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blindingdutchy · 3 years ago

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Hey, how's your day going? I hope good? Look I'm constantly thinking about water and Tom, like how beautiful is he in water, all wet and well... hot!? Could you please write something about Tom x reader in water? Like bathtub, pool, lake whatever? Tbh I need smut, don't judge me it's been a while 😄 Anyways, could he just fuck me nice and gently and then rough and fast just to be again very gentle at the end or afterwards? Hope you'll feel inspired and do something with it. :)

please this made me so happy wtf

summer nights | t.holland

{tom x fem!reader}

word count: 2,861

warnings: you already know… smut

warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), fingering, alcohol

“Can we stay here forever?”

Tom’s eyes were sparkling and hazy as he admired you, a wan smile stretching minutely across his face. His teeth practically glowed in the moonlight, and for a brief moment your breath hitched as you gazed at him. He was too beautiful for his own good. “I really wish we could.” he hummed a quiet response.

The night was silent apart from the faint ripple of water that lapped around the two of you, soft billows of steam wafting from the surface and fading away into the air. Tom’s arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, his fingers slipping and sliding across your bare skin as he struggled to keep hold in his slightly intoxicated state. In his other hand was a corona, the glass bottle dripping slow, cold raindrops of condensation into the warm pool—he brought the bottle to his lips and skulled the rest of it before clinking it onto the concrete behind him.

You hadn’t expected to enjoy your impromptu vacation as much as you were, because things generally always went wrong whenever the two of you tried to be spontaneous, but so far things had gone swimmingly. The condo he’d rented was just as private and secluded as it had advertised, no work emergencies had interrupted the sudden holiday on either of your behalves, and even the weather had been cooperatively perfect. Hot, sunny day after day, followed by warm, clear, moonlit nights—you felt as if you could see every star in the sky from here.

None of them compared to the stars in Tom’s eyes, though. Here, in this impeccably warm and deep pool, it was just the two of you; no friends or family, no work or other obligations, no fans… just two lovers wrapped up in the serenity of total, blissful privacy. You hadn’t been able to keep your hands off of each other.

Only on that first day had you ventured to the beach, but the excursion had been short lived to say the least. One look at you in your bikini, your skin positively radiant under the summer sun, and he’d been sweating. Your smile had been absolutely dazzling as you laughed and played around gleefully, splashing in the churning waves that crashed ashore, and he could barely hold himself back from taking you right then and there—innocent bystanders be damned.

Since then you’d spent the majority of your time in bed. Or, alternatively, on the balcony, the plush sofas of the patio, the hard concrete that surrounded the pool, the granite countertops of the kitchen, the shower, and that glorious hot tub. Oh, the hot tub had been your favorite by far—steaming hot water only contested only by steamier kisses across your skin, Tom’s scorching breath and searing words moaning down your ear…

It had turned into a bit of an unspoken mission to have each other in every place that allowed. All that remained was the furniture of the living room, the small dining table, and the pool. The pool which you were submerged in now, your legs wrapped around Tom and his hand gripping your waist tightly, fingers occasionally brushing over the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms. As your thoughts drifted further south, your legs tightened around him.

Tom was leaning his head back against the ledge of the pool, his eyes closed and his breathing slow as he relaxed into the warm water. The relaxation didn’t last for long, though, as you leaned forward and trailed a slow line of kisses down his throat. His breathing sharpened, and you whispered, “Tommy, we haven’t tried the pool yet.”

He blinked down at you, his warm brown eyes taking a moment to focus on your face that was just barely illuminated from the pool lights and the soft beams of the moon. “Oh, really?” he murmured, and his irises darkened at the way you sucked at the skin of his neck teasingly slow, “I think we’ll have to change that.”

It didn’t take long for him to take control. He never did like to let you call the shots, and you weren’t opposed to submitting to his whims; he knew how to please you better than anyone ever had before, sometimes even better than you knew how to treat yourself. Each desire that coursed within him was the same ache that throbbed within your pulse points, the same pang that always sparked to life in your core each time he touched you. You longed for him, all of him, always.

Sliding you further around his waist, Tom turned until he’d backed you into the wall of the pool and his steadily growing length was rutting lazily into your center. Your mind was spinning with the dull stimulation, and you hissed as the rough, painted concrete irritated the old scrapes on your back from when the two of you had checked off the concrete patio on your list. That had been a fun time—rough and messy, just how you liked it, but you’d sorely regretted it the moment a hot shower had seared the little abrasions on your skin.

“I love this bikini on you,” Tom whispered, trailing one finger along the damp shell of fabric that covered your breast, “but I think I like it better off.” You barely noticed the deft way the fingers of his other hand were steadily working to untie your top, until the scrap slipped away from your skin and you were exposed fully to the cold air. “Definitely better off.”

Your nipples hardened into stiff peaks instantaneously, the slightly cooler night air chilling you and erupting goosebumps along your flesh. It was nothing compared to the shivers that wracked your body as Tom’s lips finally found one of your pebbled buds, sucking languidly and swirling his tongue around it with a quiet groan. Your hands clung to his back and you threw your head back with a moan, already succumbing to the persistent throbbing between your legs with the first touch. He brought something out of you, a secret insatiable side of you that always wanted more. And now? As he reached a slightly pruned hand up to slick his wet, stretched curls from his face to get a better look at you? You were ravenous.

He looked like a god. His skin was bronzed to perfection, only amplifying the desirous way he glistened under the moon and stars, and you wished this moment could last forever. You wanted to take it all in, commit it all perfectly to memory, and never let it go. The way his arms rippled with strength as he held you tighter, the taught stretch of skin over his abdomen that tightened the more aroused he became, and the plump swell of his lips that deepened with each kiss he placed on your body. All of it was artwork in your eyes.

“Tom,” you breathed, arching your back as he continued to focus all his attention to the deep bruise he was creating with his lips just beneath your breast, “I need you, now.”

His tongue soothed over the mark he’d left, and he admired it briefly before turning his gaze onto your face. “You’re insatiable, darling.” he cooed, and you were done for. Tom’s eyes were all pupil with almost no discernable ring of honey brown left to be seen, and his lips were parted to make way for the sinful swipe of his tongue. He knew exactly what he did to you, the way he turned you into a total fiend for him, and fuck if he wasn’t much the same for you.

You’d always known you’d had a high sex drive, but he took you to another level. No time, no place, nothing at all was off limits for the two of you. Plans got cancelled, events skipped, and hidden corners and locked rooms were abused when it came to your needs. “You make me this way.” you retorted, and he grinned.

Lips met in a flurry, sloppy and wet with muffled groans as your teeth clashed roughly. The rapacious pace of your kisses contrasted with the slow, careful precision of Tom’s hands. One large, smooth palm groped at your ass with a skill that had you trembling, while the other leisurely traced a path down your body to your most desiring destination. Fingers ghosted along the swell of your breast, feathered down the length of your stomach, before tugging at the waistband of your bottoms.

Not wanting to lose his embrace, you blustered, “Just untie them, please.”

String bikinis were a godsend. He made quick pace of the knots you’d tied that morning, hissing curses to himself as he fumbled the strings and struggled slightly to undo them, “Shit, darling, did you double knot them?” With a growl of annoyance, he pulled hard until the thin bands finally snapped apart, “Fucking hell.”

In an instant his fingers were dipping into you, stretching you open with a desperate fervency. It stung a little, a dull ache permeating the pleasure, but that was to be expected. Not only were you sore from the gluttonous appetite the pair of you had had over the past week, but you were in water—it always made things a little more difficult. No matter how wet you were, water always made it feel just a little like rubber on rubber; sticking and straining, pulling a little uncomfortably with the resistance.

His thumb rubbing circles into your clit helped, though. He scissored and curled his fingers within your walls repeatedly, chasing after the little noises that escaped your lips when he moved just right. Before long, with the combination of his friction on your nub and his deep plunge through your entrance, your grip around him was tightening. The coil in your belly was white hot, heating up and just aching to explode.

“Gonna cum?” he murmured, his eyes flickering up to yours as you wrapped your body tighter around his. His fingers were fighting against the tight grip of your cunt, and you nodded with an airy gasp, “Come on, then. Cum on my fingers, (Y/N).”

As your name slipped from his mouth, you cried out. The coil in your belly snapped, your legs spasming at the sudden rush of pleasure that coursed through your veins. Your eyes squeezed shut and you clenched around him, moaning at the way he continued to flex his digits through the steady pulse of your walls. His thumb was still circling your bundle, albeit more jerkily, and you were panting as you tried to come down from the high that seemed to never end.

After a few seconds you gripped his wrist, pleading, “S-stop, too much.”

You breathed a sigh of relief when he stopped his assault, his fingers pulling out of you slowly and his mouth sucking at your neck. You could feel his erection digging into you, his hips subconsciously rutting into you, and he asked quietly, “Do you want to keep going?”

Nodding, you wound your fingers into the sopping curls at the base of his skull and cautioned, “Yeah, just be gentle, please.”

Tom hummed under his breath, nibbling at the sensitive skin behind your ear as he rocked his hips into you with more intention. You were dragging your hands over his skin slowly, digging your nails into all the places you knew riled him up the most, and your legs were still trembling slightly when he reached one arm down to fumble with his shorts. The garment floated away as he peeled it fully from his legs with the help of his feet.

Lining himself up, he peered up at you with quirked brows, “Ready?”

You pulled his face down to yours, nodding silently before you kissed him. This time it was tender and slow, your puffy lips molding together delicately in a lazy pace. He poked his tip through your entrance slowly, and you hissed at the initial intrusion. The water made it uncomfortable, making it feel as though he were actually going in dry, but the further he pushed the better it felt.

He rocked into you slowly, his nails digging into the skin of your bum as he restrained himself from taking you in one hard thrust like he always did. Slow and steady wasn’t exactly Tom’s preferred style. You were grateful, though, that he took care to move with caution and gave you time to adjust. His face was buried into your neck, his lips pressing a flurry of barely there kisses to your skin, and you shivered at the rapid puffs of his labored breathing on your body.

Tapping his shoulder to give him the okay to move, you whined at the first draw back. He pulled his hips back slowly, the length of his shaft dragging against your walls gratingly, and you whimpered when he pushed forward again just as deliberately. The normal slip of your arousal wasn’t there like it normally was, but when his tip plunged to that deep point that always made your body spark, you moaned.

Tom took your sounds for what they were and built up a steady pace, languidly fucking into you with choked grunts of restraint. The water was rippling around you, slapping gentle waves over the two of you with each motion, and you arched into him needily. “Tom, faster.” you begged, and he obliged.

His next thrust was harsher, his hips snapping into yours earning a high mewl from you. “Fucking love the sounds you make,” he growled, repeating the motion and groaning against your skin. His thrusts deepened with every push and pull, and before long your back was gritting into the concrete and you were crying out loud sounds mixed with pain and pleasure.

You loved this rough, aggressive side of him. The ache in your gut that always followed served as a loving reminder of the way he made you feel. The arcs of pleasure that radiated through your body each time he bruised into your spot, the slight sting of his nails and teeth biting into your skin, the deep bruises from his lips that lingered for weeks; you loved all of it. Your scraped up back was crying for mercy, though, but you ignored it.

Reaching a hand down, you toyed with your clit messily and relished in the guttural moan that tore up his throat. His eyes were trained on the space between you where he continued to disappear into your core, and watching you touch yourself always pushed him over the edge. “Shit,” he choked, “darling, ‘m not gonna last with you doing that.”

Kissing his shoulder, you whimpered, “I know, I want you to cum, Tommy.”

Your toes were curling as you circled your nub faster in time with his thrusts, and you clenched your eyes shut as you began to suck and bite at his skin. Tom was a moaning mess, his hips faltering slightly as you bit into him particularly hard, but he pushed on like his life depended on it. Your back was searing with pain from the way he rammed you into the pool wall over and over, your eyes rolling back at his brutal pace.

You were close, and as if he could sense it, Tom squeezed your ass and rutted into you harder than ever. “So close,” he whimpered, and you rubbed your clit with more conviction, “I wanna feel you cum f’me.”

With one last drawn out cry, your fingers stilled over your throbbing bundle and you shattered around him. All you could focus on was the sound of his ragged breathing and desperate pleas that barely rose above the crash of the water, your mind going blank in ecstasy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ Tom gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, his hips stilling against yours as he pulsed within you.

His length throbbed against your walls, the hot spurts of his cum stinging slightly as you continued to clench around him. Your head lolled against his shoulder as you panted, the heavy rise and fall of your chest matching the heave of his. Tom pulled out of you with a hiss, and you whined into his ear as he shuddered, “Shit, that’s cold.”

“Don’t look down,” he stammered, and you giggled, “I’ve never shrank so fast in my life, and… fuck, where are my shorts?”

You squeezed him tighter as you laughed, your fingers carding sleepily into his slowly air drying curls. “Tommy, you really think I care? Just take me inside, please, let’s go to bed.” You chortled, and he sighed a shaky laugh of his own.

He raked a hand through his hair and pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, slowly easing you off of him as you shuddered. The water really was getting cold; a glance around showed that the steam was no longer billowing into the air. The heater must have turned off. When he craned his head to look for his shorts, you risked a peek and sputtered, “Wow, you weren’t kidding—“

“Hey! I told you not to look!”

#tom holland blurb #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland au #tom holland oneshot #tom holland one shot #tom holland fic #tom holland angst #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland series #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland drabble #tom holland x reader

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blackgirl-galactica · 3 years ago

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IN LOVE WITH VENUS!!! (Part 1)

Note: While I am not a professional astrologer, I love studying astrology and its aspects. Please do not reword/repost/steal my work!! Thank you so much.

Hello!!

-I am back with another series of planets through the signs!! Today we will talking about the lovely planet of Venus!

- Venus is famously known as the planet of love. Yet, this planet can also represent our passions, our values, how we express those passions/values, creativity/creative processes, and what makes us comfortable. According to the book The Secret Language of Astrology by Roy Gillett, Venus is the planet "of gardeners and every kind of artist, as well as those who wish to succeed in business." So Venus carries alot more energy than many may think. Therefore, we will talk about the first 6 Venus signs! I hope you all like this series!!!

ARIES VENUS:

An Aries Venus will go after what they are passionate about!! Whether this is in a relationship or in their creative pursuits, you can not stop an Aries Venus from pursuing what they want! Yet, this Venus sign is in its detriment (as Venus is in domicile in Libra, its opposite). An Aries Venus may not like taking things slow. They either love doing what they are doing or they will find something that will fulfill them. This may mean they will go through several relationships or several creative processes to find the perfect relationship or process that fulfills them. Just remember things take time Aries Venus and don't give up on the first obstacle. Understand what is worth fighting for and what isn't. One thing about an Aries Venus, once they actually do find what they are looking for or the person they want to be with, you can not deter them from getting what they want. If they want it, they will try their best to achieve it. These people are not settlers lol. They feel its no point in chasing or pursuing values/relationships and they don't even want to do it. Yet, remember relationships are a two-way street Aries Venus. Don't let that Mars energy become overbearing to your partner lol.

TAURUS VENUS:

Ahhhh, Venus is in its domicile here. A Taurus Venus screams beauty, passion, and self-indulgence. They love taking things slow, and similar to Aries Venus they hate settling. A Taurus Venus may like a more stable partner, and someone who can fulfill their needs. These people are also some of the most amazing musicians and artists, and that's what happens when you are literally ruled by the planet of art and passion. Life is meant to be enjoyed to a Taurus Venus. They do not like unpredictability in their passions or relationships, just keep things simple and slow-moving is enough for them. And that's a good thing. They love being able to enjoy themselves and indulge. They have to, it helps them stay sane.

GEMINI VENUS:

Now this is not for everyone, but since Gemini represents 2 or double in astrology and tarot, I can see a Gemini Venus wanting to be in polyamorous relationships. And that is not a bad thing. A Gemini Venus is a multitasker. They may pursue multiple creative things at once, or they may love being around multiple people. These people can be talented writers as Gemini= Mercury = Writing. A Gemini Venus may end up dating a neighbor (since Gemini rules 3rd house themes like neighbors/neighborhood) or someone is close proximity to them(like a close friend turned gf/bf). A Gemini Venus just wants to experience and enjoy everything life has to offer before it is too late. They love people. They love being social. They may have/be the type of partners that are spontaneous and free-spirited. They also are very light-hearted individuals! They just love life, nothing wrong with that.

CANCER VENUS:

First, happy Venus return to all the Cancer Venus folks out there!! A Cancer Venus is just, I can't even explain it. A Cancer Venus likes simplicity as well like Taurus Venus. These people may find pleasure in cooking, cleaning, or just taking care of the people they love. They love being connected with the ones they love. They love family. Nothing makes a Cancer Venus happier than just simply being with the ones they love and having that emotional security. These are the kinds of artists that produce very healing work, possibly since Cancer rules the IC angle which represents our subconscious. I can also see these people as an interior designer or homemaker. A Cancer Venus is the type of partner that may want things more traditional (like dating to marry for example) because they hate wasting time on love they know they can not trust to integrate into their lives for the long haul. These are the type to end up marrying a high school sweetheart they have been with for awhile. SO ROMANTIC!!! If you want to be with a Cancer Venus, give them the emotional and material security they need.

LEO VENUS:

A Leo Venus in love is so beautiful and generous. They will really admire and put their partners on a pedestal and shower them with so much love. Yet, they need to know not to go overboard, as they are a Sun-ruled Venus and the Sun is a planet that is massive and can blind ya lol. A Leo Venus is well suited to go into the arts like acting or drama. They will shine in areas like that. Even if you don't want to be an actor, anything a Leo Venus pursues will make them shine since they are a sun-ruled Venus. They are confident in their relationships, and they know if it doesn't work out, then its only room for the next one. A Leo Venus also expects to be treated with the same energy they treat their partners! No reason to give if you there is no reciprocation.

VIRGO VENUS:

Okay, this placement is in the fall position as Venus is exalted in Pisces. Meaning, it doesn't mean a Virgo Venus won't find love, but it may be harder for them to find a person who they really and I mean really connect with. Yet, once they do find that person, a Virgo Venus will be there for you day in and day out. Since Virgo is the sign of service, acts of service may be the love language a Virgo Venus gives out most of the time to their partners. They love taking care of the people they love. Also, since this is a Mercury-ruled Venus, a Virgo Venus may want to pursue creative passions they can put alot of detail into (my sister is a Virgo Venus and she is a painter). Having those kinds of passions that a Virgo Venus can take time with and grow little by little is helpful to them. These people can be the best at what they pursue because they spend so much time perfecting it and understanding it! Yet, they must understand that things take time, relationships take time, and not every simple misstep is a sign that it wasn't meant to work out. Give it time Virgo Venus, and before you know it, you're already at the place you've been manifesting!

HERE IS PART 1 FOR THE VENUS SERIES!! I WILL DO PART 2 EITHER TONIGHT OR TOMORROW!! I LOVE YALL SO MUCH AND I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS SERIES!!!

-Claude

#astrology #astrology blog #astrology notes #zodiac #astrology observations #venus in aries #venus in cancer #venus in taurus #venus in gemini #venus in leo #venus in virgo

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dynyamight · 3 years ago

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Midoriya, smling awkwardly; Apologies, sir, but i think you are in the wrong tower.

Bakugou, already in love: ... No, it's definitely the right one.

i offer you, flynn!bkg x musketeer!deku based off this lovely art, & woolly's precious dialouge

“You’re sure that this is the tower?”

Bakugou squints, fighting against the blaring sunlight that shines above the roof. “I guess..?”

Beside him, Todoroki groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t possibly say that when we’re already here.”

Growling, Bakugou brings a hand to shield over his gaze. “Shut up.” He snarls lowly, “I barely had any information on this damn, stupid damsel, let alone where she lives. Give me a damn break!”

“That’s why you’re supposed to ask around.”

“Yeah, let me just ask a bunch of local bimbos and lackeys where to find a tall ass tower, holding a long destined princess inside.” Bakugou stomps in his boots, throwing his arms in the air. “Oh right, that’s every fucking tower, ‘round here!”

