself to learn more music in the last adventure, and even if his experience was more with what few instruments Ganon had had time to help him learn, he’d enjoyed sitting down with the others and borrowing one or another instrument to play a tune and sometimes he even got to sing.

He fell to comfortably into his role though, even with the changes, and he hadn’t even noticed when they’d come back to his world. To be fair, it was different in the daytime, and Hyrule had changed so much in the absence of her hero as he hid himself away from the eyes of civilization. Towns and roads had sprung up where there had only been fields before, and the Guardians that had littered the land had all been dug up and hauled to the castle to be either restored or destroyed by the Sheikah, depending on what Queen Zelda decided after she looked at them herself. The world was so different to him, so unlike that which he knew, that he’d failed to keep as alert as he ought to have been when he wandered about an open market with the others, laughing and chattering away with the other younger ones as Time and Legend herded them towards the needed stalls.

It was a traveler that was his downfall, a man who’d seen the Monster Hero and had been among the first to discover the disguise he wore.

No questions were asked when the word spread, and Wild hadn’t caught on to the whispers until a stone had struck his cheek and he was stumbling forwards on the path.

“Wild!” Twilight was at his side in a minute, Time right after him as Legend launched a barrage of insults at the guilty party who’d thrown the thing.

“’m fine.” He was careful to wipe the blood away with his cloak, holding the fabric to the wound to prevent bluish blood seeping down his face and exposing him to his brothers. He wanted to keep them as long as possible and proving himself to be a monster, not even Hylian, would surely have them turning their backs on him.

“Get away from him!” A woman scolded, grabbing ahold of two of the younger heroes while several other shoppers had like ways grabbed Legend and Sky. “Are you dears alright? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Freaking what?” Legend shrieked. “Who’s the injured party here?”

“I’d avoid that thing, son.” A man huffed through a frankly walrus like mustache, eyes hard as they trailed to where Wild stood, cloak still pressed to his cheek as he attempted to wave off a fussing Twilight and Time. “It’s not natural. Sure, it looks like a normal Hylian, but that’s just an effective ruse.”

Another villager nodded. “It’s one of the Calamity’s puppets, a Gerudo-Bastard set on destroying the kingdom!”

“He’s the freaking hero!” Legend shrieked, barely being held back by a steely eyed Sky. “He saved all your freaking asses and all you can do is insult his flipping guts? Who’s the-”

“Enough.” There were few times that Sky’s voice reached levels worse than Twilight’s growls, but the stern command, regal and firm, froze all present as the man stiffened with a cold nod towards the villagers. “I see we are unwelcome here, and with that being the case it would be wise to spend our rupees elsewhere. Legend,” A tug to the boy’s shoulders. “Let’s join the others and be out of their hair. If they cannot be welcoming and kind to our brother than they will not receive our patronage.” And like a swan gathering it’s cygnets, Sky swept down the street, cape fluttering as he ushered the rest of them out of the town and back to the safety of the wilds. The village stared after them with wide eyes, as if they’d just been judged by a breathing god.

The stiffness in Sky’s shoulders faded as they neared the edge of the forest, and instantly the Chosen Hero been tutting over Wild, gently but firmly prying his hand away from his face with a kind smile that almost set Wild at ease. Almost.

“It’s fine, it’s just a scrape.”

“Still.” Sky crooned softly. “I’d rather we clean it up now and make sure it’s nothing worse than let it sit and get infected later.”

And though he’d tried to fight, his single Hylian hand was no match for the firm grip of the Skyloftian, and within minutes his face was exposed to the shocked faces and flickering eyes of his brothers.

“It’s blue...” Wind breathed as Hyrule darted forwards, hands already glowing softly only for them to stutter to a stop over Wild’s skin.

“It’s... Wild, why is your blood- why is-” The healer’s eyes had flickered golden for a moment, wide as they stared up at him. “What happened to you-”

“What the freak!” Legend had startled, blinking in surprise as he stared. “Your eyes are glowing!”

Shit! The healing properties of the arm had already taken affect and it was making everything act up all weird! He shot a glance down at his arm, one hand raising to tangle in the long hair he couldn’t even see at the moment, praying silently beneath his breath that nothing was showing through. It wasn’t, but that didn’t change how Hyrule had come to fixate on his right arm, or how the healer's fingers hovered over it sparking and eyes twinkling as he whispered softly under his breath.

“Wild.” Time had sighed. “I think this one is going to need an explanation.”

All the breath left his lung in instants.

He’d panicked to say the least and Time had eventually shooed the others away to make camp as the eldest hero had sat at his side, waiting silently for him to regulate his breathing. Touch was too much right now, and any attempts from the others to ease him down or help him level out his breathes had only made him panic more. But when at last his blue eyes blinked back to clarity it was to see Time sitting at his side, a gentle tune wafting from the Ocarina at his lips.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, trying his hardest not to startle Time or otherwise make the situation worse. “I should have said something, I know. I just- missed being Wild and I wanted to come back and be normal and I didn’t want to-”

“It’s alright.” Time’s voice rumbled softly, a single blue eye turning to him with a pained look, even as the man offered him a hint of a smile. “None of us talk about our adventures either.”

“Yes, but you’re people.” He sighed, rubbing the fingers of his glove together. “You’re allowed to choose things.”

There was pain in Time’s voice when their leader answered. “And you’re not?”

“I’m not Hylia anymore.” He whispered. “I don’t count.”

“You count to us.”

“That’s because you don’t know.”

Time shifted, turning to face him fully as the ocarina was set firmly in the grass. “That’s because you’re family and we care. Wild, I don’t care if Demise himself named you the king of the dead, you’re still my kid and Nayru knows I’m not going to let you go without a fight. If that means fighting you, alright, but you’d best better believe that no amount of physical or mental changes will break the bonds we all have with you.”

Something, something damaged and crushed and stitched up and torn open again clenched inside of him, tears pricking at his eyes as he stared up at Time’s royal blue gaze. “W-what?”

“You could be granted godhood, made a monster, I don’t care. You’re ours and you’ll have to deal with that.” Time smiled, warm even with the pain in his eyes as he looked down at him. “So how about you start again, maybe with the facts rather than the insults. Or,” Time softened, brows furrowing lightly. “If you want, we can just sit here and you can choose to talk about this later. We do need to know, so we can help you and keep you safe, but you don’t have to tell us right now. You can take some time to figure out what you want to say if you need.”

And, well, shoot him, but Time’s arms had always been a safe place and there was one thing he’d wanted more than anything since he had come back. Wild threw himself into his grand-mentor's arms with a soft sob, clutching tightly to the other, ignoring the armor and its sharp points and awkward shapes as he tried to hold back all the emotions swirling in his chest.

Time’s arms folding around him broke the floodgates though, and when the man’s hand had stroked through his shortened hair, he’d had to bury his face in Tim’s neck to muffle his sobs.

“There, there,” Time hummed softly, rocking slowly as he held the broken wild hero. “Let it out, little one. I have you, I’ve got you and I’m not letting anyone hurt you.”

#whumptober 2021 #linkeduniverse #linked universe #idiot writes angst #idiot writes whump #lu wild #lu time #lu sky #lu legend #sky is scary when he's mad #wild whump #botw2 #botw2 theories #mean flora #flora bashing #zelda botw bashing #I ACUALLY LOVE FLORE PLS DON'T HATE ME!!!! #father time

[aching-tummies]

If I was your partner...I'd want to catch you after a long, long day of misfortune forced you to go without breakfast, or lunch, and you've missed your usual dinnertime by at least a couple hours. You finally get home with your empty belly rumbling VERY audibly; pressing your arm against your tummy as you close the door behind you does nothing to silence the furious growls. You'd collapse on the couch next to me and quickly start trying to soothe your starving tummy with rubs, softly whimpering as your belly clenches tighter and tighter...so I'd pull in you up to sit on my lap and rest my hands on yours. I'd love to just feel the intense churning grumbles and powerful starved roars against our hands, as well as hear them, before even considering feeding you~

After a while, I'd start teasing you about how hungry you'd have to be by then, occasionally squeezing and poking your whining tummy to draw out harsher rumbles and make you moan and plead for me to make something to eat, or at least some kind of snack, but for a while I would just play with your empty belly, kneading in circles to make it more active...make it clench and twist harder. I'd see just how long you could last before I finally get up and make something for you...and even then once you started eating I would keep rubbing and "massaging" your guts, causing the cacophony to grow even louder and more insistent; begging for more despite how quickly you'd be stuffing your face.

"...You finally get home with your empty belly rumbling VERY audibly; pressing your arm against your tummy as you close the door behind you does nothing to silence the furious growls..."

I step into our home quietly, trying not to make too much noise and disturb anything. Also, I'm kind of embarrassed about my tummy. Skipping one meal, maybe two...yeah, must've been busy...but all three mealtimes? Only an idiot would let themselves get this hungry. Though...to be honest...after lunchtime came and went I kind of saw this as something I wanted. The gnawing ache started to tickle my kinky side just a little. I wanted this. I wanted to see how long I could endure...to see how long I could let myself enjoy the active squirming and clenching of my guts.

Trying to focus on work was next to impossible as I my attention was constantly tugged toward the state of my hollow guts with each and every cramp and growl. I nearly caved on the way home. The bus stop is next to a burger joint and I could smell the heavenly scent of salt and grease in the air...but the bus was just pulling into my stop as I neared and I didn't want to wait however long for the next one...so home without food it was. The ride back was excruciating. The scents from the burger joint had stimulated my appetite and my tummy was snarling and growling throughout the whole ride. The cramps were cranked up to eleven with the newly awoken appetite and it hurt a lot. Thank heavens the other passengers all had their headphones in. I set my bag on my lap and was squeezing my empty tummy the whole way, trying to calm it out of fear that it would embarrass me in public. I couldn't help but let out a few soft moans because it hurt so much.

I'm kind of apprehensive about letting you in on the state of my starving tummy. Like a dog with a toy or something, a part of me wants to keep this gnawing feeling to myself to enjoy. An audible growl triggered by my arm pressing into my stomach as I bend over to set my bag down foils that though. There's no way you didn't hear that.

I'm in the hallway that has our front door on one end and the couch you're perched on at the other--literally two sides of an echo chamber. You'd have to be completely deaf not to hear that grumble and we both know you're keenly attuned to even the subtlest noises from my tummy. Also, you were expecting my starving state. You knew I skipped out on breakfast because my alarm failed to wake me in time to catch breakfast and my bus to work. I texted you after having missed lunch by a matter of hours, sharing a bit about the state of my neglected innards...and you had promised to have dinner waiting whenever I managed to come home.

"...You'd collapse on the couch next to me and quickly start trying to soothe your starving tummy with rubs, softly whimpering as your belly clenches tighter and tighter..."

"Babe? Y-you said in the text that you'd have dinner ready...ouch...w-when are we e-eating? Ugh…ow…m-my tummy really hurts…’m so hungry…"

"...so I'd pull in you up to sit on my lap and rest my hands on yours. I'd love to just feel the intense churning grumbles and powerful starved roars against our hands..."

"Y-you w-wanna--you wanna get into *that*? Now? Ugh...fine...b-but I really need to eat some time tonight. My tummy *really* hurts; I'm not going to be able to sleep like this. Babe? Are you listening to me?"

Clearly, you're not. You are completely transfixed on my tummy. Your hands have taken over on my stomach, somehow having pushed mine aside to lay directly over my achingly empty tummy. Your palms press into my midriff, jostling my digestive organs and stimulating my appetite just as the fast-food joint had done. I didn't think it was possible, but what you've done actually hurts more than the smell of food did at the bus stop. It was a gradual clenching and the growls sort of built up slowly and naturally on the bus. Under your undulating ministrations the cramps are forced into a head faster than they'd form on their own. Premature growls and grumbles are being squeezed into resounding throughout my hollow innards. Your palms create a cacophony of growls all over my guts--interrupting each other, flowing and crashing into each other. Dear gosh it hurts. My guts feel like they are liquifying. It feels like my gastric acids have burned through every which way in the hunt for sustenance and your palms are causing the burning mess to spread. Clearly, you’re an agent of hunger and want it to succeed in devouring my innards.

"Aaahh...OUCH! N-Not there...ugh...ow...t-that hurts...d-don't p-oke...ow...i-it's really t-tight there...y-yeah...i-it's cramping there...n-NO! D-don't squeeze it! Please...it...HURTS!"

My protests fall on deaf ears--what a time for you to choose to be selectively deaf, acutely aware of every noise from my guts but your brain not really caring to register a word out of my mouth. It's fine. We have safe-words. One word and all of this stops and you'll bring out the dinner you're hiding from me.

"Ugh...fine. We can play for a little while--but I'm watching the 11'o clock news. There was an incident on the transit lines and I want to know what it was that caused me to hug my grumbling tummy for an extra forty minutes on the way home as the bus took a HUGE detour."

"...After a while, I'd start teasing you about how hungry you'd have to be by then, occasionally squeezing and poking your whining tummy to draw out harsher rumbles and make you moan..."

"Shh...babe, I'm try'na watch the news—Yeah, I know I’m hungry. You know it. I know it. Shut up. It's ON!"

Your fingers push into a hunger pang reaching its climax and I swear its retaliation for shushing you as rudely as I am. I can’t help it. I’m irritable. The hunger pangs are intensifying. I like my news. I like to be informed and I have a personal stake in the news story on right now. It’s hard to focus when my tummy is straining in a cramp and it’s impossible to hear the guy on the T.V. when your “massage” is causing the growls to grow in intensity, duration, and volume. Of course you have the remote too.

"Ugh...really, babe? Now? Welp, that was the story I wanted to listen to."

I’d love to stay upset at you, but my stomach lets out a long, impassioned groan and my throat soon joins it as I moan around a building cramp, curling over your hand pressed into my belly. I forget my foiled news as my entire world shrinks to the sensation reverberating in my abdomen. Hollow is an understatement. I feel like a large hole has opened inside of me and everything is being pulled into it. You grin and press your hand deeper, intensifying the hunger pang.

"...I would just play with your empty belly, kneading in circles to make it more active...make it clench and twist harder. I'd see just how long you could last..."

In my head I’m thinking that I want to draw the line at midnight or something. I want to go to bed at a reasonable hour—after all, I’ve still got a full shift tomorrow too. I can’t seem to focus on the thought long enough to voice it though. You mentioned something about wanting to see how long I can stick this out for. I haven’t eaten in more than twenty-four hours. You know that. I’d love to shove that fact in your face but the way you say it in that teasing, seductive way of yours makes me see this as a challenge. On top of it all, it’s been a stressful week. We haven’t seen much of each other and both of us are starved for tummy-kink because we haven’t had a chance to indulge in far too long.

“Ergh…b-babe…y-you’re making it worse. I-It hurts.”

You know exactly what you’re doing and you revel in it as I squirm in your lap, trying to force your hand to leave some of the more tender areas of my stomach alone. We’ve done this enough times for you to know which areas of my digestive system are especially sensitive in whatever state I am in. You know exactly where to put your hands and where to push and squeeze to over-stimulate my stomach. You know exactly what buttons to push to get me to the peak of the hunger pangs and to prolong that moment and freeze my tummy in the most painful part of it all…before letting it go and causing a very audible grumble.

The rumbles from my stomach aren’t just audible, but totally palpable too. With the frequency of the growls you’ve managed to inflict I honestly feel like I swallowed a vibrator or something and it is now going to town in my guts. You feel every vibration and every cramp under your palm.

“…I finally get up and make something for you...and even then once you started eating I would keep rubbing and "massaging" your guts, causing the cacophony to grow even louder and more insistent; begging for more despite how quickly you'd be stuffing your face.”

We’ve done this long enough for you to know what I am thinking. You know I have a full shift tomorrow and you know I’m exhausted. As much as we’d both love to continue our fun, it’s so late that it is early now and if I don’t get to bed in an hour or two I’m going to be tackling a full shift with next to no sleep.

We eat on the couch with me sitting between your legs. We’re lounging across the couch so I’m actually reclined against your front. Your hands are still on my tummy as I eat. Occasionally, you grip my hand that holds the utensil and bring it to my lips, impatient that I’m taking so long to eat. I’m worried about a couple of things: too much and too fast.

I was starving, so I basically inhaled the first half of my plate. I slowed down for the second because my stomach was flipping at the sudden influx of food. There’s a dull ache in my stomach that’s the telltale sign of a bad night of indigestion for me. You only started this utensil-pushing when I started in on the second half at a noticeably slower pace than the first.

My stomach is still audible, but for a very different reason. I’m not full (yet), but if I manage to finish the whole plate I will be. I wonder if my stomach capacity shrank after more than twenty-four hours without food. My tummy feels really packed now and there is still food on the plate.

“Ugh…babe…slow down. M-my tummy’s starting to hurt…y-yeah…i-it was hurting before too…b-but now…ugh…I-I don’t want to get sick. I don’t want to have an upset tummy…I-I just…I just want to sleep tonight…”

Your “massage” churns up my stomach contents. It both upsets things and soothes at the same time. It’s an odd feeling. I feel like a laundry machine or something with how active your hands have made my guts. I can feel everything swirling around inside me and it’s slightly nauseating.

Eventually, we head to bed, me lugging my almost-stuffed tummy as though I’m hoisting a bowling ball. I let out a sharp belch as I flop onto the bed, the movement jostling my guts enough to make me moan. There’s too much pressure in my tummy. I lie back and rub at it with lethargic movements. You’re not here, likely getting ready for bed.

I feel the bed dip announcing your arrival. The movement disrupts the swirling churning in my guts and I let out a moan around a wet belch as my stomach burbles in warning.

“G’night.” You call out, intending on going straight to sleep. My hand snaps out and I grip your wrist, startling you. There’s silence as I gasp around a pocket of gas that seems to be struggling to pick an end of my esophagus. As it passes, I glare at you. My burbling stomach is the only noise in the otherwise quiet bedroom.

“Oh no—you’re not getting of that easy.” I gesture to my slightly distended stomach. “I can’t sleep like this. It. Hurts. You caused this. You’re going to fix it. I’m exhausted. I went from achingly empty to basically nauseatingly stuffed thanks to you. I’m going to sleep and I do not want to wake up to an upset tummy tomorrow morning—so *you’re* going to stay up and fix this.” I bring your hand to my grumbling belly.

You grin. So many possibilities. You could refuse and let me suffer all night. You could have some more fun with my stomach at the other extreme and keep us both up. You could do as I ask, but where’s the fun in that? Maybe I’ll end up sleeping through my alarm again…or you’ll just go ahead and shut it off/alter it so that we can repeat all of this again tomorrow…’cuz damn if that wasn’t fun.

#AT Asks #hunger kink #tummy kink #tummy ache #slight stuffing #belly rubs

[sparks-joy-imagines]

Girl, imagine Sukuna when he finds out that his girl is super kinky😌 like they're making out and he's roughly pulling at her hair and she lets a moan slip because she secretly likes pain or he smacks her ass while walking past her, somehow he forgot his strength and the slap was a lot harsher than usual, but then she moans and he's ready to the nasty in an instant😌 honestly, lovemarks, choking, spanking I'm all in for it😂

omfg FINALLY some Sukuna smut😩👌👌👌 you have no idea how long I've been waiting to get to business with him so thank you for this request~ I do hope you enjoy it, hun, 'cause I sure as hell did😏 -mesu. warnings: not sfw, reader gets penetrated, unsafe intercourse (pls don’t do this), rough, biting, some hair pulling, spanking, is Sukuna a warning himself? 'cause I feel like I have to include him in this.. Ryōmen Sukuna x f!reader

The human body was not compatible with the strength and stamina of a special grade curse. Sukuna had learnt this the hard way. The more powerful he grew, the more cautious he had to be in order not to just break his current partner or plaything, whatever was more accurate. It was no fun tearing his counterpart into shreds within mere seconds after all, and quite unfulfilling to say the least.

At times Sukuna had found someone somewhat more… durable. Not as easily broken. But eventually he had always ruined them. And then, there was you. You were the most precious thing in his life and he really didn’t want to risk losing you. So, he had been holding back this reckless side of his the best he could ever since you were with him. Still, he couldn’t help this certain itch he had whenever you looked at him. He longed to ruin you.

Sukuna snapped back to reality when your hand brushed through his hair. You had just taken a shower and were heading to get dressed, wrapped merely in a towel, when you passed him sitting on the couch. A low growl escaped Sukuna’s throat as he took you in and more out of reflex than anything else his hand found its way to your jiggly arse.

Smack!

Your eyes widened at the impact and your hand reached for your mouth to muffle the sound that unwillingly tried to escape your lips, but it didn’t cover them in time. The lewd moan sounded all but obscene and for a long moment you didn’t dare to move. When you finally gathered the courage to turn to Sukuna nothing of his formerly neutral expression remained.

He looked feral.

“Who would’ve thought that you’re such a bad bad girl, (Y/N),” he smirked when he easily jumped on his feet and took his sweet time to circle around the furniture, when all you could do was take steps back until you could feel the cool wall of your flat behind your back. You knew there was no way to escape what was to follow and the wetness that spread between your folds was the very proof that you didn’t even want to.

“Sukuna..,” you whispered but you shut up instantly when he crashed his hand against the wall beside your head and immediately let it sink into your hair, yanking your head in your nape. You whimpered softly in response and bit your lower lip to suppress another moan when you felt his lips at your neck, sucking on your sensitive skin.

While he was busy marking your neck, his free hand wandered to your hands which desperately held your towel in place. When you denied his first tug on the fabric, Sukuna pulled back to look at you, his lips swiftly being replaced by his other hand which tightened around your neck just enough to make you feel a certain restriction on your airflow.

“Now, for how long were you planning to keep this hidden from me?” Sukuna’s voice was monotone, almost disinterested but the burning in his dark eyes told you otherwise.

“I.. didn’t mean to hi-aahh~” You pressed your eyes shut when you felt his knee against your crotch.

“Didn’t mean to hide that you get off of pain and nasty shit?” Sukuna snorted as he simply ripped the towel away from your body, leaving you bare in front of him, “You’re already soaked and I didn’t even do anything to you… yet.”

The heat rose in your cheeks due to the sudden humiliation and you felt your very own juices slowly leaking down your thighs. You turned your head to the side, trying your best not to have to look at Sukuna but his thumb and index finger relentlessly grabbed your chin and made you face him.

“I will tell you how this is gonna go down, (Y/N),” Sukuna cooed, his eyes piercing into yours, “I will let go of you now and take my place back on the couch.”

Your eyebrows arched upwards in disbelief and a low chuckle escaped Sukuna’s throat, “Don’t look at me like that. You’ll follow me of course, good little girl that you are, and bend over my lap nicely, so I can properly punish you for keeping this juicy little secret of yours from me for so long.”

A shiver ran down your spine as he spoke and you couldn’t help but nod in response. You knew better than to defy this. To defy him.

“Splendid.”

Sukuna brushed an uncharacteristically sweet kiss on your lips and lowered his head to swirl his tongue around each of your nipples shortly before he turned to settle down on the couch. When you didn’t follow suit, he lifted his index finger to motion for you to approach without even granting you another glance and said in a sing-song voice, “You better not make me wait now, doll.”

You nibbled your lip contemplating for a split second before you stepped to Sukuna who patted his thighs for you to bend over, the bulge in his pants more prominent than you had ever seen it before.

As soon as you got into position on his thighs, Sukuna’s hand mercilessly connected to your bare buttock with a loud thud, making you jerk up and moan again which was followed by Sukuna’s own thrilled laughter.

“I adore your voice like that, sweet cheeks!”

You managed to have a peak at Sukuna’s expression that clearly showed how much he was enjoying this, before his hand came down onto your arse again. You huffed at the pain mixing with pleasure and clawed your hands in his thigh when you suddenly felt his fingers circling at your entrance. Sukuna didn’t seem to mind your nails in his flesh.

“My aren’t you soaked and ready for me, (Y/N). Want me badly?”

Before you managed to answer, he smacked your arse again, making you yelp out, “Aahh- Yes! Yes I want you bad, Sukuna!”

You wiggled on his thighs and soon felt his free hand grab your nape like a kitten that couldn’t behave to hold you in place. His fingers slipped into your wet folds cheekily, rubbing against your walls while he leaned down to murmur into your ear, “Let’s see how much of me you can take then, shall we? On your knees and arse up, darlin’.”

