#he’s self proclaimed daddy so I’m allowed to say it

[ms-nesbit]

Vienna (a jason todd x reader fic)

rating: 18+

warnings: SMUT, fluff, praise kink, slight hair pulling, a super sweet Jason Todd

summary: Y/n meets a stressed Jason Todd on a subway. Chaos ensues.

Read on ao3

notes: yall asked, and i delivered. you're welcome, nasties.

 

“Why him?”

The words left the stranger’s mouth as if they were a spirit leaving his body. Feet firm on the ground, and brows furrowed, his grip on the phone remained; the torrential rain bounced from his body, and he seemed almost unbothered by it all; instead, he was too lasered on the other end of the call, hanging on by every second of silence. “I’ll say it again: why him?”

The last word was sharp as it was thrown from his tongue, his voice dipping another octave. Y/n listened as closely as the subway allowed, its screeching brakes and busy-bodied occupants a poor distraction from the conversation a few feet from her. As y/n eavesdropped, she clutched onto the metal bar for balance, shifting her attention to her right to near herself toward the stranger’s phone. I shouldn’t do this. Ma told me not to be in people’s business like this. y/n thought to herself as she waited with the stranger for a response.

“I dunno, Red, he just told me he chose the flying Grayson, and didn’t give me any other info.” the other end stammered in a thick Brooklyn accent. Red? Flying Grayson?

“Shit.” the stranger spat before abruptly ending the call, shoving the crimson phone into a vacant pocket of his suit pants. He then looked behind him, locking eyes with a y/n, whose eyes balled into orbs at the sudden confrontation. “You lost?”

Y/n’s head shook profusely. “No, no, sorry. Just thought you looked familiar. And bold for, uh, wearing an entire suit on the Brown…in rush hour.” her head cocked, questioning her judgment.

“Yeah, that’s…” he looked down at his black tie attire. “Reasonable. Valid. And what, you’re here from the Gazette? Vogue?” he scanned y/n’s figure, causing heat to rise to y/n’s cheeks.

“Actually, I’m one of those influencers that hangs out in a crowded public place, pestering people about what they do for a living while ignoring what kind of disturbance I’m causing, so…” she drew her phone from her pocket, pointing it at the stranger. “what do you do for a living, and how much do you make in a year?”

her tone was sarcastic, albeit playful, and the stranger returned it back to her. “I’m an adopted son of a millionaire, and I make him disappointed, thanks.” he flashed a chipper smile, almost proud that he was a self-proclaimed failure. It confused y/n.

“Really? Is that why you’re on the Brown? Daddy wanna teach you a lesson?”

The taller figure rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Why is it that every time people know my dad’s rich, they have to address him as daddy? So chauvinistic.” he cocked a brow. “You really wanna know?” he awaited for y/n’s nod, before proceeding. “Okay, well: first of all, he doesn’t give me his money, and if he did, I would decline, because I’m not a goddamn charity case; two, my bike is in the shop, and I decided to take the humble route.” he lifted his arms as to showcase how ‘regular’ he was. “Anything else…?”

“Y/n.” she replied after a chuckle, amused by his teasing tone. “And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” her voice was elevated, mocking an air of sophistication.

He flickered his mint eyes at her. “If I tell you, will you be my chaperone to another exhilarating gala betiding us tonight?”

Bursting in laughter, y/n shook her head. “Well, how absolutely splendid! Of course I will accompany you in tonight’s delightful function in my luxurious off-brand loafers and mismatched, day-old pajamas!” Y/n’s hand waved against her body, pointing out her overly casual attire. But her cheshire smile faded after seeing the taller man’s expression unchanged. “Surely you’re joking.”

“I’m not,” the man offered an elbow for y/n to take as the subway stopped and weathered doors opened, “and don’t call me Shirley.”

—

Y/n’s fingers were detached from the rest of her nervous system, as if her unconscious desire overtook her limbs. How she went from taking the sub home all the way to being an underdressed date to the tall arm candy beside her is still a mystery, but one only occurring to a city-dweller.

Her fingertips knowingly brushed the man’s upper arm, examining his impressive muscle tone. The man caught on shortly before he hailed a cab, turning to y/n and muttering, “There’s not much there, if that’s what you’re wondering.” It caused y/n’s fingers to lock a safe clench on his arm, bracing for the incoming inappropriate joke.

But it never arrived. Instead, the tall man opened the rear passenger door for y/n, helping her seat herself in the worn cushion of the cab’s backseat before he slid in himself. “Wayne Manor, please.” he spoke matter-of-factly, eyes shifting to y/n waiting for a snarky response.

It seemed that this evening, they were both a pleasant surprise from the norm. “So your dad is a sponsor for the gala?”

The man sat back, flush against the seat. “If by sponsor you mean host, then yes, yes he is.” he relaxed his neck, resting it against the sturdy headrest, and exposing the skin to y/n.

Eyes refusing to stray from the tempting sight (and the tasteless thoughts that rushed to her), y/n responded, “That means…Wayne. You’re one of Bruce’s kids?” her head cocked to the side mindlessly. The man, whose eyes were on her, grinned at the habit.

“Not sure if he quite finished the paperwork, but yes, that does make me, at least unofficially, ‘Lil Wayne.” The smile that he wore was downright dangerous, and y/n crossed her legs to stifle whatever ache she had. “But yeah, I’m kid number two of three, if I’m right.”

Y/n recounted the headlines she scanned through the years, attempting to pin a name to the handsome man beside her; though, it was rather difficult, with his intense eyes peering at her, and his large hands resting (palms up) on his lap. She couldn’t deduct (not logically, undoubtedly), and admitted defeat by closing her mouth and looking out the smudged, unkept window.

Puzzled (and a bit taken aback) by y/n’s acknowledgement of defeat, the man kept the silence, no matter how unbearable it was to them both.

Until, of course, they arrived at the notorious winding road leading to the manor, when the man turned to y/n and nearly blurted, “It’s Jason, by the way.”

Y/n sighed in relief. “Jason, okay. Didn’t know if you were the acrobat or the weird, stoic, children-of-the-corn one.”

Jason chuckled. “Nope, neither. I’m the one in the hockey mask, remember?” He proceeded to mime a stabbing motion, cutting the remaining tension between the two in their transport. “Oh, sorry, you can let us out here. I doubt they’d let cabbies in.” He pulled out his wallet, sliding a wrinkled $100 to the driver through the plexiglass divider. “Just keep the change.”

He better not be trying to do this to impress me, y/n thought to herself as they left the cab, Jason again offering his elbow for y/n to take. “Are you sure they’re not gonna be, y’know, offended by this?” And by this, as y/n gestured, she meant her opaque mahogany leggings and oversized tee checkered with holes varying in size (but all from excessive wear and abuse over the years).

Jason scoffed and stopped in his tracks, using his thumb to lift y/n’s chin so they could lock eyes. “You look wonderful.” the sincerity in his tone cascaded to y/n’s chest; genuine men were scarce in Gotham, and so far, Jason hadn’t broken the grain of trust y/n placed in him. It was refreshing to say the least. “Besides, they’re too scared of me, so whatever they think in their pompous heads will remain there.” he assured, placing a hand over y/n’s on his arm. The pair locked eyes, this time in a wordless gaze long enough for y/n to identify the hues of stormy gray and downpour blue - they were a telling portrait far more consequential than her initial lame findings, the obvious envious green overtaking the landscape; he’s vindictive, and tired.

Jason knew of her findings, of course. His hair hadn’t been the only change since the Lazarus Pit; his stature shifted, elongating, and his eyes transformed from earthly green to a tropical storm. He allowed y/n to piece it together, if she wanted. And if she wanted, she knew where to find the root of Jason’s demise.

“Now, do you think you’re ready to join me, Dear?” he leaned down to whisper to the distracted y/n, who simply nodded in response. “If you feel uncomfortable, we can leave. You’d be doing me a favor.”

As they entered the manor among the crowd of well-dressed socialites, y/n’s body became overwhelmed with mixed signals: she wanted out, but was intrigued by the foreignness of the formality. Y/n attended school events and funerals throughout her life, but none were black-tie formal, nor was she underdressed in a mansion full of strangers with a handsome man attached to her hip.

Perhaps this was a blessing.