Todoroki sighs, turning his back away from Bakugou. “Well, I’m personally choosing to not stay and watch yourself get humiliated. For both of our sakes.”

Bakugou sputters, the ends of his hair spiking. “What the hell?!” He hisses, “You’re just gonna leave me all my damn self?!”

“This isn’t my fairy tale to fulfill.”

“Fuck that! Crooks and shitty pirates could be up this stupid tower! You’re staying, Half n’ Half!”

Todoroki never ceases his steps, waving a hand behind. “I’ll be awaiting your arrival back at the creek with our horses.” He calls back.

When his figure becomes non-existent, far deep in the forest where they came from, Bakugou angrily digs his booted heels into the ground. Grittened curses and insults are easily spewed, as doubts flood Bakugou’s mind.

This had to be the tallest tower in the countryside; there was no fucking way. He and Todoroki travelled out of their safe haven village, risked their damn lives as wanted men in the kingdom, and yet, all of their efforts could potentially be wasted, over some shit tip he got, when he was young and gullible.

Now, all he hopes is that his goddamn soulmate has enough money to bail him out of the authorities' heavy watch.

That’s right; Soulmates. Connected together through a folk story or fairy tale, they were fated, destined pairs that were lucky enough to be passed down through generations. Only a few people throughout their kingdom were blessed to have this guidance.

The fairy tales differ and vary in task. The most common to be gifted was the midnight glass slipper and the kissing of a frog; feet and reptiles were fucking gross. There was the waking kiss of a cursed needle struck; stupid. And, there was the beast curse uplifting, which was the most absurd of them all; absolutely disgusting.

Yet, Bakugou had been the unfortunate bastard to have been given the family fairy tale of having to find his princess at the tallest tower of the land, and climb it with her fucking hair. Go figure.

Glancing back at the tower, Bakugou notices its many oddities. Despite no front door anywhere to be seen, there were large windows, overlooking the forest and far city below. And, on the sills and on top of the stone slabs, moss, garden flowers, and vines grew, with a year's worth of growth. And, at the highest point, the compartment of the tower looked rather large, not all small or crowded looking.

The tower didn’t scream ‘help me’. Instead, the building looked rather cozy, well taken care of, and gave off an air of home.

It bewildered Bakugou entirely.

He’s meant to save his fated princess from the heights of her secluded isolation, and yet, it feels like he’s going to fucking bother her.

Regardless, he has a mission that he needs to get over with. The sooner he can call out to his fated partner, the sooner he can have a sword to her throat and demand riches.

“Oi!” Bakugou shouts aloud at the tower, towards the largest window opening. “Open up!”

When there’s no response, he cups his hand around his mouth. “Hey! I said fucking open up, already! Let down your hair!”

Nothing.

Irritation seeps under his skin. Bakugou knows he has to quote the cringest, most idiotic words to ever leave his lips, in order for his destiny to finally be fulfilled. But, for god’s sake, he doesn’t want to.

In a way, he’s glad the damn Half n’ Half bastard wasn’t nearby to hear him make a complete fool out of himself. Looking like a fucking jester to the king.

Clearing his throat, Bakugou stubbornly tries to ignore the embarrassed burning of his cheeks. “..Rapunzel, oh Rapunzel,” He begrudgingly echoes, “Let down your hair!”

Like a hawk eying at its prey, Bakugou focuses at the window, for any sign of possible movement or noise. But, just as before, not a single shift in the air changed, or an indication of acknowledgement.

Bakugou throws down his satchel in a fit of fury. “Are you fucking deaf?!” He turns away, shouting to the sky, “I swear, in the name of Ever After, I will set this stupid, tall ass tower ablaze, if you don’t open this damn window and let me climb your long ass hair, right—!”

A creak emits from the direction of the tower, and immediately Bakugou’s heart jumps.

Slowly, he twists back to notice finally that the closed, large window now had its curtains separated, and its double panels open.

And standing atop of the perch of the balcony, was a young man, dressed in a musketeer attire and red cape. His short, green curls peeped from under his feathered hat.

“Wh-What long hair?” The man asks, genuinely confused.

Even though there was a distance between them, Bakugou could still see the beauties. Those emerald eyes; they put every ruby and sapphire to shame. Those freckles, sprinkled across his soft features; splattered nicely like stars. And, that skin; kissed and caressed by the sun’s warmth lovingly.

Bakugou doesn’t realize he’s been staring, until the man speaks out, “Are you lost, sir?”

Now, that makes Bakugou double take. “Wha— I’m supposed to be fucking asking you that.”

The young musketeer tilts his head down below. “This is my home? I live here.”

“..Rapunzel isn’t fucking here? The damsel in distress, abandoned by a wicked mother, crying alone, and shitting bricks in fear, wanting to escape to see the real world outside?”

“..I have a wonderful mom. I regularly leave to guard the kingdom’s palace, and I would think I live a blessed, calm life.” The young man voices shyly, “And, um, I’m Midoriya. Midoriya Izuku. There is no Rapunzel here..”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Todoroki would have gone fucking mental, hearing this. And, honestly, Bakugou kinda wishes he could see his fellow bandit’s reaction.

“Shit.” Bakugou groans, running a hand through his hair. “You’re telling me this ain’t the tallest tower of the kingdom?”

“Um,” Midoriya scratches at the underside of his cheek, “I mean, this is one of them.”

“Fucking hell.”

Pointing behind him, Midoriya redirects Bakugou’s attention towards the horizon line. “The tallest towers are out to the mountainside, where their roofs graze the clouds and breeze. It will take you a few days to reach there.”

“..Are you fucking certain you ain’t the Rapunzel I seek?”

Midoriya blushes at the mention. However, smiling awkwardly, he shakes his head. “Apologies, sir. But, I do think you are at the wrong tower. I’m only a mere simpleton.”

Fucking hell. He was at the wrong tower.

Yet, that soft, gentle smile. It leaves Bakugou whirling, with this fluttery, airy sensation overwhelmingly consuming him from the inside, out. That smile looks so good, against those supple, rosy, freckled cheeks, and paired perfectly with those iries of jade.

Midoriya didn’t have the fated long, golden hair, or the destined, donned name of Rapunzel.

But, Bakugou was always the one to chase after things he wasn’t supposed to have, stealing them away for himself. And, despite the hefty bounty on his head, begging him to stop, there was nothing wrong in stealing one last thing.

Soulmate or not, he hopes to take Midoriya's heart.

“Nah,” Bakugou snorts, the corners of his lips lifting, “This is definitely the right one.”

#star responds #sorry this took so long !! i decided to take a break after my hectic life became grossly more exhausting #this bkdk fic made me so happy you have NO idea #thank you woolly !!! as always ily & i appreciate all your asks #hope i did this justice !!#bakudeku #FICLET #minisheku #my beloved

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haworthiaace · 3 years ago

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Magic misfits! Did I update the masterpost specifically because of this fic? yes absolutely. A busy day for Scar, featuring TFC and some good ol’ Scar appreciation :]

The start of a new season was always interesting.

While TFC didn’t enjoy having to start from scratch every year or so; having gotten used to the comforts of late season riches, he did love the sheer amount of interaction that came with a new season. TFC was content to hear gossip about the others’ shenanigans while he stuck to what he was best at: mining. Some of the others called it cheating to use his earthbending down in the tunnels, but he called it cheating to be able to shapeshift, or use magic crystals, or any of the other crazy things the other hermits could do, so it evened out.

When he wasn’t down in his mine, TFC watched as all the other hermits scrambled to make the most impressive buildings and contraptions in as little time as possible. Many of his servermates placed more importance on finishing their creations than actually gathering necessities such as tools and armour.

As if to prove this observation, the Boatem village appeared on the other side of the nether portal, populated with structures that were much too large considering it had only been three weeks since they arrived in this world. There was also a… tree? At least that’s what it looked like; a thin oak tree stretching up past the clouds and out of view. Looks like Mumbo and Grian were up to no good already.

“TFC! Up here!” Scar’s voice came from somewhere above TFC’s head, and he looked up to see the wizard (although he no longer wore his robe and hat) standing on a balcony extending from a truly massive wagon, one hand on the railing and the other extended above his head, waving enthusiastically at TFC.

He climbed the ladder up the side of the wagon, entering a sparse storage room. Knowing Scar, he either hadn’t bothered to move in yet or lost all of his things in a cave somewhere. Despite his powerful crystal magic, Scar still managed to die more than any other hermit, so the second option was more likely.

“Well hello there! Welcome to my humble abode, please take a seat.” Scar led TFC to a balcony, where he gestured towards a table and two folding chairs. Scar sat down, crossing his legs and folding his arms in his lap. “So, what brings you to our little village today?”

TFC raised an eyebrow at the question, confusion evident in his voice. “Because you invited me? We were supposed to have tea today.”

Scar jolted in his seat, then proceeded to scramble out of said seat. “I’ll be right back! I have to go… feed Jellie!” This was quite obviously a lie seeing as Jellie hadn’t returned from her between seasons interdimensional travels yet. TFC’s laughter chased Scar into the wagon, where he frantically prepared the tea that he was totally planning on making because he definitely remembered his plans for the day.

After about five minutes of mildly concerning crashing sounds, Scar returned with two steaming mugs of tea (decorated with cat faces, of course) and a plate of chocolate chip cookies - Stress’ recipe if TFC wasn’t mistaken. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, appreciating the tea and cookies.

“So, how are you holding up this season, Scar?” TFC took a sip of green tea, looking out at the horizon.

“Oh you know, the usual. I don’t have my village anymore, but the magical misfits still come seeking my help.” He brought a cookie to his mouth and bit off half of it. “Not that I mind helping people!” He swallowed his mouthful before continuing. “XB was here last week convinced that he left his coat in season seven, but turns out it just ended up in one of Joe’s boxes.” He chuckled to himself, wiping crumbs off of his jacket as TFC stared at the distant ocean, lost in thought.

TFC broke the silence that had fallen. “You’re a good man, y’know that?” The wizard in question looked at TFC in surprise. He was used to ‘thank you’s, but the personal compliment caught him off guard. “You’ve created a safe space for folks from all sorts of places, and you’ve saved quite a few of them from bad people.”

Scar looked down, smiling at his cup of tea. He spoke quietly, a departure from his usual boisterousness. “Thanks TFC, that means a lot.”

Scar was in the middle of catching TFC up on what he missed from day one when something red and very fast crashed into the balcony. The something in question turned out to be Grian, shimmering wings protruding from his back. Something must have been wrong, since winged hermits tended to refrain from flying early in the season, in the name of fairness.

“Scar we need your- Oh heeey, I didn’t know you had company over!” He leaned on the railing, his urgency replaced with a forced cheerfulness as he (quite obviously) pretended nothing was wrong. What was probably supposed to be an easygoing smile stretched too wide, and his voice was more high pitched than usual. “How’s it goin’?”

Scar, completely oblivious, responded excitedly. “Oh, I was just telling TFC here about our adventure in the geode with Cleo!”

Grian’s uncomfortable smile grew wider, and his eyebrows furrowed. “That sounds great, do you think you’ll be done anytime soon?”

“Oh well, I’m not too sure. It depends on when we finish all of these cookies.”

“Oh that’s just wonderful,” Grian’s wings started to twitch behind him, “did you make those yourself?”

Scar took a breath, preparing for a tangent when TFC cut in, showing the poor fairy some mercy. “Alright Grian, out with it. What’s wrong?” Scar stared at Grian, somehow surprised that this wasn’t a completely ordinary visit.

Grian let out a long sigh. “Thank you so much TFC.” He turned his gaze to Scar. “We need a little help with curse breaking.”

Scar set down his mug and gave Grian his full attention, preparing himself for whatever strange curse one of the fairies had set on some poor hermit. “Really? How are you two cursing people already? It hasn’t even been a month!”

Grian’s tangent was accompanied by wild hand gestures that made it difficult to follow what he was saying. “Well, Pearl came up behind Mumbo and spooked him, he shouted something about not sneaking up on him, and now whenever he turns his back on her she teleports directly in front of him.” Grian looked nervously over his shoulder in the direction of Mumbo’s van. TFC followed his gaze, and burst into laughter again.

Mumbo was standing a few feet away from his campfire, spinning in circles and doubling over in laughter as Pearl kept popping up in front of him.

Scar pushed himself up from his chair, TFC followed suit. The pair headed to the door while Grian flew back down, Scar giving TFC a sort of briefing. “Alright, let’s go figure out what exactly Mumbo did before Pearl starts feeling particularly vengeful.”

It took two hours and a lot of trial and error (with TFC giving supremely unhelpful tips), but eventually Pearl could stand behind Mumbo again. At some point Scar accidentally applied the effect to both Grian and Mumbo, and he had to beg the two not to create a space time anomaly. But it was all fixed now, and TFC was sure Pearl’s revenge would be swift and cruel.

Scar made his way back up to the balcony, and the two continued their conversation. It was a good thing Scar had enchanted his mugs, something he had done back in season seven after his drinks kept getting abandoned and going cold.

After a few hours of peace (other than both Mumbo and Grian’s bases abruptly flipping upside down while the boys were inside), the pair was interrupted again by a voice behind them.

“Howdy, Scar. Oh, and howdy to you as well, TFC!”

Neither of them had heard Joe coming, so Scar jumped about a foot in the air while TFC nearly spat out his tea. It turned out that Cleo was there as well, looking quite a bit angrier than Joe, although that wasn’t too uncommon.

“Oh my goodness, Joe you scared the life out of me!” Scar held a hand to his chest and caught his breath as Cleo got right to business.

“Sorry about that Scar,” her voice was flat, and it was safe to assume that she was not, in fact, sorry about that. “But we have an emergency. It’s completely Joe’s fault, he-”

Joe smoothly stepped in front of his companion as he cut her off, “I wouldn’t say it’s entirely my fault, old magic is a fickle thing-”

Cleo shoved Joe aside, stepping in front once again. “He revived my leg!” She raised a foot off the ground and gestured at it with both hands.

Sure enough, both TFC and Scar looked down to see that Cleo’s right leg was significantly more flesh-coloured than the left, restored to what it presumably once was.

Scar’s lingering panic was instantly replaced by an amused grin as he gestured to the leg in question. “Cleo, why don’t you just get your leg reinfected? It’s not like zombies are hard to come by.”

The pair stood still, just blinking. (Completely in sync, it was eerie)

Cleo rounded on Joe and punched at his shoulder just as he raised a hand to deflect her fist. “How did you not think of that Joe?! I thought you knew everything there was to know about-” She gestured wildly about for a moment. “Everything?!”

“Shouldn’t you be some sort of zombie expert by now? How is that my responsibility?” The argument continued as the pair went back into the wagon and down the ladder. As they walked off, presumably to go find a cave, something occurred to TFC. He cupped his hands around his mouth to yell down at them.

“Cleo!” She turned around. “Don’t use Joe as bait!”

She snapped her finger like a defeated cartoon villain, as Joe turned to face her and presumably gave her grief for this evil plot.

It was only about five minutes after Cleo and Joe left (preceded by twenty minutes of arguing) that the next problem arrived, as it often did, in the form of Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango arriving on the shore of the village. TFC found this odd, seeing as how everyone was now connected by nether portals, but he assumed there would be an explanation shortly, even if it didn’t make a lick of sense.

Impulse shouted up from the ground, the three of them clustered near the front of the wagon. “TFC, we need your help!” Well that was a surprise, not many people asked for his assistance other than Scar. “We made an oopsie and Cleo said we could find you here!”

As every hermit knew, ‘oopsie’ was a versatile word with these three. It could mean anything between making a minor mistake in a build to banishing Impulse for the fifth time. “What happened this time?” TFC stood up and made his way down the ladder, since shouting down at them wasn’t very efficient and they didn’t seem inclined to come up.

Impulse started twisting his hands together while Zedaph and Tango tried their best to look innocent behind him. It didn’t work. “Weeell, Tango wanted a terraforming job done around his base, so we made a little deal for it.”

Oh boy. Not much good came out of magical deals, yet the other hermits continued to make them with each other. Demonic deals were especially tricky since the demon didn’t have precise control over their end of the deal, not that it stopped these three. “Tango offered me his first beacon in exchange for the job, and it turns out that a beacon is worth a lot more than I thought- it’s probably easier if we show you.”

“Quick FYI guys: firsts are very valuable in deals! It applies to you as well Impulse, not just the fae!” Scar called helpfully from his still seated position on the balcony.

They all ended up going over to Tango’s house/ shop, which was literally buried in a mound of dirt and stone, along with about three quarters of Bdubs’ giant moon house. That explains why they didn’t use the nether.

The earth was offended after being touched by demonic magic, but after a long negotiation TFC managed to convince it that Impulse meant no harm, and it was happy to return to its prior state. Tango was mildly annoyed that he would have to do the terraforming himself and give Impulse a beacon, but it was better than the wrath he would have faced from Bdubs.

By the time TFC and Scar returned to the Boatem village, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. While TFC admired the beauty of it, Scar just looked disappointed.

“I’m sorry.”

TFC raised an eyebrow at the wizard, a frown making its way onto his face. “What do you mean you’re sorry? Did you do something to the tea?”

Despite TFC’s attempted joke, Scar still stared at his perfectly polished shoes. “This was supposed to be a nice relaxing day to catch up, and people were just showing up left and right. I mean, we hardly got to spend any time together! Maybe I shouldn’t invite people over with all this wizard stuff going on.”

“But we did spend time together.” TFC’s rough hand landed on Scar’s shoulder, the latter looking up at the former, startled by the contact.

“Well yeah we had tea for a while but-”

TFC had to cut off Scar’s rambling or he would never get to his point. “Yes we had tea, but I’m talking about the rest of the day.” Scar seemed genuinely confused at this. “I helped you un-curse Pearl,” he did air quotes on the word ‘helped,’ “We watched Joe and Cleo argue together, and you came with us to fix Tango’s house.” Of course he didn’t do much other than laugh at Tango’s misfortune, but it was the thought that counted. “Just ‘cause it didn’t go to plan doesn’t mean I didn’t have a good time.” After all, not much went according to plan on the hermitcraft server.

Now Scar was smiling. “So I didn’t ruin the day with magical misfits?”

“Not at all.” TFC reached for his mug and emptied it one last time, then stretched before heading out. “But now I gotta get going. I don’t like my chances against the mobs with my crappy iron gear.”

Scar waved once more as TFC disappeared into the nether portal. “Goodnight TFC! And thanks again, for everything!”

TFC smiled as he made his way through the nether tunnels back home. Scar did a lot more for the hermits than he realized, allowing them to be free with their magic in a way they couldn’t back home, TFC included. He’d created a home for all sorts of ‘magic misfits’ as Scar put it, and he performed an invaluable service, whether he realized it or not.

He’s a good kid. Just needs some reminding every once in a while.

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft 8 #magic misfits au #tinfoilchef #goodtimeswithscar #grian #mumbo jumbo #pearlescentmoon #joe hills #zombiecleo #tangotek #impulsesv #zedaph #im not too confident on the Emotional bits but #practice makes perfect i suppose #theres a few things i implied here so feel free to ask and clear things up

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 16 part one

(Masterpost of All the Recaps) (Canary’s Pinboard)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes

All righty, this one is going to be a laff riot...not. Let's do it.

The first half of this episode is like a beautifully executed standalone tragedy, while also threading together all sorts of themes and paying off all sorts of relationship building that's happened in the previous episodes. My hat is off to the writers, while I also shake a fist at them for making me cry an unreasonable amount.

We’re Sailing on a Strange Boat

The episode starts right off absolutely DESTROYING me with the Yunmeng brothers holding hands, fingers interlaced, in the first of many hand-touching moments that punctuate the episode.

Jiang Cheng has to be pretty far gone to accept this degree of comfort and tenderness. I think, from their positions, he is also holding Yanli's hand out of the camera's view.

Zidian finally lets the trio go, and they immediately turn the boat around and head back to Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian gets the clever idea to turn the benches into makeshift oars but nobody gets the clever idea to use magic to push the boat like they do literally every other time they are in a boat.