A shiver ran down your spine, your body already way too sensitive to his touch. Sukuna waited for you to shakily get on the floor and assume position, legs trembling under your own weight, and then stepped in front of you, calmly taking off his clothes. If not for his intense gaze that gave away his hunger for you, he looked rather unbothered.

Your mouth watered and you swallowed heavily when he took off his underwear, the tip of his large member twitching on sight. A wicked grin emerged on Sukuna’s features, “Bet you’d like to suck me off now, wouldn’t you.”

You lowered your gaze knowing your eyes would betray you and soon felt his hand pat your hair as he positioned himself behind you, grabbing your hips tightly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll let you taste my dick once I’m done with your tight pussy.”

Sukuna barely gave you a moment to comprehend his words, when he already slammed his entire length deeply into you, making you scream at the sudden intrusion. Up until now he had always taken his time to at least let you grow accustomed to his considerable size but now he started moving deep within you almost immediately.

You pressed your palms desperately against the floor, trying your best to hold balance while Sukuna kept thrusting into you at a merciless pace, hitting that sweet spot that only he seemed to know with every other thrust. His size spread you to your very limits and with each thrust you felt more like bursting.

More and more lewd noises escaped your mouth and seemed to motivate Sukuna to add even more strength to his movements, striving to push you to the edge. Just when your arms were about to give in, Sukuna moved his hands from your hips; one to your torso to cup your boob and hold you up at the same time; the other to the sensitive knot between your folds to finally finish you off.

“Cum for me, doll,” Sukuna growled lowly and when you felt his rough thumb brush over your clit the very moment his tip prodded your sweet spot, you did just that, accompanied by a scream of Sukuna’s name that you didn’t quite make out to be yours.

“Fuuuck,” Sukuna moaned as you contracted around him, making him fill you with his sticky seed. He continued to move in you for a couple more thrusts before he smoothly pulled out of you, letting you down on the floor while he spread your buttocks to watch his cum drip out of you while you caught your breath.

“Aren’t you a fine piece of nasty ass, (Y/N),” Sukuna chuckled after a while and carefully pulled you up so you could rest against his broad chest.

You gazed in his eyes and smirked while you let your hand innocently move to his crotch, “Maybe… so about that offer of yours…~”

#ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #not sfw #jujutsu kaisen imagine #imagine #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader #text #mesu #jjk requests are open #event is open

[five-rivers]

Hobbies

Phic phight! @idiot-cheesehead-archenemy

A series of vignettes about Danny having various hobbies.

(Master the Orb)

Danny exhaled slowly as the ice built up between his hands.  Each new layer glittered in the ghostlight cast by the overhead ambient ectoplasm, embedding complex patterns in the overall piece as new layers built up over it.

“Very good, Great One,” rumbled Frostbite behind his shoulder.  “Your control has improved immensely.”

Danny inhaled equally slowly, examining his work so far but not adding to it quite yet.  “I don’t know.  It looks a little lopsided.”

“Mmm, it looks fine to me.  Especially for such an early attempt.”

Danny sighed, exhaling the ice he had built up with his breath.  “So, it is lopsided.”

“Consider it practice,” said Frostbite, encouragingly. “It takes time to master art of any kind.”

“Humans do ice sculpture, too,” mumbled Danny. “They get really good, too.  I’ve seen pictures.  And videos.  They don’t even have ice powers.”  He rubbed his thumb over the surface, smoothing over a slightly rougher patch.

“That may be true,” said Frostbite, “but, again, you just started, Great One.  You have only had your powers for a little while.  Give yourself some support.”

Danny shrugged.  “I guess it isn’t something my life depends on, so I can relax about it.” He built up another layer of ice. “This is oddly therapeutic, and I don’t say therapeutic lightly.  You know Jazz.”

“I do indeed,” said Frostbite, somewhat ruefully, head half-bowed.  

Jazz could be a force of nature, even more so than ice powers.

He held the ice orb up to the light.  It caught on the patterns he had placed there. Fractals were the easiest.  He was hoping that if he got better, he’d be able to make real sculptures with patterns in them, instead of just orbs.  

But, first, he had to master the orb.  Just like how when drawing you had to do circles first.  Circle. Orb.

Ooorb.  Yep.  

The controlled application of ice.  The evenness of the internal patterns.  The solidity, density, and durability.  

His orb was… not very orblike, despite what Frostbite said.  Frostbite probably thought he was making so flat on purpose.  

Yeah.  He was terrible at this.  

He was having fun, though.  

.

.

 (Furnace)

“You’re taking up glass blowing?” asked Tucker, surprised.

“Yeah?  Is there a problem?” asked Danny, reaching over to stop his friend from accidentally drawing a line of orange sharpie across his poster on the themes in Macbeth.

“No!” said Tucker, quickly.  “But, like, why?  It just seems… unlike you.”

“Exactly,” said Danny, nodding sharply.  “It has absolutely nothing to do with my powers and nothing to do with my family.  Plus, I had a coupon.”

“For glass blowing?”

“It was a groupon,” said Danny.  “For making Christmas tree ornaments.  I’m going to do it with Jazz.”

“But, Danny,” said Sam, looking over from where she was working on her own poster about Twelfth Night, “glass blowing, uh, involves a lot of heat.”

“Sure?”

“Danny, you have an ice core.”

“Ah,” said Danny.  “Well.   I’ve got to use that groupon.  If it doesn’t work out, it’s only the once, right?”

.

“Oh my gosh,” said Danny, wringing sweat out of his t-shirt.  “That was awesome!”  He giggled to himself and peaked into the annealer again.  “So awesome!”

“Uh huh,” said Jazz.  Her attempts had been… rather less successful than Danny’s, partially because she was trying so hard to make them perfect.  But she had managed a few little baubles, nonetheless.  “I think these’ll all be good for the tree. Assuming we get one.”

“And it isn’t set on fire.”

“Oh, yeah, that was a bad year.”

He squeaked open the annealer again, only closing it when the instructor lightly scolded him.  “They’re so terrible and lopsided,” said Danny.  

“Hey,” said Jazz.  “Mine are fine.”

“I know!  I was talking about mine.”

“Ah, okay then.  I agree.”

“You aren’t supposed to agree.”

“What, you want me to lie?  And after you said it first?”

“No,” said Danny.  “But you could be nicer about it.”

“I’m your sister, what do you expect?”

.

.

 (Lung Capacity)

Danny let the last note trail off to complete silence. He stared apprehensively at the assembled student body.  Curse Mr. Lancer’s extra credit talent show assignment.  Any minute now, they’d start laughing at him.  

What was he thinking?  He’d just watched a few YouTube tutorials on breath control, and he thought he could come up here and sing in front of people?  He was a moron, and—

Sam and Tucker started cheering wildly, followed rapidly by everyone else in the gym.  

Okay.  What?

Sam and Tucker, following impulses known only to overexcited teenagers, swarmed up the stage and attacking Danny.  

“Why didn’t you tell us you could sing like that?” demanded Sam.  

“When did you learn?” asked Tucker, doing his level best to noogie Danny.  “Why did you learn?”

“I wanted to improve my, you know, wail,” muttered Danny, “and all the breath control YouTube videos either had to do with diving or singing, so…”  He did a little head wiggle to illustrate his point and also dislodge Tucker.  

“I just can’t believe you kept this a secret from us,” said Sam.  

Danny snorted and took a sort of half bow before attempting to leave the stage.  “My dudes, I am basically made of secrets.”

“Encore!” screamed someone who clearly hated him.  

“Oh, no,” said Danny, bracing himself against Sam and Tucker who were pushing him back into the middle of the stage.  “No encore.  I don’t do encores.”

But now people were chanting.  Chanting.  

“Come on, Danny,” said Tucker.  “Just once!”

“Yeah, these are your fifteen minutes of fame!”

“I had those already!  Multiple times!”

“That was Poindexter.”

“And now it can be you.”

Danny reluctantly took the microphone back off the stand.

.

.

 (Letterhead)

The ink was thick, almost creamy, and paint-like. It was the ectoplasm mix, which also gave it a rich, rosy glow.  

Danny was practicing ghost calligraphy.  Well, one particular subset of ghost calligraphy, one which put special emphasis on the color of the letters as well as how they fit together.  

It was a totally useless hobby.  But it was… not exactly calming.  No.  He’d gotten way too angry about poorly formed arcs and crooked lines a couple of times.  So. Yeah.  Not calming.  But… meditative.  Meditative. And there was something satisfying about seeing the finished product.  

Plus, if he framed his better finished work, they made for good presents for weirdo ghosts.

“You misspelled this,” drawled Ghost Writer.  

“No, I didn’t.”

“Keuwii only has one kei.”

“This is only one kei.”

“What’s this, then?”

“It’s a flourish.”

“A flourish.”

Danny rolled his eyes.  “Everyone’s a critic.  If you don’t want it—”

“I didn’t say that.”

Danny raised an eyebrow.  

Ghost Writer made a show of rolling his eyes. “Very well.  Do you have one for my half-brother Randy.  Perhaps one that says something along the lines of ‘idiot?’”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

.

.

 (Babies on Fire)

“Danny,” said Jazz.  “What are you doing up at three in the morning with a lighter? And… yarn?  Is that yarn?”

“Dad wanted me to learn how to sew,” said Danny, “but I don’t like needles, not the sharp ones, anyway.”

“You get stitches every other week,” pointed out Jazz.

“Exactly,” said Danny, gesturing with the lighter.  “So, I decided to look into, you know, knitting. And I was on knitting websites, and having, you know, a pretty good time with that, but then I found out about the babies.”

“The babies.”

“The babies,” said Danny, seriously.  “And the blankets that are on fire.  It depends on the yarn, you see.  If the yarn is the wrong kind of yarn, if it catches on fire, the blanket can melt onto the baby.  It’s terrible.  Just terrible.”

“I kind of think that if the blanket is on fire you have bigger problems,” said Jazz.  She took a step closer to her obviously insane younger brother.  “Are you… testing the yarn?”

“I have to, Jazz.  It’s for the babies.”

“Alright,” said Jazz.  “You are going to limit it to just the yarn in our house, right?”

“But we don’t have any babies.”

“Okay, that didn’t answer my question, but, like…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Since we don’t have any babies here, why are you testing the yarn?”

“Because we might have babies here in the future,” said Danny.  “Or I might knit something and give it to someone as a gift and then they give it to their baby.  Oh my gosh, I’d feel so guilty.”

“I’d be more worried about the toxic waste in our basement,” said Jazz, which was exactly the wrong thing to say to a sleep-deprived half-ghost on the edge of an Obsession-fueled breakdown.  Danny vanished in a blur, trailing yarn behind him. Jazz, who had only gotten up for a glass of water, cursed under her breath.

.

.

 (Before the Ball)

“I’m so, so sorry, Dora,” said Danny, holding back something adjacent to laughter.  

Dora laughed, more openly.  “It is fine, Sir Phantom.  Even now, you are better than my brother.”

“Am I really?  Your brother?  Who was raised to do this?”

“Well,” said Dora, letting go and stepping back out of the range of Danny’s feet.  Which were, evidently, both left feet.  “No, I’m afraid, but it is amusing to say, isn’t it?”  She pressed her fingers to her lips, suppressing more laughter.  

“Yeah, it is,” admitted Danny.  

“In any case, you are far more graceful concerning your mistakes than he ever was.  More gallant. A better representative of chivalry altogether.”  She patted the shoulders of his shirt.  

“Thanks,” said Danny.  “Do you think that I’ll be, uh, ready in time for the party?”

“It’s more than a party,” said Dora.  “You’re being officially knighted.  You’ll be a peer of the realm.”

“Aha,” said Danny.  “Yeah.  I don’t… what?  Really? That’s a thing?”

“You thought I was joking?”

“No,” said Danny, drawing out the word.  He had, in fact, thought she was joking and only accepted her offer to teach him how to dance because he thought it sounded like fun and like it might take his mind off his problems.  “Of course not.  So. Dancing.  Important.  For first impressions?”

“Everyone already knows you, Phantom,” said the knight assigned as Dora’s bodyguard.  “But dancing is surprisingly useful for swordplay.  Which you need all the help you can get at.”

“You said I was getting better.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re good.”

“Ouch.”

.

.

 (Time)

“I don’t have time for a hobby,” complained Danny through the Fenton Phones.  “Maybe if the ghosts let up a bit—” He zapped one of said ghosts.  

“Danny, are you fighting ghosts right now?”

“Yeah.  That’s my point.”

“Oh my god, get off the phone.”

“No way!  This is the only time I can call you, what with all of your classes.”

“Danny…” said Jazz, clearly exasperated.  He took advantage of the lull in the conversation to blast a few more ghosts.  

“I’m fine Jazz.”

“You are not fine.  You are, like, ten thousand miles away from fine.  When was the last time you even slept through the night?”

“Eh,” said Danny.  “Recently?”

“You need to take more time for yourself.”

Danny sighed and captured the last ghost.  “Maybe catching ghosts is my hobby.”

“Catching ghosts is your self-imposed penance for doing something that isn’t even your fault.  Not a hobby.”

“Okay, okay.  I’ll talk to you on Wednesday, same time.”

“Danny, don’t—”

He hung up.  

“Ugh,” said Danny.  “I guess I need to find a hobby.  Have to find time to find a hobby.”

“Perhaps I could be of help.”

“Ah!”  Danny jolted forward, dropping his phone.  

Clockwork gestured with one hand, and the phone dropped back into Danny’s hands from above.  

“Ohhh my ghost, why are you here?”

“You were just talking about finding time.  And now I’m here.”

“Good timing, I guess?”

“Only the best,” said Clockwork, evenly.  “But we were speaking of hobbies.  Might I suggest ice sculpture?  Your friends in the Far Frozen would be more than happy to teach you...”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2021

[xmint-conditionx]

art on exhibit | myg + jhs feat. knj

pairing: sugardaddy!hoseok x fem!reader, ceo!yoongi x fem!reader, brat!reader, sub!reader, dom!hoseok, dom!yoongi w/c: 5k but i feel like it should be so much longer for some reason smh summary: you and your sugar daddy, hoseok, are big fans of exhibitionism, but this is the craziest you’ve ever taken it. most of his prestigious party guests are jumping to get to get their hands on you. will you be able to handle it? tags/cw: 18+ please, smut, exhibitionism, voyeurism, remote controlled vibrator, almost reaching limits, spanking, marking, biting, ball gag, degradation (slut), praise, punishment, crying, light oral (f recieving), public humiliation, rope play, shibari, suspension, almost like being pimped out but u like it?, open relationship, hoseok is sort of protective tho, overstimulation, subspace, the orgasm nearly kills you, this one is real nasty, namjoon is just a guest appearance tbh but maybe later he doesn't have to be???

a/n: this thing has given me so much trouble by not appearing in tags. it didn't the first time i posted it on the old blog, and it hasn't been showing up this time either, so please feel free to give this one some extra love. also, honestly, i was sitting on this idea for a long! time! before i actually wrote it out. if i was spaced out in my last class of the day, i was probably thinking about this. i am almost proud and almost ashamed to share this with you all, lmao cause it's honestly a huge fantasy of mine. i’ve been really wanting to do a sugardaddy!hoseok thing for a while, and if you guys like this, then i think i can add more to the story. alright, y’all stay nasty. enjoy!

The ropes dig into the skin of your thighs ever so gently, and you close your eyes to listen to the din of the party that surrounds you. Guests only arrived 30 minutes ago, and you’re already dripping wet. This isn’t the first time you and Hoseok have done exhibitionism, but this is the farthest it’s ever been taken. Men and women in their best black tie attire surround you, glasses of his most expensive champagne in their hands. Not all of them are looking at you; some are too bashful to acknowledge your existence. Some only sneak glances when they think nobody else is looking. Few have come up and examined your entire naked frame, suspended from Hoseok’s ceiling in the middle of his entertainment space.

They’re examining you as if you were a piece of fine art; just another pretty and peculiar object that Hoseok has collected. You’re placed among some of his other art pieces - some Pollocks, some Dalis, some Picassos, and one O’Keefe - and somehow, you feel like you fit. That’s what Hoseok had said anyway. That since you were one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen in his life, he wanted to feature you as the work of art you are. He chose to display you in his favorite way.

Red shibari rope surrounds each of your legs like a cage before confining your hands behind your back. The rope trails over your torso and is twisted and knotted around your exposed breasts, but not tightly. Just enough to accentuate your natural shape. Your legs are tied so that they remain apart, one held higher than the other to leave you fully exposed. Your stomach is facing the floor, but not entirely; Hoseok has tied you so that you’re almost lounging comfortably there, suspended in midair. The lines of rope flow with the form of your body, and even though all of your weight is pressed down onto them, the ropes are the soft and luxurious kind - no doubt expensive - that make you feel as though you could be floating instead.

Just then, your attention is jolted to your cunt, where his favorite black remote control vibrator has just been triggered. You clench around it, and your moan is muffled by the ball gag that is secured over your lips. When you open your eyes, he is standing solidly in front of you.

His black button up shirt and jacket combination is draped over his shoulders beautifully, and his shiny brown hair is parted in the middle. He looks incredible. Radiant. Sinful.

“You looked bored,” he says with a little smirk as he continues to let the vibrator run inside of you, “and we can’t have that… Perhaps I should turn it up.”

He twists a small knob on the remote and the vibrations steadily rise in frequency until they’re as high as they can go. A semblance of a scream escapes your lips behind the gag. You begin rocketing toward climax, but Hoseok knows you and your body too well. Just as you begin to feel the tingles spread over your body, he shuts it off, and your muscles immediately go lax from being tensed up and ready to come.

He laughs softly as you pant, and then takes a quick look around the room.

“You seem to have gathered some attention. That’s my good girl.”

Without another word, he pockets the remote, and you watch how his ringed fingers delicately pick up a flute of champagne from one of the server’s tray tables. Then he simply walks away. His immaculately shiny black shoes gently thud on the marble floor as he makes his way through the crowd, to presumably some other obscenely rich friend of his.

You feel a small amount of saliva about to peak over your bottom lip. You’ve been good about swallowing everything but it seems your denied orgasm has made you forgetful. Moments later, a small thread of your own spit runs out of your mouth and onto the floor. You know that you have been dripping from the other end too, and you wonder if any of the guests have just seen you drool on yourself.

As if to answer, Hoseok comes back from behind you and grabs you by the jaw. His face lights up when he confirms that you have made a mess of yourself. He turns to one of his guests and speaks.

“See, Namjoon?” he says, tilting your head up toward his guest so that he can see, “She’s incredible.”

You meet eyes with the guest, and put on your best innocent look. You love how a blush starts to creep up into his cheeks, and how his pillowy lips part slightly. Even though you’re bound from head to toe and easily the poorest person here, you feel like you’re the most powerful person in the room. The guest clears his throat and turns his attention back to Hoseok.

“How much was your price?” he asks.

Hoseok looks down at you, and a smirk begins to form on his plush lips.

“1,000 US Dollars. Per second,” he says, “Which charity will it be, then?”

You’d been the one to come up with the idea for the proceeds from the charity fundraiser to be benefitted by getting to control the vibrator. Hoseok loved it.

“Your education charity,” he says, “and I’ll take 30 seconds.”

Hoseok nods, “Do you want to go ahead and write the check now or do you want me to keep a tab running and let you know at the end of the evening?”

The tall man considers this, and looks back at you for a moment before answering, “keep it open, will you?”

“Alright, Mr. Kim. All yours,” Hoseok says as he fishes out the device from his suit pocket before turning to you, “Be good, you hear me? Don’t come until you have been given permission by either Mr. Kim or myself. Understood?”

You nod frantically as you watch the remote being transferred from Hoseok’s hands to Namjoon’s. The earlier flustered man turned more confident once he held the little black fob in his palm - quite a large palm now that you look at it closely. It would look so nice trailing up your thigh, you think. You look up at Namjoon and convey a pleading look, one that silently asks for mercy.

He does not give it.

With a small grin, he turns on the vibrator, and you scream (or try to) at the suddenness of the sensation. He spends his entire 30 seconds with the device in your pussy at full speed, and you can’t hold back your groaning. You clench around the bullet, and when his time is up, you feel beads of sweat starting to form on your brow from the exertion. You’re left a panting mess in front of him, Hoseok, and every other guest that has turned to watch you squirm.

Namjoon’s satisfied smile and nod encourages others in the room to have a turn. Before long, you see a few more guests make their way over to where you are hanging. This time it is a group of women.

“Hye-jin!” Namjoon exclaims, before he hugs the woman and offers a short to the three others that come over with her. She’s dressed in the most beautiful black form fitting dress you’ve ever seen. Her hourglass figure sways captivatingly in the gown, and you’re momentarily mesmerized by her figure. You look up at her and she’s smirking down at you; you were too distracted at the way the large jewels on her necklace fell over her collarbones to realize that they were already discussing you.

“I should have known it would be you to break the ice,” she says playfully to Namjoon, who just presses his lips together in resignation as he puts his hand to the back of his neck.

“How’s the comeback?” he asks casually, as if there isn’t a fully naked and exposed woman suspended in front of him. His ability to be so casual while you’re at the edge of your sanity shoots a ping of arousal through your body. You shiver slightly, and you catch Hoseok looking at you out of the corner of his eyes. He’d never admit it, but he cares about you a lot. You can tell he’s checking to make sure you aren’t getting ready to start snapping your fingers- the safe action you’d both agreed on to release you from the ropes and send you into his master suite. Even when he had walked over to find Namjoon, you know even then he wasn’t out of sight or earshot from you.

He had a clean and plush robe stowed away in the closet nearby, and was always ready to release you should you want to be. You’d worked together before the event to set up a space in his suite to go should you need to retire for the evening, and you caught him setting a hoodie of his on the side of the bed where you typically sleep. You’d always playfully taken them, either to flirt or to wear it (and only it) to encourage a round two. But he had never deliberately set one of them aside for your use. He knows you won’t be using it to flirt or to rouse him into more sex, so his little efforts to bring you as much comfort as possible had set alight something in your heart.

He really did take pride in taking good care of you. As a good sugar daddy should.

You’re yanked back to reality when the vibrator starts up again. You clench around it and feel a gush of wetness surge out at the sensation of it going at full blast. Just when you become used to the speed and lower your whining, you open your eyes to see the woman holding the remote this time, grinning down at you with full lips. She meets your gaze and turns it up all the way, which makes you tense up every last one of your muscles. The woman next to her with long, light hair and a wicked gaze, whispers something to her while eyeing you up and down. It then occurs to you that you weren’t paying attention and don’t know how much time she purchased.

As the seconds tick by, they feel like hours. With the device at full speed, you feel yourself closing in on a climax, and so you squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself for the orgasm that is about to rip through your body…

She turns it down to the lowest setting and watches as you groan at the second denial crushes you. More saliva drips down your chin as she switches it off, leaving you with only the beads of sweat that cling to your skin.

“Thank you, Hoseok. Worth every penny,” Hye-jin says, handing the remote back to him.

Hoseok beams his thousand-watt smile at her, and congratulates her on both the success of Maria, her solo album, and then thanks her for her donation.

She thanks him in return, and both women walk back into the crowd. Namjoon has also gone, which just leaves you with Hoseok again. His eyes meet yours for a moment, and you see a fire in them that you’ve never seen before. You’re dangling about waist height, and you can’t help but to look down from his face to try to see if you can make out a bulge. You don’t get time to really look, because as soon as you break eye contact, he moves to your back and smacks your ass cheek hard. A loud thwack echoes throughout the large space, over the din of the partygoers. You inhale sharply at the sting, and let your breath back out in a long groan, drawing the attention of more guests. You knew that the champagne would loosen inhibitions eventually.

You hear the footsteps of a couple other guests walking toward you from behind where Hoseok stands. You crane your head to try to see over your shoulder, but they stand just out of your peripheral vision. They’re talking in low voices, and you can’t make out what they’re saying. You wish you could swing yourself around and look at them, but knowing that the only thing they can see of you is your dripping cunt, you’re not so mad.

You feel a hand on your thigh, a touch you’re familiar with. You know it’s Hoseok’s hand, as he gently trails up your inner thigh, purposefully teasing you. An involuntary shiver runs through your body and you can’t help but to whimper slightly. You hear a man’s chuckle, and then he’s speaking, again too low for you to hear.

Hoseok uses his grip on your inner thigh to spin you around so that you’re facing the group of men. Namjoon has come back, this time with what appears to be a friend in tow.