Y/n remained silent as she studied the cliques buzz and charm in a fatuous effort to obtain status. It hadn’t been long, though, as Jason guided her to one of the open spaces of the main congregating gallery. She looked up at him as he rummaged through the sea of deluded hedonists, observing his distaste and overall apathy toward the absolute palpable wealth in one space; his hair, thick and disheveled, was dark, except for the white bit symmetrically parted on his forehead. If it hadn’t been for his skin high in elasticity, and the unfathomable passion he used as a primary motivator (an unspoken symbol of youth), y/n would have believed that Jason was far more senior to her age than now surmised.

“Alfred,” Jason spoke with excitement, snapping y/n’s attention away from Jason’s physique and onto the gathering of bustling caterers, “how are you?”

An elder gentleman emerged from the crowd, wearing a long coat, black dress pants and tie, and a broad smile that accentuated his aged features. “Jason, my boy. How have you been?”

“Splendid.” Jason replied simply. “Is, uh, Bruce still…” he trailed off, nudging Alfred suggestively.

Alfred glared softly at Jason. “Upset? A bit, but you know how he is.” Jason nodded. “And who might this be?” his weary eyes lay on y/n, who grinned shyly.

“What do you-oh, yeah! Yeah, right, this is y/n. Y/n, this is my dad’s lifeline, Alfred.” Jason stumbled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm; the angle of his reach exposed barely enough of his waist, momentarily catching y/n’s attention before she hastily brought it back to Alfred.

“The official position is titled butler and personal assistant.” his eyebrow sharply rose in fierce discernment at Jason. “Pleasure is mine, y/n.” he bowed his head elegantly in respect.

“And it’s wonderful to meet you too, Alfred.” y/n replied, dropping her body into a modest curtsy. She felt Jason’s stare, to which she returned when she returned her original position from the curtsy.

Alfred tittered briefly. “Oh, don’t worry about that. Though that is very kind of you, indeed, Dear.” his assurance sat with y/n like a warm cup of tea, or a cool breeze. Is this why Jason seems a little mature? “Your attire certainly stands out from the crowd, and seems homely. Why not give y/n a tour of the manor, Jason? I’m sure she would enjoy the library like you had.” his words hinted as chaff, a teasing glimpse in his heavy eyes.

Pink peeked at Jason’s cheeks, flustered by the memories. “Used to be, yeah.” He grinned at y/n, face still timid. “You wanna check it out?”

Y/n nodded. “Absolutely.” her clutch on Jason’s suit fabric tightened, slightly pinching the skin of his elbow, as she failed to contain her elation. “I mean, is it okay? If you need help, I’m sure most of the people here think I’m below them anyway.”

Jason chortled before swiping a glass of sparkling wine from a server’s tray and gulping the drink, discreetly replacing it on the tray before the server would take notice. “And now I’m good. Let’s relive some interesting memories!” he balled his hands into fists mockingly.

As y/n and Jason turned to lead to the grand staircase near the foyer, Alfred leaned in and murmured, “She’s nice.”

“I know.” Jason returned, hiding his gleeful expression from y/n.

Y/n heard the comment, but pretended to have been preoccupied with her top, until Jason’s “Ready?”

And the pair successfully evaded the status-hungry socialites.

—

“And that’s where Bruce told me about the birds and the bees.” Jason snickered, pointing toward Bruce’s bedroom.

Y/n stifled her cackle. “No fucking way, are you serious?”

“Deadly. Plus I was 13 at that point, so…” his eyes darted to the other side of the room. “I pretty much knew it all. Didn’t know that girls could have orgasms, though.”

Y/n stopped and doubled over in laughter, startling Jason into catching her before she fell to the ground. “When did you find out?!”

Jason’s expression fell into an unreadable one, one arm reaching around her chest, with the brim of her shoulder blade just in his hand, and his other wrapped neatly around her waist, holding her hip to brace her.

They continued down the hall and stopped before a set of narrow double doors. “Here’s the library. You think you can contain yourself?”

Jason’s hand on y/n’s side caused it to burn under his touch, and her laughter died down to pecks of distant, breathless giggles. She turned up to face him, and was met with a semi-concerned face, his eyes barely curtained behind his salt strands of hair. “Yeah, I think I’ll manage.” she quipped, despite her volitant state.

As Jason pushed open the doors (which emitted a weak creak, expressing their distant dismay), he eyed y/n’s every reaction, grinning sweetly as her mouth parted and eyes widened, lip corners turning into an impish smile. “All this?”

“For six years, this was where I spent most of my free time.” Jason added, half in-awe of the books still neatly propped on the varnished wooden shelves. He wanted to add more, about how he escaped here when he refused to partake as Boy Wonder, or when he was coerced by Bruce into dropping his audition for a play; his grip on the fragile door handle tightened subconsciously, and his jaw flexed, gritting his teeth.

If it hadn’t been for y/n’s marvel visible in her glistening eyes, he would have snapped as he did when he awoke from his coma: a worn Alfred sitting beside him in the hospital room and admonishing Jason that Bruce spared Joker’s life. Rather, Jason lasered his attention on y/n’s wonder as she skimmed through each spine and title, lifting a lucky book from its shelf and holding the meat of the hardcover. She held it gingerly, tenderly, and Jason’s jaw unclenched with a hope that he could be touched that way too.

In a desperate effort to rescue himself, he listened to the voice in his kidney cautioning him away from his motorcycle that evening, and steering him to the Brown line where he encountered y/n. He hadn’t known what she would be to him - at the least, y/n accompanied him for the night; though he realized in the library, with the calling from his side, that he wasn’t the only lost one.

And as Jason leaned against a bookcase, shoulder pressed against the shelving with arms and feet crossed, he answered every question y/n presented, with the intention of relishing the joy sparked from visiting the hidden gem, as was the same joy ignited in Jason in years’ past.

“How did you find a way to leave this?” Y/n dropped, book in hand, as she skipped her way back to the tall man.

Jason shrugged, standing back on his feet and pocketing his hands. “I guess enough bad times followed me here, and one day, it wasn’t really the same.”

Despondency registered in y/n’s eyes, dimming the curious light in them. “Oh, I’m sorry.” she leveled the book in her hands enough for Jason to read the title.

“A Raisin In the Sun?” he read aloud, eyebrow cocked. “Never read that one.”

Y/n stuck out her bottom lip and shrugged, equally intrigued. “Didn’t know it came in hardcover till I saw this.” she opened up the cover, revealing a divet in the pages where a revolver hid. “The hell is Bruce doing with this?”

Jason’s eyes bulged in disbelief, a shit-eating grin splayed across his face. “Anti-gun, huh?” he carefully picked up the gun, holding it away from y/n in his hand. “What a goddamn hypocrite.” Before y/n began backing away from the tall man, Jason held up his free hand. “Alright, I’ll put it back. I get it: scary big guy with a gun. I got it.” his tone was dry yet assuming, and he replaced the revolver in its concealed spot.

Y/n smiled playfully, closing the cover and setting the book in its space on the bookshelf. “I wouldn’t say ‘knowingly’ scary as much as ‘might shoot himself in the foot’ scary.” She strolled back over to Jason, hand on her hip. “Didn’t wanna get any of your blood on my luxurious gown, y’know? It’s satin.” she twiddled her fingers at herself sarcastically. “But anyway, big guy, do you think you could show me where your favorites are?”

Biting his tongue at the lack of intimidation y/n felt by him, Jason nodded affirmatively. “How ‘bout this? If you find at least one of them, I’ll give you something.”

“And what is this ‘something’?” y/n signed airquotes.

“Depends. What would you like?” Jason stepped closer, shortening the space between them.

Y/n shrugged and contemplated for a moment. “What if we both look for a book? If I find one of your favorites first, I get to take you out on another date, and if you find my favorite first…”

“And if I find your favorite first, I can give you a kiss.” Jason beamed down at y/n, satisfied with his answer.

“How dreadful of you! Oh, the suffering.” y/n grandiloquently replied, exaggerating hand movements and a flabbergasted expression.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll survive. Ready?”

Y/n closed the gap between them, propping herself up on her tippy toes to meet Jason’s eyes. “More than I’ll ever be.” she spoke fiercely, the intensity in her eyes tempting Jason to lean in and-

In a moment's time, y/n bounced away from Jason, scurrying to find a book she believed was Jason’s favorite. While she scrambled, Jason calmly searched through the bookshelves, occasionally looking back at y/n, who barely balanced herself on the ladder as she reached for a distant book on a high shelf.