Their emotional need to go back to Lotus Pier is understandable, but they are being disobedient and irresponsible by doing it. Jiang Cheng is the future of the clan, and should not risk his life, particularly after his mother chose to sacrifice herself to protect him and after both of his parents told him to go hide with his sister and personal bodyguard brother.

On the other hand, Jiang Fengmian, as clan leader, probably had a duty to go into hiding himself rather than go home to die romantically, so his authority is questionable at this point. Anyway, this is the Jiang Clan, they get to kind of do what they want, except when that pisses Jiang Cheng off.

Lotus Pier Massacre

Back at Lotus Pier, the Wens are kicking Jiang ass. The fight choreography is pretty good, taking full advantage of walkways, railings, pools, and other features of the environment.

Using the set this way always makes fights feel more kinetic and real, as opposed to simply sparring in an open area.

(more after the cut)

Yu Ziyuan is fighting adequately with a sword, having given her preferred weapon to her son. She's clearly been at it for a while, and is tiring; the Wen soldiers are starting to land more and more sword blows but no critical hits yet.

Wen Zhuliu is kicking ass and possibly melting cores, although we don't see him do it to anybody yet. Later we'll hear from Jiang Cheng that he crushed the cores of his parents, but it's not clear when that happens.

Sixth young master replays Jiang Fengmian's entire archery lesson in his head while he waits, and waits, for Wen Zhuliu to finish strangling a dude the right moment to shoot an arrow at Wen Zhuliu.

Homicidal tart Wang Lingjiao notices him lining up a shot, strolls over, and stabs him in the back while he's still thinking about what Jiang Fengmian said. One could wish that JFM's archery lessons weren't quite so wordy.

Wang Linjao normally doesn't carry a sword because of her low spiritual power, but apparently can use one just fine when she's killing kids.

If you start feeling like this episode is unreasonably painful, just think of it as building up calluses so you can handle Yi City when the time comes.

Jiang Fengmian to the Rescue

Jiang Fengmian shows up very far past the nick of time, although he is not actually useful, so it's questionable whether arriving earlier would have helped. But his wife is glad to see him.

Netflix subtitles say that Jiang Fengmian calls Yu Ziyuan "My Lady!" which sounds courtly and romantic in English. His actual words are "San Niangzi" which hunxi-gullai breaks out here. I might render this as "lady wife!" rather than "my lady" but I don't think English really has a perfect equivalent.

Jiang Fengmian sails across the courtyard, knocking down a few Wen soldiers and becoming a young, slender man in the process.

I mean, come on, that stunt double does not look like a boxy middle-aged man from any angle.

The Dying Bit

The episode splits up the big death scene for dramatic effect but I'm recapping it all together to keep things simple.

Within moments of arriving, Jiang Fengmian gets shanked by Wen Zhuliu like Scatman Crothers in The Shining (or Groundskeeper Willie in The Shinning).

Wen Zhuliu stops a Wen soldier from finishing JFM off, just so that a different Wen soldier can deliver the killing blow from the back, which is kinda harsh. With all this spin-fighting there is probably not an implication of cowardice when someone dies from a stab in the back, but still. Too rude, Wen Zhuliu.

Yu Ziyuan sees Jiang Fengmian fall, and after having a moment of sorrow and despair, she stabs herself in the heart, falls down, crawls to him and interlaces her hand with his. He revives just enough to give her hand a squeeze and say "San Niangzi" one last time before dying.

She dies next, with a smile on her face at the end. The soundtrack plays that amazing "horribly emotional death scene" music that isn't one of the tracks available on the OST, argh. This same music appears at the end of Xue Yang's story.

Of the many things I love about the Untamed, the complexity of all the minor characters is possibly my favorite. These two people suck at parenting, and suck at being married, and ultimately suck at protecting and leading their clan, making stupid, selfish choices at every step of the building conflict.

And then they have this incredibly romantic death scene, in which they both face the inevitability of failure, and find comfort in failing together. Yet their death scene is totally in keeping with who we know them to be, and who they are to each other; the drama doesn't cheat by making them ideal lovers or great people at the end. But they have a great, great moment.

Jiang Yanli, waiting in the woods while her brothers are presumably running toward Lotus Pier, drops her lotus pendant, which is made of the loudest jade ever discovered, and it breaks with a crash.

Yanli, who is a well educated young lady, knows a moment of doomy symbolism when she sees it.

Jiang Yanli: Who put a giant rock out here in the woods? What are the odds I’d drop my pendant directly on it?

It’s all Over Except for the Crying, Running and Choking

The brothers climb up on the roof and are shocked to see nothing but Wen soldiers and piled up Jiang corpses...

...including one child who is either about to become a zombie or who is being played by a young actor who can't control their curiosity, judging by the way this eye is sneakily opened while the camera is running.

There's a moment where Jiang Cheng is saying they must have spared his parents, they must be okay, where Wei Wuxian's face is just...wow. You can see right here the gulf in life experience between these two.

Wen Zhuliu roams around looking troubled while searching for more people to kill. He’s an interesting villain; someone who believes his loyalty to his boss makes him a good guy, but knows his boss is a bad guy.

Then we are treated to a hell of a camera move, where it tracks over Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian together on the floor, heroic in death and still holding hands, and then sweeps up to show their killers sitting on the lotus throne.

The dead couple were at odds for their whole lives together, while the evil people who killed them are acting like devoted lovebirds. It's a stunning shot and a terrific thematic contrast. When Wei Wuxian eventually comes to take his vengeance, he will spend some time turning Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao against each other, before ending them.

The camera shows us JC's reaction, then shows his mother, then WWX’s reaction, then JF; each reacting to the death of the person who loved them. Some folks may feel that Jiang Fengmian actually did love Jiang Cheng but was just bad at showing it. But Jiang Cheng doesn't think so, and I don't think it's a given that parents love their children.

Side note: Macroexpression king Wang Zhuocheng is able to open his eyes so far that a giant strip of white shows above his irises, and keep them like that, which is quite a trick. Try it yourself.

Meanwhile Wang Lingjiao and Wen Chao gossip about YZY and JFM's bad marriage. Wen Chao admires YZY's beauty, and Wang Lingjiao insults her character, and announces that she's going to stab YZY's body a few extra times. Jiang Cheng briefly faints at this, taking a page from Wei Wuxian's book, and rolls off the roof.

Run Run Away

Both young men run, and run, and run away from Lotus Pier while Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao mistreat the bodies of Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan

The stabbing happens off camera, because it's ok to stab a live child on camera, but not a dead adult. (As always, there are cultural reasons for "what's ok" in any country, and I'm not saying anybody's wrong about these choices).

Wen Chao follows this up with pouring a cup of wine across their faces. He does this in the style of a libation for the dead, but as a desecration, combining mistreatment of bodies with profaning a ceremonial rite. In a world where ghosts are real and have sharp fingernails, this is deeply, deeply stupid.

Yu Ziyuan’s actress Zhang Jingtong is able to have liquid poured INTO HER EAR without flinching. Mad props.

The brothers eventually finish running and arrive in a field with an extreme purple photo filter on it. Which I've done my best to remove for these gifs, with variable results.

Jiang Cheng wants to turn around and go back to Lotus Pier. He says he wants to retrieve his parents’ bodies and to take revenge, but he's devastated and it seems likely he just wants to die with everyone else.

Wei Wuxian pleads with Jiang Cheng to calm down and stay safe, while Jiang Cheng gives himself over to anger and shock as the brothers shout at each other.

Punching and running ensues, and Wei Wuxian tries to hold his brother back, grabbing him around the shoulders him in a gesture that painfully echoes the many hugs he's given over the years.

This time Jiang Cheng doesn't just push him off. He turns around and chokes his brother for nearly a full minute, while screaming at him and blaming him.

Just as when Madame Yu beat him, Wei Wuxian doesn't fight back; he pulls on Jiang Cheng's wrists but doesn't hit him or try to break his hold.

Finally Jiang Cheng lets him go, and cries out for everyone he's lost, while Wei Wuxian weeps silently next to him. Eventually they fall asleep in the grass together, their bodies curled up in the form of a heart.

Damn, this episode really brings it.

Side Note: during their argument, Wei Wuxian says, among other things, that "revenge is a dish best served cold," according to subtitles. It's a French saying from the 1800s so it's probably not precisely what Wei Wuxian is saying. More importantly, as a longtime Star Trek fan I can't help but hear James Kirk yelling "KHAN!!!!!" whenever I encounter that phrase.

There’s Got To Be A Morning After

When they wake up in the morning, Jiang Cheng is still in his feelings, but now his feelings have moved along to despair, from anger.

I feel bad for noticing how handsome they both look in this scene. Let's all feel bad about this together.

Jiang Cheng is free to have this level of emotional breakdown because Wei Wuxian is there keeping his own shit together and focusing on what matters.

When Jiang Cheng refuses to get up, Wei Wuxian reminds him, very, very gently, that they have a sister, who has waited all night to know what happened.

At this, Jiang Cheng gets up, but won't look at Wei Wuxian, continuing to blame him for everybody else's actions, as he walks onward to find Yanli.

Wei Wuxian follows, hurt and bereft, as he gets to work internalizing everything that he's being accused of. This is good practice for his future as a widely reviled bogeyman.

Part two will be slightly less awful! Coming soon!

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #the untamed meta #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #yu ziyuan #wen zhuliu #jiang fengmian

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creativeashproductions · 4 years ago

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Shattered Hearts // Luke Patterson

Summary: The teenage years are supposed to the best time of life but not when fate has other plans for Sunset Curve. Not feeling well reader stays home while Luke prepares for the performance of his life at The Orpheum. Shit hits the fan hard and the fallout ensues.

Warnings: Swearing, death, hospital, cancer (type is not detailed) angst, and fluff.

Words: 2.3k

Requested: @lolychu

A/N: I didn’t go into detail about the kind of cancer because I didn’t want to, I want it to be as general as it could. I’ve never gone through it or had someone close go through it so it could be wrong and I apologize for that. Broken heart syndrome is REAL by the way.

Masterlist

Los Angeles, 1995

There are articles of some medical mysteries that can’t fully be scientifically explained, such as when someone dies in excellent health following the death of a loved one. The scientific term is takotsubo cardiomyopathy, but the world knows it merely by Broken Heart Syndrome. It was a day that was supposed to be the greatest of your teenage years, but the day couldn’t have gone any worse.

First, you woke up with an incredibly high fever and newfound bruises. Pain in a wrist out of nowhere but you wrote it off. You had plans, and illness wasn’t scheduled for the day. Your boyfriend and his band had gotten their big break, well their almost big break. Today was the day Sunset Curve would perform at The Orpheum, and you were gonna be backstage cheering them on.

Luke made his appearance at your house in the morning before early rehearsal, and you managed to convince him you were feeling okay. He went on to their studio, and your mother drove you to the hospital in fear.

Life was an asshole. While you waited for test results pale against the hospital sheets, an ambulance rolled in. Carrying three bodies that would go to the morgue for positive confirmation of death. You wouldn’t know for a full day, Luke’s parents too grief-stricken to call you and that’s okay.

“Mom?” You asked as her form caved in on the floor near your hospital bed, “Mom!”

Her eyes filled with so much pain brought you fear and concern. With a struggle, she came closer to hold your hand tightly and spoke brokenly the fate that would snatch you.

“Baby, you don’t have the flu.”

“That’s good? So just meds and we can go home?” You asked heart clenching as her eyes closed tight and you knew whatever the doctor had told her after pulling her out of the room wasn’t good.

Couldn’t be good with the slump in her shoulders, the pain in her eyes and the guilt coating her every word. Mom wasn’t a housewife; she wasn’t a flower in need of protection, but she never kept something from you. Always said it straight and as it is.

“Sweetheart, they’re gonna move you to another ward.” You knew deep in your heart the news had to be the worst because Mom wasn’t telling you the whole story. Finally, she broke down, “The doctors got the results back as soon as they could. The fever, the bruises, and the broken wrist have a reason. You have cancer.”

Cancer. A word that sealed your fate. It left you reeling in shock. It shattered your dream with just one single name. Couldn’t be seen but made its presence known. The coming hour was spent with the specialist detailing the type and a tentative treatment plan he wanted to initiate immediately.

A nurse escorted your mother out as the orderlies and nurses prepped you to be moved to a new room. Knowing you were in good hands, your mom walked to the main doors for fresh air only to be astounded at the sight of Mitch and Emily Patterson. Equally shocked, they came together.

“Emily?” Your mom spoke, looking carefully at the parents of your boyfriend. She wondered how the Patterson’s had found out, “Did someone call you?”

“No.” Emily spoke with a numb voice. Your mom took a step back, understanding that one could only react that way for one thing. Something had happened to the Patterson teenager.

“Luke isn’t here, is he?” Your mom asked, turning to look up at the tall building of the hospital, “Y/N, hasn’t had a phone. She only found out, but Luke hasn’t been with you-“

“The cops came,” Mitch spoke tucking his upset wife into his arms. He was equally as grief-stricken and bitter, but he had to be calm for his wife. They wouldn’t get anywhere if one of them couldn’t get answers.

Your mom gasped, “No.”

“I always knew that band-“Emily’s own sob cut her words off as her knees threatened to buckle. Your mom helped lead Emily into the emergency room before she jogged off to join you but not before turning to the Patterson parents.

“We’ll meet up. Discuss why we’re all here.”

Being told you had cancer and then informed your boyfriend died all in one night was the most painful thing you had to live through. It was weeks of screaming, invasive procedures and therapy sessions. Your father came from his business trip to Dubai as soon as he could and didn’t leave your side.

A painful six months rolled with cancer stealing your hopes and a fucking bad hotdog taking your dreams away. Nothing made you curious. Nothing felt worth living for.

Not the realistic watercolour tattoo your parents let you get of Luke’s blue guitar you loved so much. It seemed to have a terminally sick child made it practically impossible to say no to, so you got a tattoo of your favourite lyrics of Sunset Curve.

In pretty font, it said ‘When all the days felt black and white. Those were the best shades of my life’ just like it said in Now or Never. One of your favourite songs, you got the privilege of watching Luke create.

“Mom, can I have a popsicle?” You asked from your bed. Eyes barely open as she nodded off her chair, “My mouth is dry.”

“Of course.” She nodded, leaving the room with a kiss on your forehead. Both of you mumbling I love you just in case. You felt like your clock was close to the end, so every word had meaning.

It was a good day so far; you hadn’t had to press for more pain medication like the last couple of weeks. You had managed to turn to stare out the window at the pretty sky. Your eyes fluttered shut completely content that this was it.

Your mom returned to a room with doctors and nurses trying to resuscitate you with your father screaming. No one could figure out if it was the cancer or the broken heart syndrome that killed you first. Your death was a double blow to Luke’s parents the most, along with Reggie and Alex’s own parents.

Los Angeles, 2020

So much had changed since you died in 1995. Phones had changed, and buildings were torn down. You changed as well too. In relief physically, you had changed from the gaunt, skinny, pale patient to the girl you had been before the diagnosis.

Your hair now looked as healthy as it had been before you had cancer and you weren’t gaunt looking. You were looked just like you did a few months before you got diagnosed and you hoped so since you were dead. It would have sucked to be dead and beyond ugly.

“Do you think she went on to have a family?”

You kept your attention on the waves crashing the beach content to watch the waves doing the same movement they had since the beginning. You paid no attention to the group walking by. Not until one tripped over you landing in an awkward heap.

“Ouch!” The voice hissed. Your eyes flicked down to Reginald fucking Hastings’s blue eyes in pure shock. You scrambled away from the teenager with a sharp scream that pierced the ghoul group.

“Jesus.” You grumbled pushing the little sand that had stuck somehow to your body made of air.

“Oh my god. I think I just summoned Luke’s girlfriend.” Reggie hissed towards the equally astounded members of former Sunset Curve and current Julie and the Phantoms bandmates.

“No, you idiot we’re dead.” You spoke, taking a deep breath in, “After not seeing you for five years I thought you passed on. I’ve been travelling around America and Canada. Something felt like I needed to come home.”

“When did you die?” Alex questioned sadly when you were quiet. His sad blue eyes unable to leave your expressive face, he hoped somehow you had lived to your 90s and died to come back youthful.

“It’s wasn’t harm-“

“No, Luke. I don’t think I’ll ever positively know what happened, but the night you guys died my life ended as well.” You revealed sitting back, letting the three boys join you for an intriguing story to them. Luke wasn’t hesitant in grasping your hand in his, “Funny enough your bodies were being unloaded in the morgue while I was being told by my Mom, I had cancer. The battle was hard but short.”

“Cancer?”

“Our love story was destined to be tragic, whether it be cancer or a hotdog.” You told the teenage guitarist to experience in the afterlife to be gentle about it. The three boys flinched from the indifference, “Have you visited your parents yet? My parents are home for a few weeks.”

“My neighbourhood was torn down. Alex doesn’t know about his and-“

“-I’ve seen my folks once so far.” Luke finished playing with your fingers, “You say our love story was tragic, I say it would be tragic if we hadn’t had the chance in life that we did.”

You nodded your head, “Where have you guys been?”

All three boys took their chaotic turn in describing their last meal to Reggie tripping over you with the belief of walking through you. They were in a band with a lifer who made them visible to the public when playing music together. You told them that your parents would choose a destination from your dream travel journal; you would follow them on the adventures.

Slowly you met Julie who put up a distance as she acclimated to having the girlfriend of her crush around always. Julie couldn’t help the feeling of jealously when Luke focused on the teen ghost girl. She couldn’t even hate you! You were so lovely and welcoming to the girl with respect for boundaries, in fact, you were exactly the girl she would have been friends with. Julie loved Flynn, but she could be over the top and dramatic sometimes.

“Good rehearsal. I’ll meet you outside.” Luke spoke, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. You nodded before walking through the white, painted barn doors.

Everything put away properly; Luke was quick to meet up with his girlfriend for their date. Alex noticed the stare by Julie. He had seen it for the past few weeks since you were introduced to the passionate musician with a beautiful voice.

“I’m really sorry, Julie.” Alex softly told the sad Puerto Rican girl yearning to hug the teenager but alas his ghostly body couldn’t allow it.

“Did I have an honest chance before she came back?” Julie asked. Her doe brown eyes bringing Reggie’s attention to the conversation at hand.

“No.” Reggie answered this time solemn with his blue eyes holding no mirth or childlike glee, “Luke’s been in love with her for years. She’s his all or nothing.”

“I didn’t have a chance between them, and I don’t want you between them either. It’s not a nice place to be even if I was mutually breaking up with his as well.” Alex soothed the live girl yearning to physically comfort her but alas that damn hotdog ruined everything.

“Luke also said when the first big payment came, he would marry her. He wanted to give her the wedding of her dreams.” Reggie unintentionally rubbed the salt in Julie’s wound on the topic of her tragic love story.

Julie learnt to deal with the pain of seeing Luke, so in love and happier than before you had reconnected. In her fashion, she had hidden a new box for her thoughts that was so well hidden the boys would never find it. It was filled with papers that progressively got less romance angst.

“I’m just saying,” Alex spoke, raising his hands in the air after another one of Luke’s emotional rants on the loss of things in death. Such as marrying you.

“Dude, we’re dead, and our ghost connections happen to either be our band, Willie or a very questionable sketchy vintage magician.” Luke snapped slouching on his couch sulking as you were spending time with your family no matter how oblivious they were to your presence.

“I’m ordained.” Willie supplied sitting next to the blonde drummer who had easily swayed from Caleb to the good side again. At the group’s looks of disbelief, he continued, “I was bored! Took some art classes too. It won’t be the average wedding, but you could still call each other spouse.”

“I can check local clubs for wedding dresses. Flynn can easily put together music and Alex can find a venue.” Julie piped up, avoiding the sympathetic look from Reggie, who still thought the teenager had feelings for his bandmate. She no longer did.

“You can use one of your rings on a chain as well. Maybe hold off on getting a ring until we get money from the band.” Reggie gave his input, earning himself a proud expression from Alex; an expression the drummer rarely was able to give his friend.

“I guess I’m proposing.” Luke beamed already thinking of ways to make his proposal special, not like being ghosts wasn’t already impressive enough.