“Baby girl,” Hoseok’s voice says gently, and you look up to meet his gaze, “Yoongi here has just asked if he may touch you.” Your eyes widen at the thought, remembering how just Hoseok’s hand trailing up your thigh had your toes curling. You look up at the new guest, and see only a cold and stone-like expression. His eyes seem to bore right through you, and directly into your cunt. You’re momentarily mesmerized under his heavy stare, before you slowly nod your head.

“Yoongi here has just generously donated one million dollars to one of my charities, so do you know what that means?” he asks you, not expecting an answer, “How long is one thousand seconds?”

“Sixteen minutes and 40 seconds,” Yoongi says, not breaking eye contact from you, “If I’m correct.”

If your mouth could drop, it would. Namjoon, looking up from his phone, just nods nonchalantly.

Hoseok asks the man what he has asked everyone else: if they would like to keep a running tab or if they would like to write a check now. Yoongi reaches into his back pocket and pulls out what you assume to be his checkbook. With rings glittering in the lighting of the room, his hand swiftly fills it out. He rips it out and extends it to Hoseok.

“I won’t be needing more time.”

His cool confidence in saying this small phrase makes your stomach drop.

Hoseok grips your chin and tilts your head up. “Remember, baby girl, don’t come until you’re told to. You want to be on your best behavior for Mr. Min. Trust me.”

He speaks sternly and then releases your jaw, trailing his hand back to stroke your messy hair, before settling on your two hands secured behind your back and giving them a light squeeze. A silent reminder of your out, should you need it.

This Yoongi must be… a force to be reckoned with.

“Your time starts now,” Hoseok says, tapping his phone screen. You squeeze shut your eyes and brace yourself for the abrupt shock of the vibrations, but seconds pass, and they don’t come. You gingerly open your eyes and look up at the man standing above you, toying with the remote. He regards it with vague interest, and then he flicks up his eyes to look at you. Your heart stops for a moment, as he begins to rake his onyx eyes over your body. He purses his lips slightly and begins walking around you, all too slowly.

Even though he has disappeared from your view, you can feel his eyes on you. Your anxiousness grows as he remains out of your sight longer, and this is no doubt intentional. It seems as if he picked up your unease earlier when he first approached.

This guy is good.

You’re so on edge, that the light vibrations that begin in your cunt still surprise you. He turned the vibrator on to its lowest setting, but these low and slow vibrations still make you have a sharp intake of breath. He finally arrives back to your front and seems pleased at your reaction. He squats down so that his face is level with yours.

“What a good girl you are,” he muses, lips parted, tongue playing with the inside of his cheek, “I hope Hoseok here treats you well. You seem… pent up.”

At those last two words, he revs up the vibrations slightly, causing you to let out a small moan. He stands and puts the remote in his pocket. You watch as he gently rolls up his sleeves to the elbow, his forearm flexing as he fixes them. Your hungry stare betrays you.

“Is she always like this?” he asks Hoseok, almost laughing at you. “God, she’s desperate.” He looks at you. “Does Hobi not fuck you enough, little girl?”

Your eyes widen at the implications, and you furiously shake your head no, trying to convey as much as you can with your eyes alone. He just chuckles.

“Loyal,” he says, “I like that.” He looks back up at Hoseok. “Is your agreement exclusive, or is there room in her life for a second... benefactor?” You look up at your sugar daddy, eyes wide with what he might say. He’s just standing there, arms folded over his chest, as if he were discussing the weather or the stock market.

“I’m afraid she’s all booked up for the foreseeable future, unfortunately,” he says cooly but firmly, a little bit of edge to his voice.

“Pity,” Yoongi says, taking a step toward you, “I could think of a million good ways to take up her time.”

“You’ve got 14 minutes left,” is all Hoseok says in response, a definite sharpness to his tone. You’ve only heard this type of voice from him when you’re being particularly bratty. You rarely hear him this stern.

The vibrations quicken slightly, and you can tell from your frequent use that the device is at about its medium speed.

Yoongi takes his hand and reaches out to your back, and with a featherlight touch, begins to trace next to where the ropes lie. He keeps working down your back, and gently trails down your bare ass cheek and ghosts against your pussy. You can feel the heat from his hand, impossibly close to touching you. You hold your head back and try to look at him as you whine out a plea.

“Eyes straight ahead, little girl,” he says, and you comply reluctantly, flopping your head forward dramatically as you sigh. His hand grabs hold of your thigh, and squeezes it so hard you’re sure you’ll find a bruise there in the morning. “And lose the attitude.”

You whimper as he releases your thigh, and goes back to delicately running his fingertips up to your core. He stops just short of your cunt, and you desperately want him to just touch you. You flex your back and buck your hips in order to push yourself onto where you know his hand is. Your clit makes contact with his hand, and as soon as you feel it connect, you feel it missing. Not even a moment later, a sharp sting spreads across your ass, and you clench around the vibe.

“What a greedy little slut you are. Do you always misbehave this much?”

You turn your head back to look at him, and as you meet his eyes, you can see he begins to fume.

“Namjoon, keep her head straight. Someone's not listening.”

You turn your head back around and Namjoon is quickly grabbing your jaw firmly in his hand. Your eyes meet his, and his earlier show of no mercy seems to still be intact. You feel Yoongi’s hand soothe the soreness he just created, only to once again reel back and give the same spot another firm smack, just as hard as the first one.

You cry into the ball gag and the shockwave from his hit sends you slightly swinging forward into Namjoon’s belt. Even though the vibrator is only at medium speed, you feel yourself beginning to get close to a climax. Your moans get longer and higher, and your body tenses to prepare for it. You hear Yoongi behind you.

“Don’t.”

You know exactly what he means. You focus on your breathing and furrow your brow in an attempt to stave off your orgasm. It’s working, but barely. He turns up the vibrations and you cry out again, your head shaking as much as Namjoon’s firm grip will allow.

“Don’t.”

You distance yourself from the situation, distracting yourself with thinking about schoolwork. The essay you’re currently writing. How the rough draft needs to be done by tomorrow night. You need three more in-text citations to make --

His hand is against your clit, and he’s rubbing at an agonizingly slow pace, with just enough pressure for you to want more. You inhale sharply and work harder to distract yourself.

You have two of the quotes picked out, but you need to finalize the third one to really hammer in your point. Maybe you can spend tomorrow morning reading --

His lips graze over the ass cheek he tortured earlier, your smarting skin responding sharply to the gentle contact. He gives you a soft kiss, and then you feel a sharp pain as he sinks his teeth into your already ruined ass.

Your eyes fly open and you make desperate eye contact with Namjoon, trying to show him that you can’t last much longer. Thankfully, this Namjoon is a perceptive man, and he looks from you to Yoongi.

“She can’t take much more, Yoongi.”

“Good,” he says, breath grazing over where he just bit as he speaks. “Come, slut.”

For the first time tonight, your orgasm peaks and rips out of you. Your whole body trembles with the sensation, and you feel his pressure on your clit increase to see you through. The orgasm is hard, and long, and it leaves you with tears streaming down your cheeks, mascara running wildly. You’re coming down slowly, and you feel his hand pull away. Before you realize it, he is standing in front of you again. Namjoon releases you, and your head hangs lifelessly as you pant.

Yoongi stands directly in front of you again, and you find yourself staring at his expensive shoes. You’re completely spent. Post orgasm bliss spreads throughout your muscles, and then, a slight discomfort. You realize what it is: the vibrator is still going.

You squirm lazily and whine at the sensation, it being too much. Yoongi squats down and gently lifts up your head by the chin. Your exhausted eyes meet his, and he clicks his tongue.

“Aw, are you all sensitive now?” he asks gently, in an almost patronizing tone. You don’t care. You nod sleepily.

“Is the vibrator too much, little girl?” You nod once more, eyes fluttering shut.

“Then use your safeword gesture,” he says, almost as if it’s a dare. "Go on. Snap."

If he’s not done with you, then you’re not done. You open your eyes and look directly at him as if to say “challenged accepted.”

Without moving his eyes from yours, he cranks up the vibrations until you’re whimpering again.

“Six more minutes,” you hear Hoseok say from beside you.

“Plenty of time,” Yoongi replies without skipping a beat. “I think we can get three more in. One every two minutes? Surely a slut like you will have no problem with that, since you wanted to come so badly earlier.”

You groan at the ache in your cunt, and at the slight displeasure the vibrator is causing. Yoongi stands again and walks back behind you, and this time you know better than to move your head to look.

Soon the vibrations begin to feel pleasurable again, and you’re having a hard time keeping your moans quiet.

“Atta girl,” you hear Yoongi say from behind you, “Your next one’s already coming isn’t it? You greedy little thing. You’re going to ruin Hoseok’s nice floors with your slick. And in front of all these people?”

Just like that, you’re reminded that you have an audience. Quite a large one. You open your eyes to see just about every guest’s gaze glued to your straining form. The heat bubbles in your abdomen as your next climax rushes toward you.

“You may come again,” is all Yoongi says as you’re thrown off the edge again. As soon as you begin to recover from this one, he ups the vibrator to full speed. You scream into the ball gag at the overstimulation, and cry out as tears spill out of your eyes. It’s entirely too much, but you love it. Before you realize it, another orgasm rips through your body, almost as if it were a continuation of the last one.

He doesn’t miss this though, and spreads your ass cheeks apart so he can get a better view. At this point, you’re not sure if you can do another one. You feel as though you might pass out if you come again. But the overstimulation is so overwhelming that you can only think of reaching one more high. You tense your entire body and try to get another one, but your muscles are so spent that you can’t stay tense for long. After a few more tries, you just sigh and hang limply, your limbs heavy and tired. You hang on the edge of climax, being able to see the other side, but not being able to go there.

Mascara tears stain your cheeks from exertion, and you are well and truly spent. You give up.

But you don’t snap your fingers.

Yoongi fastens his lips over your aching clit, and sucks. Just like that, you feel your orgasm building again so you clench, desperately trying to claim it; this time, you reach it.

It tears through you like a slow strike of lightning. You feel yourself shaking as it takes its time fracturing within you. It grows white hot in your belly, and it’s as if every cell in your body has been burned alive. All of the energy you have left is spent thrashing in the ecstasy of your orgasm, and for a few seconds, you know nothing else but the pleasure.

You find yourself deep in subspace, practically dead to the world. You don’t even have the energy to open your eyes. You barely register Hoseok as he begins untying the ropes around your hands, getting assistance from both Namjoon and Yoongi. You feel his hands as he releases your ball gag and caresses your face as he asks if you’re okay. You give the tiniest nod, and he wraps your limp form tightly in his arms as the two men finish unwrapping your legs. He swoops down and sweeps your legs up to carry you bridal style away from the party.

The next thing you know is the soft and cool silk of his sheets enveloping you as he lays you down. You exist there for a time, every nerve ending in your body tingling as you drift off.

You wake some time later to hear quiet chatting. You inhale and breathe in the musky scent of Hoseok’s favorite cologne. You find yourself curled around the hoodie he left for you. As you slowly open your eyes, you can just make out the time on the nightstand clock. It’s almost 3 AM; the fundraiser had to have ended over four hours ago. You breathe slowly and close your eyes again so you can focus on the voices in the room.

You hear Hoseok straight away; his tone is forever instantly familiar to you. The way his normal speaking rhythm is a little sloppy with alcohol. In reply is a voice you more recently became acquainted with. The voice who you last heard giving you permission to come. It’s a little bit more rough now, a Daegu accent slipping out in his intoxication. The third one takes you by surprise. A low and calm voice. Lower than you’d ever suspected possible, from hearing him speak this evening. Even still, Namjoon’s even tone is a rumble you can make out.

You sit up slowly, not wanting the blood to rush to your head. You were sleeping hard. Your dry mouth guarantees that. At your movement, the three men stop their talking and look over at you. Hoseok is the first to set down his glass and walk over to you. His black tie is gone and so is his jacket. His collar is wide open, showing off his tanned chest behind the many unfastened buttons. He gets on his knees next to the bed and reaches for your hands. Once he finds them, his brow is creased with worry, as he brings your hands up to his lips.

“Are you alright, baby girl?” he asks into your hands. You still have the weight of sleep over you, so you don’t respond right away.

“She had her gesture, Hoseok. She could have used it,” you hear Yoongi say, and you look in his direction. He sits with his legs spread, glass of whiskey hanging off of his fingers. Your eyes meet, and even though he’s trying to seem impertinent and uncaring, there’s a tinge of worry and guilt in his eyes. You glance to Namjoon and see that his worry is more plainly stated.

Hoseok caresses your cheek and turns you back to facing him. His eyes plead for an answer. So you give it.

“Yes,” you say, voice raspy, “I’m alright. I feel great, actually.” Hoseok visibly relaxes and you hear Yoongi across the room mutter an “I told you so” to Namjoon.

“He didn’t push you too hard?” Hoseok asks.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you reply smugly, meeting Yoongi’s eyes, “But he did well and truly wear me out... Clearly."

You chuckle as Hoseok covers your hands in a million tiny kisses.

“Perhaps I do need to step my game up,” he teases, “I’ve never seen you so fucked out.”

“Nothing a good nap can’t fix,” you tease back. He smiles up at you, and you once again get lost in his brightness and warmth. “Mind if I join you all for a drink?”

“Of course not, baby girl,” Hoseok says, “I’ll go get your robe--”

“Don’t bother,” you say, wiggling into his hoodie and pulling the hood up and over your hair, “but you can go get me a glass.”

#bts smut #hoseok smut #yoongi smut #namjoon smut #yoongi x you #hoseok x you #namjoon x you #xmint-conditionx

[teddy06writes]

Through Thick And Thin

requested by this anon: “If you are still doing requests, could you maybe do a royal AU of a Knight! Awesamdude x royalty reader? Thanks!” 

Awesamdude x reader

trigger warnings: some swearing, mentioned character death

premise: royalty au; you are heir to the throne of the dream smp lands, Sam is the knight who has been sworn to protect you. When L’manburg, a rising power begins to attack, Sam stays by your side, even as the kingdom falls

{also I did my best to keep this gender neutral, but it might’ve ended up leaning for feminine, sorry about that}

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

“Do you take one lump or two?” You forced a polite smile onto your face. 

“Two, with lemon, not milk,” Bad said, “Try not to look so bored, you may be able to pull a smile on your face, but your eyes wandering about this room betray you.” 

Etiquette lessons were something you had finished long ago, but your mother had arranged for a brush up, seeing as the ambassadors of L’manburg would be arriving Wednesday. 

You nodded, quietly filling his tea cup with what he requested, and sliding it across the table too him. 

“Now, serve the tea cakes.” Bad instructed. 

As you cut the sponge cake into pieces you let your eyes drift again, look to where Sam stood beside the door. 

He bit back a smile, scrunching his nose at you. 

It took all your willpower not to giggle, regaining composer as you passed the plate across the table. 

~~

“I just think its stupid shit,” You said, tapping the toe of your shoe against the gravel path, “I already know how to poor tea and address nobles.” 

Sam chuckled, looking around the garden, “I suppose you do, but brushing up on those things never hurts.” 

“I did my time learning tea and titles, and dances and all that. I don’t see why I should have to do it any more. You should help me sneak out of lessons.” 

He laughed again, “I don’t know if I can partake in helping you get out of your duties.” 

“You used too.” You fake pouted, moving to sit on one of the benches lining the path.

“Yes well that was before, this is now. I’m not a stable boy any longer. We both have different duties to attend to.” He said, turning to look at you. 

You frowned, “I thought your duties were to protect me.” 

“They are.” 

“Then you’d have to go with me if,,, say I snuck away to go down to the shore tomorrow. Where we used to go in the summer.” You grinned cheekily. 

“Yes, I would have to,” He admitted begrudgingly, “But, considering you have to handle preparations for the ambassadors stay, I would be forced to suggest waiting till after they leave on Friday.” 

You chuckled, “I like the way you think.” 

~~

The morning of the ambassadors arrival came all too quickly, and you woke early, carefully dressing. 

There was a knock on the door, around 9:30, to which you sighed, “Come in.” 

Sam appeared in the door, holding a glass box, “His highness says you must wear this.” 

You look wearily at the small crown he was holding, then back at him, “You’re joking me.” 

He shook his head, “Dream insisted.” 

“Oh for XD’s sake.” you muttered, taking the box, and moving to set it atop your desk.

Slowly you extracted the crown, setting it gently atop your hair, adjusting it slightly in the mirror before turning to Sam, “How’s it look?” 

“Heavy.” He laughed. 

“Oh shut up,” You grumbled, moving past him into the corridor, “How long until the ambassador arrives?” 

“Half an hour or so.” He reported.

~~ Negotiations had began the moment Wilbur Soot and his cabinet members walked in the door, hardly leaving any time for introductions. 

You sat uncomfortably in your chair, these men were not like the ones you were expecting to be meeting. 

They were loud, harsh, and in the young blonde boys case, quite rude.

“Simply put, we don’t want to start a fight if we don’t have to, with you or any of the other neighboring  kingdoms.” Wilbur finished. 

Dream crossed his arms, looking at the treaty that had been placed in front of him, “You want our land?” 

“No, we only want a small piece of your land, just the farms that are technically within L’manburg’s borders,” The young Lord Tubbo clarified, “The original treaty clearly designates them to us.” 

“With all due respect, Mr. President, His Highness never agreed to the original terms.” Bad pointed out. 

George nodded, “Your nation has grown separately, never attached to us, the farms have never been yours.” 

Dream couldn’t help but chuckle as he cocked his head, “Your here for something else, aren’t you?” 

Wilbur sighed, “Yes, I suppose we are. Well, gentlemen, I should come clean. I come here seeking power. Something to put me at an advantage. I came here to ask for (y/n)’s hand in marriage.” 

“Excuse me?” You snapped, eyes wide. 

“You heard me. I wish to make you my betrothed, lord knows its the most you could accomplish in a life time.” He repeated, something malicious in his voice. 

The Dream SMP’s side of the table grew very tense. 

“I reject your proposal,” You stared him dead in the eye, “I would never marry a man like you.” 

Before anyone else could speak, you stood, “Perhaps you’ll work out a different arrangement. If you’ll excuse me.” 

With that you gracefully glided out of the room, loyal knight on your heels. 

It wasn’t until you reached the safety of the farthest garden from the castle that you felt like you could breath again. 

“I’ll kill him,” Sam muttered, pacing along the path, “No one speaks to you like that and gets away with it.” 

You sank onto a bench, pulling the crown from your head and running your hands through your hair, “He’s vile! The whole lot of them are!” 

“They’ll never get away with this. Everyone knows you’re mi-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. 

“Why, for a moment did it look like Dream was actually considering it?” You muttered, tears springing into the corners of your eyes. 

Sam quickly sat beside you, taking your hands, “Hey, I won’t let it happen. You’re- you belong here.... with me.” 

You looked up at him, with wide eyes, “Sam- you really mean that? With you? Truly you’d allow it?” 

Practically the whole palace staff had known since you’d first met Sam that you’d fallen for him. It had seemed like you were always destined to be together. 

“Yes, if you would.” 

You nodded, resting your forehead against his, “I would.” 

For a moment, the world seemed right. 

For a moment, nothing was wrong. 

For a moment, it seemed like there was a chance. 

Until a loud explosion rang through the castle, ripping through the tranquil morning.

Distantly you could hear screams of pain, yells of triumph and fights breaking out. 

Sam quickly stood, turning to the castle, where all the other guards seemed to be running too. 

“Sam...” 

Your shaky voice broke him from his almost trance, “What wrong dove?” 

“Sam they all had gladiolus flowers on there lapels. They all- the all had gladiolus on there lapels.” 

How you hadn’t realized it before you weren’t sure. 

“What?” 

“Gladiolus means ready- or armed.” You said quietly.

Sam stared at you for a moment, before someone else entered the garden, “You really shouldn’t have turned down that proposal (y/n)!” 

“Run!” Sam yelled, grabbing your hand to pull you along with him. 

You ran blindly with him, down the paths and toward the back of the garden. 

Sam pushed you toward the gap in the hedge, “Go! Down by the shore, where we used to go in the summer. Go! I’ll be there as soon as I can, lock yourself inside, and only open up for me.” 

You barley had time to think before he shoved you through the hedge, turning and drawing his sword to face Wilbur. 

~~ You stumbled along the path, you were almost there- almost there- almost to the abandoned light house. 

The sounds of fighting faded behind you as you tripped once more, picking yourself up and going even faster as the sea came into view. 

You threw yourself against the lighthouse door to get it to open, quickly closing it behind you and locking the door. 

You leaned against it, struggling to catch your breath. 

After a moment, your eyes adjusted to the light, and you looked around at the dusty space. 

When you were young, this had been Sam and yours special place, somewhere to avoid lessons. 

The only servant who’d known about it had helped you move furniture out there long ago, and the space seemed semi inhabitable. 

You fumbled to light a lamp, then found your way to a cabinet, looking for a cloth, or rag to clean with. 

Soon you were busying yourself with fixing the place up, desperately trying to ignore the fact that Sam was taking a very long time to get there. 

Once you finished the first floor you climbed the stone steps to the next, and began working there. 

Night had nearly fallen when you heard a rough knock at the door. 

Armed with a small paring knife you’d found in the old kitchen you crept to the door, peaking out the small window to check who it was. 

Quickly you unlocked the door, throwing it open and pulling Sam inside, “Holy shit Sam you had me so worried!” 

He grunted, moving to sit at the table you had turned upright, as you locked the door again. 

“Are you hurt at all?” 

He shook his head, “Just tired, I came the long way, to make sure no one was following. Are you alright?” 

You sighed with relief, “I’ll be okay, long as your here.” 

Sam smiled, “I’ll be here through thick and thin.” 

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #awesamdude x reader #teddy06 #teddy06 writes

[eirikaanemo]

His Fight

Venti x GN!Reader

1.9 Words

Warnings: Frostbite, assault (not sexual), near death experience

Part 1: His Lyre

His kiss to your cheek was quick but sent a warmth blooming across your face, contrasting with the coolness of his lips.

“Of course,” you mumble, embarrassed. “It was your lyre anyway.”

“It was,” he agreed. “But you believed me. And that really does mean a lot to me. Thank you, really.”

“I’ve always believed you, Venti,” you tell him softly, “both Venti and Barbatos. I believe in you. Even if you didn’t bring the lyre back in one piece, you brought yourself back. And I know you tried your best. You always do, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

Venti chuckles out a nervous, “ehe~” and rubs the back of his head sheepishly. He doesn’t try to hide the blush dusting his cheeks at your sincere words. “I’m not sure I deserve that, but thank you anyway.”

The two of you stand in silence for a little while after that. It’s not uncomfortable silence though. There’s a pleasant and kind of tingly feeling warming you from head to toe. Venti’s humming a little song and staring thoughtfully out into the distance; and you’re working up the courage to try and hold his hand.

Then your eyes accidentally meet the Traveler’s. Thankfully they seem to have been busy with Paimon while you and Venti were talking, so things aren’t as awkward as they could have been. They’re still kind of a third wheel though, and you’ve done that enough times to know how awkward it is.

Both of your eyes are caught by movement to the right of Traveler. Venti’s still oblivious, but it was enough of a tell for Traveler to be ready when two fatui pyro agents burst out of the brush. They drew their sword and stood their ground despite being outnumbered. Knife met sword as they exchanged blows.

While the fight attracted Venti’s attention, you took the chance to scan the area. It was uncommon for fatui agents to attack like this. Especially in a public area like the cathedral, and… there!

You push Venti out of the way just in time for the blast of ice to miss him, though it hits you dead on. The strength of it had both knocked you off your feet and frozen you solidly to the ground. Squirming some to test your cryo prison, you found an arm and both your legs to be solidly frozen to the ground. A hiss leaves your mouth as the cold starts to seep through your clothes and all the way down to your bones. Frostbite.

A sultry chuckle escapes your attacker as she approaches the two of you, with two cicin mages at her heels. “How touching,” she coos. “You sacrificed yourself for his sake.” She comes to a stop a couple feet away. Venti has very carefully not tensed up, pretending to not be affected, but you can see the wary look in his eyes.

Glancing over at Traveler, your heart falls. They’re still being held up by the pyro fatui agents. There will be no help from them.

She turns to Venti and smirks. “At last, Mondstadt’s rodent ruler in the flesh.” Step by step she draws nearer. “Scurrying through the streets, looking for leftovers.” She passes you, not giving you a second glance. Tilting her head, she quirks an eyebrow and gestures at Venti. “Mondstadt calls this a god?”