During his period at Bruce’s, Jason hadn’t felt so inviting in his sanctuary. He often drifted in these books, growling at whomever attempted to crack open a title. Instead, he wanted y/n to find him within these covers, and almost wished that she could win.

So he found himself disheartened when he swiped a title from the shelf and handed it to an out-of-breath y/n, whose only response was a painful scorn. “You son of a bitch!” she spat. “How did you… what the fuck?”

Jason hadn’t even glanced at the title, only listened to the burning in his side ending his quest. “What, did I get it right?” he twisted his head to read the title. “Uhm…A Farewell To Arms?”

“Yeah.” y/n chewed on her top lip nervously, avoiding eye contact with Jason. “It helped me during some weird times. Cathartic more than anything.” she took the book from Jason, and exchanged it for one she held, before sitting down on a leather armchair with a flat thud. Holding her head in her hands, she shook her head and laughed. “Nobody really suspects that one. Dunno why, it just seems obvious to me.”

Jason found himself grinning at her, following her until he reached the adjacent leather seat, settling himself down in it with his knees on either side of the chair. He absentmindedly rested y/n’s choice of book on his thigh, not even glancing at it. “D’you think it’s obvious because you know yourself?”

Sitting back in the seat, y/n rested her hand on her palm. “I mean, yeah. But…I also liked it for the irony that it was. Hemingway was basically an emo-boy misogynist, y’know? And essentially projected whatever sad, twisted plotlines into his stories. It made me feel a bit better about myself, while also simultaneously making me feel awful.”

“I know that feeling.” Jason acknowledged. “It’s a paradox. So reading this book is like a form of self harm then?”

“Just as much as reading the DaVinci Code.” Jason snorted, caught offguard by the joke. His nose crinkled as he laughed, something that distracted y/n from her self-pity. “Have you looked at my primary contender for your favorite?”

He hadn’t. Reaching for the book, Jason’s fingers slipped into their habitual positions, holding the cover with great familiarity. Without glancing at the title, he knew. “Emma.” he said, maintaining a piercing stare with y/n.

It was a surprise she hadn’t broken the contact, but instead mirrored his stare. “Yep. Thought it was a joke, but…you seem like a feminist. A classic one, at that.”

“Classic one? What’s wrong with a modern one?” Jason took offense to the deduction, no matter the truth behind it.

“Nothing, I consider myself to be a modern feminist.” Y/n replied matter-of-factly, probing the source of Jason’s defensiveness. “Do you think there’s something wrong with classic feminism?”

Exhaling through his nose, Jason thought about his answer. Y/n studied the crease between his brows when he pondered, and the way he absentmindedly dragged his tongue along his bottom lip. If it wasn’t for the serious discussion, y/n would have already had his bottom lip between her teeth, running her hands up and down his chest through his suit.

“It’s racist. And mostly Christian-inspired.” Jason concluded. “To be frank, it-it’s really narrow-minded, and a dated model of how femininity should be defined.”

Dear god in heaven that’s hot. “I agree.” Y/n ignored the heat between her legs and the growing tension between them, attempting to remain composed. “Most of the pioneers of the first wave - white women - left out some of the unvoiced marginalized groups: women of color, trans women, and queer women.” Jason locked his fingers and placed it against his mouth, listening closely. “I heard that Jane Austen was rather avant garde for her time. A good read nonetheless.” When y/n finished her rambling, she noticed her behavior, and quickly apologized.

“It’s okay. You have some solid points I agree with. Can I be real with you for a sec?” he leaned in over the armrest of his chair toward y/n, who nodded silently in return. He looked down and away from y/n, the melancholy rain washing out the hopeful cattail brown in his eyes. “Before Bruce and Alfred, I… my dad wasn’t exactly father of the year. He did a lot wrong, and I was usually the one to help my ma before she died.” he swallowed the memories attempting to break the dam he built to conceal his painful past.

Extending her arm, y/n folded her hand over Jason’s. His skin was cold, coarse in texture, but so enticing - he was lonely. Y/n knew. “It’s okay. What happens in the library stays in the library.” she added, humor softening the sadness he felt.

What followed was a blur - whether it be the reverb of the quartet muffled through the thick flooring, or the fact that they were both as vulnerable as they ever would be. Jason’s lips were on y/n’s, their noses flattening upon contact as their attempts at safe contact were futile; he wanted to act on the envisaging from earlier, as did she.

Ultimately, y/n squeezed Jason’s hand in hers, overwhelmed by the softness of his lips against hers; the kiss was more devotion than concupiscence, which took them both by astonishment. Even when Jason’s tongue dragged heavily along y/n’s bottom lip, asking to deepen the kiss, it was out of impuissance, at the will of their passion’s mercy. Y/n’s other hand found itself in Jason’s hair, combing through it as they breathed in their act. When y/n accidentally tugged, though, Jason exhaled a soft moan into the kiss, and y/n, so frantic in wanting Jason to repeat that sound, tugged again, and trapped his lip between her teeth.

She pulled away to see Jason’s face, and was in awe of the destruction she had already caused: one hand, still in Jason’s hair, ruffled it amuck, and his pupils were blown wide in lust, a hunger undeniable by either of them; his chest rose and fell, catching his breath as he stared at her with intent. He wanted her, no matter the ease of invasion from any gala attendee.

Charm overtook y/n, hand moving from Jason’s hair to his tie. She pulled him by the tie as she stood, Jason close behind, his eyes leering as her hips swayed with each step she took. Then, stopping him before the loveseat, she pushed him down, straddling his lap once he adjusted himself. They gazed at each other, eyes exchanging unspoken notes of admiration before Jason couldn’t resist his urge to pull y/n into another kiss.

It didn’t satisfy y/n’s appetite, and it showed when she began grinding herself down against Jason, causing him to break the kiss and watch her hips move against his clothed erection. “Holy shit.” he breathed, loosening his tie and tossing it behind the loveseat. Y/n bit down on her lip hard enough to break skin, hushing herself from emitting even the tiniest of a noise. She focused herself on unbuttoning Jason’s clean shirt, invested in the skin underneath; when it lay exposed, she sprawled her fingers on it, exploring each inch she stared at earlier.

Jason, on the other hand, rested his hands on the small of y/n’s back, closing his eyes and soaking in the undivided attention. It wasn’t long since his last sexual encounter, but this was an action from yearning, an evening of exchanging flirtatious quips escalating to complete and utter vulnerability. His attention snapped back into reality once he heard a fumbling of his own belt buckle coming undone, and y/n repositioning herself on the ground between Jason’s legs, tugging his dress pants to his ankles.

“This okay?” She asked quietly, concerned at his perplexed reaction.

Jason shook his head feverishly, erection throbbing in his boxers. Y/n ran her hands from his legs up to his torso, softly digging her nails in his skin as she returned to his legs, hands hovering over the growing erection in his crimson boxer briefs. She leaned in and licked at the imprint of it, causing Jason to hiss between clenched teeth.

“May I?” she asked again, more impatient than before.

“God, please do.” Jason nearly begged, resulting in the heat in y/n’s core to grow. She rubbed her legs together as she drew back his boxers, Jason’s cock springing free from the constraint, and wrapped her fingers around his erection, eyes lasered on the man before her. “Oh, fuck.” he let out a long, low moan, feeling himself already near his release from the sight of y/n stroking his cock.

“Princess, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come.” his confession sounded more like a plea, and as much as it was music to y/n’s ears, something she wanted to hear over and over, she pulled away, shimmying herself out of her top, then her leggings.

It was Jason’s turn to marvel at the beauty in front of him, and he gawked, thanking his sweet instinct for leading him to this moment. He sat up on the loveseat, interlocking his hands behind his head. Sharply inhaling through his nose, his eyes scanned y/n’s eyes, swollen lips, and down to her breasts, and high-waisted underwear, before returning his attention to her face.

“If I had known that a handsome man was going to be escorting me, I’d have donned a matching lingerie set from Fenty.” y/n excused.

Jason unfettered a groan from his throat. “Seriously not a problem with me.” his eyes remained on y/n’s with unwavering assurance, causing a blush to creep up on y/n.