It wasn’t the ideal wedding, but it honestly didn’t matter as long as the two of you were able to vow yourself to each other. It no longer mattered on the details other than you two.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @parkeret @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds @kcd15 @siriuswvrld @princessvader15 @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle @joshy-obx @lovesanimals @oopsiedoopsie23 @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you @jaskiers-sweetkiss @lostrandomfangirln @must-be-a-weasley-92 @jatp-holland @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland @dasexydevitt13 @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost @marinettepotterandplagg @ssprayberrythings @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon @zukoshonourr @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch @kcd15 @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl @all-in-fangirl @kinda-really-lost @tenaciousperfectionunknown

#luke patterson imagines #julie and the phantoms imagines #luke patterson x reader #charlie gillespie imagines #jatp luke #jatp fanfic #jatp #caitsy and ash productions

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wh6res · 4 years ago

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taeil — part of the my bloody valentine collection.

prompt. soulmates are connected by a red string.

synopsis. taeil thinks the whole system is bullshit. he needs to take matters into his own hands.

warnings. tread cautiously. swearing, mentions of death, blood, mentions of kidnapping, violence, turning a 'lil dubcon near the end, severe stockholm syndrome, manipulation

disclaimer. a friendly reminder that i do not, under any circumstance, condone or support any acts like this. this is not love and this is not how a normal relationship should be like. the things i write are all fiction and should be treated as such and if you don’t like it, please do not read it and waste your time hating on it. the 9 members of nct 127 do not act like this in real life and shouldn’t act like this in real life.

thank you to. sexeh sam @yukwonghei, cutie charlie @dundun-baby, and baby rina @greenish-taro for beta-reading!

since he was a kid, he’s fantasized about meeting his soulmate. creating scenario after scenario of how he’d meet ‘the one’ as he had cheesily addressed and had absolutely freaked when he finally saw the red string tied around his right wrist on his 20th birthday—courtesy of the soulmate rules of the universe, where one will finally be able to see the string tied around their body once they’ve come of age.

for years before he met that other soul who’s destined to be with him, taeil would stare at the red thread lying across the floor, disappearing under the gap of his door and out to the world unknown. he’d be so distracted, so aloof and in his own world as he anticipates the long-awaited day until his professor calls him out—“moon! do yourself a favor and stop daydreaming!”

until his friends snap him out of it—“thinking of them again? really?”

until his parents shake him out of his thoughts—“don’t worry, i bet they’ll love you!”

sometimes he just loved staring at the string, it was something so measly as a bunch of threads intricately woven together yet it held such a symbol in today’s world. call him lovesick or stupid but was it really wrong to feel excited? taeil’s even betting the person on the other side of this string is just as excited as he was, if not more.

in the man’s eyes, the strings are a symbol of something more than love—it symbolized the person the universe has created especially for him and no one else.

taeil can’t even imagine a world without these strings. how difficult it would be, to love and invest in someone who will only end up breaking your heart? no, the strings also meant reassurance.

assurance that he won’t get hurt.

an assurance of faithfulness.

he had only been a wide-eyed fresh grad looking for some place to intern when it happened. like a scene right out of a cheesy romance movie—he felt the persistent tugs of the string before finally meeting his soulmate. well, using the word meet to describe the whole ordeal is a huge stretch because it was more of a holy shit, is that my soulmate? rather than a hi, i'm your soulmate, taeil!

he merely saw the back of her poised figure but taeil’s heart felt like it wanted to explode, his emotions a mess and feeling everything to the extremes. nervous. scared. anxiety. happiness. excitement—it was all coming at him like bullets.

as taeil stared at her back, walking away, johnny kept shoving him forward, encouraging him to finally approach the person he’s been waiting for ever since that soulmate string appeared around his pinky.

but he couldn’t—not because he was so anxious he’d accidentally vomit the 4-cheese whopper he had for lunch but due to the line of people trailing behind his soulmate like a bunch of baby ducks to their mom. the thought of coming up to his soulmate and introducing himself in front of all those people?

romantic, maybe, but taeil doesn’t have the stomach to do that.

he remembers how much johnny had wolf whistled, unbelieving of the fact his friend managed to snag the possible heir to the company they’re attending an interview in as his soulmate.

“lucky little asshole,” johnny muttered.

taeil had been experiencing the post-effects of seeing his soulmate that he just weakly punched johnny’s arm for the heck of it. he probably didn’t even hear the name his younger friend had called him. taeil’s mind is clouding over, no thoughts in his head but the white polo shirt she wore, sleeves neatly rolled up, and the black pencil skirt hugging her legs and making her ass look so plump.

focus. he needs to focus on the interview right now or else he won’t even have the chance to work here and officially meet her. everything the interviewer asked passed through his head like paper planes in a classroom, shamelessly asking the woman sitting before him to repeat the question, too busy reveling about how their soulmate story would be the cliché office-love. not that taeil minds, he’d love going to work together—

two weeks later, johnny receives an email of acceptance. taeil doesn’t.

the man nearly threw his laptop away out of sheer disbelief and anger. okay, sure, maybe he could’ve done better in the interview but he graduated with latin honors in college! and from a prestigious college at that. he shouldn’t even be applying as a mere intern with the skill set he had yet he went with it because he’d always dreamed of working there.

and now knowing his soulmate is possibly someone who holds a high position in the company? everything just kept getting better and better for moon taeil.

except for that fucking email—pft, or lack thereof. how can they not accept him when he’s more capable than johnny, anyway? for fuck’s sake! taeil doesn’t even ask that guy for rent and he’s so thick-skinned that he stayed up to this day and freeloaded off taeil’s food and shelter.

the absolute unfairness of the situation makes taeil’s blood reach a fever point. he’s completely lossed it, leading him to spit “get the fuck out!” to the other male occupant in the apartment with eyes glaring and lips pulled into a nasty sneer.

johnny’s never seen taeil this upset before and decided that he’d be better off abiding by the older man’s wishes instead of contradicting it.

no. no. no. this can’t be happening. if taeil doesn’t work there, with her, all his sweet fantasies won’t come true and god forbid she ends up falling for another person in the company.

anyone would be naturally drawn to taeil’s soulmate. in his eyes, she’s a goddess in the flesh. taeil doesn’t even need to see her face, from the few seconds he saw a glimpse of her, her presence and allure in itself is already eye-catching. the way her low ponytail swished from side to side as she walked, her back straight and head held high.

taeil needs to see her again. maybe if she finds out he’s her soulmate she’ll put a good word in and he’ll get hired.

yeah. yeah, that’s a good plan.

“please get out of my office or i’ll call security.”

or not.

“no, wait. but i just said i’m your soulmate!” to further prove his point, he even raises up his pinky and sure enough the other end of the string is tied around hers. the incessant pull is there and if not for her sharp cold eyes anchoring him to the ground, taeil would’ve long been soaring high in cloud nine.

“and i said i don’t care,” she snaps just as her fingers sneakily pressed a button in her phone. “i have a fiancé. the whole soulmate bullshit doesn’t apply to rich people. so for the fucking last time, get out of my office.”

“but—”

the double doors of the vice president’s office bounces off the walls when two burly guards barge in. dressed in a white long sleeves and those heavy tinted shades of glasses that taeil hates. the two men waste no time in hooking their arms underneath the smaller, frail man as he thrashes against their arms.

“how can you not care about your soulmate?!” taeil can feel the beginning licks of the flames eating up his whole world as everything comes crashing down before his very eyes. “i’ve been—i’ve been waiting my whole life for you and this is how you treat me?!”

he doesn’t know what hurts more, the scratch in his throat as he screamed with all his might or the stoic look written on her face as the guards haul him away.

when johnny heard the news he’d never felt so sorry for his friend. rumors that initially circulated only between the executive board members had spread and trickled down to the common folk on the lower levels. johnny making it a mission to find out, had extracted himself from his usual cheery and extroverted self to blend in with the background. taeil has yet to talk to him after he got kicked out, so asking his friend—or ex-friend?—about what happened is out of the question.

but like any other breed of rumor, the tale of their vice president’s soulmate barging in her office is ever changing through each mouth that tells the story. johnny doesn't know what to believe in. he’s been trying to put off a meeting with the older man ever since he started crashing in taeyong’s apartment instead. not that taeil himself even tried reaching out to johnny, anyway.

so why should he, when he doesn’t even know what he did wrong?

but there’s a nagging voice at the back of johnny’s head. his conscience isn’t too loud but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there and it doesn’t need excessive volumes to be heard. all it takes is a second of distraction from the paperwork he does, attention straying from the task at hand, and his body will automatically be wracked with guilt.

knowing how much taeil had waited for his soulmate to come to his life, knowing how taeil can readily give everything up for his soulmate without even meeting them yet… and now knowing taeil just got the worst ever rejection in his entire life?

johnny can’t possibly imagine the pain he’s going through. is he really going to choose now out of all times to be petty because taeil kicked him out when he didn’t even bother asking johnny for anything in return during his stay in the apartment?

so when taeil finally contacted him, the sketchyness of what he had asked for flew right over johnny’s head. rational thoughts flying out the window because taeil needs him, he should his friend after everything taeil did for him—

“hey, uhm… i need insider’s information, can you do that for me?”

you shook your head at the long story johnny told you. tuffs of your hair have escaped the intricate pigtails taeil has put your hair up in earlier before he left for work. he’s always hated having your hair messy, but at the moment you couldn’t find yourself to care.

“i wouldn’t put it past taeil’s original soulmate…” you think aloud, mouth speaking before you can stop yourself as you stare disdainfully at the dulled string wrapped around your pinky—it lost its divine red glow after your captor had cut it off on the same day he whisked you away.

ironic, how easy it was to destroy something so important.

you backtracked, realizing the gravity of what you said before looking up at your captor’s friend. johnny doesn’t look all too impressed and he sighs at the pleading look in your eyes. please, don’t tell him.

“i guess you’re somewhat right…” he gives in, coursing his fingers through his hair. “taeil had been… very passionate on finding his soulmate. but i mean, come on, why’d you even marry someone who isn’t your soulmate? i don’t blame taeil for doing what he did to them.”

johnny ignores the way your breath hitches and your body halts all movement. “what—what did he do?”

“paid them a ‘lil visit after gathering enough resources from someone on the inside,” his face stoic, voice monotone. johnny doesn’t like talking about this one. “he studied their schedules, where they live, where they work, how they get to work, what time they sleep, what time they wake. then just one day…”

he drags a finger across his neck.

“oh.”

pathetically, it was all you can say. why did you even bother to ask, anyway? if taeil had been willing to exert force just to keep you in line, then he has the stomach for whatever gruesome deaths he subjected his soulmate and her fiancé to.

you nibble on your lip as you stare at the knot of thread lying on the floor. you don’t see the need to wear the collar wrapped around your neck when that knot is good enough a reminder that you’re now bound to taeil. that he’s fucked around with your destiny and decided he’ll have you out of all people.

its hard to believe taeil once almost worshipped the soulmate bonds, not when all he’s ever done is look at it like it's the bane of his existence and calling it a curse to humanity.

“do you know that you’re—”

“that i’m the 5th? yeah, i know. i saw all the knots on his string.” you defeatedly say, a vivid image of the knots spaced across his string like tophies. “taeil doesn’t like me staring at them, though.”

and you yourself didn’t like staring at them. you never thought something so small and insignificant can mean something so sinister. the knots on his string acting like a body counter. will he get sick of you one day and you’ll just be another knot on his string?

“you’re nothing like his soulmate—i’m not insulting you or anything, i’m just saying the truth. the past girls all had at least something in common with her but you… nothing. not even your hair shines like hers, and that’s even after taeil has taken good care of you.”

this doesn’t soothe you in any sense and before you can open your mouth to retort, the familiar beeping of the code getting punched into the keypad cuts you off.

taeil stood in the entrance as he shrugged off his coat, his polo crinkled at some areas and pieces of his hair had escaped that slicked back hairstyle.

“you’re home early…”

your blood runs cold when he doesn’t even offer you a glance, skipping you out and immediately addressing johnny. “i thought i told you to go home already after delivering the food.”

you admire the way johnny’s eyes roll. must be nice not to be so fucking terrified of the man. “yeah, but your current sweetheart here was lonely and practically begged me to stay.”

the sting of betrayal never grows familiar.

“i never said anything—”

“you did, have you forgotten already?” you hate the show of lust clouding in johnny’s eyes as he stares you down. this can’t be happening right now. “have you forgotten how you even came unto me? whined like a bitch about how taeil doesn’t even fuck you hard enough and you had to fake orgasms all the time?”

“that’s not true!” your frustration manifests as tears. they sting your eyes as you look at taeil. “i never said anything—”

but you pale when you realize they’re not even listening to you, the two guys fist bumping in the foyer and exchanging a few words like “thanks for telling me,” and “no problem, bro,” were heard before taeil is heatedly storming up to you.

you feel numb as you look over taeil’s shoulder at the little smirk johnny shoots at you. have fun, he mouths mockingly and then he’s out the door, extracting himself from the mess he created.

when taeil wordlessly drags you across the hallway, you thought he’ll make a right turn and into the bedroom but imagine your surprise when he pulls you instead towards the bathroom. he wastes no time throwing you against the cold hard tiles as he tells you only one thing.

“strip.”

“taeil…”

“you don’t want to be replaced.” it doesn’t take a genius to know taeil had hit the nail on the head. all your movements come to a halt, looking up at him with an unreadable look in your face. “that’s your fear, isn’t it? that if you die, if i kill you, i can just look for another girl and you’d be forgotten at the snap of a finger. i’m right, aren’t i?”

you gulp, his words stinging even if he didn’t mean for it to sting. or maybe he did. taeil takes a step closer to you, studying your appearance as he brings a hand up to caress your tear-stained face.

spots in your clothes are wet due to the splashes of water on the tiles, and the clips in your hair that once looked neat and perfect are now hanging in disarray, falling off in some places.

“i’m sorry,” you sob. “i’m sorry, john—johnny’s lying. you—you have to—to believe me. please don’t replace me… i’ll be good, i promise…”

truly, there’s no better motivator than fear. and there’s no better way to mess with someone’s head than using their weakness against them.

“you say you’ll be good but i tell you to strip and you couldn’t even do that?”

taeil could never imagine replacing you. he finds it stupid, whatever that brought in this fear of yours, but it doesn’t mean he won’t be extracting every little bit he can get out of this.

he can only stare in awe when you start wiggling your way out of your pretty pink clothes, eyes drinking every bit of your skin slowly being exposed to him as he reaches behind you to open the running water, slowly filling the bathtub.

“get in,” he instructs and you waste no time.

as he sheds his own clothes, he can practically feel the want radiating off you. he knew johnny’s lying, but he humored his friend still. there’s no way you can fake the noises you always make. plus, taeil has seen one too many times the cum dribbling out of your cunt after he’s fucked you into oblivion. he scoffs. harder? then he’ll be breaking you in half already.

taeil swats your hand away as it reaches for his cock and he hopes you don’t notice it twitching before you when you let out a cute whine.

“you want it?”

you nod urgently, salavitating at the thought. taeil was more of a giver to his partners, it’s rare for him to take his pleasure first but you’re far from complaining.

“oh, i don’t know…” he pouts, fisting himself in front of you before giving it a few testing pumps. he swallows the hiss threatening to spill from his lips, chuckling instead at the intense look in your eyes as it follows his hand movements.

you were by far the most compliant girl he’s ever had, someone who’d rather stay than escape. his methods of forcing someone into submission worked extremely well with you. so really, how can he let go of his glorified little pet?

“you’re not lying to me, aren’t you? i got hurt, you know, with what johnny said… i guess i was doing something wrong.”

“no!” your reply is immediate. “no, that’s not true—”

hands wrap around your throat like a vice. “how about you prove it to me, love? tell me everything i want to hear.”

now, this is easy. you’ve practically memorized everything you need to tell him to boost his ego. it doesn’t even take much of an effort.

“i love your cock so much that my body hurts. it hits all the right places inside of me and i will never even dream of wanting another man because they won’t be able to fuck me like you do.”

you feel giddy when he smiles that satisfied smile, your toes curling in anticipation as he leans in to give his obedient darling a kiss—

until he shoves your face down the water.

it doesn’t take much effort to wrestle your limbs down and insert himself into you, groaning at the feeling of your lush and moist walls sucking him in. you’re always so damn wet when he fucks you, oh how much he loves it. loves how tighter your cunt wraps around him as you squirm and fight him to get to the surface of the half-filled tub.

it was only after a few deep thrusts did he relent and pull you up, the few hair clips in your hair floating in the water around as you gasp greedy amounts of air. one look at taeil’s face pulled in ecstasy is enough for you to know it was well worth it.

maybe being rejected by his soulmate was a blessing in disguise. maybe the disobedience of every girl he took before you had been deliberately well-planned. or else he’d never would’ve met you.

taeil was right. all the soulmate and soulmark shit is utterly useless and stupid. because you are by no means his soulmate, but fuck he’ll never let you go.

not when your destiny is to lay there underneath him, taking whatever it is that he gave you like a good little whore.

#yandere nct #nct imagines #nct scenarios #yandere taeil #yandere nct 127 #taeil imagines #taeil scenarios #taeil smut

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apiratewhopines · 3 years ago

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Thanks again to @teamhook for the artwork and being the muse for this one! You wanted a movie fic and I did my best 🙂

Midnight

Chapter 7 — The Slipper

Summary: In which our heroine resets the clock

Chapter 7 on AO3 (That’s all folks!!)

“You’ll never know

How many dreams I dreamed about you”

-It’s Been a Long, Long Time, Bing Crosby

It was receiving the invitation to Arthur and Guinevere’s second wedding that did it. Emma’s fairy godfather stayed in touch after their weekend in the country, offering investment advice for her windfall and acting for all the world like her adopted brother. She knew he felt guilty for finding his happy ending at her expense. Despite her reassurances she messed up her chances hours before he came on the scene, maybe months if she were really honest.

Three months ago, she left the estate a little more scarred, a little less hopeful, and much more wealthy. She paid back the money stolen from Granny but couldn’t bring herself to buy a place in the city like she originally planned. Instead, she took the remainder and invested it per Arthur’s overbearing instruction. She doubled it in a week and tripled that figure by the end of the month.

She still wasn’t satisfied, though. Dreams of a certain blue-eyed man haunted her, his last words whispering through her mind like a mantra and a curse. So she found Neal’s trail again and spent the next couple of weeks looking for him in the shadows and muck. She found him mooching off his mother of all people.

All the hate, anger, and embarrassment she buried deeply at the end of their relationship dissipated the moment she saw him. Why had she given him so much real estate in her mind, allowed the ghost of him to rob her of her sanity and potential happiness?

It was with satisfaction at a job well done rather than his impeding downfall that she turned him over to the local authorities and headed back to the east coast.

By the time she arrived, she was richer and even more lonely.

She was listless and finding no reason to stay, Emma accepted Arthur’s latest proposition that she needed to see the world. Using his numerous estates as a guide, she flitted across the globe, experiencing all the world had to offer and looking. Always looking.

It took her longer than it should have to realize she wouldn’t find what she was missing in the new people she met or the natural wonders she explored. The whole time her mind and soul were calling out for a more familiar setting and a dearer face.

Lancelot was right. She was running scared, and the only thing it was going to get her was absolutely nothing.

The handsome, almost homewrecker had not attempted to reach out since their quiet conversation on the beach, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know what he was up to. After calling it quits, he realized the US hadn’t been the best place for him. He returned with great fanfare to France, where he took on the daily running of the family business. He was said to have the Midas touch, working with the locals to improve the processes and products they offered. His vineyard was becoming the trendiest tourist destination in the country.

Not even a month after his departure, the press reported on the fairytale romance of the champagne millionaire and his widowed neighbor, Belle French. The pair’s engagement announcement ran in every major newspaper in the world.

It was quick work, even for Lancelot du Lac. She couldn’t begrudge him, though. He was never truly a bad man, just a regular one who made bad decisions. She could certainly relate.

Cutting her trip short, she returned to the city where it all started, to a tiny loft apartment she rented on a month-by-month basis above Granny’s diner. There didn’t seem to be much point in seeing the world when the only world she was interested in was centered about four hours away.