Oh she did not just go there.

You may be stuck in ice, and it may be slowly freezing you, but you’re not helpless. Your anemo vision is a weight against your chest. Most may choose to flaunt their visions, but you choose to wear it like a pendant but under your shirt. It may garner less respect, but it also garners less attention. Which is really helpful in situations like this.

The first thing you have to do is take out those cicin mages. With slight hand movements you slowly steal the air out of their lungs- and keep it there. If you’re careful enough, and you are, you can knock them out without them making a sound.

While waiting for them to drop, you keep an eye on Venti and the lady’s exchange.

“Resident rodent beats invasive vermin,” Venti quips.

The lady’s face darkens with rage. “Don’t you dare speak back to me, insolent bard.” She responds, stretching out her arm and summoning a gust in another attempt to freeze him. Crossing his arms, Venti launches himself into the air to avoid it. In return, he reaches for his lyre, which transforms into a bow, and he lets a volley of anemo arrows fly.

She easily knocks each one aside with a volley of ice crystals. “Look at you, absentee archon of Mondstadt… how impotent you have become.” Another barrage of ice rushes towards him with another gesture from the lady.

Venti easily knocked them off course with a blast of wind. “That smirk of yours looks out of place. Did you steal it from your master’s face?”

At that moment you realized three things. The cicin mages are knocked out so you should probably let them go before you kill them. The lady just got angrier than before. Not good. And you’re losing feeling in your legs. That’s definitely not good.

You let out a quiet sound of pain as the pins and needles reach further up your chest towards your neck. The moment he hears that noise, Venti’s attention snaps to you. He freezes. Your lips are blue and your skin is growing pale. He has to do something, fast.

“Cicin mages, attack!” The lady commands, trying to take advantage of his distraction. When nothing happens she turns around to find them where you left them on the ground. A growl escapes her throat as she turns on you.

“I thought that was enough to keep you down and out of the fight,” she said darkly. “Apparently I was wrong. I suppose I’ll need to put you down permanently.” Grabbing a dagger of ice out of thin air, she went for the throat.

“Hey, keep your eyes on me!” Venti calls. “This is my fight!” A flash of turquoise light lit up the area, blinding her and giving her pause. Immediately Venti was at your side, melting the dagger with the warm west wind and pushing the lady away. He donned whites and golds now instead of greens and browns. Feathery wings stretched out behind him. Before you stood the anemo archon, Barbatos. And he was angry.

“How dare you,” he hissed. “How dare you attack them! Leave now, before I truly lose my temper. I do not delight in bloodshed, but blood will be shed if you continue. Begone. And tell Tsaritsa that she had best watch herself. I may not be as powerful as she thinks I ought to be, but I am powerful enough to protect myself and my city.”

And with that, beaten but spiteful, the lady left. “Vanessa,” he spoke. “Would you make sure she leaves? We wouldn’t want her to get… lost.” A hawks cry echoed through the plains as she accepted his request. After all, this was her land too and Venti is her friend.

With that taken care of, all of Venti’s attention is on you.

Usually this would be a good thing, but this attention is because you’re turning blue and starting to lose feeling in your chest. He melts the ice and sweeps you into an embrace, wrapping his wings around you, partly for comfort and partly for warmth. “Thank celestia you’re okay,” he murmured. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. And I’m so glad I haven’t lost you like I did my friend all those years ago.”

You hum wordlessly in response and huddle closer to the warmth he provided. “I’m glad you’re okay too,” you whisper quietly.

Then Venti looks up. The flash of his transformation drew quite the crowd. But, most importantly, it drew Barbara out of the Cathedral.

“Barbara, I am not able to fully heal them myself. The frostbite has gotten too far. Would you kindly lend your assistance?”

“Of course, Lord Barbatos!” She exclaimed, hurrying forward to help heal you.

“Venti, Barabra,” he gently chastised. “I may be Barbatos, but I far prefer to go by Venti.”

“Venti it is then,” she concluded. “I… I believe we owe both of you an apology,” she admits as she focuses more on healing you. “You were telling the truth the whole time, Venti. And they were the only one to believe you. And we can see how that turned out.” She lets out a sigh as she pulls her hands away. “That should do it. How do you feel?”

“I’m still a little cold, but I’ll be okay,” you inform her. Venti holds you a little closer in response. Your skin is still a shade paler than it should be and you’re shaking with cold. But you can feel even your toes and fingers again. Everything will be okay in time.

Over the next few days as you recover, the news of Barbatos’ reappearance and his true identity spread throughout the town. While Venti’s power and ability grew significantly, the revenant and awed looks he received in public made him uncomfortable. Things did get better but it took a while.

“Do you regret doing it?” You asked him one night.

“Revealing my identity as Barbatos? Kind of,” he confessed. “But saving your life? Never. And there wasn’t another way I could have done it. My form as Venti is not able to wield as much power as I can in my winged form. Without revealing myself, I would not have been able to save you. So no, I don’t really regret it. I never could.”

You snuggle closer to him on the couch and entwine one of your hands with his. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“Anytime,” he responds back, just as quietly. He gently squeezes your hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve just brought such a bright light into my life since I met you. I’m not sure I could handle the dark anymore.”

You feel your face flush with warmth and he laughs a little in response. “Aww, did I fluster you?” He teases, poking at your cheek. You groan and let go of his hand to bury your face in your hands. He frowns a little. “How now, you don’t need to hide.”

When you peak out from your hands he gives you a wide smile. “See? It’s just me. It’s okay!”

As soon as your hands are away from your face he reaches forward to cup the side of your face. “Hey,” he says softly as he looks into your eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you breathe back. And just like that, his lips are on yours. It lasts an eternity and is over in a second as he pulls away. Now he’s the one who’s shy, looking away from you with pink dusting his cheeks. “Was that, um- Was that okay?”

“Hmm,” you ponder. “I don’t know. You may need to try again.”

Surprised, his head snaps back to face you. “Really?” He squeaks a little too quickly.

“Really,” you confirm, tugging on his braids to bring him back in for another kiss.

Neither of you are sure how long you spent kissing on the couch, but both of you will remember this moment fondly for the rest of your lives.

#eirika writes #venti #genshin venti #venti x reader #genshin impact x reader

[mypoisonedvine]

Any thoughts on if Lee would would ever buy any sort of toys and use them on the reader, or would he simply just use his handcuffs or belt to tie her up? (Not sure what they would have had back then tbh)

Also, would Lee ever let the reader cuff him to the bed and have her wicked way with him, like masterbate in front of him, or edge him, then ride him, all while he tells the reader how he is going to get her back for this torture?

first of all, I'm thinking he wouldn't use more than handcuffs and belts but don't worry, he gets plenty done with just those.

second of all, reader using handcuffs on lee??? oh hell yes.  very nsfw below the cut c:

"I always knew you were secretly a freak," Lee smirked as he watched you click the second pair of handcuffs shut around his wrists, "but this surprises even me."

You smiled and leaned back to admire your work: your husband, naked as the day he was born with his arms outstretched and cuffed to each of the bedposts. He was already half hard from the anticipation of it all, but you were only just getting started.

"You're gonna be good, right, daddy?" you purred.

"As best I can," he chuckled.

Gingerly, your fingers moved up his thigh towards where his cock was swelling and making your mouth water. You rarely got to appreciate his body like this, since that cock didn't tend to spend much time on display before it was being shoved into your mouth or your pussy. And you loved that too, but right now you were enjoying the way he shivered when you wrapped your hand around his shaft.

"Princess," he moaned, "I know you can stroke it better than that."

"I'll get to it when I'm ready, just be patient daddy," you encouraged softly. Taking it nice and slow, you moved your hand up and down his length, teasing the ridge under his head and watching in awe as precum began to gather at the tip. You wanted to taste it, but instead you smeared it with your hand to make your movements even smoother.

"Fuck," he sighed, "put it in your mouth."

"You didn't ask nicely," you grinned. "You always have to ask nicely."

"Put it in your mouth, please," he rolled his eyes.

"Hmm... no," you smiled.

"I know you want to," he tried to bargain, and he wasn't wrong.

"Oh, I do," you admitted, "I'm so turned on just from touching you, daddy. Wanna see?"

Letting go of him to free both hands, you unbuttoned your dress and stripped for him, laying back and spreading your legs to show how wet you'd become already. Your head fell back as you swirled your fingers over your swollen clit, smiling as you saw the rage on his face.

"You know you aren't allowed to do that," he hissed. "Only I get to touch you like that."

"Aw, that's too bad," you faked a pout, "since you have no way to stop me."

His fists tightened and strained against the steel cuffs, and you knew he was wishing he could break free from them and teach you a lesson.

"Daddy, it feels so good," you moaned, putting on a show for him as your hips gyrated against your hand, "almost better than when you do it."

"Bullshit," he frowned.

"Hmm, I thought you were gonna be good. How disappointing. I was almost going to put your cock in my mouth, but if you're gonna have that attitude..."

"No, baby, wait," he pleaded, "please, I need ya so bad."

"If I suck you, you'll be a good boy?"

He winced but nodded.

"No, daddy, I need you to say it."

His jaw tightened as he looked away, the most adorable pink flush starting to tinge his cheeks. "I... I'll be a good boy. Please..."

You beamed as you got down on your hands and knees, gripping his cock and guiding it towards your mouth. You started delicately, just gentle kitten licks to the tip as you savored the taste of him. His cock was flexing in your hand already, and you were sure he was desperate for more. Taking pity on him, you wrapped your lips around the tip and suckled on it.

"Fuck, princess," he groaned.

"Feels good?" you asked as you pulled off.

"Yes, please don't stop," he whimpered.

Seeing him reduced to begging and whining already was... intoxicating. Instantly you were drunk with power and wanted to push him even further. You sucked him in earnest, stroking what you couldn't reach and secretly missing the way he would normally grab your hair and force you to take it deeper.

Distracted by the warm tingling between your legs, you stopped and popped up with a smile.

"Want it inside me, daddy," you admitted shyly.

"Then hop on, pretty girl," he smiled back.

“...but I was having so much fun touching myself earlier...” you grinned.  

His face dropped.  “No, no, you wouldn’t dare--”

“So I think I wanna do some more of that first.”

His head fell back in frustration as he pulled at the cuffs again, groaning through his teeth.  “I swear you’re done for as soon as I’m outta these,” he promised darkly.

“Well, that’s a later problem,” you dismissed, repositioning so he was in full view of you dipping two fingers inside yourself.  “Fuck, daddy, I’m so wet... and it feels so warm in here,” you giggled.  

“Please, princess, I’m dyin’ over here,” he begged, “just let me get inside ya, please-- I’ll be your good boy, promise.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, daddy, you’ll get your turn.”  

Speeding up, you were on a fast track to the finish line as you managed to rub your clit at the same time your fingers reached your g-spot.  Of course, it was nothing compared to the way it felt when he touched you, but you’d never tell him that.

Your exaggerated moans filled the room along with his frustrated pants, his eyes raking over you while you pleasured yourself.

“Please, baby,” he repeated, chanting it in a hoarse whisper.

“Just be patient, daddy,” you sighed, “just lay there and think about how good it would feel to be inside me right now.  I can feel it on my fingers when I’m about to come... think about how that would feel on your cock right now, daddy.”

“God, you’re really in for it now,” he growled, “you’re being such a bad girl.”

“I would’ve been a lot worse a lot sooner if I knew how fun it was gonna be,” you laughed.  “Fuck, I’m close already.  Wanna watch me come, daddy?”

“No,” he groaned, “I wanna make you come.”

“Can’t always get what you want,” you winked before throwing your head back as your legs began to quiver and shake.  “Oh god, daddy, I’m coming!”

As pleasure began to rock through your body and make wetness gush out of your opening, he moaned as if he could actually feel it-- even if he couldn’t feel it as much as he wanted to.  You watched his cock bounce and strain against nothing, leaking its own wetness as his precum dripped down in a beautiful stripe along his length.  

“Daddy, yes!” you squealed as you hit the peak of it, knowing he could probably see how hard your muscles were flexing inside and hoping he was dreaming about how it would feel around him.

“Baby,” he sobbed, “please...”

“It’s okay, daddy,” you soothed as you pulled your fingers out of yourself slowly.  “It won’t be much longer now.  Wanna taste?”

You pressed your fingers to his lips before he could answer, watching him swirl his tongue around them and hum at the flavor of your body.

“I’m gonna ride you now, okay?”

“Please,” he sighed, nodding feverishly.

You grinned and swung a leg over as you straddled him, guiding his cock between your lips and ever-so-slowly sinking down.  You wanted desperately to moan at the feeling of him stretching you wide, but more than that you wanted to hear the beautiful sounds he was making.

As your hips connected with his, you could tell he was close already by the way his brow was furrowed tightly and his cock was flexing within you.

“Oh no, daddy, you can’t come yet,” you tutted disapprovingly.  “I won’t move until I know you can take it.”

“Fuck!” he yelled.  “Fuck, please, please move.”

“But you’ll come,” you frowned, “and I don’t want you to do that yet.”

“I’ll hold it, promise,” he bargained, “just please move, need to feel you, please princess.”

Nodding, you slowly bounced on top of him and watched his face fall into a slack moan.  “Does that feel good, daddy?”

“Oh god, you have no idea,” he sighed.

You moved faster, hoping to challenge his promise and smiling as you watched him bite down on his lip.  “Ah ah ah,” you giggled, “you’d better not come yet.”

“Can’t help it,” he warned. “Fuck, I’m ‘bout to fill you up.”

“Oh no, daddy,” you shook your head, “that’s not what’s gonna happen at all.”

“Fuck, baby, pleasepleaseplease-- don’t get off, please, need to come inside you.”

You shook your head and cackled happily as he whined, sitting up and letting his cock fall out of you.  You wanted more than anything to watch him come from nothing at all, see what it looked like when he hit the height of his pleasure and couldn’t come back down.  Amazingly, he started to shoot his load up onto himself, and you bit your lip as you watched his come leak and drip down over his cock.  It was even better than you’d imagined, and the weak, broken moans he made while he did it were the icing on top of it all.

Once he finally stopped and began to catch his breath, you smiled as you admired his exhausted expression.

“Wow, daddy, that was incredible,” you praised.  “You really are my good boy.  And look at this lovely mess you made.”

His eyes fluttered open, and you looked right in them as you leaned down and began to lick up the come splattered on his chest, and his stomach, and his thighs...

“God, princess,” he sighed.  You saved the best for last, swallowing what you’d gathered before licking up the come that coated his softening cock-- and laughing happily when he whined and bucked under your movements on his overstimulated body.  

“You’re so sensitive, daddy,” you teased.  “Be still while I clean you up...”

It was soft enough now that you could fit the whole thing in your mouth, sucking off every last drop as he bit back sobs above you.  When you were done, you popped up with a smile, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Can I let you out of the cuffs now, or are you gonna punish me like you said?” you asked nervously.

“I’m too tired to do anything to you except maybe fall asleep on ya,” he laughed weakly.  You reached to the bedside table to acquire the key, opening the cuffs one at a time-- and instantly being wrapped in his arms tightly and thrown onto your back.

"Can't believe you fell for that," he smirked before descending upon you.

#lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker x y/n #twi!lee #got so turned on writing this tbh holy SHIT

[sassycassie-s-writing]

A Future That’s Worth It

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG/K+ (lots of implications but nothing explicit)

Original Idea: Nothing in particular.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) I have some headcanons on height and weight of the characters that I used for this one. Have fun!

^^^^^

The bed dipped behind me. I’d been more than halfway to sleep, but the movement shocked me awake. I rolled over.

Rhysand gave me a lazy smile. “Evening, love,” he said. “Did I wake you?”

“Technically no, but a little bit.”

“Sorry.” The look on his face implied he was in no way genuinely apologetic. He shuffled to get more comfortable, one wing draping over the two of us, and loosed a long sigh. I snuggled against his bare chest, eyes on his tattoos.

“Something the matter?” I asked quietly. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

“If I never have to truly fight again, for the rest of what will hopefully be a very long life, I will be grateful,” he said, breath fluttering my loose hairs.

“Me too,” I agreed.

I felt a claw against my mental shields, a single, gentle drag against the black marble I used to keep my private thoughts private. A request for entry. I reached out tiredly to feel his own mental shield was already lowered. A rare occurrence for him. He had one of the most complex shields I’d ever experienced.

I let the shield drop. His presence overwhelmed me almost immediately. I’d probably never fully witness the extreme depth of his power, but it dominated over my little well of magic by what was probably thousands of times.

His presence was the comforting, healing darkness of lovers clinging to one another. The gentle shade under a wide oak tree on a hot summer day. Nothing of the sharp, secret darkness of spies and assassins. The soft night of dreams. “Do you feel peace, now?” I asked. “Now that the King of Hybern is dead and his army decimated?”

“It’ll take years for me to reach true peace for that, after all the pain and death and suffering. But I feel peace right now, holding you. I feel a grim tranquility in knowing I would gladly cause more carnage if it meant keeping you safe. I hated releasing that beast inside me during the war, but I’ll always go feral to protect what’s mine. You, our family, this city, our people. All of it. I would fight until my own death to ensure the future of those I’m responsible for.”

“Self-sacrificing fool,” I teased. There was no bite to the words.

“You’re one too,” he retorted with the same tired lack of malice.

“Never said I wasn’t. Therefore, you can’t call me a hypocrite.”

“Touché.”

I wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer to me. “Get some sleep, High Lord. We both need it.”

He brushed some of my loose hairs from my face. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.” I smiled slightly.

The sweet caress of his darkness in my mind soothed all the day’s worries. If neither of us ever had to pick up a blade for a battle ever again, it would be too soon.

I reached up with the hand around his waist and stroked the bone of his wing. He shivered, but he’d taught me where to touch to calm, and where to touch to excite. His other muscles were pliant, relaxed, as I ran my fingers gently over his wing.

We put each other to sleep not long after that.

—

“—told him it was a bad idea, but he was just like, ‘Stop telling me how to live my life!’” Mor’s loud voice woke me the next morning as the doors opened downstairs, the last bit dropping as low as she could go in a horrible but hilarious imitation of Cassian. Amren’s laughter followed.

The bed was empty besides me, but Rhys’ side was still warm.

I got up and pulled on my dressing gown over my nightgown. I brushed my hair briefly so it wasn’t quite so tangled and ventured out of our room.

Mor and Amren had already made it to the kitchen and were raiding the pantry for breakfast.

“What’s a bad idea?” I asked around a yawn.

“Cassian was gonna challenge Azriel to a flying race. From the House to the roof here,” Mor explained, pointing directly overhead.

“Azriel’s gonna win,” I said.

“That’s what I said. Cassian didn’t listen.”

I chuckled, joining them for breakfast.

Amren looked around. “Where’s your High Lord?”

“I was gonna ask you two the same thing. I assumed he got out of bed and came down to talk to you guys. Sheets were still warm when I woke up.”

Mor’s expression turned to one of amused dread. “He’s gonna join the race,” she said.

“I bet you’re right,” I replied. I rubbed my eyes. “They are five-and-a-half centuries old and they still behave like children.”

“Glad you’re his mate and not me,” Amren said with a smile as she drank from her goblet and shuddered. She hated food still, but she no longer had a choice.

“Frankly, me too,” I said. “I can’t imagine the chaos the two of you would cause.”

Mor laughed.

I assume you’re at the House of Wind? I thought down the bond, pushing the thought hard to make sure he received it.

Yep, Rhys’ voice replied in my mind.

I’ll be on the roof. Mor and I will referee.

I don’t know what you’re talking about. The words were too laced with laughter to be the truth.

Children. All three of you, I fired back.

All I got in return was his rumbling laughter. Distant thunder promising a welcome summer storm.

“Wanna join me on the roof?” I offered to Mor and Amren.

“Not really,” Amren replied.

“I will,” Mor said.

The two of us climbed up the stairs and sat on the white-painted iron chairs. Mor had a cup of tea and I had a mug of molten chocolate.

I looked up at the House of Wind. So far, there were no figures flying around its peak.

Mor lounged on her chair and eyed me. “Aren’t you cold?”

I shrugged. The early spring air was still clinging to the cold of winter and my satin dressing gown and nightgown were clinging to the cold right along with it, but it was something of a welcome change after the stifling heat under the covers in bed. “I’ll be fine for how long it’ll take Rhys and his brothers to get here.”

You ready? I asked.

Waiting on you, he replied.

We’re ready.

Then look up.

“They’re going,” I said to Mor, turning my attention back to the House.

Sure enough, three figures leapt off a balcony near the peak, streaking in a straight line toward us, wings barely extended to keep them aloft and at the angle they wanted. From their distance I couldn’t make out who was who yet, but I knew it wouldn’t take long.

“Five gold marks on Azriel,” I said.

“Aren’t you supposed to always bet on Rhys?” Mor teased.

“Azriel is lighter than Rhys and Cassian. I’m making an educated guess.”

She laughed. “Okay. Five gold marks on Rhys then.”

We watched them get closer.

“Rhys is going to be offended you bet against him,” Mor remarked.

“Probably,” I agreed.

“Rhys can winnow and Azriel… kinda does to. With the shadows. I’m not sure how he does it,” Mor mused. “But, Cassian—he just flies everywhere. So he’s probably a little better at it than both of them. More practiced, you know?”

I nodded. “Yeah… how about, if Cassian wins, we each give Amren five marks?”

Mor laughed. “She’d love and hate that. That we made her bet for her and chose Cassian.”

I shrugged. “Probably. But she wouldn’t mind the money.”

“Not at all.”

I caught glints of blue and red. Rhys was on the left, no Siphons, with Cassian in the middle and Azriel to the right. I still couldn’t tell who was in front, but it looked like I might have been right about Azriel. He looked like he was barely ahead of Rhys and Cassian.

As the three drew closer, I realized this was the future we’d fought the war for. The future full of fun and joy. The future of stupid games and meaningless bets. No gambling lives. Just a few marks for no reason other than fun. If Rhys never turned into that beast again, if he’d done enough to ensure our safety and security—finally—then it was all worth it.

They were close enough to see their faces now. Mor and I cleared a place where three could land all close to the same time and not knock over any furniture or trip. While Mor thought it’d be funny, I didn’t want anyone to face-plant off the roof.

Azriel slammed feet first into the roof. I thought I heard the attic rattle. Rhys hit barely half a second after, with Cassian right behind.

Mor gave me a long-suffering glance and sipped her tea. “I owe you five marks,” she said before flouncing back downstairs.

“You placed bets?” Cassian asked.

“You’re surprised?” I retorted sharply. Azriel snorted quietly.

“Fair enough,” Cassian said.

“You bet against me?” Rhys sounded offended even as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. His warmth banished the cold clinging to my dressing gown.

I shrugged nonchalantly, refusing to rise to his bait. “Azriel’s lighter than both of you. Skinnier. He can probably cut through the air easier. I made an educated guess,” I said, repeating what I said to Mor. I tilted up onto my tiptoes and kissed Rhys’ chin, since he was too tall for me to reach his cheek.

Rhys chuckled. “That’s okay, because I owe Cassian ten marks. I bet on Azriel too.” He kissed my forehead. The four of us still on the roof started making our way down. “So, what’s for breakfast?”

“Whatever anyone can find!” Mor shouted from below.

I grabbed Rhys’ wrist and held him so Cassian and Azriel would get ahead of us. When we were alone, I wrapped my arms around him. “This is the future we—you—fought for,” I whispered. “Is it worth it, to you?”

“I can’t think of anything more worth it.”

“Me neither.”

We held each other for a few more moments.

Then Cassian was calling us to haul downstairs before the food was gone.

Laughing, we descended.

#Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction #A Future That's Worth It

[feliix]

Bluff ⇢ PJM (18+)

⇢ Pairing: Jimin x Reader ⇢ Summary: Working at The Big Kahuna with Park Jimin consists of a lot of suggestive flirting with no actions made to follow it up. But after a summer filled with endless amounts of sexual tension, it’s finally time to let things loose. ⇢ Word Count: 3.8k ⇢ Rating: M ⇢ Genre: Smut, PWP, Coworkers to Lovers, a lil bit of fluff ⇢ Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, teasing, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, overstilulation, dom!jimin, sub!reader ⇢ Banner made by @hobiance​ ⇢ A/N: thank you @jinterlude​ for beta reading this and @jinned​ for hyping me up always ily ily ily ♡ (the end is not edited so sorry rip) ⇢ Written for BHQ’s Bangtan Boardwalk Summer Collab

Working at the Big Kahuna hasn’t always been such a breeze. During the busy season, customers are in and out of here, renting jet-skis, paddle boards, and kayaks alike, all day long. 