Swiftly, y/n removed her underwear, leaving her bare before the tall man. Jason wrapped his fingers around his cock and began stroking his length in response, hips naturally meeting up in impatience. Y/n couldn’t help but stare at the sight that unfolded before her: Jason, brows furrowed and head slightly tilted back, slacking his jaw to allow the unholy noises to free themselves from his throat as he continued massaging his thick dick. Y/n noticed Jason’s eyes tunneled on her body, and began running a hand up and down her silhouette, taunting him as he barely contained himself.

“Fuck I want you, please.” Jason implored, desperation rich in his baritone.

Oppositely, y/n refused to oblige, instead egging him on by falling to her knees, opening her legs, and kneading her breasts vexingly. “Come for me, Babe.” she exhorted. “Unless you want to be inside me.”

The temptation in Jason soared, and something in him broke when y/n spoke tauntingly about being inside her. In seconds, y/n was lifted from the ground, safely placed on the loveseat, legs up. “Say it again and I’ll make it happen.” Jason grumbled with conviction, reaching over and removing a condom from the pocket from his pants lying on the ground.

Y/n braced herself on her elbows. “I want you deep inside me.” she smirked.

Jason lined himself up with y/n’s entrance, slowly sinking inside until he bottomed out. Y/n pursed her lips, focusing on adjusting to the size. She felt a fluttered kiss on her temple, then her forehead. When she turned, she noticed Jason’s head resting on her shoulder, his hair tickling her nose. She laughed, kissing his temple in return. “Are you okay?” he whispered, already out of breath.

“Think so.” y/n replied, rocking her hips to meet with his. Jason moved a hand to hold a fistful of y/n’s thigh, and placed another above her on the armrest of the loveseat, beginning at a painfully leisurely pace to allow y/n to accommodate. He bowed his head to trail kisses down to her chest, softly sucking on her sienna buds; y/n moaned and tugged Jason’s hair. “Please.” 

Nimbly, Jason picked up his pace, letting his head rest on y/n’s chest as he continued. He removed a hand from overhead to pop a thumb into his mouth, spitting on it, before slipping it between them, rubbing y/n’s aching clit. “Fuck, Jason.” she gasped, bucking her hips.

He continued this way, cock angled toward her cervix and thumb circling rhythmically on her clit, burying his face in y/n’s chest. “You feel so good, holy shit, y/n.” he strained. Jason clamped his teeth down on y/n’s shoulder, causing her to yelp and whimper in a mix of pain and pleasure. “You’re taking me so well, Princess, fuck.”

“Shit, I’m gonna come.” Y/n whined as her hips rose from the loveseat, only to be held down by Jason’s hand as he deliberately rubbed her clit. 

Jason picked up his pace, the sound of skin on skin slapping filling the empty library. He reclined his head, pressing his forehead against y/n’s as he locked eyes with her, swallowing their filth in a sloppy kiss. It was when Jason pulled away to let out a strangled, “Please come, y/n,” along with a thrust of his hips into her cervix, and the pressure of his thumb on her clit, that y/n was set over the edge, screwing her eyes shut as she sought ecstacy with a sob.

Jason followed shortly after, keeping his eyes peeled as he watched y/n come down from her high while chasing his own, thrusts sharp and deep. He sat up and tightened his grip on y/n’s thigh, bucking his hips once, twice, before crying out, “Fuck, y/n.” his mouth shaping into an ‘o’ and cock stilling inside her.

As he settled from his orgasm, he emitted faint whines, cursing under his breath as he struggled to remove his condom. “Shit, I forgot we’re in a library.” he muttered in realization, causing y/n to giggle. “Stay right here and I’ll clean you up.” he excused himself while he sprung out of the library, returning in a minute with a towel in hand. “Here, stay still. Are you okay?” Jason apprehensively questioned while blotting up y/n’s mess, peppering kisses along her thighs and stomach.

Y/n combed his hair while he did this, grinning and nodding shyly. “You do this for all your girls?”

Jason shot y/n an admonishing look. “I don’t do this much, Hun.” he finished cleaning up, adding quietly, “Not that I’d want to do this with anyone else, of course,” before he stood on his feet and dressed himself.

“Really? A good looking man like yourself doesn’t do this?” Y/n gave Jason a suspicious look.

Jason sighed. “No, I don’t. I don’t believe in doing that unless…”

“Unless…?” y/n poked.

“Unless I connect with the person.” Jason admitted, half-ashamed of himself. “And I think I can trust you.” Y/n sat up and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him on top of her in an embrace. She ran her fingers through his hair, breathing deeply in anticipation to comfort him.

And she did, even for a moment. Jason’s wall fell that evening, and it sparked a newfound love for the library in Wayne Manor.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Dad!Ashton Masterlist

A Dad For Christmas (ao3) - sourscarlets Luke/Ashton, Michael/Calum T, 17k

Summary: Since the age of three all Ashton's daughter has wanted for Christmas was another father so her dad could be happy. Her Christmas wish comes in the form of a toy store owner that might just be what they were looking for.

Come On Skinny Love, Just Last The Year (ao3) - senioritastyles Calum/Ashton G, 4k

Summary: "Daddy!" Evan calls, eyes wide as he looks just past Ashton.

Ashton barely has time to turn around before his cart crashes into someone else's, his distracted walking leading him right into the collision. He looks up to apologize as Evan quietly giggles next to him, somewhat hiding behind Ashton's legs, and Ashton is met with warm dark brown eyes and golden skin and a smiling stranger who doesn't seem even remotely miffed at Ashton. The stranger is beautiful really, it's the only way Ashton can think to describe him as he fumbles trying to find his voice.

Or: Ashton is a single dad and he meets Calum by chance.

Daisy (ao3) - boomerluke Luke/Ashton M, 121k

Summary: The last thing Luke expects when he wakes up hungover in the bed of his latest one-night stand is to come face to face with a freaking kid. But there she is all wild curls, thumb-sucking, and nonstop questions. Luke can't get out of there fast enough.

Ashton isn't the type to have one-night stands. He's a parent, after all. It was a mistake, and it won't happen again. At least that's what he tells himself when he comes back from his shower to find the naked college kid still in his bed, arguing with Daisy.

They couldn't be more opposites. At 25, Ashton has the responsibilities of two parents, raising his daughter and trying to pretend like he has everything figured out. At 21, Luke is a self-proclaimed Grindr god who doesn't care about anyone or anything but himself. So why is the universe (with the help of Michael and Crystal) so hell-bent on seeing them together?

Drum Drum - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) T, 3k

Summary: Debbie, Arlette, and Lisa watch drumming videos of their friend, Ashton, from Craft Club.

Hot for Teacher (ao3) - FayeHunter Michael/Luke T, 1k

Summary: Michael doesn’t want to be up this early bringing his niece to school. At least the teacher is hot

i promise i'll keep you safe (ao3) - orphan_account implied Calum/Ashton N/R, 681

Summary: “Promise?” The young girl asked, raising her head of his chest to look at him in the eyes to make sure he was telling the truth. He nodded and kissed her forehead. “I promise, Kiddo. As long as I’m around, you will always be safe.”

OR

where calum and ashton have adopted an anxious and emotionally broken five year old girl, and one night, she gets scared by a storm and crawls into ash and cal's bed, where ash comforts her and calum sleeps like a baby beside them.

Lily (ao3) - im_just_a_sucker_for_bromance Michael/Luke E, 49k

Summary: Luke and Michael, they used to be boyfriends, lovers and each other’s world. Michael did not know whether those things really existed but he used to think Luke was his soulmate and that they completed each other; that was until Luke left without saying anything. After many years, Luke had decided to come back home but he did not come alone; he brought along a cute little girl, named Lily. When he suddenly came across Michael, the feelings that he had forgotten started to come back. Will he be able to ignore them? Or let his heart decide for him? Although many years passed, Michael had never really been able to be with anyone else because his heart has always beat for Luke. Meeting Luke again was like a second chance to save what had been lost; he wanted to get close to Luke. Will Luke allow him into his world again? Or was it just him and Lily?

never be (ao3) - radiance OT4 G, 4k

Summary: luke, calum, michael and ashton all work on the hemmings' farm during the summer.

Smudges of Love (ao3) - larryologymajor G, 2k

Summary: 5SOS oneshot...single dad!Ashton au Luke thinks Ashton and his daughter are lonely, so he does something about it.

(Or the time Luke got Ashton's toddler daughter the best birthday gift ever!)