The news of Killian was more challenging to come by than the other people involved in her charade, but that only made it more precious. A charity fundraiser here, a life saved there, the ever-present and never changing picture on the hospital website she checked so often it was now saved as her homepage. She thought glimpses and scraps were all she was entitled to at first. However, the longer she tried to resist his pull, the more she started to think maybe she did deserve a chance.

Maybe she wasn’t too late.

Staring at the thick cream-colored invitation with scrolling words waxing romance, dates, and times, she came to a decision and packed her bags.

—

It wasn’t hard to find the exact location of their meeting. It was burned into Emma’s memory. Their initial encounter cemented as one of those moments that seem routine when they happen but take root in your fate and grow, threading through every aspect of your life until all traces of happiness are tied to one serendipitous second in time.

After departing from Arthur’s estate in a chauffeured car all those months ago, she had returned to this spot and found her Bug right where she left it. Someone, probably the Prince Charming she was determined to break, had filled the tank with gas. So, she bid adieu to Arthur’s employee and drove off into the sunset all alone. Like she did everything.

Nothing had changed about the place in the intervening months. It was thirty minutes to midnight. The dark sky was clear, stars twinkling from space and the moon a tiny thumbnail above the evergreens. She would wait all night if she had to, but sooner or later, she would catch her quarry.

Emma Swan always got her man.

Unfortunately, she didn’t always get him on her first try. She waited for a couple hours the first night, but no black BMW could be seen cresting the hill. Admitting defeat, she went back to her hotel and vowed to try again.

She knew she could have sprung an unannounced visit on him at his job. After all, it wasn’t difficult to pick out his dark sedan in the parking lot when she cruised by the hospital several times a day. Nor would it have been difficult to track down his address and ambush him one evening when he returned home. The idea had a lot of appeal since his place lived in a variety of fantasies involving oversized shirts and pancakes.

Deep down, she knew after she had robbed him of his choice so many times in their brief acquaintance, it would be wrong to show up and act like nothing happened. She needed to allow him to invite her back in or send her away.

God, she hoped he invited her in.

It took three nights, but eventually, she saw headlights. Smoothing down the hem of her black tank top over her skinny jeans, she took a cleansing breath and stepped out into the middle of the road.

She had no doubt it was him, the cautious pace slicing through the night at exactly the same time as before. She could even tell the precise moment he spotted her in the bright lights of his high beams, the luxury car swerving slightly into the other lane. It was less than a minute later he rolled to a stop about ten feet away.

Then, nothing. The silence of a door not opening was deafening.

Maybe this was her answer.

She wished she could see past the glare and through the windshield. Look into his eyes at least once more and tell him everything she figured out over the past couple of months. The same things he had tried to say to her before he left.

Finally, a lifetime later, she heard the door open. She felt every footfall in the far reaches of her heart, each measured step in time with the rapid beating in her chest. She was lightheaded with longing, her eyes frantically trying to adjust between light and dark and make out Killian’s beloved form in the nighttime.

“Fancy meeting you here, Captain.”

There was another long pause and then he stepped into the narrow, car-sized area of light. He was even more handsome than she remembered. The static, professionally staged photo on the website never did him justice in the first place. “Emma, when did you get back?”

She heard the question for what it really was, ‘Emma, why are you here?’

Smiling past her nerves, she took a step closer. He looked like the proverbial deer in the highlights, like any sudden movement would cause him to turn tail and run. She did this to him. It was her fault her cocky Prince Charming looked spooked. “A couple of days ago. I need a ride to Misthaven. I’m late for an appointment.”

“An appointment? It’s almost midnight. I’m getting the strangest sense of deja vu.”

“You see, there’s a man. He’s actually the best thing that ever happened to me. But I felt like I didn’t deserve him, like I didn’t deserve anyone, really, so I ran. Several times. And even though I pushed him away and ruined everything, I need to let him know that he was never nothing. His feelings were never nothing. As a matter of fact, he’s come to mean everything to me, and I wanted to tell him I was sorry it took me so long to say it.”

Taking a step forward, he stood nearly toe to toe with her. His hair was sticking out at odd angles, his face twisted in thought, hands hanging in fists at his side. “Is that so?”

Reaching out, she placed her hands on his shoulders and she looked up into his eyes, whispering, “I’ve loved you since you let me have all the bites with whipped cream. I was just too scared to admit it.”

She waited when all she wanted to do was pull him closer and bury her face in his neck, inhale his intoxicating scent again and taste his skin. She had said what she needed to say, but it didn’t give her the right to waltz back into his life if that wasn’t what he wanted. “Killian, I—“

Her words were cut off by his abrupt kiss. He grabbed her like he was drowning and she was the only thing that could save him. His chest heaving and lips brutal in their quest. He hitched her up slightly, settling her against the hood of his car. He half leaned over her as he continued to explore every neglected inch of her mouth, every lonely corner of her soul. When he finally broke off his passionate embrace, his breathing was ragged and his voice harsh with emotion. “I have big plans for you and whipped cream, love.”

Laughter filled the inches between them, his forehead resting against hers. Peppering his face with soft kisses, her fingertips tracing the line of his jaw, she teased, “Prove it.”

—

The trail of clothes leading to the bedroom remained untouched for days. They survived the early days of their relationship on pancakes, whipped cream, and borrowed shirts.

Over the years, people asked her when she knew Killian Jones was the one. Her answer was always the same.

At the stroke of midnight.

Every night for the rest of their lives.

Note:

Midnight — Info about the movie

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @motherkatereloyshipper @klynn-stormz

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bechloeislegit · 3 years ago

Text

My Spy - Chapter 4

The Bellas had just returned from a meeting with the Dean and members of the Collegiate A Cappella Committee regarding the "vagina-gate" fiasco that had occurred during a performance for President Obama's birthday. They were sitting about the kitchen counter, discussing what they needed to do to fix things.

"What are we going to do?" Stacie asked, looking around at the rest of the Bellas. "We can't be responsible for the Bellas being disbanded."

"We'll just have to win the World A Cappella Championship," Beca said with a shrug.

"It's not going to be easy," Jessica said.

"You're right. It's not going to be easy," Beca said. "But we've been ICCA Champs for three years in a row. That should play in our favor, right?"

"I agree," Ashley said. "And I think we should start by checking out Das Sound Machine to see what we're up against."

"That's a good idea," Stacie said. "I bet we can find some videos of them on YouTube or something."

Stacie pulled her laptop to her and started searching for videos of Das Sound Machine.

"Wow," Stacie said. "There are a lot of videos of them."

"Click the first one," Ashley said.

Beca watched as the girls surrounded Stacie to watch the videos. She looked at Lily and nodded her head to the door. Lily nodded and walked out of the kitchen; Beca followed.

"Can we talk on the porch?" Beca asked, looking back toward the kitchen to be sure none of the Bellas noticed her and Lily leave the kitchen.

Lily nodded and went out the front door of the house. Beca followed and quietly closed the door after stepping outside.

"I know this is random, but have you heard anything from Chloe?" Beca asked as she faced Lily.

"No," Lily said. "Not since that time she texted me her number to give to you. And, that was almost three years ago."

"I thought that might be the case," Beca said. "And I did try to call her once I got back from Spring Break that year, but the number was no longer in service. I can't get her out of my mind. I miss her so much and every time someone even appears interested in me, I blow them off. I feel like I'm cheating on her or something. I can't get past what we had to even think about being with someone else. I just wish I could talk to her, to see if there was a possibility of rekindling our relationship."

"Even after all this time, you'd take her back?" Lily asked.

"I know it sounds pathetic," Beca said. "But, I would take her back in a heartbeat. She's it for me."

Beca could hear her name being called from inside the house. She thanked Lily and opened the front door.

"Beca, there you are!" CR said, seeing Beca and Lily entering the house. "Stacie is looking for you."

"Thanks, CR," Beca said, as she and Lily walked back to the kitchen. "What's up, Stacie?"

"We found out that DSM will be at the Metro Mall in downtown Atlanta next week," Stacie said. "I think we should take a road trip and check out their show. The videos we found of them look too perfect. We think they must have been edited, and seeing them in person will give us a more realistic idea of what they can do."

"We can do that," Beca said. "It will give us a better idea of what we'll need to do to beat them at Worlds."

~~ My Spy ~~

The next morning, Beca was up early. She walked into the kitchen to find Jessica and Ashley each with their laptops in front of them.

"Hey, Beca," Jessica said. "We're all signed up for the Worlds. It's in Copenhagen, Denmark, so we need everyone to check their passports so anyone who has to get theirs renewed has time to do that."

"We also made airline and hotel reservations," Ashley said. "The airfare was a bit higher than we expected, so we could only afford to reserve four rooms. That means we'll be doubling up."

"That's good," Beca said. "Thank you both for doing all that."

"No problem," Jessica said. "I have to call my mom and ask her to check my passport."

"Me, too," Beca said. "I think mine's still good, but I want to be sure."

"Don't forget some of the others may have to do the same thing," Jessica said.

"I'll mention it at rehearsals today," Beca said.

"I'd also suggest they ask their folks to express mail their passports, whether they need them renewed or not," Jessica said. "We have two months before our first break when most of us go home, so having them mailed to us now will help get the renewal process started for anyone who needs the time."

"That's a good idea," Beca said. "Thanks, Jess. I'll mention that as well."

Beca left the kitchen and went back to her room.

"You're up early," Amy said as Beca entered. "Where have you been?"

"I was talking to Jessica and Ashley," Beca said. "We were talking about Worlds and what we need to do over the next several months. You'll need to check your passport to be sure it's still valid."

"I know mine's still good," Fat Amy said. "I had to renew it four years ago to come to the U.S. for school and they're usually valid for ten years."

Fat Amy grabbed her phone and put on a light jacket.

"I'm going out for a while," she said, leaving Beca alone in her room. "I'll see you later at practice."

After Amy was gone, Beca pulled out her phone and called her mother.

"Beca?" Sarah's raspy voice said into the phone. "What's wrong?"

Beca winced as she looked at the time and realized it was only five-thirty in the morning in Seattle.

"Everything's fine," Beca said quickly. "I didn't realize how early it was for you."

"That's okay, I'm up now," Sarah said, yawning into the phone. "Sorry. So, why did you call me at such an early hour?"

"The Bellas are going to Copenhagen in May to compete in the A Capella World Championship," Beca said, rushing to get everything out quickly. "I need you to get my passport and express mail it to me. I have to make sure I have time to get it renewed if I need to. I'm sorry I woke you."

"I'll get it and take it to the post office later today," Sarah said. "What else is going on? I can tell by your voice there's something else you want to say. And don't tell me everything's fine because I'm your mother and I'd know if you were lying."

"I was hoping we could talk," Beca said.

"Hold on," Sarah said, putting her pillows behind her back and sitting up against the headboard. "Okay, I'm comfy now, what did you want to talk about?"

"Um, Chloe," Beca said hesitantly.

Sarah sighed into the phone. "I thought you were done with her."

"I can't help it, mom," Beca said. "I still love her. I know you don't want to hear that, but it's true."

"It's been three years, Beca," Sarah said. "She listened to me and has stayed away from you, why can't you listen to me and forget about her?"

"What?!"

Sarah sighed again. "Nothing."

"What do you mean by she listened to you?" Beca asked tersely. "When did you even talk to her?"

"I guess enough time has passed, I can tell you now," Sarah said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "She came by the house when you were here during Spring Break after your father was arrested."

"What did you say to her?"

"Beca," Sarah said, pleadingly.

"Answer the fucking question!"

"Watch your tone, young lady," Sarah admonished. "I'm still your mother and was only doing what I thought was best for you."

Beca laughed. "What was best for me? You mean, like when you shuttled me off to college so I could spend some time with my father? You know, the guy who is in Federal prison for the next fifteen years for being a drug smuggler and dealer?" Beca scoffed. "You know nothing about what is best for me."

"Your father said it was all a mistake," Sarah said. "He was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Wrong place at the wrong time?" Beca sneered before taking a breath and saying, "I didn't call you to talk about my father. But, I now want to talk about what you said to Chloe when she came to the house."

Sarah leaned back and closed her eyes. Sarah sighed again and took a deep breath, knowing in her heart what she was about to tell Beca may well be the thing that sends Beca running away from her and straight to Chloe. She took another moment before replying.

"I told her I didn't know what she hoped to accomplish by showing up here uninvited," Sarah said. "Then she had the nerve to ask me to have you call her because she really wanted to talk to you. As she was leaving I yelled at her to leave you alone; that she was no good for you. I told her that you were over her because you were out with an old girlfriend from High School. And calling her was the first thing you did when you got home."

"Un-fucking-believable," Beca muttered. "Do you realize what you've done? The pain and heartache you've caused me? I could have been with Chloe all this time if you hadn't stuck your nose where it didn't belong."

"I'm your mother," Sarah said. "I only-"

"Oh, for the love of God," Beca interrupted. "Give it a rest! You don't care about what is best for me, you only care about the fact that Chloe was part of the group that arrested dad. If you really want to do what's best for me, then stay out of my life!"

Beca ended the call without waiting for a response. She turned the phone off and threw it and herself down on the bed.

~~ My Spy ~~

"It's awfully quiet up there," Stacie said, looking up the stairs. "Do you think we should go check on her?"

"I think we should leave her be for now," Jessica said. "She sounded upset and may need a minute."

"Jessica's right," CR said. "Let's give her a few minutes, and then we can check on her."

Stacie nodded and remained standing at the bottom of the stairs. Just then, Emily and Flo walked into the house and immediately sensed something was off.

"What's going on?" Emily asked, looking around at the Bellas that were congregated at the bottom of the stairs.

"We just heard Beca yelling at her mom about Chloe," Jessica said.

"Chloe? Is that the girl who was a cop and arrested Beca's dad?" Flo asked.

"That's right," CR said. "Beca and Chloe were a thing when it all went down."

"A thing?" Ashley said. "Chloe was more than a 'thing' to Beca. She's the love of Beca's life. Beca loved her then, and she loves her now."

"From what we heard Beca saying," Stacie said. "Her mother said something to Chloe that made Chloe leave Beca alone. Beca didn't like whatever it was she heard from her mother."

"Is she okay?" Emily asked. "Should we check on her?"

"We were giving her some space," Jessica said and looked up the stairs. "But, it's still quiet; too quiet. I think we should go up."

"We can't all go up there," CR said. "She'll freak out on us. Stacie, you and Jessica know her best. I think you two should go up."

"I agree with CR," Flo said.

"Okay," Jessica said. "Come on, Stacie, let's do this."

~~ My Spy ~~

Stacie and Jessica stood outside Beca's door. Stacie put her ear to the door and listened.

"I think she's crying," Stacie whispered.

Jessica knocked lightly on the door.

"Beca?" Jessica said, opening the door. "It's Jessica and Stacie. We just want to make sure everything is okay."

"Come in," Beca's muffled voice called out.

Jessica and Stacie looked at each other. Stacie opened the door and the two went up the stairs. Stacie peeked around the corner when she reached the top. Beca was sitting up on her bed, staring at her.

"Hey," Stacie said, stepping closer to Beca.

"Are you okay?" Jessica asked from behind Stacie.

"I'm so pissed at my mother," Beca said, sniffling.

"We gathered that," Stacie said. "We could hear you yelling at her all the way downstairs."

"Oh," Beca said. "Sorry about that."

"Meh," Stacie said, dismissing the apology with a wave of her hand.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jessica asked.

"No," Beca said, sighing as she ran a hand through her hair. "Yes. I didn't know it, but Chloe came to see me in Seattle and my mom never told me until now that she was there. Chloe wanted to talk to me but my mother told her I was seeing an old girlfriend and to stay away from me."

"Why did your mother do that?" Jessica asked.

"She said she was doing what she thought was best for me," Beca said.

"But you don't think that's the real reason?" Stacie asked.

"No," Beca said. "I think she was mad because she believed it was Chloe's fault that my dad was arrested. He hasn't taken any responsibility for his own actions and my mom thinks he is innocent and they got the wrong guy."

Beca sighed and looked down at her fingers, twisting her thumb ring.

"I know you girls are all still mad about Chloe lying to everyone," Beca said softly. "But, I want you to know that I'm still in love with her."

Stacie and Jessica both smiled at Beca.

"Beca, I think I can speak for all of us when I tell you," Jessica said. "We've forgiven Chloe. It didn't take long for us to realize she was just doing her job. If she had told us what she was doing, it would have compromised the investigation."

"Jessica's right," Stacie said. "We are all proud of how Chloe helped bring down a huge part of a major drug ring. That's pretty badass stuff."

"Really?" Beca asked, her brows furrowed. "You all forgive her?"

"Yep," Jessica said.

"You don't have to be afraid to talk about Chloe to us," Stacie said. "We all know how much you love her."

"Are you going to try and find her?" Jessica asked.

"I would love to," Beca said. "But I have no idea where to even start."

"I do," Jessica said, grinning at Beca.

"Really?" Beca asked. "Where?"

"Start with Lily," Jessica said. "I have a feeling she has some tricks up her sleeve and can help you."

"That's a great idea," Stacie said.

"I don't know," Beca said. "I've been talking to Lily and she hasn't mentioned anything about being able to find Chloe for me."

"She wouldn't just come out and tell you she could do it," Jessica said. "You'd have to ask her if she could find Chloe."

Beca chewed her bottom lip until she came to a decision.

"What the Hell?" Beca said. "It couldn't hurt to ask."

"That's the spirit," Stacie said. "Let's go see if everyone's ready for rehearsal."

~~ My Spy ~~

Later that night, after the Bellas had finished dinner and were settling down to watch a movie, Beca asked Lily if they could talk.

"Kitchen or front porch?" Lily asked with a smile.

"Kitchen," Beca said and started in that direction.

Lily followed and both sat at the counter.

"Is this about Chloe?" Lily asked, surprising Beca.

"Yes," Beca replied. "I was wondering if you, maybe, had any way of finding where she is? I just want to find out if she's one, okay, and two, if she still has any interest in me whatsoever."

Lily looked down at the counter and back up at Beca.

"I'll do what I can," Lily said. "I can't make any guarantees, but I'll do my best."

"Really?" Beca squealed. "Thank you. Let me know if I can do anything to help."

"I'll start looking now," Lily said, standing.

"I really appreciate this, Lily," Beca said. "If there is anything I could ever do for you, just name it."

Lily nodded and left Beca sitting alone in the kitchen.

After a few minutes, Beca got up and rejoined the girls in the living room.

"Well?" Jessica whispered as Beca sat next to her.

"She's going to see what she can do," Beca whispered.

Jessica threw an arm around Beca's shoulders and gave her a side hug. Stacie saw this and looked at them with raised eyebrows.

"Lily's going to look for Chloe," Jessica mouthed to Stacie.

Stacie smiled and gave Beca a thumbs up. Beca sat back, smiling and nodding her head. She just knew Lily was going to find Chloe.

~~ My Spy ~~

A few days later, Beca had bid everyone goodnight and went up to her room. Fat Amy was out, so Beca was alone. She was surprised by a knock on the door.

"Come in," Beca called out.

Lily came up the stairs, waving some papers as she came into Beca's view.

"I found something," Lily said.

"What did you find?" Beca asked eyes widened in surprise. "Do you know where she is?"

"It took some digging," Lily said. "I had to follow her trail around the U.S. and a few other countries. She's been busy."

"Okay," Beca said. "Do you know where she is now?"

"As of today, Chloe was in," Lily said as she looked through the papers in her hand. "Atlanta."

"Chloe's in Atlanta," Beca said, excitedly. "Oh, my God! I can't believe she's that close. Do you know where she is in Atlanta?"

"I can't pinpoint an exact location," Lily said. "I can keep trying, but I'm not confident we will know more than she is somewhere in Atlanta."

"Thank you for doing this," Beca said. "I feel so much better since I think it's safe to assume she's still alive and okay. If you find out anything more, please let me know."

"I will," Lily said, handing the papers with her notes to Beca. "Goodnight, Beca."

"Goodnight," Beca said as Lily made her way down the attic stairs.