It's a little blue hut right on the water, a walk-up window that you sit behind overlooking a wooden dock. It’s small inside the hut, just enough room for you and one other person to work a shift, but it’s cozy, and the view is unbeatable, so you don’t really mind. The sandy beach surrounding you holds a plethora of water-sports equipment, ready for rental and just dying to be used at this point. 

But now it's late in the season, the weather is cooling down, and fewer people have been showing up. It doesn’t quite matter to you, though. Fewer customers mean less work, and the less there is to do here, the better. 

You’d think it’d get boring with nothing to do, but with a coworker like Park Jimin, things are always interesting. To be frank, he’s a flirt. But so are you, which is why working here this summer has been nothing short of a dream. 

The flirtatious banter between you goes no further than just innocent teasing. It’s just something to keep you occupied while you get through your shift. Not that you’re complaining, though. If it did ever go somewhere further, you would not be mad about it. He’s hot, and you’re both young and single, so something’s bound to happen. You can cut the lingering sexual tension with a knife, and the longer you’re around each other, the thicker said tension gets. 

So far today, there have only been two customers; a dad and his son who came in a few hours ago to rent out a couple of jet skis. When things are slow around here, the two of you seem to match the energy. It takes twice as long to clean up after people leave with twice the amount of energy expected just to complete a simple task. All you want to do is sit on your stool behind the counter and look pretty – nothing more, nothing less.

But even though the customers left over two hours ago, Jimin has yet to clean off the jet-skis. After losing a close match of ‘rock paper scissors’ the daunting task now belongs to him. And even though the equipment probably won’t be used for the rest of the day, it still bothers you that Jimin has been pushing off the task for so long.

All he’s doing is sitting on the stool next to you and messing around on his phone. Every once in awhile, he’ll snap a quick selfie, pushing his hair back with one hand and adjusting his look for the camera. He’s probably Snapchatting another random girl, whatever lucky lady has the pleasure of having his attention for the day. Not that you’re jealous or anything...

“So are you gonna clean those jet-skis or..?” Your voice is passive-aggressive, slightly taunting, and that bothers Jimin.

His eyes roll back into his head, a deep exhale leaving his mouth, “Yeah, when I feel like it.” A sly smirk grows on his lips, knowing his careless words and procrastinating actions are driving you up the wall.

Now it's your turn for your eyes to roll back into your head. You are just about to stand up and grab a rag to clean them yourself, but you will not let Park Jimin get his way again.

That’s how working with him went. It’s like he knows he has some kind of mindless control over you, that you’ll just pick up his slack once he flashes you with his pearly whites. Damn him and his little crooked tooth that makes your heart twist a bit more than you’d like to admit. 

“Can you just wipe off the jet-skis already? You did lose the bet.” 

Your tone is kinder this time, adding a head tilt to make you seem a bit more friendly. He doesn’t buy it.

“Be careful ordering me around like that. Keep it up, and I’ll have to show you who’s actually in charge.”

There he goes again with the suggestive flirting. Except his actions never follow through. He just throws words like that out there, making your knees weak to rile you up. That’s half of the fun. The other half is watching you try to muster up some confidence to respond while your face flushes and legs squeeze together.

“You’re bluffing.” You roll your eyes once more. Part of you thinks that he is, but that deep-seated desire for him is nearly at its peak. And the small tinge of hope you have that he’s being serious suddenly becomes not so little – right at the moment, his feet begin pacing over to you.

“Am I?”

The left corner of his mouth lifts upwards, his eyes growing dark and eerie as he gets closer and closer. You swallow thickly, your heart beating faster as he approaches you. Without realizing, your legs clamp shut, squeezing together for dear life to ease the throbbing ache of your pussy as Jimin slowly closes the distance between you. And before you know it, you’re standing up from your stool; your heart caught in your throat as your mouth runs dry.

So badly you want to hold your ground. To keep yourself back from jumping his bones, grabbing the back of his neck to crash your lips into his. But you need restraint. He’s the one who's bluffing; he’s the one that has to make the move.

“M-mhm,” you hum, saving yourself the embarrassment of actually trying to speak in a state like this. 

His hot breath fans across your cheeks and deep breaths pass his plump lips as he stands just inches away from you. Being this close to him is too intimidating for your liking. You're trying your best to keep your stance, but your knees are quaking, and your heart is pounding so hard that you can hear it.

But the closer he leans in, the quicker your heart begins to race.

“How about now?” He whispers over your lips, just a hair’s width away from brushing over them. Instantly, your eyes flutter shut, inhaling deeply to regain your composure and to get a grip on your sanity. If you let yourself go for one second, you’ll fall into him – but that’s what he wants.

“Mhm,” you repeat, too afraid to open your lips in fear they’ll touch his. Not because you’re scared to kiss him, but because you are too damn stubborn to be the one to kiss him.

You feel a gust of air push onto your lips as an airy chuckle leaves his mouth, “Cute.”

You swear your heart skips a beat when he says it, how he says it. His voice is low and seductive, dripping with lust and drawing you in, capturing your attention though you aren’t even looking at him. But even still, you're immersed with the thought of him. The predicting thoughts of the feeling of his lips on yours, and the soft texture of his light brown hair as your hands card through it.

It’s getting harder to hold back and stand your guard each time a soft breath lands on your lips. The sweet smell of his cologne overwhelming your sense of smell as heat from his body radiates onto you. 

But suddenly, you find yourself not holding back any longer; your will power rapidly decreases as his hands rest on your waist. And when he tightens his grip around you, it's game over.

That strength you’ve been gripping onto for dear life is gone. Your lips crash into his in a heated kiss, his mouth instantly moving steadily against yours. They’re so much softer than they look, his pillowy lips encasing yours while his hands pull your body tightly into his own. His tongue soon traces over your bottom lip before he catches it between his teeth, tugging on it slightly in a way that drives you wild. 

A stiffness forms beneath his shorts, pushing right against your body as he pulls you into him. Arousal quickly floods between your legs at the feeling, a needy moan vibrating past your lips and onto his. You’ve waited too long for this, the whole summer aching to feel his body pressed up against yours like this. And now you can barely hold it together just from a passionate make-out session – you’ve already soaked through your bikini bottoms, and he’s barely touched you.

But once his fingers find the hem of your shirt, you know this isn’t the furthest it's going to go. Internally, you’re singing praises, thanking whatever higher power allowed you to be in this position and this very moment.

And just when he’s about to pull away and rip the clothing off your body, he remembers where the two of you are. Quickly, his hands leave your body as he races over to the shack window. You roll your lips into your mouth, savoring the taste of him on you as you watch him reach for the heavy overhead door to shut. He closes the metal gate with a rough grunt, the slam of the door onto the countertop echoing through the small hut. And just like that, the room is filled with darkness, only a tiny beam of sunlight making its way through a small window in the back.

The sound of footsteps shuffling back in your direction calls you back in. Jimin’s figure appears again in front of you, the small amount of light peeking into the hut bouncing off his slender form. He’s just inches from you, but the sexual tension in the atmosphere feels like a million pounds weighing down on you.

Jimin’s hands reach back for your top, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. He wastes no time removing his own shirt, your hands effortlessly reaching out for him, running your fingers down his defined torso. His skin is hot, whether it's from the temperature outside or the building heat within him is up to your interpretation – but you’d like to think of it as the latter.

As he leans back into you your heart flutters, the now-familiar feeling of his breath washing over your lips comforting you.

“Fuck,” Jimin hums over your lips, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

His hand wanders down under your thigh, gripping the muscle while lifting your leg with his strong arm. His body presses into yours, feeling the rough outline of his cock through his swim trunks right over your core. You’re dripping; arousal seeping right through the thin fabric of your bikini bottoms and onto your cotton shorts that do absolutely nothing to conceal your desire. 

He can feel it for himself once his fingers graze down your body, finally meeting the flimsy fabric covering your core. Jimin’s digits flatten across the area, dragging them across your slit ever so slowly, making you shudder at his touch. 

A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as he applies some pressure, pressing and rubbing your clit through the material of your shorts. You let your head fall back, bucking your hips into his hand to feel more, but the layers between you keep you from getting what you desire. 

You’re too needy for his touch, unable to withstand much teasing before crying out for him. “Jimin,” you whine, “stop teasing me, please.” Your voice is high pitched and drawn out, begging for him to just rip the remaining clothing off your body.

“Hmm,” he hums, satisfied with your begging. “Tell me what you want.”

A knot forms in your throat, desperate enough to keep begging, but your pride prevents you from letting any words out. Your body language should be enough, pressing yourself further into him and raking your fingers up his back and running your fingers through his hair to try and entice him. 

“With your words,” he says firmly, stopping the movement of his hand over your core. You keen into his touch, letting your head fall onto his shoulder as you’re unable to look him dead in the eye. Not while you’re so desperate and needy for him, and not before you’re about to admit it.

“Jimin,” you whine again, dragging out the last syllable of his name for greater emphasis. “Want your fingers inside me.”

He smirks in response, satisfied with your words. “Already so wet for me,” you shiver as a deep, lust-filled voice leaves Jimin’s lips, his fingers slowly pulling the fabric of your shorts to the side. It sounds different from his normal voice; usually light and airy, something you could pick out of a crowd. But this was a whole different Jimin – one that you certainly like.

The cool air meets your soaked core, giving you a quick chill. Instinctively, you lean into him, the shiver running down your spine as his fingers begin to circle your entrance making it hard for you to stand up straight. 

But all you can focus on is his erect member now rubbing against your thigh as the pads of his fingers smeared the wetness along your slit. Your eyes are sewn shut, your head digging deep into his neck as your only supporting leg quivers.

You’re so sensitive to his touch, it’s becoming difficult to control your body. Your eyes are closed so tight you can see stars dancing behind your eyelids, just focused on the feeling of his fingers dancing along your core. As his fingers work their way upwards, a high pitched moan leaves your throat. It catches you off guard once he begins rolling your clit between his fingers, pinching it lightly, making you keen over in pleasure.

“Fuck, Jimin. Feels so good,” your fingers grip the roots of his hair, tugging and pulling at it to ground yourself. But once his lips begin moving over your neck and his hand supporting your lifted leg tightens, you can’t help but let out a wanton moan.

You find yourself grinding down onto Jimin’s fingers, needy for more of him, and yearning to feel him inside of you. You’ve already asked once, you already feel like you could come right now and he hasn't even been inside you yet. 

He can read your body language well, bringing his fingers to trace the extent of your slit back until they meet your entrance once more. Swiftly, he dips two fingers into the arousal that's pooling from your core. Finally. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth as just his digits carefully caress your walls. The slow movement of his fingers plunging into your depths takes your breath away in an instant.

The bulge rubbing against your leg is doing nothing but teasing you. Each time his finger slides in and out of you he ruts into you, begging to be touched. You pick up on this, snaking your hand between your bodies to palm at the evident cock outline he's sporting. A sudden gasp leaves his lips at the feeling, his eyebrows raising in succession as his cock jumps in your grip.

His movements stop as you squeeze his member, now unable to focus at the task at hand with you teasing him like this. A rough grunt leaves his lips, removing his fingers from your core instantly. You immediately feel empty and bare without them inside you. So your jaw drops, confused and ready to ask what his deal is – but Jimin has other plans.

His hand holding your leg up quickly leaves your thigh. You don’t even have time to react before his hands are gripping your waist, spinning your body around, and bending you over the desk as he steps behind you. Air is sucked out of your lungs as your chest meets the wooden desk, cheek pressed onto the hard surface as Jimin harshly grips your hips.

“Such a tease,” he shakes his head, one hand coming down to leave a playful slap on your ass. You wince in reaction, the quick tinge of pain turning into pleasure. Arousal floods from your core as his hand rubs over the affected area, soothing the skin over the material of your clothes.

Jimin’s fingers loop themselves over the waistband of your shorts and under your bikini bottoms, tugging them downward. He doesn’t bother to even take them off fully, just shimmies them halfway down your thighs so that he has full access to your dripping pussy.

He’s quick to slide his swim trunks off his body, his fully erect member springing from the confines of the fabric. Your heart is pounding in your chest, heaving as you try to catch your breath. But he’s not one to wait, wrapping his hand around his shaft and pumping it a few times before lining it up at your entrance.

You brace yourself for his length, but it doesn’t come. You’re desperate, arching your back in attempts to push him inside of you, but he just shifts his weight backward.

“Ask nicely.” 

His voice is stern; teasing but direct. Rolling your eyes, you give in, unwilling to play another game of cat and mouse while he already has you bent over and ready for the taking.

“Please Jimin,” you moan, “please fuck me.” Leg bouncing impatiently as you wait for him, he lines himself up with your entrance once more. The light pressure of his tip pressed against you makes you stir, bouncing your leg in anticipation as your hands look for something to grip onto.

A steep gasp passes through your lips as his cock slides itself into you; your velvety walls squeezing the veiny ridges of his member as you take him in. He’s thick and long, his length continuing to push into you until you’re filled to the brim. 

You can’t help but clench down on him as you adjust to his size, your walls squeezing his thick cock as he bottoms out his thrust. A string of curses leaves his lips as your walls squeeze around him from every angle. The arousal spilling from your cunt coats his cock deliciously. 

Jimin’s hands quickly find their place on your hips, holding you steady as he begins to rock backward. His cock slides in and out of you slowly but forcefully. He makes sure to bottom out each time, taking his time to pull out and then slam himself into you with such force.

“So fucking tight,” he moans, his thrusts beginning to quicken in pace. Your arms extend before you, gripping onto the edge of the desk to keep yourself steady. His powerful thrusts fail to subside, the force he rocks into you causing his member to prod your g-spot.

The sounds of his skin colliding with yours and the deep moans echoing from his throat fill your ears. Soft whines bubble past your lips with each thrust, his power shaking you and the desk underneath you.

Smoothly, Jimin’s hand reaches downward, snaking between your legs and gathering your arousal on his fingertips. His fingers graze over your clit gently, immediately making your body jerk in reaction. Slight pressure is added by his hand, soon to make a slow rubbing motion.

“So...close…” you manage to get out while you pant for air. You can feel a knot tightening in your stomach, threatening to snap if he keeps on like this.

“Cum on my cock, princess” he groans, teeth clenching as you squeeze tightly around him. The pet name is what gets you, your walls already beginning to spasm as he applies more pressure to your clit. 

Euphoria takes hold on you as you release, your vision becoming fuzzy as your body grows limp. Jimin pushes you through it, his fingers continually moving over your throbbing bud as you release over him. Your legs shake, the strength of your orgasm so strong you lose all control of your body. His name leaves your lips like a mantra, chanting it over and over with curses intertwined. 

It takes you a bit to come down, oversensitivity quickly setting in as Jimin’s trusts continue. His fingers are more gentle now, lightly toying with your clit as you do your best to try and swat his hand away. But you’re too lethargic, too drawn out from your orgasm that took all your strength away from you.

“One more,” he says, “doing so good for me.”

And soon enough that familiar knot in your stomach was making its way back to you, if it ever left in the first place. The repetitive tap of Jimin’s tip deep inside you has you so far gone; your pussy clenching and unclenching around him completely out of your control. 

But it's getting to him too. The added lubricant of your orgasm mixed with the squeezing of your walls around his cock is bringing him close to his own end.

“Gonna...come,” he moans, his hands leaving your overstimulated clit to grip onto your hips. The pace of his thrusts quickens, his brow furrowing deeply as he focuses on chasing his high.

All it takes is one powerful thrust, and you were coming undone around him once again. “Fuck, fuck!” You nearly scream, pushing back into him to meet his thrusts, helping him through an orgasm of his own.

The everlasting sensation of bliss takes over the both of you. Jimin’s thrusts grow languid and sloppy, his torso slowly falling on top of your back. You lie like this for a moment, letting him collapse over you and feel the heat of his body radiate onto yours. It feels nice, close having him inside you like this while his arms wrap around you in silence.

“We should've done this sooner,” his voice breaks through the quiet room. A small smile forms on your lips as you internally agree, showing him with a nod of your head. 

Slowly, he stands up, pulling out of you and leaving you feeling empty for the second time today. A mixture of your and his cum dribbles out of your cunt, Jimin noticing and quickly swiping it up with his finger. You can see him out of the corner of your eye, watching his movements closely to see what he’ll do next.

Swiftly, his hand finds its way to his mouth, his digit slipping past his lips as he licks the juices from it. Your jaw drops in reaction, his finger leaving his mouth with a soft pop of his lips.

He notices you gawking at him, raising his eyebrows as you suggestively in response. “I’d like to try it right from the source next time.”

A slight chuckle leaves your lips, in disbelief while still being very turned on. “Next time.” You hum, liking the sound of that as it leaves your mouth.

“There will be a next time, won't there?” Except his question comes across as more of a statement, his tone firm and gestures sturdy while he reaches for his swim trunks to pull back up.

You follow his actions, standing back onto your shaky legs to pull your swimsuit bottoms and shorts up in one quick motion. There will definitely be a next time.

‘Bluff’ is copyright 2020 @parksfilter, all rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.

#bb2020 #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #btswriterscollective #smutcentralnet #magicshopnet #bangtanhq #cypherwritersnet #kpopuniversenet #jimin x reader #jimin smut #park jimin #jimin fanfic

[galahadwilder]

Future Perfect

This is my @mlsecretsanta fic for @crispypata! Crispy asked for DJWifi and Bunnyx, so I delivered.

*

It’s been a long week, and Alya is grateful for some alone time. While it’s always nice to have the others around, there’s an unstated pleasure in being the only one of her friends awake this early. Nino and Marinette are always asleep until very shortly before class, and Adrien may be awake, but his driver won’t be here for at least another twenty minutes. That’s a precious twenty minutes away from her sisters, away from anybody else. A precious twenty minutes of quiet.

Normally she’d spend this time updating the Ladyblog, moderating comments, writing posts, but after last night’s battle she just… she needs some time. Time to herself.

She’s shaking, just a little. She’s not even touching her phone. For the first time in a while, she’s actually reading a physical comic book—specifically, The Mighty Majestia Issue #48. Her first comic. A gift from her father when she was a little girl. It used to make her feel better when things were going bad. She needs that, a little bit, today. The feel of the paper under her fingertips.

It wasn’t her first near-death experience—she’s had a lot of those since Hawkmoth appeared in Paris. But Ladybug almost hadn’t made it last night. Alya had gone running after the Akuma, like usual, and…

A body flops down next to her on the bench. The warmth and weight of it—she glances to the side, and meets the familiar warm eyes of Nino.

“You okay?” he asks, laying his hand on top of the comic. “You haven’t read this since before we met.”

Alya nods. “Last night was bad,” she says.

Nino nods. “Yeah,” he responds. “Yeah it was.”

He doesn’t say anything else.

Alya is rarely the most perceptive person—more passionate than perceptive, honestly, though not for lack of trying (she tries really hard, it’s just… hard to tell what other people aren’t saying sometimes)—but she cares, and Nino is at school forty minutes before he’s usually awake and he seems unusually tense. She closes her comic. “Babe?”

Nino sighs, looking down as he picks at a hangnail on his thumb. “I can’t keep watching you die, Als.”

Alya’s heart judders. “You’re not okay, then.”

He shakes his head. “I mean Rena Rouge is one thing. I know you can protect yourself, and Ladybug is right there if things go bad. But every time I see you chase after a giant baby with no protection but that sexy plaid shirt...”

“I have a responsibility, Nino!” she says.

“I know,” Nino says quietly. “I can’t really ask you to stop, either.”

Alya swallows. “Are you... breaking up with me?”

Nino looks at her for a moment, then snorts. “Hell no.” He reaches up to Alya’s cheek, brushing her hair away from her ear. “You ain’t getting away from me that easy, girl.”

Alya relaxes, leaning into his palm. “Attaboy,” she says.

Nino grimaces. “I might… need a day or two to process, though.” He swallows. “I’m sorry.”

Alya’s heart falls. “You’re sure.” It’s not a question—Nino doesn’t make decisions half-cocked the way she does. He thinks, and considers, and once his choice is made, he sticks to it. That surety—that stability—is one of the reasons she loves him. Even if right now it’s hurting her.

“I’m sure,” he says. “Just… I need a few days after. You know.” He hangs his head. “Seeing you die again.”

Oh, God, Alya wants to slap him. And maybe a year ago she would have. But today-Alya is not last-year-Alya, and, instead, she just drops her head a little. “It was a bad one, wasn’t it,” she says.

*

Alya trudges out of class, dragging her feet. It’s been a difficult day, to say the least, and Marinette—bless her—may be trying to help, but there’s not all that much to do.

“We could go to my place and stuff ourselves with Beignets,” Marinette offers, with her characteristic hyperenergetic movement. “I know you love the Majestia movie?”

Alya shakes her head. “I relax a bit better when I move,” she says. She looks at the basketball hoops. “Can you stick around for…” She catches a hint of green out of the corner of her eye—a familiar shade, one that she’s seen quite a lot. She blinks. “For a few…” She turns her head, and there—staring down at her from the roof of the school—is Carapace. “Uh.”

Marinette follows her gaze. “What are you—”

Carapace’s head jerks as he seems to realize that he’s been spotted, and he leaps down out of sight.

“What is he doing?” Alya murmurs.

Marinette’s iron fingers wrap around her bicep. “Alya,” she hisses, “that’s not Carapace.”

“What do you mean?” Alya says, turning her head, just in time to catch a glimpse of Nino—as Nino, not as Carapace—walking out of the locker room on the opposite side of the school from where Carapace disappeared. It’s too soon, too fast—there’s no way he could’ve come around the school that quickly.

“Excuse me,” she says, bolting towards her boyfriend. She grabs his arm and yanks him away from Adrien.

“Babe... what?” he says, looking at her like she just grew a second head.

“I just saw Carapace on the roof,” she hisses.

His eyes widen behind his glasses.

*

They didn’t really discuss it, at least not verbally, but they both pretty easily came to the decision that whoever this is, stealing their identities is not something this person gets to get away with. They don’t even talk it through before they’ve agreed to chase this imposter down.

“You’re sure he went this way?” Nino asks as they charge off down the street toward where Alya had last seen the false Carapace.

“Yes, I’m—!” Alya starts to snap, before she catches herself and—stopping her headlong charge by pressing a palm into a nearby wall—breathes in. “Sorry, sorry.” She glances at him. “Pretty sure, yeah.”

“God, I wish I had my shield,” Nino mutters. He grabs her hand and meets her eyes with his characteristic Nino Soft Look. “If this ends up being a bad one, please take cover?”

Alya grimaces. “The Akuma is using your face, Babe,” she says.

“Please.” His voice is calm and soft.

Alya thinks about how distraught he was this morning, how little she wants to do that to him again. “I’ll—I’ll try.”

Nino smiles. “That’s really all I can ask, isn’t it.”

Alya smiles, tugging him along. “You knew I was crazy when I asked you out,” she says, building carefully building back up to a run.

Nino snorts, vaulting over a street barrier. “That I did.”

*

It takes barely a minute before they reach the spot where the false Carapace must’ve gone, leaving them looking down wide avenues packed with people—none of whom are wearing a green hood.

“We lost him,” Nino says, puffing.

“I mean,” Alya gasps, “duh.” She leans onto her knees. “He’s got—powers, and we—we have, what—about eight—months of parkour training?”

A familiar whizz-crack comes from above, as a spotted red figure drops down in front of them. “Alya!” Ladybug says, glancing confusedly at Nino. “Did you see where Carapace went?”

“Nope,” Alya says. She leans in toward Ladybug, carefully eyeing the other people who are watching the exchange. “Definitely an Akuma, then?” she whispers, quietly enough that nobody else is alarmed.

“Maybe?” Ladybug whispers back. “Or a Sentimonster, or. Well. One other thing.”

Alya’s eyebrows narrow. “What other thing?”

Ladybug shakes her head. “Probably not important,” she says. She straightens and backs away, whipping her yo-yo in rapid circles. “Everyone stay calm and quietly evacuate the area,” she says in a clear, authoritative voice. “Calmly, please! Everything is under control.”