Take Custody Of My Heart (ao3) - ghouluke Luke/Ashton M, 18k

Summary: Luke, a child custody lawyer, takes on the case of Ashton, a scared single father, who after a rocky divorce with his ex-wife, is fighting for custody over his daughter, Lily.

take my hand, now and forever (don't ever let go) - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) Calum/Ashton T, 9k

Summary: Ashton is a single parent who's not had good luck with dating ever since his son was brought into his life. Then, he meets Calum, who's the first guy who's ever shown interest in him and his son.

Trouble Is I Can't Find A Way (You're Part of Me) (ao3) - sunsetmagnolia Luke/Ashton, Michael/Calum T, 24k

Summary: Ashton didn’t know what to make of the thought that Luke was here. In his city. After all the effort he’d put into making sure they were a whole country away from each other for so many years.

Where the Heart Is (ao3) - LyricalPary (hoseoky) Luke/Ashton, side Michael/Calum E, 86k

Summary: By the time that Ashton Irwin is twenty-seven years old, he's already a widower and a father of three. After his third nanny quits on him, he comes to the conclusion that life in general doesn't seem to like him very much—that is, until his luck turns around when he discovers a particular nanny by the name of Luke H.

The question now is, can a twenty-two year old man with mile-long legs and a smile made of gold really be the super nanny that Ashton needs?

Perhaps so.

you're the thing that i can't quit (ao3) - lucasfletcher Calum/Ashton T, 2k

Summary: “So, you’ve got the hots for your son’s football coach?” Michael asks from the other side of the bar, leaning on his elbows and blowing his gum in Ashton’s face annoyingly. “Shh, Michael,” Ashton looks around to make sure no one’s close enough to hear them. “And who the fuck even says ‘got the hots’ anymore?” “So you do!” he pauses and a grin takes over his features. “Also fuck you I can say whatever I want.”

or, the super cute cashton one

[edgelordfucker]

Man Born in 17th Century Has His Bean Freaked by a Knee Length Dress | Emperor Belos x Reader Smut, Part 1

MINORS DNI

You have always been one of his vices.

PART TWO

((a thinly veiled self insert sdjkfsjkldf. Smut in chapter two!! whenever that comes out!! tags below the cut))

dirty talk, older man/younger woman, daddy kink but NO age play, reader is a brat/tease but it's all in good fun, dry humping

His attention is pulled from Kiki the moment you round the corner.

You’re clicking down the hall in your sleek black heels at a good clip, a stack of slim files tucked into your waist. And what a waist it is, he thinks as his fingers twitch, so well defined in that dress. Rib knit, black, with a turtleneck and long sleeves to balance out the nearly indecent way it hugs you. Regret at being unable to ready himself for the day with you hits again -- you would not have been wearing that if he had been the one to dress you this morning.

Belos had left your bed before you had awoken. He’d hoped to spend the morning with you - breakfast, bathing, choosing your outfit for the day - but had been pulled away on business. Sacrifices must be made, and he is no exception, but he had been so looking forward to spending time with you...

Alas, all he can do is drink as much of you in as he can in this fleeting moment, before you leave him for Titan-knows how long. Your gaze travels the length of the hall mildly, before your eyes land on him and you light up, your dark painted lips splitting into a grin so wide that your little teeth peek through. Your fingers undulate in a coquettish wave, and he returns it, much more reserved, but no less pleased.

This gets Kikimora’s attention, and she follows the angle of his mask, sentence petering out when she notices you.

��Kikimora,” you greet her, polite, and then much more warmly, “Belos.” The affection you’ve managed to wrap around two syllables hits him square in the chest, so familiar, proudly flaunting decorum and proclaiming the intimacy of your relationship to anyone listening. Heat snaps in his skin like flame bursting a pocket of air in firewood, quick and sharp. His gaze falls heavy upon you.

Kikimora stiffens, gauging his reaction. Such blatant informality would get anyone sent to the Conformatorium for at least a month, if not more. However, he simply inclines his head to you, your name slipping over his tongue like silk.

“Good afternoon,” Kikimora returns your greeting with exactly as much hostility as she thinks she can get away with. Belos raises a brow, and she must notice the way he tips his head, because she continues in a more neutral manner, “His Majesty and I were discussing important matters on our way to His Majesty’s next meeting. If you’ll excuse us.”

“Actually,” you say, sweet and chipper, ignoring the clear dismissal and stopping Kiki midstep, “I have some very interesting results from this morning’s test. It will only take, mm, two minutes? At the most?”

“Of course,” he replies smoothly. You give him a smile before you shuffle a file from the middle of the stack to the top. You grasp one flap, but then grimace politely, smoothing your hand down the front of it as you glance at Kiki.

“This is actually, um...” You shift your weight to face her, as she regards you with one slightly narrowed eye. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem, but technically I’m only allowed to discuss anything cross-dimensional with the Emperor,” you tell Kikimora, apologetic. And then, turning to address him, “Do you think we could step away for a moment?”

“Absolutely,” he says to you, before he turns to Kikimora, “Go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”

“As you wish, my liege,” she says with a stiff bow. Your fingertips are light on his elbow, drawing his eye to you as you move down the hallway in the opposite direction of Kiki.

“I think there’s a room down here that’s a little more private...” As you turn away, you trail them down his arm, giving his hand a squeeze before you drop the touch. He smiles, and follows. You lead him to a quiet side hall, stopping in front of a door. Belos raises a brow as you open it.

“A linen-?”

One pale hand shoots out, snaking its way through his robes to grasp his belt and tug as you step backwards. He moves with you, mindful enough to catch the knob, and the bolt springs into the mortise with a click ! It’s dim, and he conjures a warm ball of light, illuminating your sweet face as it floats to the ceiling while you carelessly toss your files onto one of the many shelves lining the small space. With a good idea as to where this is going, he takes your soft hips in his hands and presses you against the back wall.

“Take off your mask,” you tell him, quite pert, grasping his cloak and trying to tug him down to your level.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, obliging you even as he speaks with a playful menace that would set any citizen of the Boiling Isles to sweating, “did you pull me away from my very important meeting for a quick tryst in a linen closet?”

You don’t even flinch. A tender desire is plain on your face as he leans into you, bracing an arm against the wall above your head, yours coming up to twine around his neck, and his tongue flits over his lip as he glances from your eyes to your little worry of a mouth.

“No, my love, I pulled you in here for a kiss ,” you tell him, breath ghosting across his face as you tip your head to do just that.

The look on your face when he pulls just out of your reach is darling . Your plush lips tip down at the corners, just a touch, eyes wide and perfectly wounded. He can’t keep the amused tremor out of his voice as he teases you with, “ Just a kiss?”

“Tss,” you click your tongue, pout slipping right off your face to wrinkle your nose and give him that crooked little grin of yours, “we only have a minute. Unless...” You glance at him with an affected consideration, and, being an intimate study of your clever little tongue, he gives you a warning by way of raising one brow, “you’re trying to tell me that you only need a minute?”

Both brows now. He nods, allows it to sink in, really making a show of mulling it over. The corners of your mouth twitch, making shaky your already unstable attempt at innocence, and he sets the whole facade to crumbling with a simple, “Hm.”

Giggles burble past your lips, your hands fisting restlessly in the fabric on his back, eyes a bare sparkle behind your cheeky smile.

“Oh, darling. That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble,” he murmurs. He takes your glasses off, and sets them to the side.

“I could stand some trouble,” you tell him with another insistent pull of your arms, and this time he goes, pressing his considerable frame against your tiny one.

It is not a chaste kiss.

Your mouth is hot as you take his bottom lip between yours and suck , greedy. Belos makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat, stomach dropping with the intensity of his arousal. Your perfume is in his nose, all sweet spice, and he feels a sharp hunger come over him. He drops his hands to your ass, gripping firmly to haul you up.

You squeak, wrapping your legs around his waist more on instinct than thought. He pins you with his hips, slipping his grip down just enough to pull the skirt of your dress to the crease of your thighs, stealing your surprised laugh from your mouth with his. He’s in control of the kiss now, easily keeping you in place with his weight alone, and he’s free to bring one of his hands to cup your jaw and partially ring your throat.