Beca looked through the papers Lily left with her. The list of places Chloe had been was fairly extensive. Over the past three years, she has been to New York, Oregon, California, Germany, and Australia. And now, Atlanta.

"She must still be working as an undercover agent," Beca muttered. "I wonder what she's working on in Atlanta."

Beca continued reading until tiredness took over. She put the papers on the nightstand and climbed under the covers. She laid down and was asleep within minutes.

Chloe flopped back on the bed, laughing as Beca crawled her way up Chloe's body. Beca kissed every inch of Chloe's bare skin as she made her way up, finally landing on Chloe's lips. The kiss was full of passion and want.

"Ready for another round?" Beca asked in between kisses.

"I'm ready for round 3," Chloe responded, in between more kisses. "And round 4, and round 5,-"

"God, I love you," Beca whispered before fully capturing Chloe's lips.

"Wait, what?" Chloe murmured, gently pushing Beca back to look at her face. "You love me?"

"Yeah," Beca said, moving to sit on the bed and look down at Chloe. "Of course, I love you."

Tears came to Chloe's eyes as she stared at Beca.

"I love you, too," Chloe finally whispered.

A big smile came to Beca's lips as she slid back on top of Chloe and kissed her. Her smile suddenly fell when Chloe was no longer under her.

"Chloe? Come back!" Beca cried out. "I love you!"

Beca sat up with a start and looked around. She wiped both hands down her face and mumbled into the darkness, "Where exactly are you, Chloe Beale?"

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

A/N (actually just a friendly reminder): Next week is BeChloe Week 2021 and I will be participating. I may or may not have the next chapter finished in time to post on Thursday. I'll have to see how the week goes.

#bechloe fanfiction #beca mitchell #chloe beale #bechloeislegit

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thebountyfucker · 3 years ago

Text

The Two Princes - Royal AU

NSFW - 18+ ONLY

Embo x F!Reader x Cad Bane

Tags: sex party, public sex, double penetration, threesome, blowjob, handjob, overstimulation, maybe ooc but this is an AU so I don't care lol

CW: mentions of drugs, prostitution, power imbalance (the reader is a hired attendant, and both Embo and Cad are princes. Reader is not a part of either of their domains, so they have no control over her. However, I did want to include it just in case)

Here's a link to my masterpost and to the application for my taglist!

“So explain to me again what is going on?”

“There’s nothing else to say.” Your boss replied as he sorted through his collection of datapads, his fingers flicking through the stack until he found the right one. He pulled it out and thrust it in your direction. “Ya gotta sign it.”

“Sign… what?” You took the datapad into your hands and powered it on. A file appeared, one that was rather lengthy and full of legal words that you couldn’t, for the life of you, understand. You parsed through the paragraphs of Aurebesh, before pausing and glancing up. “Is this an NDA?”

“Yep.” Your boss was quick to reply, turning his stout body from you to search around his office for something else. You uneasily returned your attention to the swirling legalese, and faltered. Your boss noticed your hesitancy, and sighed. “I can tell you this - it’s the royal folk. One of them is planning some shindig, and needs you and the girls to help take care of them.”

“Is it… safe?”

“You tell me. You know them royal folk better than I do.”

You wouldn’t exactly say you knew them; one one-night stand with Prince Cad hardly seemed to count, in your opinion. Though, if this party was hosted by a royal, there was a good chance that you’d get to see him again. He’d protect you if things went wrong, right? You stared down at the datapad, and your boss huffed impatiently.

“Look, sign it or don’t. I need to know who to staff now. They aren’t the patient type.”

“Alright, alright.” You scribbled your signature down on the line and your boss snatched the datapad from your hand. He tossed it aside and waddled around from the other side of the desk, gesturing with two fingers for you to follow him.

“You and the others will caravan to The Veil, where you’ll meet the employer. Remember, none of what happens tonight can be talked about, or we’ll be sued to shit. You understand?” You nodded again at this, the uneasy sensation rising in your stomach once more. Your boss glanced over his shoulder at you, and scoffed. “They ain’t gonna eat you! Relax!”

“Easy for you, perhaps.” You muttered under your breath as you both slipped into the meeting room. About fifteen young women - your coworkers - were waiting in the room. Most seemed just as confused as you were.

“The employer has everything you’ll need. Don’t let them talk you into doing anything that isn’t in your job description, okay? You’re attendants, not whores.” Your boss drawled as he crossed his arms over his chest. The last line, specifically, caught your attention. You’re attendants, not whores. What about this job warranted that comment? He had to know more than he was letting on, and this bothered you. You supposed he, likely, had to sign a similar NDA, but at the same time, you hated going into jobs blind. Things were more likely to go wrong this way… and the royals weren’t the type you wanted to disappoint. “Get your asses moving. He’s waiting on you.”

The Veil was unlike anything you had ever seen before - it was a meeting hall affiliated with Azvergin Hotel - a high-end joint for billionaires and royals alike. This meeting hall was just as high-class, with high ceilings and sculpted arches and hand-carved crown moulding. Columns lined the grand hall, holding the heavy mosaic ceilings from toppling to the floor. Famous artwork was displayed along the walls. You were so caught in how awe-inspiring this hall was, you hardly noticed the room was empty. There were no tables or chairs to be seen - something you expected for a function fit for royalty.

“This way.” The grounds-keeper spoke, pulling your attention from the details of the room; it was then that you finally noticed how quiet everything was. You turned towards the groundskeeper, watching as they turned down a long hallway. You jogged after them, your coworkers following closely behind.

“Where is everything?” You asked, and the groundskeeper glanced over their shoulder at you.

“Downstairs.”

“Right…”

They turned to the left and knocked on a door; a small peephole opened, and someone from within called out.

“Who are these ladies?”

“Attendants.” The groundskeeper explained. “The prince sent for them.”

The peephole closed, and the door opened instead. The guard gestured for you to enter, which you did; you slowly descended down the flight of stairs, noting that the lighting had dimmed and that low, sultry music was playing over hidden speakers. You turned to look at your girls, the pieces of this puzzle slowly forming in your head; it wasn’t until the door opened that things finally started making sense.

The room was much smaller than the grand hall above, without the frills and displays of wealth. It was hard to tell what colors the walls and floors were, given how dark the room was compared to the hall above. Plush chairs, chaises, and even beds were dotted around the room. Men and women were already wandering around, dressed in lingerie or kink apparel. They glanced at you and your party, but didn’t say anything.

Against the wall closest to the entrance of the room was a table covered in sex toys, condoms, lube, and little flags of various colors.

You understood the NDA now; this was not your typical job. No… this was a sex party. You had been hired, by one of the royals, to attend to them while they’re likely doing dope and fucking the brains out of prostitutes. Great. This would be fun.

A door to the left of the room opened up, and out stepped Prince Embo, the tall, broad chested Kyuzan prince. He wore a loosely tied satin robe, which exposed his defined chest; tattooed across his exposed skin were dark green, blocky symbols. You could make out the facsimile of a sun printed along his collarbone, though no other shapes made sense to you. Your gaze trailed down his chest and abdomen, before noting the loose tie which held his robe shut. You wondered if he was wearing anything underneath it…

Embo cleared his throat, and you startled, your gaze ripped from the knot of his closure. Your gaze flicked up to his face, before you remember that he was royalty and some royals found eye contact with subordinates to be threatening; you briefly met his gaze, noting the amusement in his face, before you cast your gaze to the floor.

“What is this?” He inquired, looking you all over; he waded through the crowd, looking over each and every one of you personally. His hand ghosted across the back of your neck, sending shivers straight down your spine. “My attendants, yes? Come. I have uniforms for you.”

You tentatively followed him into the room he had just exited from. He started rifling through a box, paying no mind as the sixteen of you gathered around you.

“What will be our role here tonight, your majesty?”

“Attendants. As is your job title.” He answered bluntly as he pulled out enough uniforms and set them aside. “You do not have to do what you are not trained for. Just offer drinks and take care of my guests.”

“I… well… okay.” You nodded as you grabbed one of the dresses - they were short, but not too revealing. Guests would definitely be able to tell the difference between you and the entertainment, even in the dim light. You held it up to you, noting that the prince was watching you. His gaze held interest, but no ill intent; you weren’t sure why, but your stomach somersaulted and your heart skipped a beat.

“Is that a problem, miss?”

“No, your majesty.” You replied, and he stood to his full height, towering over you in a way not many others could. This, embarrassingly, sent spikes of pleasure to your cunt. If he was this tall, you knew he had a huge cock to match.

“Good. My guests shall be arriving any time now. Do not keep us waiting too long.”

He ducked out of the room, giving you ample room and privacy to change. You slipped out of your work uniform and pulled on the given dress; it was red in color, and made of silk. It clung to your body, accentuating your curves; there was something about this dress that made you feel so pretty. Most other uniforms you were given were unflattering at best and purposely ugly at the best. You appreciated the prince’s good tastes.

The others gossiped about the situation you all were in as you pulled on your shoes. You weren’t much for gossip usually, but you understood how odd this situation was.

“So the rumors of the Prince are true!”

“Who knew that a royal could have such a ravenous appetite!”

“Of course he would! Those types always get what they want.”

You chuckled as your mind wandered to your night with Cad. They weren’t entirely wrong; royals were just as fickle and just as horny as everyone else. But you couldn’t imagine Cad throwing such a party. Hell, you couldn’t even imagine him attending such a circus! Prince Embo surely was something else...

You made sure your shoes were on tightly, and slipped out the door. You wanted to get a feel for the place before the chaos began. You took note of the supplies on the table near the door, and of the bar you had somehow missed. So far, there was nothing illegal, but you weren’t certain it would stay that way.

The main floor was still only populated by prostitutes at this point, despite the Prince’s warning that guests would soon be arriving. Some were fixing their hair or make-up, and some were chatting it up with anyone around. Missing, however, was the Prince. You tried to find his towering frame in the crowd, but that was easier said than done.

A hand slid across your back to your shoulders, and you jumped in surprise. You turned, noting Prince Embo staring back at you. You lowered your gaze respectfully, and he responded by wheeling you around to face him, and gripping your chin in his free hand.

“I think I would like for you to be my personal attendant tonight.” He purred, tipping your head back so he could look at you better. His glowing gold eyes searched your soul, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip in response. “Pretty thing. It is too bad you are not one of my entertainers tonight.”

His presence was engulfing, and your heart skipped a beat. His thumb brushed over your lips, and you had to stop yourself from parting your lips and accepting it into your mouth. Mindlessly, you edged closer, and the hand on your shoulder slid downward….

“Well, I’ll be damned.” A familiar voice drawled and you winced; of all the people that could have walked through the door at this time, it had to be Cad. The only royal who actively had a past with you, and the one you figured wouldn’t dare be seen at such a function. You turned away from Embo’s grasp, glancing over at an amused Cad. “Didn’t expect t’ see ya here.”

“I only hire the best.” Embo explained, sauntering over to his chair, which overlooked the rest of the room.

“Yeah. De best.” Cad smirked. There was no malice in his tone; rather, you figured this was his attempt at teasing. “Dat’s de one dat spilled wine all over yer mother’s dress."

Blood rushed to your face, and you were thankful that the lights are so dim; you had just barely forgotten about that whole mess, and now Cad had to bring it back up - to the Queen’s own son, nonetheless! You wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die.

Your self-pitying was cut short by a loud laugh from Embo; at first, you were glad that he wasn’t upset by this information. But then, you realized that he was likely laughing at you. Your mood soured, and you crossed your arms over your chest in a pout.

“So that was you? Oh, my mother raved about you for days after that.” Embo leaned back on his little throne, spreading out like he owned the place. Maybe he did.

“I… what?” You dropped your arms, confused.

“You gave her an excuse to change out of that gods-awful dress my father bought her. She wanted to hire you to ruin whatever gifts he gave her, but we had to talk her out of it.”

“Shouldn’t have.” Cad chuckled. “It would be the best job she’d ever have in her miserable little peasant life.”

“Hey now.” You frowned. “We talked about this.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Cad waved you off as he drew closer. “You wouldn’t happen t’ be available tonight?”

“She is an attendant, Cad. And mine for the night.”

“Figures. You always bag de good ones.” Cad shook his head as he stood; he looked you up and down with a licentious smirk. “I’ll see you ‘round, den.”

“Of course.”

You watched Cad retreat to settle in a nearby chair. One of the prostitutes - a handsome man - approached, sitting on the arm of the chair. Well… at least Cad was there in case things got out of hand.

Embo called to you, and you turned toward him; he gestured with his two fingers, watching with an intensity as you approached. You bowed your head when you reached the foot of his chair, and he tsked.

“None of that.” He told you. “There is no need for pleasantries here. Now… fetch me a drink.”

You had never been around so much sex in your entire life. Everywhere you turned, there was someone giving someone else head, or someone riding someone else’s dick. The room was filled with the sounds of skin against skin, of gagging, of slicked up cunts… and the moans… oh the moans!

You edged around one of the beds -where a princess was getting gangbanged by a group of various alien men- carrying the tray of goodies to your prince. Embo was leaned back in his chair, looking surprisingly bored even as two ladies fondled his cock. You leaned down to hand him his drink, which he accepted with a grunt.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying this, my Prince.”

He just shrugged nonchalantly as he sipped at his drink. “I am not feeling particularly inspired.”

With a wave of the hand, he dismissed the two ladies, and closed his robe up. You set your tray down and knelt before him. He carded a hand through your hair, muttering something in his mother tongue. “Is there anything I can do to make this a better experience?”

He glanced over at you, his gaze lazily trailing down your form; something - which you figured was lust- sparked in his golden eyes, but he was not quick to act on his feelings. He gestured with his free hand, and you offered him some sort of smokable, which you figured was not smart given his need for a breathing mask. He lit it and slumped back in his chair.

“No. Stay your course, kamour.”

“Are you sure, my Prince? I… am offering to help you. You hired me to help, right?” You inquired, reaching out to touch his hand. He glanced over at you, and you wondered how much convincing it would take him before he realized you were serious. Not much, it turned out.

“I am no monster. Say the word and I will let you go.”

“Of course.” You settled between his parted legs, your soft hands slowly sliding up his naked thighs. What was it your boss said? Oh, that you were attendants and not whores. Well, what he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

Your hands swept under his satin robe, parting it open to reveal his large cock. You wrapped your hand around the base of it, and slowly worked your way up his length. He was already hard from the ministrations of the prostitutes, the head of his cock flushed a deep and needy green. You leaned forward, gathering spit in your mouth before drooling it out onto his cock; you locked gazes with him as you spread your saliva down and around his shaft.

“Now, dat ain’t fair.” Cad’s voice startled you from your task, and you turned to spy him sitting on the arm of an unused chair. He was completely naked, with his arms crossed over his chest. “You said she was an attendant.”

“I did not lie. She is attending.” Embo put his mask back into place, and ran his hand through your hair. “She is doing her duty.”

“Yeah, well, I want in on dis.”

“That is up to her.”

You hardly even had to think - you reached for Cad, wrapping your hand around his slick, hard cock. You gave him a pump, and Cad hissed through gritted teeth in response. You gestured for him to move closer, and he did; the princes met gazes but said nothing to each other as you reached the other hand out to stroke Embo’s cock.

You stroked them both at the same time, reveling in the hisses and grunts trickling from their mouths. The way their cocks pulsed in your hands was enough to make your pussy tingle, and arousal slowly built within you. There was something depraved about this - about a lowly attendant pleasuring two powerful princes in the midst of a sex party - but the depravity only added to your pleasure. You could hardly stop yourself from grinding your needy cunt against the heel of your own foot.

“Enough of dis pussy-footin’. Are ya gonna suck me off or what?” Cad drawled, as impatient as ever; you quirked a brow as you leaned forward to give him a long, wet lick. He growled in response, his hands threading in your hair. “Come on, doll… don’t be teasin’ me now.”

“You forget that you weren’t the first man I was pleasing.” You replied, your voice wavering. You weren’t sure it was a good idea to talk back to him, especially in this position. Though, you supposed, you held the power when you held his cock. Any wayward comment and you were in a prime position to bite him. You figured he wouldn’t risk it.

Cad scoffed and you leaned away to wrap your lips around the head of Embo’s cock. He chuckled and leaned back.

“She is not lying.”

“You shut up.” Cad muttered as he pressed a hand to the back of your head, almost as if he was trying to guide you. You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest.

It went like this for a while - you’d take one into your mouth, bobbing and sucking like a good little whore, before pulling away to take the other one. You felt oddly powerful knowing you had the ability to bring these two princes to their knees with only a touch. You reveled in this power for as long as you could before Embo lifted you up and sat you on his lap. He pulled you close to his chest, purring.

“I am going in you.” He told you, giving you ample time to back out of it. When you didn’t protest, he lifted you as though you weighed nothing, and turned you to face Cad. He guided you onto his cock, and you winced as the head slipped into your drooling cunt. You hadn’t realized that he was quite this large. He gripped your hips, controlling how slowly you eased down onto him so you didn’t hurt yourself.

Cad waited until you were ready before offering his cock to your mouth once more. You parted your lips, your eyes half-lidded and darkened with lust, and he chuckled.

“Are ya cock-dumb already, doll?” He reached out to tangle his hand in your hair. “Are our cocks just dat good?”

You nodded in response to this, greedily latching around his cock and sucking hard. He let out a hiss and tugged at your hair, spurning you to start bobbing up and down his length. At the same time, you had fully engulfed Embo, sheathing his cock deep within you. Your whine was lost amongst the sloppy slurps of Cad’s cock easing in and out of your wet mouth.

Embo slowly, gingerly, eased in and out of you, taking care not to hurt you in the process. Every time he pulled his cock half out of you, you took Cad’s cock to the hilt with a gag. Every time Embo bottomed out within you, you pulled away to breathe. It was tough to find the right rhythm at first, but when you did, the pleasure was all-encompassing. Your head was spinning, arousal burning deep within the well of your stomach; your eyes rolled back and your hands went to your breasts, squeezing so tightly you were sure they’d bruise.

“Think she could take us both in there?” Cad asked, and your mind wandered at the prospect. You imagined the sensation of their cocks filling up your cunt, stretching you out in a way you’ve never felt before. The idea was fascinating, and a bit frightening. You didn’t realize that you were drooling around Cad’s cock until your spit splattered on your thigh.

Embo leaned you back against his chest, a finger probing at your cock-stuffed pussy. He slipped it inside, and your eyes went wide; Cad’s cock slipped from your mouth as the air vacated your lungs. You quivered against Embo, a pathetic little whimper escaping your lips.

“No… not unless you intend to split her in half.”

“Shame.” Cad shook his head; he pondered for a minute, before tipping your chin up. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

As if you had other plans. Embo rested his head against you shoulder, purring softly. “I would like to see your pretty face, kamour.”

“Alright.” You turned around, facing the prince; you couldn’t tell for sure, but you guessed he was smiling behind that mask of his. His large hand cupped your cheek, and you leaned into his warmth.

“Beautiful.” He slowly rocked his hips up into you again, and you whimpered. “A beautiful, sex drunk whore. You like my cock, hm?”

“Yes.” You breathed, matching his thrusts by rolling your hips; his finger slipped out of your cunt, and instead stroked your swollen, trembling clit. A fire built in your stomach, and your vision went blurry. Your orgasm was within reach! You gasped out his name, your voice strained yet velveteen. Embo’s eyes brightened at this, and he reached up to wrap a steady hand around your neck.

“Say it again. Say my name again.” He commanded, his voice husky with his own desire. You whimpered.

“Embo….”

“Again!” He rubbed at your clit faster, slamming up into you with a ferocity you had never felt before. You could hardly find the strength within you, but you couldn’t displease him.

“Embo!” You cried out, your entire body quivering as the fire of orgasm consumed you. Your head danced in the clouds as your body went limp and useless against him. He held you close, his hands dancing over your form.

“Shit, did I miss out on all de fun?”

You lifted your head and glanced over your shoulder to spy Cad with his hands on his hips. You shook your head, your tongue weighing like lead in your mouth. You gestured for him to draw closer, which he did, and you gave his now condom-clad cock a stroke.