There’s a growing undercurrent of panic in the crowd at Ladybug’s words, but there’s a force behind her last sentence, a reassurance, that passes calm through the crowd like a ripple. Much to Alya’s surprise, there’s no stampede, no rush to flee. Everyone actually listens, beginning to carefully file away, emptying out the street.

“Any chance we could get our Miraculi?” Nino asks. “I don’t like this.”

Ladybug glances over her shoulder at him. “Not until Chat gets here,” she says. “I can’t just leave the Akuma without anyone containing it.”

A black blur drops out of the sky, rolling and springing to his feet next to Ladybug. “Good thing I’m here, then!” Chat says, leaning his elbow onto her shoulder.

Ladybug rolls her eyes. “Always so dramatic,” she says, turning to her partner. “Can you hold down the fort for a few while I grab backup?”

Chat eyes Alya and Nino. “So long as the Ladyblogger doesn’t get herself killed, yes.”

*

There’s still been no sighting of the fake Carapace by the time Ladybug returns carrying the bracelet and the necklace. Chat has been running across the rooftops, spying into alleyways, but hasn’t seen scale nor shell of him.

“Alya Césaire and Nino Lahiffe,” Ladybug intones, holding the two Miraculi aloft. “I’m trusting you with the Miraculous of the Fox and Turtle.” She purses her lip. “I’m going to ask you to switch, though. I don’t want us mixing up our Carapi.”

Alya grimaces, but Nino just nods. “Makes sense,” he says, taking the necklace and draping it around his neck. It sparks, and a tiny fox spirals out from it. “Trixx, Let’s Pounce!” Nino calls.

He flashes orange, sparks running across his whole body, and suddenly Nino is gone, replaced by an orange-clad superhero. He still has Carapace’s hood, peaked down over his forehead, with ears poking through holes in the top. Leggings are tucked into combat boots, black gloves cuffed over white-and-orange sleeves. He looks down at his arms, twisting his hands to look at both sides. “Hmm,” he says. “Pretty cool.”

“What should we call you?” Ladybug says.

Nino meets Alya’s eyes. “What about… Reynard?” he says.

“Reynard it is,” Ladybug says. She turns to Alya, handing her the jade bracelet. “You ready?”

“Always,” Alya says, sliding the bracelet onto her wrist. “Wayzz, Shell On!”

She feels her hair lift into a high ponytail as her glasses meld to her face into a domino mask. Unlike the Rena Rouge transformation, which slims her down, she feels herself bulking up. Armor plates slam into place around her chest, shoulders, and thighs. Everything feels heavier, but also stronger, more stable.

Reynard whistles. “Damn, babe,” he says. “Green looks good on you.”

Tortue Verte grins. “You expected anything else?” she ask. She absently lifts the shield. “Damn, this thing is heavy,” she says, looking at Reynard. “How do you even lift it?”

“Practice,” Reynard says, twirling the flute. “This is really light!”

“It’s basically bamboo,” Tortue replies, slinging the shield onto her back. “You ready?”

Reynard sheathes the flute on his own back. “Let’s take this guy down.”

*

Tortue Verte’s super jump is a lot like Rena Rouge’s—though, given the balance between her being slightly stronger with the Turtle and also being heavier, it’s a little weird to balance. She gets more distance but less height with each jump, and since her brain keeps expecting Rena’s jump arc, she keeps misjudging where she’s landing.

She lands hard on the side of her foot, twisting her ankle and stumbling shoulder-first into a chimney with a yelp. Her ankle is struck by stabbing pain, and she immediately collapses onto her side. She lies there on the roof, huffing, feeling desperate and foolish. This is not what she was hoping for.

She carefully drags herself up the chimney into a sitting position, carefully pulling the shield from her back and dialing Reynard.

“Hey babe,” he says, his orange-hooded face filling the screen. “You good?”

She shakes her head. “Landed bad,” she says. “I think I twisted my ankle.”

Reynard’s eyes widen behind his goggles. “Where are you?” he says. “I’ll be there in a—”

“Babe!” she interrupts. “Akuma. I’ll be fine up here.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “I’m sure,” she says. “Give that fake hell.” She hangs up, then collapses backward against the chimney with a gasp.

“Sorry I didn’t catch you,” a voice—a familiar one, but one she can’t quite place—says from behind her. “I think you’d have broken a few of my bones.”

She whips her head around to see a red-haired woman dressed in blue and white, bunny ears sprouting from her head, leaning on an umbrella as if it were a cane. Tortue tries to leap to her feet, shield up, but pain spikes through her ankle the second her foot meets shingle. “Augh!”

The woman immediately drops the umbrella, and her arms are around Tortue’s body. “Careful,” she says. “Don’t want to put too much weight on that.”

“Don’t touch me,” Tortue growls.

The woman laughs. “Relax, Foxy. I’m not an Akuma.”

Tortue blinks. Foxy? She’s wearing the Turtle, not the Fox, which means… “You—you know who I am.”

The woman smirks and throws up a peace sign. “The name’s Bunnyx,” she says. “Wielder of the Miraculous of Time, from ten years in the future.”

“Prove it,” Tortue says. “What’s Ladybug’s real name?”

Bunnyx snorts. “You’re not getting it that easily… Alya,” she says. “Also, Nino’s sort of downplaying how worried about you he is. You really should start being more careful before you give him a heart attack.”

Tortue stares at Bunnyx, then blinks. “...Okay, you’re for real,” she says. “What are you doing here? Are you warning us about something?”

Bunnyx shakes her head. “I brought Carapace and Rena back from my time for one reason,” she says. “Future Hawkmoth has discovered Ladybug’s identity, which has put her daughter in danger.”

“Daughter?” Tortue says.

Bunnyx continues as if she hasn’t heard. “Ladybug asked me to bring her back in time to protect her from Future Hawkmoth, but I needed backup just in case she followed us. You and your boyfriend were the obvious choice.”

“Where is she?” Tortue says, trying to work her way to her feet. She hisses as pain lances through her ankle again.

“Jeez, stay down, Tortue!” Bunnyx says, carefully easing her back into a sitting position. “You need to be careful. We need you for this one.”

“Don’t bother,” says a voice that sounds like Tortue’s own as an older, taller Rena Rouge lands in a crouch. “I had absolutely no self-preservation at that age.”

Carapace lands next to her, softer, gentler. “You nearly killed me like eight times,” he says, cradling a baby in his arms. He looks down at Tortue. “Hey, babe.”

Rena rolls her eyes, gently punching Carapace’s shoulder. “Don’t flirt with young me, you butt,” she says.

Tortue stares at the baby, wide-eyed. “Is that…” she murmurs.

Rena nods. “Our god-daughter,” she says.

Carapace smiles. “Do you want to hold her?”

*

“She’s… mine?” Ladybug says, gazing down into her daughter’s emerald-green eyes.

The baby laughs, reaching up toward her mother’s face and pressing her chubby palm into Ladybug’s cheek.

“Who’s the father?” Chat says to Bunnyx, hope shining in his eyes. (Tortue admits to herself that she’s just as interested in finding out.)

Bunnyx smirks. “Oh, Kitty Noir, you know I can’t tell you.”

Chat looks crestfallen. “Not even a hint?”

“She’s so small,” Ladybug whispers, pointing a finger at her daughter’s face. The baby laughs again, gripping her mother’s finger in between her hands.

“You said she’s my—our god-daughter?” Tortue says.

Rena laughs. “My boyfriend has spent more time pampering this little terror than he has me lately,” she says. She turns and pokes Reynard in the chest. “You’ve got some growing to do, babe.”

Carapace rolls his eyes. “Please don’t flirt with the babies, babe,” he says with a smirk.

The laughter that follows seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, and Tortue looks around, unsettled.

“...Wasn’t that funny,” Carapace mutters.

Bunnyx walks toward the edge of the roof, looking down. “Missing the point again, Shelly?” she says, pointing down. “It’s starting.”

“What is?” Chat says.

“ATTENTION PARIS!” a booming, feminine voice echoes deeply through the sky as if it’s rebounding off the very atmosphere, followed by a sudden eruption of Wagnerian opera. “YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED TO JOIN THE RANKS OF ODIN’S MIGHTY WARRIORS IN VALHALLA!”

“Ah,” Chat says, nodding. “Akuma time.”

“Bad one,” Bunnyx agrees, nodding. “We picked today for a reason. Two illusionists needed at minimum.”

Tortue gingerly attempts to stand, only for the pain in her ankle to spike like a jagged piece of bone. “Ah!” she yelps, collapsing backward.

Immediately, two sets of hands are holding her up—Reynard’s and Carapace’s. “You okay?” Reynard says, his eyes soft and concerned.

Carapace swallows. “I’m sorry, babe, but I—” He glances at Rena. “We are going to need you to stay out of this fight. You’re injured.”

“I can help!” Tortue protests.

Carapace shakes his head. “I know how much it means to you to be out there with us, but A—um, sweetie, I need you alive, okay?” He smiles, glancing back at Ladybug. “Besides, um. Someone needs to keep the baby safe.”

Reynard raises an eyebrow. “You are a braver man than I,” he says.

Rena laughs. “Oh, it’s just ‘cause she’s a baby,” she says. “He knows I’d rip his throat out if he tried that.”

“You are also much less suicidally reckless than she is,” Carapace shoots back.

Rena shrugs. “Fair point.”

Ladybug approaches, carefully laying the baby into Tortue’s arms with a look of regret. “Stay safe, okay?” she says. She looks down and presses a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “And keep her safe.”

Tortue swallows, overwhelmed by the—the everything. The trust Ladybug is showing her, the softness of the moment, the sadness in the child’s eyes as her mother goes back off to battle… it’s too much.

“I’ll do my best,” she croaks, trying not to tear up.

*

Carapace had carried her away from the battle. Vilekyrie controlled the sky, making it difficult to keep the baby out of her reach, but he’d found her a little out-of-the-way cubbyhole that nobody would come looking in during the attack. Or, well. Not a cubbyhole, really. More of a luxury suite at the Hotel Gran Paris.

“How did you know nobody would be here?” Tortue had asked him.

He’d only smiled in reply. “Spoilers,” he’d said. “Love you forever, but I gotta get back there.”

“Good luck!”

Now, about forty minutes into the battle, she can hear the clash of swords, the clanking of armor, the screaming of horses as they flew past her shaded window. She’d looked outside earlier, caught a glimpse of the copies of Vilekyrie flashing across the sky—copies of her that kept growing by the moment—and the marching of ghostly Viking soldiers on the ground: the Einherjar she’d selected from Paris’ citizens, transformed into undying warrior spirits. It doesn’t seem to be going well, but then, she doesn’t really have the best vantage point.

The baby is fussy, fussier than she was when Ladybug was around—Tortue can only guess that it’s because she wants her mother. The room has been stocked with formula and fresh diapers, and, thanks to her experience with the twins, Tortue has plenty of experience with taking care of a baby, but the girl just won’t settle down.

There’s a quiet footfall on the balcony—not a Vilekyrie, and the Einherjar can’t seem to climb. Tortue turns around to see the balcony door creek open, followed by a pair of large orange ears. “Hey. Mini-me,” Rena says. “You hanging in there?”

Tortue smiles, rocking the baby gently in her arms. “You didn’t tell me her name,” she says. “Feel weird just calling her ‘baby’.”

Rena ducks around the door, shutting it behind her, then bends down, cooing over the child’s delighted face. “HellooOOOooo!” She tickles the baby’s nose with her finger, and the girl laughs.

Rena looks back up at Tortue with a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” she says. “No names. Spoilers.”

Tortue rolls her eyes. “Am I always this aggravating?”

Rena gently wraps her arms underneath the baby’s back, lifting her from Tortue’s arms. “Pretty much!” She turns back to the baby and blows a raspberry.

“What’s up?” Tortue says. “Why aren’t you with the others?” As if to punctuate her point, an explosion sounds in the distance, and Tortue raises an eyebrow.

“Needed to talk to you,” Rena says, sitting down on the plush velvet bedspread across from her. “Also, I told them you were planning on running into the combat zone, so…”

“I was not!” Tortue yelps, leaping from her desk chair. The baby immediately squeals in distress.

Rena grins. “I know,” she says, gently tickling the child’s nose. “But they believed me when I said it, and by the time they figure it out…”

Tortue sighs. Gods, her older self is annoying. “What do you want, Alya?”

The animation in Rena’s face slackens, and she looks down at her own stomach. “I… want to show you something.” Keeping one hand under the baby, she reaches behind her and unslings the flute, opening the space within. “Take a look.”

Tortue reaches inside the extradimensional storage space inside Rena’s weapon, confused—and then her fingers close around something small, round, and metal, and she understands. “You’re going to propose,” she says, fishing the ring out of the flute. She stares at it, entranced.

“Yep,” Rena agrees with a nod, gently bouncing the baby. “Bought the ring last week.”

Tortue doesn’t even know what to say in this situation. Is it… weird to congratulate herself? Some situations, there aren’t just good responses for.

Rena sees her face and laughs. “Don’t look so shocked, Mini-me,” she says. She carefully rocks Ladybug’s baby, staring into her green eyes. “I mean, you always knew we were gonna do this eventually.”

“Yeah, but… kinda young?” Tortue says, handing the ring back to Rena.

“Ladybug’s younger.” Rena absently places the ring back inside her flute, still bouncing the baby in her other arm. “About a year younger than you, actually.”

Tortue blinks. She’s—well, she figured out a while back that Ladybug wasn’t actually 5,000 years old, but she’d always assumed she was, maybe, Anansi’s age? The thought that Ladybug is younger than she is... “Yikes.”

“Yikes is right,” Rena says. “And she has anxiety. So every time you go running face-first into danger like you’re never gonna die…”

“Is this a lecture?” Tortue says.

“Little bit,” Rena responds.

Oh, great. The last thing she needs right now is a lecture from herself of all people.

Rena rolls her eyes. “Listen, Kit, sometimes—sometimes Ladybug isn’t gonna be there. She doesn’t always show up, you know.”

Tortue narrows her eyebrows. “Yes she does?” That’s, like, the big consistency. Aside from that one time where the Akuma and the Sentimonster were in different cities, Ladybug has shown up for every single Akuma battle.

Rena shakes her head. “She has a life, Alya. And, well, sometimes she needs Chat to cover for her.” She looks toward the curtained window, toward the sounds of the battle still filtering in from outside. “And sometimes, Chat and Viperion get taken out early, and the only person who can use the Ladybug is you.”

A chill runs down Tortue’s entire body. The responsibility of using the Ladybug Miraculous—it’s terrifying. It hadn’t even occurred to her that it might pass down to her, that—oh, no. This is… this is what Ladybug feels all the time, isn’t it?

“Listen, however you feel about Nino now?” Rena says. “It’s nothing compared to what it’s going to be. He and I, we’d do anything for each other.” She breathes in, stroking the baby’s head. “Which means that, well, you and I need to stay alive.”

“The Miraculous Cure—”

Rena shakes her head. “It’s good, but it’s not… 100% reliable. Sometimes, Ladybug can’t be there.”

Tortue’s mouth opens, closes. Opens again. “Oh.”

Rena stands and places a hand on her younger self’s shoulder. “Alya, someday, you’re gonna get hurt. You’re gonna get hurt in a way that Ladybug can’t fix, and you’re going to wonder if you even deserve this Miraculous. If you even deserve Nino.” She looks down at the baby with naked fondness in her eyes. “I’m telling you now—you deserve way more than you realize. But if you want to make it to see our wedding...” She trails off.

Tortue waits for her to finish, but Rena doesn’t say anything else. The implications in Rena’s words are disconcerting, and Tortue asks the question that’s burning inside her chest. “Am I going to die?”

“Of course you are,” Rena replies. “You’re going to die a lot. But some of them are going to be harder to come back from, and Alya.” Rena’s eyes bore into hers. “You need to come back. Okay?”

“Okay,” Tortue whispers.

“Miraculous LADYBUG!” Ladybug calls from outside, and pink insects swarm across the room. There’s a brief moment of pain as Tortue’s ankle snaps back into place, immediately replaced by cool relief as the pressure vanishes.

Rena puts a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell Reynard, okay?” she says. “About the ring.”

Tortue mimes zipping her lip.

Rena nods. “Thanks,” she says. “Oh, and one more thing—you’re also gonna need to be more careful if you want to get into a good journalism school. Nobody wants to be the professor that killed the Ladyblogger.”

Tortue blinks. She… hadn’t even thought of that. “That makes sense, I think?” she says.

The balcony door creaks open and Carapace peeks through. “Hey, guys,” he says. “How’s everything going in here?”

“Really great!” Tortue says. She eyes her older self. Rena is fidgeting, looking away from her boyfriend’s face, and Tortue realizes—if she doesn’t make the push, Rena isn’t going to do it. “I think Rena has something to tell you.”

Rena glares at Tortue. “Betrayal!” she hisses.

Tortue laughs. “You’ll thank me later.”

Carapace glanced between them, confusion written across his face. “Um, what’s going on?”

Rena takes a deep breath, then carefully hands the baby to Tortue. “Hold her for a moment?”

“Of course.”

Rena looks at her boyfriend, then drops to one knee, fishing the ring out of her flute. “Nino Lahiffe. Will—will you, um…”

Carapace gasps and covers his mouth with both hands, his eyes shining wetly. “Alya?” he whispers.

Both of them sit in shocked silence, staring at each other, frozen, and after a moment, Tortue gets fed up. “Babe,” she says. “Say yes.”

Carapace glances at her, then back and his girlfriend... then lifts his fiancée bodily into the air in a crushing, spinning hug.

“Yes, yes, yes!” he crows in delight.

*

The portal closes, leaving just the four of them behind.

Ladybug huffs in relief. “You know, I love Bunnyx, but… every time I see her, it’s a brand new disaster.”

Chat looks at her in confusion. “Every? Isn’t this only the second time?”

Reynard sidles up to Tortue Verte. “So, how was meeting your future self?” he says, as Ladybug and Chat quietly discuss something else off to the side. “Mine was a lot more confident than I expected.”

Tortue snorts. “Kind of a butt,” she says. “But then again, that’s not much of a surprise, is it.”

Reynard coughs. “I invoke my right to not incriminate myself,” he says.

Tortue smacks his shoulder. “You’re such a dork.”

Reynard smiles. “Your dork.” He looks at where the portal vanished. “For quite a while, apparently.” He turns back to Tortue. “She tell you anything interesting?”

Tortue smiles, thinking about the proposal, about how happy she and her Nino were. About all the advice her future self gave. She has a lot of work to do.

“Sorry, babe,” she says. “Spoilers.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #djwifi #original content #my fic #Alya cesaire #Nino lahiffe #ninalya #Rena rouge #carapace #turtle!alya #fox!nino #bunnyx #bunnix #mlsecretsanta 2020 #mlsecretsanta2k20 #emma agreste

[fandom-blackhole]

19. Summer Camp AU

73. Stranded Due to Inclement Weather

I haven't seen a summer camp AU and now I'm OBSESSED WITH THE CONCEPT

Just gonna preface this with the fact that I am currently working as an on campus RA and I kind of got the idea from that....

19. Summer Camp AU

 73. Stranded Due to Inclement Weather 

Okay, so I wanna start this off in kind of a cute way. So when you were in highschool, there was the summer camp that you would go to every year. At the summer camp you had fun, but you had trouble with making friends, always tending to stick to the back of the group, not really wanting to deal with the drama floating around and the over all rowdy-ness of the kids your age. There at the back of the group was always another boy, who kept to himself, and never really interacted with people. It took you your second summer there, to finally introduce yourself to him, and after that you and Din Djarin became close friends. The two of you were practically glued together, never going anywhere without the other, unless it was time to go to your cabins at night. Din was sweet and kind to you, and over the years you found yourself crushing on the boy, but not doing anything because you didn't want to loose him as a friend. Then, your last day, or your last summer at the camp, Din grabbed your hand and placed his necklace he was always wearing in your hand, the one with the 'mudhorn signet' as he had called it, saying, "I...I....I want you to have this, to, um, well so you don't forget about me...." You flipped out and looked at him sad and panicking saying that you didn't have anything for him in return. He had only replied saying he didn't need anything to remember you, but last minute, still panicking and thinking that this might be the last time you see him, you reached up and pulled him down into a kiss. It was short and sweet and you didn't want to pull away but you had too. After that day, you wore his necklaces religiously, everyday, and swore you would see him again. But the days, months, years passed and before you knew it you were fully an adult. Stressed, you take a vacation from your pointless job to go and visit your home town, and your parents. One morning while you were there your dad made an off hand comment about your old summer camp needing chaperones and helpers, and you immediately jumped at the chance, sending in your application. A week letter you received a letter saying that you got the job and that you needed to come to the camp sight next week to help set up for the summer. Time passed quickly, and before you knew it, you were walking along the old summer camp feeling nostalgic and happy. The place looked the exact same, the main building/cafeteria was still in the middle of the property, surrounded by several cabins, in the back there was a volleyball pit and some rope swings, and behind those was the glittering deep blue lake. Smiling while reminiscing on old times, you walked into the main building. Inside, you found a man with his back to you talking to another woman. As you got closer you couldn't take your eyes off the man, he had an air of familiarity about him, his wide shoulders, narrow waist (and nice ass, not that you were looking at it....), and dark and unruly curl hair. When you got up next to him, he had finished speaking with the woman and you softly cleared your throat saying, "Excuse, this is my first year working here, could you point me to what I need to be doing?" Then the man was turning around, and the first thing you noticed was his cute and patchy facial hair as well as his arms you previously had thought were crossed were holding a young toddler. When you finally looked up to meet the man's eyes you were immediately thrown into the past, seeing the rich deep brown that held nothing but kindness, and at the same time the two of you said eachother's names. You said it more surprised, while Din whispered your name shocked and with a touch of disbelief. Unconsciously you reached up for the necklace that he had given to you years before, while saying, "Maker Din, i swear you have grown a whole other foot since I seen you last." Sheepishly, with a light dusting of pink falling across his cheeks, Din said, "Well..you..you have grown so much prettier..." Then immediately after his eyes widened and he rushed out, "Wait no, I, uh, didn't mean it like that, I just meant..." You just

giggled at him and said, "I see you are still great with words Din." The rest of the day passed quickly, the two of you setting up and talking about whats happened since you last saw the other. You found out that Din had been working at the camp since he was old enough to apply, and to the point that he was the head of the camp, practically running the place by himself, besides the owner. And when he explained that the young toddler, whose name is Grogu, he had adopted, he wasn't his biologically, never having been in a long committed relationship, well you were more relieved than you should have been. After the kids showed up and things picked up for the summer, the two of you worked as pretty much the perfect team. Din was good with the kids, always coming up with and doing activities that had all the kids joining in and having fun. While you were great with talking with the kids, and sorting through any problems or teenage drama. You often found Grogu following you around with smiles, as he came to you for attention when he felt his father wasn't giving him enough, by his little standards. Whenever your were playing with or spoiling the little child, you tended to feel like someone was watching you but you often brushed it off. All together the summer passed with little problem, but lots of tension that slowly built over over time between you and Din. The last day was spent in pretty much chaos as throughout the day parents came and picked up their kids, and by the time it was getting dark the last kid was leaving and you were exhausted and just ready to sleep. The next day was spent cleaning up the buildings and most of the staff leaving, until it was only you, Din, and Grogu. Grogu had been getting fussy as Din was finishing putting away some heavier boxes, so you had taken the child and put him down for a nap. Shortly after the child fell asleep, Din sneaked into the staff cabin you both had been staying at, whispering, "We should be heading out, that large thunderstorm is rolling in faster than what was predicted. Do you need help carr-" Mid sentence Din stopped talking, and when you looked up to meet his eyes, you saw him reach forward brushing his thumb of the necklace that was no longer tucked into your shirt. You had been hiding it the entire summer, not brave enough to bring up that final day together years ago. But now Din softly brushed his thumb back and forth over the necklace, before whispering, "You actually kept it?" "Of course I did, I have worn it everyday since." Then he met your eyes, and looked down at your lips for a second, before leaning in slowly so you could pull away if you wanted, then his lips crashed with your own and you were tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling you closer. After that one thing led to another, and you both had ended up sleeping together, going at it multiple times before completely falling asleep tangled together for the night. After an hour of peaceful sleeping you both were jolted awake by the a loud crack of thunder. Looking at eachother you both said, "Shit" before jumping apart and scrambling to get dressed. In your little tryst, the two of you had completely forgotten about the storm. And now, Din was running to get his crying son, as you peaked out the window. The storm outside was raging so hard that you couldn't even see the next cabin over, the wind was howling and you could hear branches snapping and trees growing from the amount of wind. Turning around you looked at Din when he entered the room and said, "We aren't leaving anytime soon. If I remember correctly this story is supposed to last for a day or so. So we better hunker down?" Din sighed and nodded, passing Grogu to you and saying that he was going to go whip something up for dinner. The weather just progressively continued to get worse and worse, at one point the small cabin lost power and Din went around lighting any candles he could find, and dragging every blanket and pillow into the living area so you all could sleep together. By the time the frightened child finally fell asleep again, you

and Din were all but exhausted and worried. But you had to admit that falling asleep in his arms right there in the middle of that living room was something you wanted to happen more often, if not forever.