Small, so small. He still has to dip his head to kiss you if he wants to hold you against his cock, and Titan’s blood does he want . Fuck, you are hot . The heat of your cunt is blistering, so insistent through his trousers that he feels bare against you, and the thought makes him grind into you.

You moan, moving pliantly when he tips your head to the side to get more of your mouth. He firmly drags his tongue along your lower lip, and when you part them he licks into you. It’s him who moans now, as he tastes you, the depth of the noise rumbling through his chest and into yours.

You drive him mad . The simple idea of it is ridiculous. Belos, the Crusader, Belos, Subduer of Wild Magic, Belos, who became the Emperor of the Boiling Isles through his strength and cunning alone, wrapped around the little finger - and how little it was - of a wayward human girl, who, he freely admits, if she had been anyone else, would have died a thousand times over by now.

The noise of your mouths parting is obscenely wet as you tip your head back to breathe. He’s no better off, dropping his forehead to your neck, panting, the scent of you making his head swim. He resents your dress yet again - the collar is too high and tight to worry your throat.

“I could be in you right now,” he says instead, straining to keep his voice steady. Belos knows you love to hear dirty things in his smooth tones and he wants to ruin you the way you’ve ruined him. “Could you imagine?” He trails his lips over your jaw to the hollow behind your ear, brushing over the tender skin there as he speaks, “you’re not quiet, my love, anyone would be able to hear me fucking you- ” the little exhale you give him twists his guts, makes his cock jump, “-in this little closet. People would hear . People would talk .”

“Fuck,” you whisper. You squeeze him, reminding him of the delicious power of your thighs, his pulse thrumming hotly beneath his skin. If he’s not careful, he realizes, he will find himself making good on his filthy little threat.

“The castle staff gossip, you know? It would travel fast. By the end of the day, everyone would know that you let me take you in here, up against a wall. They’d call you my whore,” he tells you, hand creeping up your neck to brush his thumb at your lips. You part them with a heavy sigh, and he slips it in your mouth, careful not to knock your teeth with the metal of his gauntlet, breath picking up as you fray his nerves further with the way you suck . “The Emperor’s whore. No one else would touch you.”

You pull off his thumb long enough to ask, “Who else would I want?”

“It doesn’t matter. If you wanted someone else, it wouldn’t matter.” Belos is slipping. He can feel it as he pulls back to look you in the eyes. What a vision you are, lipstick smeared around your mouth, eyes hazy, hair escaping from the pins holding the roll along the back of your head in place to frame your flushed face. “Do you understand ? Do you know what I would do to them?” You shiver, and his gaze drops to your breasts. Your nipples stand out plainly, bridging the thick fabric between them. He runs the tip of his tongue over his teeth as he stares.

“Belos,” you whimper, arching your back.

“Darling,” he breathes. He’s on your mouth immediately. What’s sweeter than the sound of his name on your lips? He slips his grip from your hip, down your thigh, to hook your knee, pulling you even closer, rubbing his hardening cock against you. “Can you feel that, my love?”

“Yes, daddy, fuck, I feel-” Well. Maybe one thing is sweeter. He kisses you, open mouthed and wet, teasing his tongue against yours to prompt you to dip into him yourself so he can suck at you here. There isn’t a way he doesn’t want to bury himself in you, that he doesn’t want to devour you, to take you, to claim you, and he’s as eager to slake himself at the font of your mouth as he is the font of your cunt.

He kisses you. He kisses you again, and again, and again. He can feel your ribs straining as he denies you breath with his unreliable tempo, slips his hand down to cup them, savors the erratic expansion and contraction of muscle and bone under his leather palm.

“Feel what?” he prompts, breathless himself, swinging his hand from your side to your breast, engulfing the generous expanse of it entirely, thumbing over your nipple.

“I-I feel, oh- Belos -” The flush from your face has crept under your jaw, and he knows, under that dress, that you’ve gone red all the way down to your sternum. Oh, he wants to taste you, run his tongue over you to feel the heat of your blood under your skin.

“Come on, beloved, you can do it,” he says, sweat breaking out along the edge of his hairline as he pinches one of your nipples through your dress and bra. Your head rolls back, your lip caught tight between your teeth to keep the beautiful noise you make trapped inside of your throat.

“Oh, you precious little thing,” he murmurs, warm, just this side of condescending, “are you having a hard time finding your words? Can’t string together a simple sentence to answer a simple question? You poor thing. Let’s try again, shall we?” Belos starts to grind against your cunt. You gasp, expression pinched. “Can you feel my desire for you? Can you feel how hard you make me?”

You meet his gaze, your eyes sharp with lust.

“I feel like you’re going to be late for your meeting,” you breathe, voice smokey.

“Good girl,” he coos, rubbing his thumb over the solid bud of your nipple. “I’m going to need to stretch yo-” Belos cuts himself off. Processes your words and their meaning in the same moment as he is confronted with the biggest, most pleased, most infuriating grin on your face.

The worst part is that you don’t feel the need to say anything else. You always have something smart to say. Always. It’s only ever when you’ve gone quiet that he finds himself needing to do some meditative breathing. You simply drink in his reaction, like you’re somehow sustained by his utter exasperation, tipping your head to the side with visible amusement as he struggles to compose himself.

“I-” he starts.

“Am going to be late?” you cut in. You wriggle to be let down. When his grip doesn’t falter, you look up at him from under your lashes. “We did tell Kiki two minutes, my-only-mine,” you remind him, in the tone of voice you use to remind him of things. Belos takes a moment to marvel at how you can take something that usually makes him feel like yours and draw it against him like a sharp little knife in your campaign to be the most frustrating creature alive.

Belos takes a deep breath. He straightens his back. Smoothes his face into his regular, measured expression. He is the Emperor of the Boiling Isles. He is to be feared and respected.

Like a bumblebee into a flower, you buss your lips over his. “I love you,” you murmur against his mouth. Damnit. He melts.

“You’re an incorrigible little tease, you know that, my love?” He sighs as he slowly lowers you to the ground. Your stance is lopsided as you right the hem of your dress, and he notices with mild amusement that you’re missing one of your shoes.

“I don’t feel like ‘tease’ is accurate. ‘Tease’ implies that I don’t intend on getting stretched out on every single inch of your thick cock later on tonight,” you tell him, breezy as you please.

“What did I say about that mouth ?” Belos purrs, taking your chin firmly in his hand, a sort of erotic vexation flaring at the base of his spine. You giggle at him, unphased. “You are very much going to regret that.” With a huff, he chucks you there with a crooked knuckle, then straightens to his full height to run shaky hands over his hair, centering himself.

“That got out of hand so fast,” you remark with a joking lilt. “Did you miss me that bad?”

“Must I remind you that you were the one to drag me off for a tumble in a hall closet ?” he shoots back, turning slightly to adjust the hard length of his cock to sit more comfortably in his trousers.

You laugh. “Must I remind you that all I asked for was a kiss?” He concedes the point with a slight inclination of his head.

“I suppose,” he admits.

“Well,” you say, shrugging, “if I’m being completely honest, the original plan was to steal a kiss, flash you, and then dip before you could get your hands on me.”

“Flash me?” The term is unfamiliar, but he’s already drawn his own conclusions based on context. You laugh, wetting your bottom lip before you catch it momentarily between your teeth.

“Like, um,” you mime flipping up the edge of your dress, “to show off what I may or may not be wearing underneath.” He closes his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath. Oh, but you would do that to him. It’s as delicious as it is downright devilish .

“I was already going to be quite preoccupied during my meeting, you know,” he says, in as much wonder as in torment. You giggle, pleased. He opens his eyes, watches with interest as you adjust the straps of your bra under your dress, pinching and plucking at the fabric to get it to sit smoothly. “What are you wearing today?”

“Oh, it’s something new. You wouldn’t’ve seen it before,” you say blithely, casting about for something on the floor. “Have you seen my other shoe?”

“Something new?” He presses, compelled to take the bait despite himself.

“I would show you, but, gosh, I would hate to delay your meeting anymore than I already have,” you reply, kittenish. He gives you a dry look.

“I’m certain.”

“Anyways, didn’t you see it? When you slid up my dress?” He shakes his head.

“No. My intention was to keep the hem from getting in your way when you wrapped your legs around me. I was more interested in your kisses.” He doesn’t miss your heated glance, returns it even as he helps you look for your missing shoe.