“I do think she can take more.” Embo hummed, his hand rubbing at your thigh. You nodded in agreement at this, and Cad leaned down to nip at your neck.

“Good. Do you still want to take de both of us?”

“Yes!” You chirped, and Cad chuckled.

“So eager.” Cad maneuvered you into Embo’s chest, giving him better access to your ass. Cad lubed you up with a bottle he had grabbed from somewhere, and gently eased into you. A strangled cry escaped from somewhere within you as Cad brushed against the thin, sensitive wall separating his cock from Embo’s. You could hardly keep yourself upright, the sensations quickly overwhelming you; Embo had to keep you from falling completely limp onto his chest.

“Easy now. This is not too much for you, is it?”

You shook your head at this. “N-no.”

“‘Course it ain’t.” Cad yanked on your hair, pulling your head back enough so you could look him in the eyes. He smirked, and then sheathed himself within you. You let out a cry, and his smirk deepened into a depraved smile. “Yer a good lil’ doll. You can handle us.”

“Yes! Yes!” You whined in agreement as they both slowly rocked into you. Every inch of you was set ablaze as they took turns massaging that oh-so-sensitive wall. Cad released your hair, his hand instead sliding down to roll your nipple between two of his fingers. His other hand gripped at your hip, keeping you steady. Embo’s hand returned to your clit, pinching and rolling the overstimulated bud around until you were panting and pleading for release. Your admissions only made them hasten their paces, and soon, they were both slamming into you. Your head lolled back on your useless neck, resting squarely on Cad’s chest; your legs quivered and jerked as you chased after your second orgasm. Hands wandered, acquainting themselves with every aspect of your body; this only added fuel to the fire which threatened to consume you once more.

With only a few more thrusts, you came undone. Your vision went white as you rode waves of pure bliss, only faintly aware of how erratic their paces had become. It wasn’t until Cad lurched forward and bit you that you were pulled from your euphoria.

His fangs pierced your skin, surely drawing blood; his orgasm, contained by the condom, manifested in quick, jerky motions up into you. Slowly, he eased out of you, lapping up any blood that had trickled from the wound.

Embo found his pleasure not long after that, shooting his cum deep within you; the searing heat of his seed was unexpected, but wasn’t unpleasant. You were almost certain that if he hadn’t been wearing his mask, he probably would have bit you too. He, unlike Cad, didn’t ease out of you. He let you decide what it was you wanted to do, even if it meant keeping his soft cock in you until he hardened up again. You did, however, ease off of him to sit on his lap.

“Dat was good, doll. I might need t’ keep ya around.”

“Yes, well, you may have competition.” He leaned toward you, humming. “Though, I suppose it would be your choice.”

“Who says I have to choose?” You managed, your voice sultry. They cast glances at each other, and Cad shrugged.

“‘Spose that could work.”

Taglist!: @sat-nam-saint @that-clone-wars-girl

You leaned back into the warm chest of one of your Princes. Huh. You liked the sound of that. Who would have thought that someone like you could pull two Princes!

#cad bane #embo #royal au #star wars smut #smut #star wars #my fanfiction #iri writes

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whenimaunicorn · 4 years ago

Text

Playing House - Part 8

In which we find out what Ivar’s “long night” entails... the warnings list also spoils the surprises, but do read it if you need to. This part is over 5k words, and the next post will finish the scene with almost 5k more. Ivar takes his time!!!

Warnings for: D/s dynamics including in-scene negotiation (always talk BEFORE you play folks) bondage with ropes, fear play, knife play. if you’re not ok with those last two, you can stop reading when that part of the scene begins and skip right to the next chapter. I’ve separated the sections at just the right spot so that you won’t miss anything else.

Many thanks and credits to @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen for this GORGEOUS moodboard!!!!

Catch up: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Ivar’s room is warmer than the kitchen. Which is good, because your body has already started entering that keyed-up state that makes you shiver and tremble.

You’re ready for a night of heavy play, really you are, but as you watch Ivar settle onto his bed, setting his crutches to the side, you’re hit by a burst of softer, warmer feelings too. Ivar Lothbrok has always been a closed book. Controlled, distant, keeping everyone at arm’s reach with his sarcasm and wit even as these exact traits draw you to him like a moth to a flame. But now, he’s finally letting you in. Even if it is only a little bit at a time.

He’s been so attentive to your desires. He’s created the most amazing scenes, the most tantalizing games, to set your body and soul on fire in ways you had thought were only ever going to happen in your fantasies. And yet, is he getting what he wants? You still haven’t seen him come. He’s never even let you try. You’d hardly noticed that at first, given all the wild new experiences he’s been putting you through, but at this moment you are almost overwhelmed by your need to give something back to him now.

You approach him softly. You would kneel at his feet but then you couldn’t embrace him like you want. So you leave the games behind and sit down at his side, take his hand between your own.

His gaze is locked onto yours. Watching indulgently, waiting to see what you’ll do. Maybe he doesn’t always need to be in charge. Although there’s a weight behind those eyes as he lets you massage his hand softly, as you lay kisses on each of his knuckles, that makes you feel like all the control is still his. What’s that term that horseback riders use? Letting you have your head. His grip on the reins is loose, but they are still in his hands.

You want to show him your gratitude. That’s what this moment feels like, this almost-intolerably warm bubble that’s bursting up behind your chest. You’ve lost track of how many shimmering, mind-blowing orgasms you’ve had since this game began, and Ivar has not even once asked you to pleasure him. You have to give him that now. It’s not even guilt, it’s a craving. An imperative coming from the deepest part of yourself.

You lean in to kiss him on the lips. Still he watches, tipping his chin far enough to receive your affections, not moving enough to influence what you’re going to do next. Your lips travel to his cheekbone, his temple, his jawline. There is a part of you that can still hardly believe you are allowed to touch this perfect, angel’s face.

When your lips pluck at his again he opens to you, and when he kisses back he can’t help but do it his way, sucking at your bottom lip, meeting your tongue with his own. His hand comes up to the back of your head, fingers carding through your hair.

You lean into his body, letting your hands travel over his shoulders and chest, slipping under his arms to embrace the broad expanse of his back. You still can’t shake the feeling that you’re getting away with something, somehow, just by touching him this freely. It’s not that he’s reluctant, he’s just . . . still. Allowing himself to be caressed.

He pulls you in tighter, responding with more life the longer you two keep making out. You were almost worried you were doing something wrong, or maybe he was bored by something as simple as kissing, but now his body is writhing along with yours and you’re falling together into the sheets.

His fingers trace over your skin. The scalloped edging of the garter belt’s lace, overlapping the row of thin ribbons that form the side straps of your panties, give him plenty of textural interest to play with while you slip your hands up under his shirt.

His skin is smooth and warm, his abs springing up into your hand as he lifts his upper body high enough to pull his shirt over his head. Several locks of hair cascade down around his face in the shirt’s wake; you reach up to play with them immediately.

“Will you let your hair down?” you ask shyly. For months you’ve dreamed of what it would feel like to run your fingers along his scalp, through his long, thick hair.

He thinks about it, smiles, and tugs the elastic out of his little bun. The dark, silky strands slide between your fingers, and Ivar closes his eyes in bliss as you scratch softly along his scalp.

He finally seems to be relaxing. With your hands wrapped around his head you kiss him again, and he responds eagerly, his fingertips dancing along your ribs.

You want to be his good girl. You want to make him feel even better. Without breaking the kiss, you run your hand down over his tattooed pecs, skimming along his abs and sliding your fingertips just beneath his belt. Dipping under just a little, in a slow side-to-side; not so much teasing as asking permission. Your mouth goes dry just thinking about getting your hands on Ivar’s cock.

His abs tense. He’s pulling away. Oh no, a voice in your head says. What did you do wrong.

“Don’t you want to know what I’ve planned for tonight?” There’s mischief in his eyes.

You roll your body against him. “What if I have plans, too?”

Something drops out behind his smile. That’s not what he wanted to hear you say. Still, his smile is indulgent. “Do you.”

You’re committed. You run your hand down his belly, the direction of travel obvious. “I want to make you feel . . . as good as you’ve been making me.”

Ivar leans in, smirking. “It’s a good plan.” He nips at your lip. “Mine’s better.”

And just like that, he’s rolling away from you, reaching down to tug something out from under the bed.

“Are you very familiar with shibari?”

You sit up beside him. Ivar hauls a duffle bag up onto the bed, filled with neat coils of rope. They’re in several colors: black, teal, natural hemp brown. Ivar lifts two braided twists of brilliant crimson. You reach out to touch one; it’s as smooth and silky as it looks. “I’ve seen it. Never got to experience.”

Ivar taps one bundle of rope against your hip. “Would you like to try?”

The pictures you’ve seen online mostly feature blissed-out looking women bound elaborately from head to toe, wrapped in knots and open twisting weaves that turn their bodies into works of savagely sexual art. You look at the scarlet rope in Ivar’s hands, imagine it embracing your curves, binding and supporting your limbs, serving your body up to him while taking away all of your control. You find yourself nodding, vigorously.

Ivar is nodding too, his smile thick and broad.

“I’m not sure if I’m flexible enough.” You’re thinking of some of the contortions you’ve seen the models pulling off, seemingly effortlessly.

He shakes his head, bemused. “We will start with something simple. And comfortable.” He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Sit up here, at the edge of the bed.” He unfurls a length of rope, holding it doubled in his hand. The first loop goes over your head, loosely. “Stand in front of me,” he orders softly.

His fingers brush down the center of your body as he straightens and smooths the two cords descending from the knot at the center of your chest.

“Your job, aside from following my directions, is to tell me immediately if any part of this does not feel completely comfortable. Do you understand?”

You nod, but he waits for you to give a full vocal answer. “Yes.”

He ties a knot into the doubled rope, about a hand’s-length below the first. Unintentionally, his knuckles brush against the bottoms of your breasts. “Something that feels a little bit too tight at first can become a major problem as time goes on. So you must tell me right away if any wrap is too tight.”

“Ok.”

Another knot, even with your belly. The small, accidental touches that come with his work are maddeningly tantalizing. Probably because you’re not used to standing in full lingerie in front of a guy while he concentrates on something other than tearing you apart. Ivar’s ability to delay his gratification is truly legendary. “I don’t plan on putting you in any stressful positions tonight. But if any part of your body starts tingling or going numb, I also need to know that as soon as you even think you feel it.”

“I understand.”

His knuckles brush the fronts of your thighs as he creates the next knot. Then he reaches up to trace the scalloped black edge of your bra. “We can do this naked next time,” he suggests, “but since you have never done this before, I want us to see how you react while you feel less…exposed. It can be surprisingly intense to have your whole body bound.” He presses the rest of the rope between your legs, reaching around to pull the whole length of it through to the other side. You step your legs a little further apart to let him work, enjoying the feel of the smooth hemp dragging softly across your inner thighs. “Which is what I would like to do, if this first section feels alright.”

You nod.

“Turn around.”

You’re disappointed not to be able to keep looking at Ivar’s face, but at the same time it’s freeing to be unobserved for a time, free to go inward and just feel everything about this strange and exciting new experience. He’s pulling the long ends of the rope up through the loop behind your neck now. Stopping before it gets tight, he coaxes you to step back closer to him. You feel his breath on your shoulder as he reaches around to check the level of the first knot he placed against your upper chest.

You start to realize what he’s creating with this rope when one strand comes around either side, under your arms, and loops through the ropes hanging between each knot, separating them out to form a diamond shape. It’s that lovely interlocking pattern you’ve seen in pictures before, wrapping the body in a net-like harness.

The first pass tightens the cords above your breasts, the second below.

“Breathe for me.” Ivar takes a deep inhale behind you, demonstrating what he wants. “Too tight?”

You are certainly aware of the ropes around your ribcage, and while they constrict just a little when you take a deep breath, it’s not restrictive, or scary. “No. It’s still easy to breathe.”

“Good.”

The pattern continues around your waist, taking all the slack out of the line so that by the time he has opened up the diamond beneath your navel, the rope between your legs is cinching against your vulva. You shift on your feet a little, testing the angles your movement can get on the tantalizing pressure there.

Ivar’s fingers follow the rope down, checking exactly what you’re doing. His chuckle is dark, and your breath catches at the pleasure of even the edges of his fingers sliding across your labia, through the panties. “I have heard that a knot can be placed in the rope down here, too. An experienced Dom can determine just the right spot.”

‘H-have you done this a lot?”

Ivar makes a musing noise. “Here and there. It is not always easy to find someone to practice on. I like to think that I have mastered the basics.”

You make an appreciative noise, rolling your body against the ropes that now beautifully and snugly encase you from chest to hips. “I don’t know who would turn this down. It feels amazing.” You feel, in fact, just a little bit like you’re on drugs. Grounded in the minute sensations of your body, and yet your mood is soaring, floating and ephemeral.

Ivar’s hands envelop your waist from behind and you almost swoon. They are so large, and so warm, stroking each diamond-shaped island of skin between the ropes. “Then you would like to continue?” He’s feeling it too; his tone is deeper and lighter both at once, as ultra-focused as you are.

“Yes.”

“Can I bind your arms?”

Oh yeah. All this, and you’re not even technically tied up yet. You take a deep breath, turning to look at Ivar sitting on the edge of his bed and staring up at you with dazzled eyes. “Yes.”

His gaze slips lower, and you turn more fully to show off his completed work. “Wow, you look…so good.”

You have to agree. The knotted bands of crimson both bind and enhance your every curve, stacking onto the effect of the silver-embroidered lingerie to make you look like a stolen treasure, the richest captive prize.

“I’m glad I chose the red,” Ivar says. “This shade compliments your skin tone so well.”

You look down at yourself, just reveling in the obscene glory he’s created of you. And rock your hips against that lower rope again. The interconnected tightness of the full harness is fascinating, erotic. The cords pull across your shoulders, around your breasts, encircling your navel.

And Ivar is not even done. “Can you stack your wrists behind your back?”

You turn around, showing him that you can.

“Do you think you could stay that way for . . . twenty minutes?”

You roll your shoulders, testing your muscles. “I think so.”

You feel him start to slide the ropes around. “I can release this quickly if your arms start to ache.”

Something else starts aching as Ivar continues to restrain you. The snugness around your wrists is enticing, and oddly comforting. As are the deft movements of his fingers as he lines up the wraps around your forearms. It feels like he’s sheathing them in several rows, and you let your hands go limp. They don’t need to do anything right now. They can rest.

Ivar’s fingertips dance up your arms when he is done. He draws you to face him again, and you do so, almost feeling like he’s put you into a trance. Normally you would feel awkward with someone just looking at you, like he is, saying nothing. But all nestled up in the embrace of the ropes, you’re happy just to stare back at him. His wide eyes show you that you look just as lovely on the outside as you feel on the inside.

His hands run over your upper body, in admiration of his work. He follows a similar pattern he had traced with the pinwheel earlier. You wonder if he’s going to bring that out again, now that you are bound and cannot escape. Your nipples harden at the thought of how vulnerable you are. And yet, you feel so safe here in Ivar’s room.

“I would like to bind your legs, if you think you could lay on the bed. It may be less comfortable on your arms, though.”

“Let’s try.”

You end up sitting up against the head of the bed, propped with a few pillows while he starts at your ankles, binding them together with a little knot in between. “Do you want to leave your shoes on?” he asks. “I love the heels, but if they are distracting you I’ll take them off.”

“They look cute,” you say. Luckily, they are not the kind that pinch you anywhere. “Leave them on.”

Ivar smiles and continues wrapping the rope upwards, creating a ladder pattern of staggered twists up and over your knees. Watching the precise movements of his arms as he places the cords just so, pulling the tail ends up and between your legs with slow, controlled motions so that they never slap against your skin, you find yourself hypnotized, dissolving on the inside into a warm and cared-for goo.

In no time at all, your legs have been constricted down to a mermaid’s tail.

“How do you feel,” Ivar asks, his breath edging on a whisper.

“Mmm,” you reply. He runs his hand up the side of your leg, skimming the skin between the rectangular windows sectioned off by the rope. You watch his hand dreamily until he bends to insert his face into your line of sight.

He says your name, gently urging you to focus. His eyes are careful and curious. “Are you with me?”

You smile for him, pushing through the trance to focus on being a little bit more of yourself again. “Yes. I feel . . . spaced out, that’s all. Not scared.” You shift against your bonds, just to feel how your arms and legs can’t go anywhere. “I like it.” You feel snug, safe, and somehow calm and excited both at once.

Ivar’s answering smile is indulgent. You can see how much pride he feels, having brought you to this state. His fingers slide along the edge of the binding just below your hips, the wrap that cuts a line across your bare skin above the lace top of your stockings.

“What now?” you ask.

Ivar dips his head, looking at you from under his brows as his cheek pulls into a crooked smile. “Now, we play.” His fingers rake around the sides of your hips, just intense enough to make you squirm.

Squirming is an interesting experience in these ropes. They tighten in unexpected places, calling your attention to various sections of your body, leaving you no room for any thoughts outside of the purely sensory. Ivar’s fingers trace up your sides, and he bends his head to lavish kisses inside the diamond at the center of your abdomen.

It’s a tender spot, made more vulnerable by the fact that your arms are locked behind your back. Tingles buzz through your whole body as the instinctive, survival parts of your brain try to make sense of what is happening. Ivar’s touch is loving, however, strong yet safe, and you melt happily into the buzzing confusion he’s made of your nervous system.

The constant snugness around your limbs makes you feel free, paradoxically. The obvious, concrete reminder that you are fully controlled gives you permission to let go, to stop monitoring yourself or holding anything back. As Ivar’s hands and lips travel across your body, you tell him, in a series of gasps, little moans, and even more primal noises, exactly how he’s making you feel. There’s no way you could hold any of it back. Every inch of your skin, every muscle in your body belongs to him now, and answers to his call.

Ivar makes his own growling sort of sound. “I’m going to move you,” he warns, voice thready like he too is overcome by something deeper than normal words. His strong arms grasp you about the legs and pull you further down the bed. Then he lifts you onto your side, grasping hands eager to explore more regions of your body.

There’s not an inch of you that you don’t want to give to him. The pattern of the ropes has locked your body into something that makes you feel beautiful from head to toe, and you’re not surprised that Ivar wants to explore you from every angle. You can just feel that everything from your ankles to the breadth of your shoulders has been enhanced into an erotic offering.

And yet, you are more than just an object for his use. Ivar remembers to readjust the pillows, to make certain that you are settled into a comfortable configuration as you lay trussed-up on your side across the bed. He kisses your cheek, then his lips ghost across your own in a tantalizing almost-kiss that awakens your desire for him immediately.

But Ivar’s lips are gone before you can kiss him back and keep him there, trailing down your shoulder and the outside of your arm as he moves to admire the ropes that crisscross your back. You are reminded of your longing to take his cock into your mouth. You wonder if he really realized that was what you were offering, before he took out the ropes. Although perhaps he just wanted to get you this way first.

You want to tell him of your wish, to offer this to him again. The need inside of you to give back something, anything to this tantalizing devil of a man is growing enough to choke you. And yet, the trancelike effect of the ropes is robbing you of your ability to speak. The need to direct anything, to choose anything, fades away under the constant sensory input reminding you of Ivar’s control.

His hands across your ass are heavenly. There’s not much ropework there: two strands emerge from between your legs, lining your crack like a thong before separating out to form the diamond harness that wraps your torso. Your leg binding ends well below the swell of your butt muscles. All that sensitive flesh is open and free, aside from the thinnest satin of your panties. You try to imagine how the red rope looks where it cuts across the center of the detailed pattern of silver embroidery on black.

Ivar’s fingers find the edge of your underwear, sliding along and lifting the scalloped hem from the top of your hip along the full curve of your glutes. He pauses halfway down, and pushes the fabric back a little farther. He chuckles. “Are you aware that Ubbe left a bite mark on your ass?”

Breath rushes into your lungs, waking you up a little. “No,” you answer simply.

Ivar only sounds amused. “Sloppy.” He has only ever seemed amused by the whole arrangement, but it’s only natural that you feel just a bit apprehensive when this topic comes up. After all, the whole thing has been framed as an excuse for Ivar to threaten you with punishment. There might be one coming now.