Send me an AU or two??

#just wanna say that i did write this once and tumblr decided to delete it instead of saving it to my drafts #love that #this is probably all over the place #and a little too hallmark-y #but oh well enjoy #summer camp au #stranded due to inclement weather au #din djarin x reader #din x reader

[kozukenkitten]

Okay, I just had a thought about Incel!Kenma.

So I’ve seen a lot of Incel!Kenma from a few different blogs (@gone-daddy-gone), and I remember reading someone’s thoughts on the Reader turning the situation around on him, using him for their pleasure while he just lets it happen while being conflicted/confused about what’s happening, and honestly, it was really inspiring? So here we go:

Tags: Incel!Kenma, sub!Kenma, rape, a tiny bit of skeezy dom!Kenma, degradation, dirty talk, overstimulation, a bit of a parental authority kink and Stockholm syndrome if you squint, toxic relationship, aftercare, etc.

Kenma gripped your hips tightly, rutting into the warm, wet hole between your thighs. “God, I didn’t even have to try to get you ready for this, did I?” He laughed breathily, scoffing at your needy, whines. “What kind of a slut are you, getting off on this? You’re loving it. Can you even call it rape anymore, you little whore?”

You whimpered as he came inside you just moments before you would have reached your peak. “Fuck. Take my cum like a good bitch.” He hissed, still rutting into you to make sure you took every last drop before collapsing on top of you.

There was your opening, you thought hazily. You could get him off of you and get the fuck out of here. But first… You needed to get some payback of your own. You’d be damned if you let him just use you and get away with it without anything in return.

You used Kenma’s small size to your advantage, easily rolling him off of you despite his weak protests in his spent and sensitive state. “Don’t worry, Kenma, we’re not done yet.” You murmured, leaning over him to whisper in his ear as you stroked him back to hardness. “It’s my turn now.”

Kenma’s drooping eyes shot open, wide with surprise at your words and actions. A moment later, he hissed, feeling your soft hole slowly sinking down onto his cock with a couple of deliberate clenches on your part bringing him back to awareness. “What do you think you’re-” 

You cut him off, grinding your hips against his and reveling in his conflicted expression and the weak groan you drew from his throat. “Hush now, Kenma. Fair is fair. Now, I’m going to use you, just like you used me, until I’m done with you. Got it?”  

Kenma couldn’t even bring himself to speak properly as you rode him, angling your hips to hit that one perfect spot inside of you. He felt so good, so sensitive, and you felt so tight, so warm, so soft around his cock… Fuck, he couldn’t handle the intense friction on his boner for much longer, or he was going to burst again.

Noticing that Kenma was nearing his orgasm, you halted your hips, laughing a bit as Kenma keened, mourning the sudden loss of the overwhelming pleasure he was about to experience. And yet, he felt more compelled to listen and obey you as your lilting voice made your demands. “What, baby? Did you think I was going to let you come after your blatant disregard for me?” Your smile was sickly sweet as you looked down on him, petting his cheek mockingly. “No, baby, not a chance. You want to come, you’re going to have to earn that privilege back by making me come first.”

As he settled down again, you rolled your hips against him once more, rewarding him with another spark of pleasure. Your own pent up sexual frustration was nearly at its peak, as you teetered on the edge of coming. “Mm… Ready to see what it feels like to have someone come around your cock as you come, baby? You’ll never want to go back to that bullshit you tried to call a fuck before, not after this.”

You rocked your hips harder and faster on Kenma’s hard dick, tipping yourself over the edge into a powerful orgasm with a scream.

You smirked at the man laying beneath you, writhing in agony as he sat on the edge of coming himself. You couldn’t help yourself from making a snide comment as you came down from your high. “So then, baby, do you want to keep being a greedy, bratty little boy who only pleases himself, or do you want to be a good boy who earns extra pleasure by pleasing his partner, too? Only good boys get to come.”

Kenma stared up at you with wide, glistening eyes, feeling conflicted. On one hand, he couldn’t stand women. He couldn’t stand you. And yet… You had just wrung the best orgasm of his life from him, and you had done it all while you were in control of the situation. He couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t better to submit to your whims, if it got him more pleasure like this. He was hesitant to go along with it, but he couldn’t help craving it, too. And so, like a good little boy, he nodded up at you, whining softly. “I’ll be good, I promise. Just- Please, please?”

You smiled down on the pleading, whimpering man, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek and enjoying the soft blush that settled there in response to the subtle affection. “Okay baby, I’m holding you to it, though. You’ll be a good boy, or you won’t be coming again for a long, long time.”

With that promise made, and the not-so-subtle threat laid beneath it, you rode Kenma hard and fast, moaning and whispering sweet praises into his ear. “What a good boy, making me feel so good now. Come on, baby. You can do it. Come for me, my good boy.” Kenma came with a sweet keen, reaching up to pull you down so he could hold you closer to him as he rode out his orgasm.

You gently smoothed his hair from his face, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “See what being a good boy can get you, baby? Isn’t that so much better?” 

Kenma nodded weakly, worn out and sensitive. “Mhm… I’ll be good from now on, promise. Please, don’t leave me?” He made grabby hands at you as you shifted to get off the bed, not wanting you to pull away in his needy state.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m not going anywhere. Just going to clean myself up and grabbing a washcloth to clean you up, okay? Don’t want to fall asleep while we’re still sticky, right?” You pressed a kiss to his temple before walking to the bathroom for a moment to collect and wet a cloth. When you returned from the bathroom and began to pat him down gently, careful not to hurt his overstimulated dick too much as you cleaned the slick, sticky wetness from it, you addressed his earlier comment. “I know you’ll be a good boy for me, needy baby. You won’t like what happens if you aren’t.”

Once you were both all cleaned off, you grabbed the blanket that fell to the wayside off the bed and the tv remote, and pulled Kenma in for a cuddle. “Time to rest, baby boy. Come on, let’s watch this until we fall asleep.” You wrapped your arms around him, letting him be the little spoon as you put on a movie you’d both seen about a hundred times. You treated him kindly, showering him the affection you both needed after a difficult evening. You’d be damned if you ever treated him like he treated you, or if you ever let him treat you that way again (at least, not without a lot of planning and re-built trust and a long talk about what is and isn’t okay). 

#haikyuu smut #sorry not sorry #in which incel kenma is converted into a good baby boy #the power of good sex completely wrecks incel kenma #this isnt realistic i know #it's self indulgent smut dont @ me #in which reader plans to leave kenma but ends up being soft instead #incel kenma #kozume kenma #kenma kozume #smut

[the-edge-of-great]

this is for @jatpdaily‘s JATP Secret Santa 2020!! my giftee is @agentsofoakenshiield, and i present to you: a modern royalty AU in two parts (bc it kinda got long lol) hope you enjoy!! :)

summary:

Their countries could not have created a worse pair than Julie Molina, princess of Seneca, and Alexander Mercer, prince of Koray. Romantically, of course. Really, they're the best of friends, but there’s just some minor problems: Alex is gay, and Julie’s in love with someone else.

There's an event on Friday, Julie's last before she turns eighteen. Before everything changes—her bond with Alex, her relationship with Luke, her friend group altogether. She and Alex need to figure out a way to change their countries' agreement with their limited power.

With Luke and Reggie, obligated to attend the party by law—and moral support, of course—and Professional Party Crashers Flynn and Willie by their sides, they might just pull it off.

WEDNESDAY

JULIE

A greenhouse sits at the edge of the palace, shrouded in a mess of greenery and blooming wildflowers. It’s not far at all from the castle—actually, they can see the watchtowers from its own peak—but the barrier of trees looming over the forgotten building is a portal into another world, one of flourishing life beyond what they’re taught within the castle walls. The air is softer on the other side. Everything is quieter—she feels she can speak and actually be heard. When the gravel crunching beneath their shoes silences to soft thuds across the grass, a grin breaks free, and she runs.

Her shoes are off in seconds, kicked to the side as quick as she can. She misses the earth beneath her feet, soft blades of grass tickling between her toes. She’s been here enough to know where to step and what to hop over—besides, the glass shards shimmer in the sunlight anyway. Behind her is a yell, then a laugh, then they’re chasing after her, boots stomping in her haste, trying to reach the greenhouse first.

Reggie and Flynn rush past on either side, and once they reunite in front, Flynn leaps onto Reggie’s back. Reggie shouts, stumbling and regaining his balance all in two steps. Flynn leans forward, an arm stretched out, desperately trying to brush the edge of the door to claim victory.

Julie never sees who actually makes it because arms hook around her waist, hugging her close to someone who, quite literally, sweeps her off her feet. She leans into him, head resting on his shoulder as she laughs out loud. He spins her once before putting her down, chuckling in her ear, leaving a trail of kisses across her cheek. Once she’s on her feet, she hugs him. He’s a difficult person to wrap her arms around with the armor and all, but she makes it work—especially because in an hour, she’s going to have every layer stripped away until it’s just him: regular Luke. Her Luke.

The last of their group—the reason they’ve even reunited in the first place—are slow to arrive, valuing their time in every step, every lingering gaze and smile. The corners of Julie’s mouth curl for them: Willie is always his happiest when he’s with Alex. Even more so when they can come out here, away from the world and Alex’s impending reality inching closer each day. He and Julie have agreed: they won’t talk about it unless their friends bring it up first. And even then, maybe not.

Julie takes Luke’s hand in hers and tugs him inside. It’s kind of funny how willingly he follows her, he and Reggie immediately abandoning their jobs for some friends and a building. But they’re leaving Alex with Willie, and that’s possibly the safest place in the world.

The greenhouse doesn’t have a known story, just that it’s theirs and theirs alone. It’s overgrown with thorns they admire from afar and vines curling around the spiral staircase in the center of the room. There are steps missing in places and others threatening to fall away with one wrong move. Luke and Reggie, the literal guards of their group, always watch with bated breath and tense shoulders, swearing quietly when the staircase creaks and groans under their weight. Julie and Flynn think the danger makes it more exciting.

Flynn’s already on it, sitting halfway up with her legs dangling over the side. Reggie’s beneath her, kicking away broken glass as he tries to catch a frog leaping across the floor. Julie brushes dirt off of a counter before hopping on it, and as soon as she’s seated, Luke is there, pulling her into that kiss she’s been craving since they arrived.

“Are you guys going to the dance on Friday?” Flynn asks Reggie, curling a hand around the rail as she leans back to look down at him.

“Probably.” Reggie pauses near the back wall, rocking on his heels, eyeing the brown frog resting innocently on a pile of leaves. “If we’re invited.”

“Why wouldn’t we be invited?” Luke asks, climbing on the table next to Julie. “Seneca’s going.”

Julie chuckles. “Of course we’re going. Everyone loves Seneca.”

He smirks. “Yeah,” he says, already going in for another kiss, “who can blame them?”

“Are you guys talking about the event on Friday?” Alex asks, shutting the door behind Willie. “We’re going.”

Reggie cheers. Luke corrects him quickly, “We’re going to be working, Reg.” He throws a look at Alex. “No fun for us.”

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not the one who signed up to be palace guards.”

“I don’t remember signing up either?” Reggie says. “I think we just hung out with you so much that they gave us swords eventually.” He lunges for the frog, arms outstretched, hands ready to grab, and then it leaps just out of reach. He catches himself on the wall, muttering a “Damn it” under his breath.

Alex laughs. Luke shakes his head. “That’s not how it happened,” he mumbles, sharing an amused look with Alex.

“Sounds kind of legit for you three,” Julie teases.

“I think it’d sound more believable if they took the swords themselves,” Alex argues.

Julei grins. “Maybe we should send that to the tabloids. Get them talking about something else.”

Alex breathes a laugh, giving her a look as he passes, transferring silent messages that only she could understand. Her smile falters only a little. They don’t talk about it.

“So, back to the dance,” Flynn says, kicking her feet.

“Is, um…” Reggie leans against the staircase, gaze jumping between his friends. “Is something going to happen at this one?”

Alex pauses. Julie frowns. “What do you mean?” she asks.

Flynn’s shoulders slump. “This is your last event before you turn eighteen, Jules.”

Oh right, Eighteen is a big deal in their world. Eighteen means permission granted to thrust her headfirst into the political world of the monarchy. Eighteen means the beginning of preparations for Twenty-One, when she’ll become queen. And, worst of all: Eighteen means marriage.

That Look passes between Alex and Julie again. Their smiles are gone; they have to talk about it.

“I don’t know of anything, but…” Alex wrings his hands. “Maybe.” “This is so unfair,” Flynn complains. “It’s the twenty-first century! Why are arranged marriages still a thing?”

“Because monarchies are still a thing, I guess,” Julie mutters.

Their countries could not have created a worse pair than Julie Molina, princess of Seneca, and Alexander Mercer, prince of Koray. Their relationship is strong—they really, truly care for each other a lot—but there’s just some minor problems: Alex is gay, and Julie’s in love with someone else. They’ve known about the arrangement since they were children of course, and their friends just a few years after, but their predicament has never felt as set in stone as this day and the next, the true Final Countdown.

“I don’t see why the countries have to be bound by marriage,” Luke says. “I mean, this—” He gestures around the group— “what we have right here, is stronger on its own than any arranged commitment between Seneca and Koray could be.”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to convince our parents of,” Julie says. “It’s more official than an agreement from when we were babies, though. It’s a whole peace treaty.”

Willie frowns. “Then make a new peace treaty.”

“We totally would…” Alex agrees. “If either of us had any actual power yet.”

“Can’t you just fake it until you’re crowned, and then change the rules?” Flynn asks.

Alex shakes his head. “We don’t know what effect breaking that kind of agreement would have on our countries.”

“Besides,” Julie adds softly, reaching for Luke’s hand, “faking it feels wrong. I don’t know if I could do it.”

“But hey, we still have a few days until anything happens,” Alex reminds. “We’ll figure something out. For now, can we just enjoy this time together?”

Although the air is stiffer now than before, their afternoon is still well spent in good spirits. They stay out there all day, only returning to the palace when the sun is setting over the horizon. Their stomachs are growling monsters by then. Somewhere along the way to the castle, they get separated. Purposely, and not very far apart—because if Alex’s parents catch him arriving without Luke and Reggie, there will surely be hell to pay—but enough for Luke to pull her around a corner and kiss her in the privacy of bushery and an apple tree.

“I wish you didn’t have to go already,” she whines, raking a hand through his hair.

“Pretty sure they’re not going to send us away without food.” He chuckles. “We’re the guests, remember? Well, Alex is.”

She smacks his chest. “You are too, dummy.”

“Not as important as the prince and princess.” Luke grins, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m kidding. Kind of. I’d much rather be a guard than a royal anyway. The only thing that sucks is we won’t be able to share a dance on Friday.”

Julie frowns. “Wait, but we’ve danced together at other parties?”

“Yeah, but from what I hear, this is going to be much bigger than usual. There are gonna be nobles from other countries, so security has to  be tighter.”

“Don’t you have to stay with Alex, though?”

“We have to have eyes on him, but we aren’t allowed to mingle with the important people unless it’s an emergency.” Julie makes a noise of protest, which makes him laugh and dip his head, kissing her softly again. “Don’t worry, I’ll make damn sure we see each other before the night’s over. Or, maybe even after…”

She chuckles. “You’re really looking for a death wish, huh?”

“You know I’d give my life for you, Julie Molina.”

“That’s so cheesy.”

Luke grins. “Only the best for you, babe.”

Somewhere nearby, they hear a side door creak open. A voice rings through the air. It’s the royal seamstress, Flynn’s mother, “Flynn, where are the others? Lunch has been ready for fifteen minutes.”

“They’re on their way!” Flynn replies. “It’s a nice day; I think they just wanted to take the long way.”

Bless Flynn’s mother; she knows what’s really going on with Julie and Alex—and likely suspects where their group has scattered off to—and she never says a word. Although she’s already regarded highly in the kingdom for her talent in design, when Julie is queen, she’s going to make sure Flynn and her family receive the best treatment possible. Maybe master bedrooms on the top floor of the castle, with balcony views of the countryside.

Before they depart, Luke leaves her with a final passionate kiss. It’s the kind that pins her to the tree truck, hand pressed into her back, fingers in each other’s hair, and when they pull away, they’re breathless, his forehead resting against hers, bodies as close as possible, savoring the touch because it’s going to be a long time before this can happen again.

“Hey,” Luke whispers, pulling away enough to find her eyes. “No matter what happens, I love you, okay?” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“We’re going to figure it out,” Julie promises. “Alex and I. We’re going to figure something out.”

Luke smiles gently, halfheartedly, like he doesn’t really believe her. That’s fair; she doesn’t know if she believes it, either.

“We’d better get back.”

When he turns to leave, she catches his arm, pulling him back. With a smile—a real one that stretches her cheeks and brightens her eyes—she tells him, “I love you, too.”

Grinning, Luke pulls her along. He curls an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

When they round the corner of the shrubbery and reunite with their friends in front of the side door, they’re apart. All of them, even Willie and Alex, who are emerging from the other side of the path. They share looks with each other then fall into formation: Alex and Julie lead into the castle, Luke and Reggie follow five steps behind, and Willie and Flynn carry the end. The last two split away from the group as soon as they cross the threshold. The others don’t even look back.

Like diving headfirst into ice water, they’re back in the real world. The greenhouse is miles away.

----

THURSDAY

LUKE

The thick, century old book slamming against a chipped wooden dining table echoes in the empty armory. A cloud of dust explodes from beneath and hits Luke and Reggie square in the face. Reggie sneezes. Luke sputters, waving a hand to clear it away in vain. They should be used to it by now—this isn’t the first time they’ve been given the Book Punishment.

“You’d think General Wilson would be more creative by now,” Reggie says, flipping open the book.

“So, you’d rather be doing four hours of PT instead?” Luke asks dryly. He yawns into his hand. They overslept—again. It doesn’t happen regularly, but enough that they know this Book of Laws well enough to pass a test (which they’ll have to do that evening, and if they fail, they will get four hours of physical training).

“Hell no. I’m just saying, where’s the flavor, huh? He’s been a war general for, like, ever. Why doesn’t he make us…” Reggie waves his hand aimlessly. “Survive in the forest for two days, like that one time before we officially became guards. Remember? We just chilled by the lake and ate those berries.” He sighs. “I miss that sometimes.” “Well, maybe we can go on a camping trip after we figure out what’s gonna happen with Alex and Julie.”

Reggie perks up at the idea; he’s blind to the eye roll Luke adds at the end of his statement.

“Wonder if there’s a chapter in here about changing the rules when you’re not actually in charge,” Luke mutters, chin in his hand as he flips through the pages.

“We could always overthrow the monarchy.”

“Overthrowing the monarchy means overthrowing Alex.”

“No way. He’d be on our side.”

Luke pauses on a page describing something along the lines of rules altered by a third party. “Reggie.”

“I mean, he’d have to take out his parents somehow,” Reggie continues thoughtfully. “Which probably wouldn’t be an issue. It’s Lainey we’d have to worry about.”

“Reggie.” Luke smacks his arm. “Look!” He points to the text, looking over with an eager grin. “Think we just cracked the monarchy, dude.”

While Luke gathers the book in his arms and heads for the door, Reggie calls, “You know Wilson’s gonna kill us if he finds out we skipped out.”

“A military general versus the prince of a whole country.” Luke laughs over his shoulder. “You do the math.”

Reggie shifts his weight from one foot to another, chewing on his lip. Then, he breaks into a jog. “Wait up,” he calls. “You know I’m bad at math!”

~**~**~**~

The issue with Alex’s guards being more like brothers to him—at least according to the king and queen—is that they often act like guests in the castle instead of trained personnel.

Neither knock before barging into the conference room. Luke has tunnel vision, clutching the book tight to his side, with newfound hope in his heart. Alex needs to see what they found; nothing else matters in that moment.

Nothing except… a heated conversation between Alex and his parents that they absolutely just interrupted. Quickly, Luke hides the book behind his back. He and Reggie come to an abrupt halt just inside the doorway, heels pressed together, bodies stiff with nerves. There are rules to be followed when it comes to approaching royals—they know them well, but when it’s just them and Alex, it’s easy to forget the divide.

“You two better have a damn good reason for interrupting us,” the king growls, looking over sharply.

Luke avoids his cold glare—he doesn’t like people beneath him making eye contact. “We—” Luke begins and ends immediately, realizing he doesn’t know what to say without sounding suspicious. Or like he’s planning treason.

“Does it matter?” Alex demands, moving between them. “The conversation was pretty much over anyways, wasn’t it?”

The king takes a dangerous step forward; only Alex shuffles back. Luke glances at Reggie. His fingers twitch at his sides. This is the one thing that truly irks them both about their job: they’ve sworn to protect the prince from any threats, but the king himself? They’re powerless.

“You are still a prince,” the king reminds in a low, careful tone. “You’re not in any position to begin calling shots.”

Alex flinches under the heavy clap on his shoulder as his father exits the room, with the queen following close behind. Nobody moves until the door clicks shut, and they’re engulfed in silence.

“Alex?” Luke calls.

Hesitantly, Alex turns to them. There’s a red tint to his face and a glossy layer over his eyes that goes unmentioned. He runs a hand through his hair, short breaths racking his body.

“I was just, um…” Alex squeezes his eyes shut. “We were talking about the marriage agreement again.”

Luke nods, handing the book over to Reggie. “Hey, why don’t you take a seat?” Fingers curling under Alex’s arm, Luke guides him to an upholstered bench by the window.

“I’m fine,” Alex declares quietly as he sits down.

“Okay.” Luke nods Reggie over. “Then, listen to this: I think we found a loophole around the law. According to this, the Next In Line himself can create or alter a law as long as a member of the royal family and the High Priest bears witness.”

“But it’s a peace treaty, not a law. Seneca’s leader has to have a hand in it as well.”

“Maybe there’s a way for Julie to get around it, too,” Reggie suggests hopefully. “We can figure it out next time we’re together, but dude! We have a chance here!”

Alex pulls at his sleeves. “I don’t know, guys. You know my parents; they won’t be convinced that easily.”

“Doesn’t matter if they’re convinced.” Luke chuckles. “Even they can’t argue with the High Priest.”

“You think the High Priest would go for it?”

Reggie shrugs. “Worth a shot, man.”

Sighing deeply, Alex agrees halfheartedly, “I guess so.”

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Luke asks, nudging his arm. “You okay?”

Their relationship is odd because a guard would never be able to be so personal and informal with a royal. But it’s Luke and Alex; they’ve always been an exception, ever since they were kids when Alex invited him, a commoner he met playing near the front gates, to a sleepover in the cinema room. Ever since, they’ve been inseparable.

“I’m just a little freaked about everything, that’s all. Mom and Dad aren’t helping, either. They’ve been planning this wedding since I was five years old, which is weird.” He sniffs, looking to the side and rubbing a hand across his face. “Before I had a chance to even try liking guys or girls, they’d already made the decision for me.” Luke and Reggie share a concerned look. Alex shakes his head, laughing humorlessly as he rises to his feet. “Gladys wouldn’t approve. You know what she says, ‘There’s no room for emotions in this castle.’”

“Gladys isn’t here,” Reggie reminds softly, but firm.

“Yeah,” Luke agrees. “It’s just us.” They don’t dislike Gladys; for a noble, she’s kinder than most. For an advisor, she’s damn good at her job. One of her best attributes—according to the king, the queen, and General Wilson—is her ability to ‘shut off’ her emotions when needed. Luke doesn’t get it; how can shutting off your emotions really solve anything?

The corner of Alex’s mouth twitches into a half smile that doesn’t last more than five seconds. “Yeah, thanks guys. Um, I’ll think about what you said, but I don’t think I can talk to Julie about it before tomorrow night.”