“Just kissing?” He huffs, amused, at your impression of him. “This closet is tiny,” you sigh, ducking to look under the bottom shelves. “Where could it-?” On a hunch, he parts his robes. With the soft noise of leather on carpet, a shining black pump is swept forward. There’s a beat. It’s not even that funny, but there’s something about the way that your eyes meet that makes you both laugh. “Yeah- Y’know? I should’ve figured. It might as well be in your cloak. You’re basically ninety percent cloak.”

He’s grinning softly as he bends to pick it up, ignoring his knees. As you reach to take it from him, he stops you, shifting to kneel. Your smile goes sentimental as you place your hands on his shoulders and lift your stockinged foot, toes pointed. He sweeps his thumb over your arch, prompting a little noise from you.

“Don’t tickle me,” you warn, trying for stern and failing completely.

“Oh, I’d never,” he replies, smoothly. You hum dubiously, carefully running your fingers through his hair, as he slips your heel over your foot. The delectable way your sharp, black painted nails scrape over his scalp makes him shiver, and Belos allows himself to rest his face against your soft belly, hands coming up to hold your hips as you finger comb his hair to be much more presentable.

Gently, you take his jaw into your hands, prompting him to look up at you. Belos’ eyes flutter closed again as you smooth over his brows, then sweep that stubborn piece of fringe back into place. You are carefully thumbing the divot in his cheek when it springs out, tickling the bridge of his nose.

You click your tongue, fondly.

“Poor sleepy boy,” you murmur, tracing the edges of the dark circles under his eyes. “I wish you took more time to rest.” He hums, bringing his hands over yours as he stands.

“One day, my precious one,” he says, bringing them to his chest, “I’ll have completed my work, and we’ll live in a perfectly made world where I’ll be able to.” Do your eyes flicker sadly, or is it a trick of the light? Belos doesn’t have time to think about it before you speak.

“That sounds like a promise,” you say.

“It is,” he replies, squeezing your hands. “I’d prefer not to live without you.” You laugh, not unkindly, and he supposes that his phrasing was less than... romantic. However, he’s surprised to find that he means it.

“I love you, too,” you tell him good naturedly. Belos’ heart gives a hard thump, hands flexing around yours. You smile, giving him a final squeeze before you step away, picking his mask up off of the shelf, as well as your files. You offer it to him, holding it out by the antlers.

“Thank you,” he says, taking it and lifting it to his face. He pauses. “What did you have to report, by the way?”

“What?” You are entirely confused.

“The results?” He prompts, pointing to the folders. You glance down at them, as though you’d forgotten them, and the realization shatters your puzzled expression. A sharp laugh rips through your throat.

“Oh bitch, these are empty.”

“What ?”

“It’s still running the simulation. It has, like, another three hours on it? The fuckin’ printer- I’m sorry, the press , was out of paper, and I have no idea where the fucking supply closet is, and I felt weird wandering around the castle with nothing, so I thought that the folders would make me look less lost, and more like I was doing something, and then I saw you and-” you gesture, grinning, and he understands that you mean that your detour to this closet was as spontaneous for you as it was for him.

He can’t help the amused breath, even as he shakes his head. “You mean to tell me that you were aimlessly roaming-”

“Not! Aimless, just... destination flexible,” you cut in quickly, with a smile.

“-with the dim hope that one of the myriad doors in the castle would eventually open to the office supplies that you needed?”

“I wasn’t just randomly opening doors, I know where they are! I just don’t know the exact way to get to them.”

“Why didn’t you ask one of the guards? Or one of the castle staff?”

“Belos, I can’t get people to make eye contact with me most days, much less talk to me! I mean, I guess I could’ve laid down in the middle of the hallway like a murder victim until someone got concerned enough to check on me, and then sprung on them like a trap, but-” Your expression goes contemplative, and he gives you a disapproving look. “You know, that actually might’ve been more effective than what I was doing?”

“I’ll have a word with the Captain of the Guard, as well as the Head of Staff,” he says, frown deepening into genuine displeasure. You were his. Any mistreatment you suffered was a direct attack on his authority. “ Personally ,” he adds. You give him an exasperated look.

“Wait, let’s just rewind and maybe consider some of the reasons that I can’t get anyone to talk to me,” you say, measured but prompting. He knows exactly what you’re getting at, and simply meets your gaze in silence. Both of your brows raise momentarily, before you make yourself comfortable against the door, eyes steady on his.

The silence stretches.

In his defense, this usually works. He can’t think of one single person - or creature, or demon - on the Isle that could stand in his overwhelming presence and meet his expectant silence with one of their own. However, Belos must begrudgingly admit that there is nothing usual about his relationship with you.

He breaks first.

“It was only a week,” he says, in a way that is absolutely neither petulant nor a grumble, and certainly not both.

“Brought down from a month, which was like pulling teeth.” You don’t miss a beat.

“I am not an unreasonable man-”

“Oh, very reasonable. Reasonable enough to try and stick a little baby Coven Scout, who was literally just doing his job-”

“He was very much not just doing his job,” Belos counters, talking over you.

“-into the Conformitorium,” you continue, like he hadn’t spoken, “for a month, for the crime of being too nice to a random girl in his tour group that wasn’t even supposed to be there.”

“He was behaving in a very familiar way that I found to be an abuse of authority,” he sniffs. This is, admittedly, a ‘reach’, as you would say, and he knows it. Do you know that he knows that? ...more likely than not, but he didn’t get where he is today by admitting defeat so easily.

“As a Coven Scout? What was he gonna do? Give me the wrong directions? Usher a little too aggressively?”

“In any case,” he says, ignoring your quip, “it was inappropriate. Being part of the Emperor’s Coven is the highest honor anyone on the Isle can dream of, and using that position to flirt with those put under his charge - no matter how temporarily - was un- befitting of him, and by extension, myself .” You give him an unimpressed look. “The Emperor .” He indicates to himself. “Of the Boiling Isles. Me.” Despite the reminder, you now only look mildly amused on top of being unimpressed.

“Was he flirting?! Was he?! I didn’t feel flirted with. And you! Weren’t there!”

“Nothing that happens in the castle is beyond my notice.”

“Because you’re the Emperor-” you repeat, with less respect than the title deserves.

“Yes, I am the Emperor-”

“Of the Boiling Isles,” you both say at the same time, in sync.

“-And you have scrying magic, or whatever.” You pause. He frowns. You tip your head, just slightly. “Y’know...”

“Don’t.” He can’t. You’re right, and he doesn’t like it, because if he admitted to feeling like that before the two of you were even involved...

“I think there might be a secret, hidden reason that he got in trouble, and I didn’t, even though I wasn’t supposed to leave my rooms at the time,” you remark, chin coming up in a way that gives your bearing a remarkable smugness.

...you would never let him forget it. You run him around in circles enough as it is without another way to tease him.

“If you would like to be, I would be more than happy to arrange it,” he replies, liltingly.

“Just sort of, mm, looking back on it in retrospect, I think there might’ve been more than one abuse of authority-” You cut yourself off in the middle of the sentence. “I- We can’t rehash this right now.”

“Oh, we can’t? You seem quite capable of it,” he replies, dryly.

“Okay, fair. Also? So do you.” Belos sighs, shrugging. “My point being that I can’t get anyone to talk to me, because they’re afraid of being yeeted - by you - at high speeds into the Conformatorium for making eye contact with me wrong. I don’t think that threatening your high level staff is gonna make that any better.”

“I wouldn’t threaten anybody. I would simply...” he rolls his hand in a circle on his wrist in a regal gesture, “voice my displeasure, and perhaps, make a few suggestions about how you should be treated, especially in my absence.” You laugh behind closed lips.

“A threat, yes.” You are, once again, not wrong. You have a bad habit of doing that. “I’m sorry for making you late, by the way. I really only intended to pull you away for a minute.”

“I thought it was supposed to be two?” You giggle, and he smiles. "It’s alright. I doubt that they would start without me.” That makes you laugh again, aloud this time. He savors it, rich in this small space. The only thing better than hearing you laugh was making you laugh himself. What a pleasure it was that you did so often, and freely.

“It’d be very funny if they did,” you agree. “Will I see you for dinner tonight?” Belos sighs.

“I’m sorry, my darling. I was already planning on working through it. I do plan on seeing you sometime after , however.” The innuendo is clear in his voice, and you smile.