“I am reminded,” he smirks, “that you wanted a little pain tonight.”

Your body curls in a little, your bound knees pulling up closer toward your chest. Which doesn’t do much to protect your ass. Ivar gives it a little slap; not a painful one, but it makes you jump anyway. Your senses are so heightened right now.

“While I did enjoy giving you that spanking”—his hand soothes over you bottom—“now is not the right time to do something like that again. Impact play while you’re already in the ropes… I’m not going to overwhelm you like that tonight.” His fingers lift, dragging circles in your skin lightly enough to tickle. “Rope bondage is more suited for the more subtle kinds of sensation.”

Indeed, those light tickling strokes are sending tingles through your entire backside. You relax the tightness in your abs, letting your hips swell back softly, your core awakening to Ivar’s playful exploration of your hindquarters.

Maybe it’s your imagination, but his fingers seem to return often to where he had pointed out that bite mark. It makes you wonder how Ubbe would react to seeing you now, like this. Would he treat you with as much care as Ivar has?

It’s hard to picture it. More likely he’d use the rope around your wrists as a handle, just to sink in balls-deep and fuck you harder.

Ivar’s fingertips swirl down to your inner thighs, taunting you with the idea that he might start taking advantage of your position now too. Since he has literally tied your legs together, it might take a little creativity to get at your clitoris, but with your knees bent like this it wouldn’t be too hard to slide anything up into your pussy. Just the thought makes your body tingle, swell, and open to him.

Ivar shifts toward the edge of the bed. Your eyes had been closed, enjoying every tiny sensation, but the sound of his crutches against the floor causes them to open.

He doesn’t go far, crossing the room to his computer desk. You remain completely motionless, so blissed out from the trance of the scene that you barely even have the focus to wonder what he might be getting. You could crane your neck, look up far enough to see what he’s doing, but why? Whatever he’s going to do, he’s going to do. Ivar is in complete control here, and it feels so good just to trust him to take care of you.

He opens a drawer, then closes it. It’s easy to identify that sound. You let your eyes drift shut. He comes back, sits down beside you on the bed. And then, an even more distinctive sound: the “shink” noise of his switchblade knife springing open.

“I only meant to introduce shibari tonight,” Ivar says as your eyes land on the naked blade in his hand, “but since you had such a big reaction to the knives today…” he flips it a few times and smirks down at you.

It’s hard to describe the way your body responds to that knife. Your heart starts to race, your skin breaks out in prickles. Your breathing probably stops. Your pussy, in particular, clenches up and then floods with warmth.

Ivar watches it all. You have no idea what kind of expression he can read in your face. He ceases the casual flipping and holds the knife up in the space between you. “Is looking at it enough,” he muses, “or would you like me to touch you with this?”

Every bare part of your skin tingles. Here you are now, his perfect victim. There’s nothing you can do to protect yourself from that cold blade. He leans in just a little closer, but otherwise just watches your face. And waits.

That was a serious question, it seems. He’s really going to make you ask for it. You’re not going to be able to get away with just playing the silent victim here if you want a taste of that thing. It’s a hard decision to make, though. When your survival instincts are this keyed up, can you really say yes? But you don’t want to say no either. Not when one of your secret, darkest kinks is staring you in the face. An opportunity you can’t dare to turn away from. But no words come.

Ivar seems to understand your predicament. “Shake your head if you want to say no,” he says quietly. “Nod if you’re saying yes.” With the hand that is not holding the knife, he gives your arm a reassuring pet. “It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

It takes effort to take your eyes away from the knife, to focus on Ivar’s face again. He looks patient, and totally accepting.

You nod your head.

You might call the smile that breaks over Ivar’s face “gleeful,” but it runs darker than that. He pokes his tongue into his cheek and brings the blade closer to your skin.

He pauses. “What are your safewords?”

You have lick your lips before you can answer. “Yellow if I need a break. Red to stop.”

Ivar nods. “If you say ‘red’ I will put the knife away and take your arms out of the rope immediately. If you say ‘yellow’ we’ll talk, and figure out what you need so you can keep enjoying yourself.”

You nod, and the knife moves toward you again.

You expect him to start somewhere simple, and not too threatening, like your arm. He’s been so kind all night. Building you up so gradually through all these new experiences. But that knife is coming right toward your face. A dozen different muscles tense across your body. You would plead with him with your eyes, but you can’t look away from that blade. You hold your breath as Ivar lays it flat against your cheek.

It’s cold, and unyielding. You freeze, afraid to move wrong lest it slice you accidentally, although you know that deep down you still trust him completely.

“My gorgeous, helpless thing.” The knife drags slowly, a millimeter at a time. “What have you gotten yourself into.” It’s only the flat side, nothing sharp, but your body wants to shudder anyway. “Is this what you’ve been craving?”

He lifts it away from your skin, showing you the wicked edge. A weird sob comes out of your mouth when you try to answer. What a word choice, ‘craving.’ You feel desperate and not in control, although you know that you could end the scene the second that you want to. You are, in fact, enjoying freaking out.

Ivar gives you a condescending little smile like he understands this completely. “I can give you what you need, little one.” He leans in closer, steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, and the flat of the knife comes back to your face. “You only have to tell me your every desire.”

You trust him, but it’s impossible not to flinch when that blade trails off the edge of your jaw and you can feel the scratch of the tip. Except, your reflexes are afraid that flinching will make it worse, and so you clench up instead, the extra tension coming out in a high-pitched little cry.

Ivar watches your face carefully, but when no safeword comes he moves that sharp sharp tip to the swell of your shoulder. “You’re so responsive,” he muses, and drags the point along your arm.

You gasp, you can’t help yourself. You have no idea how much pressure would leave a mark, how much more might leave little beaded drops of red in its wake. You lift your head to look more closely at what he’s done.

He hasn’t done anything, yet. It’s all in your head, and you try to loosen up a little. “No marks on your arms, I remember,” he reassures.

The knife lifts, and hovers lower.

You can’t really see the skin of your flank. Ivar turns his hand, brushing you first with the back of his knuckles, inside one of the diamond openings over your ribs. Warning you where the knife is about to come. It’s soothing and sadistic both at once, isn’t it. The blade is cold as it settles upon your skin, and when he rocks it onto one edge, your breath becomes more and more shallow. He might actually hurt you here. You had only said ‘no marks’ where someone would see.

You whine between your teeth.

Ivar tips his head so that it’s even with yours, checking in. When you don’t give him a safeword he looks back to his work.

The knife lifts, then returns in a slightly different place. He tilts it up to its point, just as he did on your arm, and drags it in a short, slow line. It doesn’t feel the same as it did on your arm. The sensation is so much sharper, setting off much louder warning bells inside your head. If you don’t stop him, will Ivar let it cut your skin? Your breath is catching in little gasps, and there’s a pressure starting to build behind your eyes.

Ivar takes the knife away. “What are you feeling?” he asks softly.

“Um,” you start, struggling to control your breath well enough to give a coherent answer. “Um, I know that you won’t hurt me, but this is just scarier than I thought it would be.”

He nods, listening, and holding the knife well away from your body. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes,” you say immediately. “Yes, and,” you force yourself to be assertive, just as Ivar wants you to be, “I’m not sure that I’m ready to actually be cut today.”

Ivar’s smile is reassuring, his blue eyes blazing just for you. “And it’s ok if you’re never ready to go that far.” He flourishes the knife a little. “I’m enjoying every second of what your body does every time I even bring this thing near you.”

He moves down a little more, and puts his free hand on your hip. The simple touch is so reassuring, so warm, that those tears start brimming up against your eyelids.

You can tell that Ivar sees them. You remember he had said he wanted to see you cry. But he had probably meant from pain, not from tender emotion like this. You attempt to blink them back. Ivar squeezes your hip. “Breathe with me, y/n.” He takes a deep inhale, coaching you to do the same.

You pull the air deep into your lungs, expanding your ribs against his bondage. You keep your eyes locked on his.

“Good,” he exhales. “I need you to keep breathing. And don’t be afraid to tell me when you’ve had enough.”

You take one more full, deep breath. “I haven’t,” you say in a sultry voice that sounds a little more like your own. “Not yet.”

“Good.” Ivar lifts the knife again, setting it against the swell of your hip in the wake of his retreating hand.

Your breathy cry is a little closer to a moan this time. It feels much better there, a bit more sexy and a bit less terrifying. As he scratches a few slow lines across your skin, you focus on breathing deeply and watching his hand control the blade deftly upon your skin, fine-tuning the pressure to give you exactly what you asked for. The sensation of threat, without any real injury.

“If this were a movie, I would cut your panties off.” He slides the blade along their edge, setting off goosebumps everywhere and reawakening your core with fresh tingles. “But these are much too wonderful to damage.” He cocks his head the other way. “Although, I suppose that I paid for them, and I could always buy you more…”

He slips the blade underneath the lacy, scalloped edge, fingertips of the other hand sneaking under too, to hold the fabric taut. When you don’t try and stop him, you feel pressure and then a ripping noise begins.

The sudden looseness in the fabric floods your pussy with arousal. You’re exposed to him now, and his teasing fingers are quick to take advantage of that as he completes his work. It takes a second cut to free the garment from your body fully, and even the simple sensations of him sliding the remnants out from under the ropes and fully off you are distinctly turning you on.

You hear him close the knife, put it away. Then both his hands are on you, soothing over every spot his blade had threatened. He starts at your hip, bending down to press kisses into your skin, his firm hands running over the expanse of your cheeks. He drags himself up the bed behind you, until he can kiss that diamond window over your ribs where you almost lost it.

Next Part Here

Taglist: @swagmonstertoes @hanhanxx @xxdearlybeloved@littledeadrottinghood @persephone-is-here-omg @rekdreams247 @what-the-heart-desires @inforapound @creepshowzombae @tomarisela @vladsgirl@youbloodymadgenius @walkxthexmoon@funmadnessandbadassvikings @trashqueenbitch @justlovelifeblog @earl-aive @supernaturalvikingwhore @equalstrashflavoredtrash @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen @ceridwenofwales @grungyblonde @pokeasleepingsmaug @hvittysmutanon @honestsycrets @wuxiesalt @thorins-queen-of-erebor @writingfromasgard @tootie-fruity @lordsexmachine @uncomfortable-writers @sadbutatleastsassy @sweatstreatz01 @ritual-unions-gotme @likealostkiss @thehangedmanandthehoneybee @xxlilqueeniexx @thefightingdragon

#ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar/reader #dom!ivar #ivar the boneless #playing house fic

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xpeachesncream · 4 years ago

Note

Hey Nikki! Could you do a perfectly wrong drabble of reader thinking she is pregnant? thank you <3

perfectly wrong | drabble [10]: why are there multiple kinds of pregnancy tests for Taehyung to decide between?

word count: 1.9k

warnings: cussing, implied sexual content, pregnancy scare (use protection and use protection well, folks!)

note: this ended up being a little longer than i thought lol sorry! hope you enjoy still. i also just whipped this up before going to bed so this is pretty raw - excuse any mistakes pls. love me still 🥺

"Fuck!" You yelled as you ran to the bathroom as a huge wave of nausea hit you yet once again this morning. You were abruptly woken up early in the morning due to the feeling, not getting much rest after the first time you hurled last night's dinner into the toilet bowl. Taehyung had just walked into your apartment, mouth slightly open as he furrowed his brows watching you run off to the bathroom.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He says, swinging the bathroom door open as you dry-heaved into the bowl, curse words trailing shortly after. He crouches to your level, rubbing your back and holding your hair out of the way.

"I don't know, I just woke up feeling--" He watched as you threw your head back into the toilet bowl, a little bit of the water you had taken down earlier coming back up. "Really shitty." You continue after you spit.

"Shit, did you eat anything bad yesterday?"

"I don't think so? Nothing seemed suspicious." You pointed at him weakly. "And you look perfectly dandy being that we ate at the same places." You rested your back against the wall, eyeing how god-like your boyfriend looked.

"I'm sorry, love." He pouted. "You okay to get up now? Let's get you in bed and I can run out to grab whatever you need me to grab." You sat there, pondering on your thoughts for a second. The food you ate last night didn't seem bad, but also you never know. However, you were starting to freak out mainly because of the countless, amazing, 'let me rearrange your guts' type of sex you've been having with your boyfriend. That thought always has to be taken into consideration.

"What's the date today?" Taehyung quickly whips out his phone to check the date on his lockscreen.

"The 20th. Why?" Your eyes widened. You were supposed to get your period 5 days ago. Albeit, you've always been on a weird, irregular schedule ever since you were younger. Getting on birth control somewhat helped regulate that, but lately it hadn't been wonky. You usually got it on the 15th. "Why, baby?" His eyes started to widen.

"I'm late, Tae. I should've gotten my period 5 days ago."

"Okay, let's not panic. We can't assume just yet, right?" He begins to slightly freak out, but he's doing his best to keep his emotions in check. He was worried as hell now, not only because you were hurting but because this?

Lord, please. If you get me out of this one, I won't slap Y/N's ass ever again.

Don't get him wrong, he really wanted to be a father. He had always dreamed of having a good sized family with the love of his life. But right at this moment? He wasn't ready. You weren't ready. You both were just trying to survive school and that was already work on its own.

"Right." You say, but you're fucking screaming internally. Jesus fucking christ?!

"Let's get you in bed. I'll grab you some gatorade and soup while you get some more rest." He says, helping you up. You loved his cologne and taking in his scent, but today you couldn't deal. You sat on the edge of your bed, immediately grabbing the trash can next to your night stand and puked a little bit more acid.

"God, I'm so tired. Let this be ooooover." You whined as Tae tucked you into your sheets and wiped your face clean with a warm, wet towel. He folded it in half, placing the towel onto your forehead to help regulate your temperature as much as possible.

"I'm so sorry, babygirl. I hate seeing you like this." He kisses you on the cheek. "Don't drink water just yet, it doesn't seem like you can keep it down. I'll come back right away, okay? Try to get some sleep."

"Can you grab a test?" He swallows the lump in his throat.

"Yeah, of course." He smiles toothlessly, watching as your eyes slowly droop and shut close, the exhaustion from all this effort hitting you out of nowhere. Tae was worried sick, and he honestly wished he could snap his fingers so that the things you need would just appear and he wouldn't have to leave you alone.

He gets to the closest convenience store that would have everything you needed in one place. He grabs you a few bottles of gatorade, making sure to grab you the blue Glacier Freeze bottles because he remembers you saying that's the only flavor you grew up drinking. He grabs a couple of ingredients to whip you up some chicken noodle soup later once you're able to tolerate the gatorade at the very least. He also grabs a few unnecessary things like snacks for you both [mainly him cause it's based off of his own cravings right now] and then makes his way over to the aisle that has the condoms and pregnancy tests.

Tests?

Multiple kinds?

How the fuck is he supposed to know? Does one differ by the other much? They all look like the same fucking stick. They all look like that game of pick up sticks.

His eyes go from one box to another, mouth slightly hanging from how overwhelmed he is right now. This one says 6 days sooner, but the other box has two sticks for the price of one? He's assuming that's a nice safety blanket to have an extra stick confirm your results. But there's also one box with two sticks AND the 6 days sooner message.

Then a box with 4 sticks?

"Hooooly mother of pearl, fuck it." He says, grabbing the one with 4 sticks and the 6 day message. That's the gold for him. It makes him feel a little better knowing he could look at all 4 sticks. Does Y/N even have enough pee for this? He's about to make his way out of the aisle when he passes the condoms and lube.

Heh, no lube cause I make my girl hella wet already.

But condoms? After today, he was highly thinking about it. But lord knows how much he'd hate to have to wrap it up like that. Condoms are for sure your friends, but that raw feeling when he's inside the girl he truly loves - Exquisite. Chef’s kiss. Absolutely irreplaceable.

He eyes the boxes one more time before a little elderly lady walks past him in the aisle. She looks at him, smiles, then looks at the condoms before looking down at his basket with the pregnancy tests.

"A little late for that, don't you think?" She chuckles as she jokes to herself.

Well, damn? Like that??

He purses his lips into a fine line before rushing out of the aisle and making his way to the self-checkout lanes. He quickly checks out, not realizing he had gotten a little distracted from his own thoughts.

Getting back to your place, he notices you're still sound asleep. He takes your trash out and dumps it down the trash slot outside of your door. He cleans up a little in your living room, folding your blankets neatly and lighting your favorite candle. He washes the dishes left in your sink as he waits for the stove to heat up. He starts to whip up that chicken noodle soup for you so it would be ready.

Once he's done, he grabs a bottle of gatorade and sits on the edge of your bed, gently brushing the hair out of your face.

"Here baby, drink some." He says, handing you the opened bottle. You stir in your position, sitting upright in order to get some of the gatorade into your system. You hope you can keep it down and make some progress. "I got you the tests." He shows you the box with 4 sticks.

"Damn, babe. Four sticks?" He clicks his teeth and points a finger gun at you.

"The more the merrier, amirite?"

"I should probably do those now." You take your time standing up with Tae right beside you, making sure you don't get dizzy or lose your balance. In the bathroom, you stand and stare at the box for a little, reality kind of settling in for you. This is actually happening right now.

"Hey, whatever happens, I'll be right here, okay? We'll figure this out." He reassures you, giving a kiss on the side of your head as you silently nod and open the box. You sit on the toilet, Tae helping you swap out the sticks until you no longer need to pee. He sets the aside the sink carefully, putting on a timer on his phone.

"Fuck. I can't just sit here and watch." You dig your head into your hands.

"I almost bought condoms." He chuckles, trying to brighten the mood.

"Taehyung and condoms? No way. My boyfriend would never."

"I would if absolutely necessary - and by absolutely necessary, I mean like today o’clock." You shoot him a look, the statement only heightening your anxiety. "But! I didn't, okay! We'll be fine, we can't assume."

"You're pulling out next time."

"I mean if you let me bust my load on your—"

"No, you're gonna cum in your own fucking hands after today." You furrow your eyebrows angrily.

"Baby." He laughs. "That's no fun."

"Taehyung, we're sitting in my bathroom waiting for four pregnancy tests to show their results!" His timer goes off and suddenly you feel sick again.

"I guess we'll find out if I'm daddy in a few minutes." You smack him on the chest.

"Don't ever."

"Please, ladies first." He nods towards the sticks.

"You!"

"Why me?"

"It's your sperm that did this!"

"Woah m'lady, it takes two to tango!"

"Pick up the goddamn sticks." He clicks his teeth.

"Fuck, fine!" He picks up the stick. "Oh my god, baby." He says, gasping with his mouth agape.

That's it. You're gonna fucking cry. Everything is turning into white noise. Yes, you wanted a family but all of this shit was happening so quickly you couldn't even—

"You're not pregnant." He says in the same dramatic tone.

"I'm going to fight you!" You shriek at him, grabbing the sticks to double check. You see one single line across all four sticks, causing you to breathe a sigh of relief. You start to cry a little, causing Taehyung to laugh and pull you into a hug. He knows how stressed you just were and he knows this moment alone must have taken a lot out of you. He can't help but wanna cuddle you in his arms for the rest of the day.

"Oh never again, love."

"Don’t get me wrong. I wanna have your babies but I’m not ready to right now."

"I fully agree, 100%."

"I'll call my doctor tomorrow just to make sure we're in the clear." He nods.

"Feeling a little better?" You shake your head.

"Honestly, I still feel like shit."

"Go sit in bed, I'll bring the bowl of soup to you." He kisses you on the nose. "I love you."

"I love you, too." And that's what you do - sit in bed while your man brings your bowl of soup that he delicately prepared over so you can get something in your system. Luckily, you were able to hold both that and the gatorade down and that's what your diet consisted of for the rest of the day.

The good ol' doc says it's nothing but a dumb stomach bug and that your birth control is just playing mind games with you, showing you the results to confirm the negative pregnancy test. He demands you take it easy and get lots of love in the mean time until you fully recover from whatever thing you ate that day that wasn't prepared carefully.

You live and you learn. Life is all about that, right?

"Never again, Tae."

"We don't mean that." He whines as he chases after you walking towards the car.

"You try being in my shoes during a pregnancy scare then!"

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