A door swings open, silent as a mouse, but the soft creaks of the floorboards are enough to alert their ears. General Wilson steps inside; Luke and Reggie exchange nervous glances.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” General Wilson greets. His eyes drift over Alex’s shoulder for just a moment, but a single look freezes Luke to his core.

Inwardly, he groans. They’re totally spending the rest of the day flirting with death on the training grounds.

“General Wilson,” Alex responds, lifting his chin. “Can I help you?”

“Apologies, I was just looking for those two—” He swallows thickly, like whatever he’s trying to say is difficult— “star pupils. They’re missing important training.”

Alex looks over his shoulder at them; Luke and Reggie give him a toothless, sheepish smile in return. To Wilson, Alex says, “Sorry, I need them right now.”

Luke chews on his lip to keep from smirking. He loves when Alex uses his authority over the general.

“But—“ Wilson takes a breath, hooking his hands behind his back. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, tomorrow night is an important event that these two, among the rest of the guard, need to prepare for.”

“Why?” Alex frowns. “It’s just another social gathering.”

“There will be leaders from countries we’ve not interacted with face to face in years.”

“Any in particular we should be suspicious of?”

“Well no, but—“

“Then I don’t see an urgency in needing them right now.” General Wilson opens and closes his mouth. “Shut the door on your way out,” Alex adds, waving him off.

Giving Luke and Reggie a final, heated glare, he turns and marches out of the room.

Alex waits for the door to shut to sigh loudly. “Thank God,” he says, turning to his friends. “That man is terrifying.”

“He thinks the complete opposite of you,” Luke admits, grinning. “Which makes it even funnier.” Next to him, Reggie gives Alex a high five.

Their laughter is a weight lifted. Luke just hopes it’s still around after tomorrow night.

----

Part Two

#jatp secret santa #julie and the phantoms #jatp #royalty au #modern royalty au #julie molina #luke patterson #alex mercer #reggie peters #nick jatp #flynn jatp #carrie wilson #willie jatp #juke #willex #angst and anxiety #what a pair #jatpdailysecretsanta2020

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Big Decisions | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey my lovelies! I know, right, another story in the same week as my other one?? What has the universe come to! I had this idea the other night and I kind of just rolled with the punches. I'm not sure how good it will be, I haven't written in a while and I had an idea of where I wanted this to go and, as usual, it wrote itself and ended up somewhere else. I'm not sure how much I like it but regardless here it is. I tried to make it as fluffy as I could because that's what I need right now lol. Anyway's I hope you like it! Sorry in advance for how long it is!! All my love until next time <3

Description: Y/n is from an influential family like, but not as powerful, as the Mikaelson's and her father is running for the governor of Virginia. In order to increase voting in favour of her father both families decide to merge. In order to do so Y/n agrees to marry one of the Mikaelson boys. The only problem is that she loves all three of them and can't possibly choose between them.

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None, seriously, don't be afraid of having all three at once, that doesn't need a warning

Word count: 5032

Tags: Fluff (or at least attempted fluff)

(Pics aren't mine but the moodboard is :) )

Your footsteps echo softly down the hallway of the Mikaelson’s mansion. Your heels click the beat of a song you haven’t yet learned the words to into the hardwood. It’s a miracle you can even hear it over the rumble of the party below. A thousand voices reach your ears in a crescendo of “good evening” and “my don’t you look lovely” but it stands as little more than white noise in your mind. Your heartbeat rages with it all, mingling with the greetings of strangers and the song your feet are creating at the same time.

The only thing you can truly think about is last night in the garden. It had been Kol’s idea, actually, to have one last night together. It was a beautiful notion, too, if not one that left four souls aching as though they were only one soul being forced into four different fragmented pieces.

There you sat, four fragmented pieces of one soul, tangled so elegantly that anyone looking in would have to squint to see the separate beings. Your back moulded so perfectly into Elijah’s front that it was as if you were made to never be apart in the first place. Though Klaus’ head fit so perfectly in your lap that it would be madness to think anything but the same. However, both such things ignore the delicate trace of Kol’s lips against your neck and mouth and fingertips in such a way that the night sky hadn’t shone half as bright as the stars he left you seeing. How could you even begin to make a decision.

None of you feel quite right about the arrangement. Your families have been close for a few years now, you having met the Mikaelsons at a founders party in your first year of college. Both of your households are founding families with a lot of influence in many parts of the south-eastern United States. While the Mikaelson’s are renowned, your own family, the Lancaster’s, are less well known. With your father running for governor of Virginia it was decided, quite suddenly, that your two families are to combine in order to gain the needed momentum to win at the polls. You, the only daughter to Mary-Anne and Johnathan Lancaster, are to marry any Mikaelson son of your choosing.

To any other woman in Virginia that offer would be a dream come true. The Mikaelson’s are akin to royalty in the United States. However, every other woman in Virginia hasn’t spent the last two years completely consumed by all three brothers. There are only a handful of moments that you can recall that don’t include even one Mikaelson. Every night you fall asleep wrapped around one of your boys. Each of their scents are permanently ingrained in your memory. How can you choose when no matter who you pick the other two will still be there.

You pace back and forth at the top of the winding staircase, silently dreading the descent. You gather the pilling fabric of your gown into your hands and let the silk cool your fiery skin for a few moments longer. You try to hold on to a few pieces of comfort with it. The way Kol had smelled of honey this morning and the feel of Elijah’s arms around you and the little marks Klaus left that are still fading beneath your bodice. You breathe in each of them before you take the first step.

You don’t want to go down the stairs but the first step only brings you to the second that much faster. You take them one at a time, letting your feet even out before every push forward. At this moment you wish that the stairs would never end. You would rather wind for years as your dress turned to dust around you than face the unrelenting truth that waits at the bottom. You would rather turn to dust than choose.

You come too quickly to the bend in the stairs that will reveal you to the party. The murmurs that were previously dulled are now at their peak, crashing over you with a harsh fury of cheerful nothings. You wish you could immerse yourself in the chatter like any other party however tonight isn’t just another party. It’s the party and families from across the country have gathered in the halls below to hear you make your decision.

With a quick breath in, you bring yourself into the glittering light cast by the chandelier hanging above the sweeping foyer. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust from the dark hallway. When they focus once more the air is sucked from your lungs in a startled gasp that turns every eye in the vicinity towards you. As if a switch has been flicked, every sound in the room dies out until all that is left is the slightest tinkling of the glass above your head and muffled sounds of awe.

You will give them that, the dress Rebekah Mikaelson had picked out for you is stunning. A rose coloured, silk gown that would make any Victorian princess green with envy. It’s strapless in the sense that it has silk that hangs off your shoulders, leaving your skin exposed and dusted with gold. Your hair has been curled and pinned up, allowing for some tendrils to frame your face. Bekah dusted the same gold she used on your shoulders on your eyes, bringing a finishing touch to your look. She truly does work miracles.

Your hand stalls on the railing for a moment, your eyes searching the sea of faces below you. It’s surreal to have all the attention on you. You’re used to being around important people, you yourself are one to most people, but you’ve never felt like you fit in with them. You’re just an ordinary girl after all. An ordinary girl who just happens to have the hearts of three Mikaelson’s in her palm. Now, if you could only spot them amongst the crowd.

As if they can hear their names flowing through your mind, they appear at the base of the steps. You shouldn’t be surprised at how dashing they all look but you’re still left open-mouthed at the sight of them. They're each clad head to toe in all black, the perfect contrast to your dress. The dark to your light and vice versa. They never disappoint.

Your feet begin moving of their own accord to meet them at the bottom of the staircase, the clicking of your heels ricocheting like bullets through the still silent foyer. You can feel their stares like flames on every inch of your exposed skin. The crowd is holding their breath in anticipation of the interaction to come, waiting ready for the moment you make your decision. It feels positively medieval, as if as soon as you choose you will be forced to rip off your clothes and mate for the court to see and deem your bond official. It’s too bad if that’s what they're expecting. They would be in for quite a shock if they saw the distinct markings of not one but three Mikaelson’s already on your skin.

Three mouthwatering scents swirl around you, encouraging you to move faster. Before you clear the last fifteen or so steps, however, the unthinkable happens. You trip. Your heel catches the loose fabric of your dress and rips your feet out from under you, a riptide of events that should have been foreseen. Your eyes slam shut the minute you go into freefall, not wanting to see the mess your body will create when you hit the marble. The fall feels like hours rather than seconds, waiting for an impact that will shatter life as you know it but the end never comes.

“Baby,” it takes you a moment to register the arms around your waist and the pine tree scent enveloping you, “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Another pair of hands grip on to your arm, sending waves of familiar warmth and nutmeg rushing through your chest, “my clumsy darling, what was our dear sister thinking when she put you in those heels.”

“She clearly wasn’t or else she would have remembered that she tripped three times just this morning,” you’re pulled easily into a new pair of strong arms, “isn’t that right, love?”

You can’t help but let the smile fall on your lips, your eyes tugging open to meet the ocean ones already looking at you, “you know me too well, Klaus.”

The smile is already on his lips, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “of course love, that’s my job.”

He leans down to place a quick kiss on your forehead before steadying you. You turn to face the remaining brothers, both of whom look ready to pull you once more into their arms. They’re circled around you, blocking the crowd from seeing you until they have had their moment with you. It warms your heart immensely. Up close they look even more ravishing. When you take your time inspecting them, though, you see the circles under their eyes.

Elijah’s are the most prominent, his skin tinged a plum colour that in no way mars the beauty of his face. If anything it adds an ethereal glow. He’s always been the one to worry the most. He is the oldest after all, most of the stress falls on his shoulders. His deliciously sculpted shoulders. It’s his job to hold his family together, tonight is no exception. You waste no time pulling him towards you and wrapping your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his chocolate hair.

“You look like you need a nap, Eli,” you tug softly at the strands between your fingers, “it’ll all be okay.”

You can feel the deep breath he takes, as if the air is going into your lungs instead of his, “I know, baby.”

He squeezes his arms around you a little tighter than usual before releasing you. It takes Kol no time to scoop you into his arms, burying his face in your neck. You grip his back with shaking fingers, admiring the muscles through his jacket as a moment of peace before the storm to come. You don’t want to let him go. You don’t want to leave the little bubble the four of you have created.

“No matter what happens out there tonight, I'm yours darling. Until the sun doesn’t rise in the east, I’m yours,” he places a soft kiss to your throat and tears sting at your eyes but you refuse to let them fall.

He pulls back, a small smile on his lips. You look up to the other two one last time, feeling the crowd grow impatient at your hidden actions. You know that tonight isn't about you but you can’t help but let the seconds tick by freely. This could very well be the last moment the four of you share publicly.

Klaus nods his head carefully, squeezing one of his hands into a fist at his side, “until the sun doesn’t set in the west, I am yours, love.”

You pull your lip between your teeth to bite back the trembling, steeling yourself as you turn in finality to Elijah. His chocolate eyes are already on you. The determination in them lights something hot and not at all unfamiliar in the pit of your stomach. He takes another deep breath, your eyes drawn to the rise and fall of his chest.

“And every moment after I will be yours, baby, that is my promise.”

When the words leave his lips you revel in the fleeting moment of calm that rushes over you.

The strength in your voice startles you a little bit, “I am yours before, during, and after. That is my promise. Let’s do this.”

The boys stand taller when you say the words, completing a promise you made to each other over a year ago. They part, allowing you to walk into the crowd of statues. No one moves, every eye glued to you once more. You can’t help but feel small under their gaze but you don’t back down, choosing instead to smile and stare back.

“Sweetheart, there you are!”

And just like that all the activity in the room restarts, all the chatter and music and tinkling restored like a fire under the floor. Your mother, Mary-Anne, appears from the crowd in a stunning blue gown. It accentuates her delicate features. She was a southern belle in her youth and it still shows, especially in her accent. You could get lost in the honey that is your mother’s voice.

“Hello, mama,” you fall into her embrace easily, breathing in her lilac lotion, “I’m sorry I took so long, Bekah wanted everything to be perfect.”

Your mother giggles, music to your aching soul, “except the shoes I see.”

You pull away with a blush, meeting her cheerful eyes with mild embarrassment, “oh my, you saw that?”

“Darling, all of Virginia saw it,” she takes your arm, leading you towards the ballroom where guests are steadily flowing to designated tables, “you gave those boys quite a startle. Your father too. He dropped his drink.”

She giggles again as she directs you to a table at the front of the room, elegantly decorated with an array of flowers and candles. There are enough seats to allow for both of your families and a few other important people to enjoy a nice meal. Your stomach tumbles in a way that makes you doubt the amount of food you will be enjoying tonight.

Your mother hands you a glass of champagne which you take gratefully, “will he be here soon?”

“I’m sure he will be,” she smiles gently at you, pushing a fallen curl behind your ear, “how are you feeling, darling? You look a little rattled.”

“It’s a lot to take in, mama. I’m alright,” you take a sip of your champagne to punctuate your words, letting the sweet bubbles cool your throat.

She places her hand on your own, pulling your attention back to her, “you’re allowed to not be. You’re doing a lot for this family, you know. Your father and I appreciate you very much. It can’t be easy.”

“The hard part isn’t getting married,” you meet her kind eyes and almost crumble, “It’s almost too easy to spend a lifetime with any one of them. They each mean the world to me. Mama, how am I supposed to choose?”

She shakes her head gently, her own curls bouncing lightly, “you just have to trust yourself, darling.”

The ballroom fills steadily, flowing conversation and music through the open space. You quickly spot the Mikaelson's, Bekah now in tow, as well as your father, who looks locked in a serious conversation with Elijah and Klaus. He’s nodding along to whatever they’re saying, clearly absorbing whatever notion they’re pushing. Kol, on the other hand however, remains silent, gazing around the space before locking eyes with you. Even from across the floor you can see his shoulders loosen slightly. Bekah tries to say something to him but he just brushes her off before moving towards you. You feel a touch guilty but you'll apologize later. Right now you need him.

You pass your glass back to your mother, accepting another knowing smile before all but running towards Kol. He clears the space quicker than you can, meeting you just in front of the table.

“You know, I don’t recall having told you how breathtaking you look yet this evening,” his words pour over you as he takes the final steps towards you, “and that should be a punishable crime. You look absolutely stunning, darling.”

He laces his arms once more around your waist, drawing you into his chest, “we’re all a little flustered tonight, I think I can pardon you just this once. Besides, I haven’t told you how marvellous you look yet either.”

You whisper the words into his chest, closing your eyes for a brief moment. His touch brings you some clarity. You wish you were curled up watching a movie instead of in a ball gown.

He pulls back slightly, lifting your chin to meet his warm eyes, “I meant what I said earlier, no matter who you choose I’m not going anywhere. None of us are.”

“I don’t think I can do it, Kol,” you look towards your father sitting next to your mother, both laughing with another couple, “I can’t hurt any of you.”

“Love,” you're pulled from Kol’s grasp and into a different but no less familiar hold, “we know this isn’t what you want. It’s not what any of us want. You need to trust us. Follow your instincts. Now come on, we’ll miss dinner.”

Klaus leads you to the table and a plate filled with what would normally be your favourite foods. Elijah is already waiting with your chair pulled out, sitting you between your mother and father.

He leans down before you can sit, his lips grazing your ear as he speaks, “just relax, baby. I love you.”

He presses a kiss to your ear before tucking you in and taking his own seat across from you. The ballroom soon fills with the sharp sounds of forks and knives scraping against porcelain and even more happy chatter than before. Your own table becomes a flurry of excited words and talk of the upcoming elections and wedding ideas. You’re bombed with many sneaky attempts to hear your decision early but you brush every one of them off, nervously taking bites of food every few minutes.

“So, honey,” your father turns to you with a grin, lowering his voice and drawing you into your own little bubble, “how’s my star doing?”

You focus on his nose, not wanting to meet his eyes quite yet, “I’m great, dad. This dinner is wonderful.”

He chuckles quietly and you can feel his gaze trying to pull your focus to him, “you would know, right, with all the food you've eaten?’

He isn’t wrong, you’ve barely cleared half your plate, “I’m not hungry is all.”

“You? Not hungry? Now I know something is really wrong here,” his hand grasps yours lightly, “look at me, what’s going on in that noggin of yours?”

You don’t mean to sigh but it happens anyway, “It’s just a lot to digest. It’s a really big decision.”

“You’re right it is, honey,” he squeezes your hand gently, “but I know you’ve got what it takes. You can’t disappoint me. Never have and you never will.” He looks in front of you, “besides, I think those boys know what they're doing. I trust them to help you figure this out.”

Like your mother, he always seems to know what to say. You have a strong family, one that holds each other up in the hardest of choices. You look across the table to meet the eyes of three men already looking at you. They each smile at you in their own way. Elijah’s is with his eyes, the rest of his face remaining stone. Klaus smirks at you, the blue of his eyes sparkling mischievously. Kol tilts his head to the side, a soft grin on his lips.

Soon the music becomes louder and guests start pouring onto the dance floor, swaying to an elegant piece made up of violins and flutes. Your own table clears with the rest, leaving the four of you alone. Elijah, as per usual, is the first one out of his seat.

“Would you do me the immense honour of sharing this dance?”

The formality in his words brings you a bubbling sense of warmth and you, of course, rise to meet his outstretched hand. He leads you to the middle of the floor, twirling you under another chandelier before pulling you tight against his chest. You’re once again wrapped in his forest scent and you lay your head against him, trusting him to keep you from falling. The music swirls around you, drowning out the noise of the others around you. They're no doubt speculating that you’ve made your decision but, in reality, this is just yours and Elijah’s thing: dancing.

He moves you beautifully across the floor, pulling you slightly to where it feels like you’re gliding on ice. The rest of the couples move back, allowing for the two of you to take as much space as you need. You feel like you dance for an eternity, giggling as he spins you endlessly across the polished wood floor. He eventually lifts you, turning you in what you assume is a final twirl, only to pass you into another pair of ocean breeze arms.

Klaus takes over effortlessly, falling into the same pattern that Elijah had created, “sorry to cut in, love, I couldn’t help myself.”

You move the hand that lays on his shoulder and wrap it around the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair and drawing as close to him as you can. He takes his time dancing with you the same as his brother had. By now all the other dancers have stopped and cleared completely off the floor. Each eye is trained on the pair of you like lasers to a target. You will yourself to remain completely focused on Klaus’ movements.

It takes both an eternity and mere seconds for you to land in Kol’s arms, who twirls you one last time, perfectly stopping with the music. When the last violin dies out, a clock chimes through the room. Your shoulders tense on their own, the rest of your body following suit. Ten O’clock. Choosing time.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome,” your father’s voice pours through speakers placed around the hall but you can barely register the words being said, “I know many of you have travelled great lengths to be here today and for that our families are incredibly grateful. Tonight is a momentous occasion. It marks the engagement of my girl, Y/n, to one of these fine men.”

Your father motions across the room to where you stand, now with all three brothers stood in front of you, “each one of them have expressed their interest in my daughter and now, with all of you to witness such a grand step in her life, she will choose which of them she would like to marry.”

Whatever head that wasn't already turned now faces you, each holding their breath in anticipation. You aren't looking at them though. Instead, you’re facing the three men that you would do anything in the world for. You can almost see your aching heart already in your hands, ready to rip it into three even pieces and hand it to them with little bows.

You look at Klaus first. Your creative spirit who could fill an entire museum with paintings of your face alone. His hands twitch slightly at his sides and he closes them into fists when you notice. He offers you a small smile and you remember the other night when he fell asleep on your lap while watching a movie in the den. He hasn't been sleeping properly with all the arrangements for tonight being settled and you running your hands through his hair had been the final push he needed to collapse. You make sure he’s looking at your lips when you mouth I love you across the room.

You turn quickly to Elijah from there, locking eyes with him immediately. Your warrior who looks especially undone in comparison to his usual put together self. He looks like he has to stop himself from closing the distance between the two of you and that it’s taking most of his remaining energy to do so. That’s Eli for you though, he never can stay away from you for too long. When you mouth I love you to him he stands a little straighter.

You find Kol’s eyes easily from there. Your rebellious, hell-raiser with a glint in his face that you would be able to see from all the way across the room. His hand is in his hair, tugging the strands between his fingers in a way that only he could make look elegant. He’s got a look in his eyes that begs you to do something entirely untraditional. He mouths I love you before you can even open your mouth.

You stand there for an eternity, your feet stuck as though rooted through the floor. Every moment from the past two years rushes through your head. You aren't dying; this isn't a life flashing before your eyes type moment but it may as well be. These three have been your entire life since you were introduced. Not one of them alone could have brought you here. Every moment for two years has been leading to you standing here, with them, at this very second.

It hits you quite suddenly that if you were to remove two of them, the equation that makes up who you are wouldn't be correct anymore. You’ve been juggling with the idea that your soul is four parts rather than two for quite some time now. It wouldn't be right to give three parts to one person, not when each of them have taken the time to so delicately etch their names onto their own separate parts.

You can’t pick just one of them. You’ve known that from the beginning, you just didn’t know what you were going to do about it until now. Your hands tremble now that you know your decision, a chill running up your spine at the thought of sharing it with the crowd. It’s not exactly conventional what you’re about to say.

“I choose Klaus.”

The crowd releases the breath it had been holding for hours. Too bad they're going to be sucking it back in soon. Klaus’ eyes are wide, his mouth open as though he didn't expect to be your choice. Your heart breaks for him and you remind yourself to spend more time with him when this is all over. Your other two boys look devastated, the smiles on their lips looking more like pained grimaces. Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“And I choose Elijah.”

Just like that there is once again no air left in the room. You begin walking towards them, ignoring the buzz of whispers growing in the room. You peer over their shoulders at you parents who don’t look nearly as stunned as they should. In fact your mother is beaming at you. You can feel the pride radiating off her from thirty feet away. You can’t tell if your father mouths I told you so or if you imagine it.

The boys begin moving towards you as well, ready to cover you from the storm raging around you. You can tell there are a thousand things they want to say but you’re not done speaking yet.

You look to the last Mikaelson, willing a smile to take over the frown on his gorgeous face, “and, of course, I choose Kol.”

The crowd roars around you but you’re surrounded with a wall of Mikaelson, blocking you from the prying eyes. You look at each of them, trying to gauge their reactions. You know they said that they're yours but you never discussed marrying all of them. You don’t even know if you can do that. It’s now entirely overwhelming in a completely new way. All three of them stare at you with a mix of shock and awe. Like this is the first time they’re seeing you. You wring your hands together waiting for one of them to say something.

None of them do, though. Instead Elijah closes the space between your bodies and crashes his lips onto yours, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and biting down hard. His hands grasp your waist with strong fingers, leveling you against his tall frame. It sends shocks through your entire system and you revel in the outright display he’s putting on. He’s the last one you would have expected to lose it in a crowd.

Kol is the next one to close in on you, wrapping his arms around you as well and gently kissing your shoulder. The fire Elijah started in your stomach only increases when Kol bites down. You gasp into Elijah’s mouth but it’s quickly swallowed by the man himself. Kol’s lips feel heavenly against your exposed skin.

Klaus finally steps towards you, tangling his arms in the mess of your bodies and completing your circle. His lips meet the side of your throat in a way only he can, biting down deliciously. When Elijah finally pulls away from you, the rest of them follow. You know your skin is most definitely bruised and your lips swollen. Your curls have most definitely fallen from their pins. You would be worried but each of them still hold you, caged around your body for no one but themselves to see.

The rush of the evening hits you all at once, a strong fatigue laying across your bones. You let your eyes close as you lean further into Elijah. Sensing the finality of your movements, he scoops you up, careful to keep your dress in it’s beautiful condition. He starts walking out of the room, ignoring the protests around him. On cue Kol and Klaus join him on either side.

“Eli, we can’t leave, they’re expecting us,” you can’t hide the yawn in your voice.

“We can, and we are leaving, baby,” he tightens his arms around you, “you need to sleep.”

You shake your head unconvincingly, “I’m fine, Eli.”

The other Mikaelson brothers just laugh.

The smile in Kol’s voice is audible, “yes you are, darling, but humor us won’t you?”

“They’ll be mad at me,” your voice trails off at the end, blackness creeping in around the edges of your mind despite your protests.

“You’ve done more than enough, love, we can take it from here.”

Klaus’ voice is the last you hear, not even making it back up the stairs before you drift out of consciousness.

#the originals #the vampire diaries #tvd #to #kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #the originals imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson imagine