“After kissing me like that? You’d better,” you tease. “Is someone going to bring you something?”

“Of course.” It’s his turn to smile, eyes soft. Your concern is unnecessary-

“Something you’ll actually eat?” Well. Maybe not entirely .

“...probably.”  He did have a bad habit of skipping meals, despite having the most well trained culinary staff in the Boiling Isles. His work came first, and who would dare chide him for that? You giggle at this, shaking your head.

“Please don’t forget to eat, alright?” You, of course. He had forgotten what it felt like to be loved.

“I’ll try.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later tonight. By the way, you have a little...” you point to your cheek with an air of helpfulness, and he reaches up to touch the same spot on his face, fingers coming back smudged with your lipstick. “And also...” you touch your jawline. “And...” you touch your chin. Belos catches on, giving you an unamused look. “Actually, it’s pretty much everywhere.” You feign shock. “It’s such a shame that you won’t have time to wipe it off before your meeting,” you tell him, eyes big and regretful, and entirely disingenuous. “I mean, the shade does suit you, but the application is a little messy.”

“In that case, we’re a matched set,” he quips. Your eyes go wide as you press a fingertip to the side of your mouth, inspecting it quickly. Belos openly laughs as he revels in the way your face bounces from shocked to disbelieving to resigned with all of the animated drama he’s come to expect from you.

“Oh, would you look at that? The immediate consequences of my actions,” is what you finally say. “Fuck, this stuff is a bitch to get off. I honestly thought that this had worked out pretty well for me so far.”

“Difficult? To get off?” He asks, flatly.

“Oh, yeah, this will only come off with a double cleanse - y’know, oil and then just your regular face wash? I’m sure you’ll have time before your meeting to-” You inhale, like something had just occurred to you. “Oh, no, you won’t. Aw. Well, I’m sure you’ll have time after to- Oh, no, you won’t have time then, either. It seems like you’re going to be wearing my kisses on your face all day. Aw. Oh no. Who could’ve seen this coming?”

Belos runs his tongue over his teeth as that smug, closed lipped smile blooms across your face.

“You seem oh-so pleased with yourself. Tell me, how does it feel?” He asks, with his trademark paternalistic menace, despite the way that knowing that you’d marked him on purpose, and intended for him to wear it all day feels like you’d drawn a finger up his spine.

“Oh, pretty great. I’m having lots of fun right now, and I will be for the rest of the day,” you tell him, gloating, “So, sort of- I would say it feels very, mm, cotton candy- have you had cotton-? No? Oh, it’s great, all sugar, fluffy, melt-in-your mouth. So, overall I’m feeling pretty, honestly, accomplished. Y’know? Like I’ve really gotten something done today.”

You are. So. Fucking. Irritating. Such a Titansdamned brat. It makes him hot, and he stares you down, flat blue eyes going sharp as folded steel. The air shifts, and you feel it, straightening. He sees the subtle shift of your hips as you rub your thighs together.

“How very... evocative .” Your eyebrows jump at his perfectly congenial tone, and you cover your faint, nervous giggles with the empty folder. “I hope that you remember how fan-tastic you feel right now when you’re bent over my knee, sobbing.” You catch your bottom lip between your teeth for a split second, shamelessly glancing down his body, your retort on the tip of your tongue before he’s even finished speaking.

“Oh, yeah? In a few hours? That’s a long time to wait, especially if you’re a big scary Emperor with a hard dick and lipstick all over his face.” His jaw ticks. “I don’t know if I’ll survive the suspense,” you shoot back, gleefully awaiting his reaction.

“I don’t think you need to worry about the suspense , my lovely girl,” he croons, flexing his, quite frankly, Herculean restraint. The flicker of a pout is worth it. “I expect you to be ready and waiting for me this evening. I should hope that there’s no need to detail exactly what would happen if I were to find you absent?” You make a little face at him, lifting your chin at his command.

“I suppose not, but I really like it when you do.”

“Very funny. Go on, then.” He inclines his head towards the door, specifically to irritate you . And irritate you it does. If his previous order had pricked at your contrarian nature, then this obvious dismissal had provoked you entirely. The way you tilt your head makes him stand straighter, your even gaze setting him on his back foot. The expression in your eyes shifts as a familiar roguish grin faintly curls your lips.

You nod, quite mildly, and step to the door, gripping the knob with one hand. In a single movement, you grab the bottom of your dress and raise it to your chin. “Speaking of matched sets...”

Oh, he hates it when you do this.

Belos has, for as long as he has been alive, taken pride in his considerable intelligence, until your uncanny knack for making him go fully stupid had shaken his confidence in his own good sense. He can feel his brain shut down as his eyes go wide, trying to take in every detail at once.

Your breasts, beneath one layer of scallop edged silk chiffon. Your hard nipples. A black garter belt, wrapped around your little waist, your soft stomach - his palms tingle, longing for a handful - garter? A garter meant- Stockings! Oh, he loves it when you wear lingerie for him. Thick thighs, bulging over the tops- Ah, fuck, that’s his favorite part- His mouth waters, and- damnit, his erection had just gone down a bit, now pulses urgently where it’s trapped along his hipbone, and he can feel the trickle of precome slicking his skin.

“Oh, also!” You rest some of your weight against the door, tipping your hips up and crooking a knee to the side. “Crotchless,” is all you say. He has never heard language before. Words are meaningless noise in the beautiful chiming of your voice. He stares dumbly at the juncture of your thighs until meaning hits him like a brick to the skull.

His eyes meet yours. You visibly jump, smirk splitting into a giant smile that wrinkles your nose as he shakes his head to clear it. The itching of his hands has doubled, desire crystallizing into intent .

Damn the meeting. He’s going to fuck you in this little closet until his ears are ringing with the way he’s going to make you scream .

“I’ll see you much later tonight. I should hope that you enjoy the wait.” You only barely tug the hem of your dress back down to your knees as you swing the door open, flooding the closet with bright light, and his stomach drops as you take your first step out. Mask hitting the floor with a thump! Belos lunges , and you shriek as you catch the movement out of the corner of your eye, using your momentum to slam the door behind you. He changes course at the last second, slamming his hand on the doorknob and gripping it as your panicked, muffled giggling moves quickly away.

The urge to chase and hunt and catch and take pulses hotly in his blood. Distantly, he can hear heavy breathing. For a moment he thinks that there might be someone else in here with him, but the thought vanishes when he pivots his focus and realizes that it’s coming from his own ragged throat.

Your scent hangs heavy in the room, the heady mixture of arousal and adrenaline laying heavy on his tongue. The curse tingles in his flesh, sharpening his senses and laying bare his penchant for the base, the primal, the animalistic.

It is with great effort that Belos unclenches his jaw.

He takes a deep breath in, and exhales. Swallows.

Belos considers himself a patient man. A forgiving man. A reasonable man. Every day you find a new way to push him to his limits, to thrill and confound, to frustrate and delight him. God, he loves you. He loves you. Just when he thought that he had lost everything a man could lose... It’s terrifying. He wants more. All of you.

He slots his mask into place, and, straightening his shoulders, Emperor Belos opens the door and glides across the threshold.

Tonight, he will break you.

[bangtanloverboys]

kitten fever // myg

summary - min yoongi wants to be a daddy, but not in the way that you quite expect

pairing - cat hybrid!yoongi x gender neutral!reader

genre - fluff; hybrid au, established relationship au

word count - 7.5k

warning - yoongi being an absolute softie, hinted hybrid discrimination, YOONGI WITH A KITTY, yoongi and yn being domestic, KITTENS, overwhelming love for kittens, yoongi calling himself daddy

author’s note - this is for the bts ghostie dynamite dads event “new dad yoongi”, but make it new cat dad. i snuggled my kitties a lot writing this bc i love them and they are my inspiration for this. anything cat related on my blog is inspired by my own cats, enjoy. i may post a baby photo of one of them bc that’s how i imagine the kitty in this 

2:54 am read the small digital clock in the corner of the room. Yoongi couldn’t sleep. He turned his head over to you, still curled up into his side. Pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, he gently peeled your arm off of him and got out of bed. You let out a soft whine at the loss of his warmth, patting the empty space in a sleepy attempt to find him. He shook his head and chuckled at you, placing another kiss to your head and made his way over to the desk. Seating himself in the wheelie chair, he opened the laptop and typed away into the search bar. 

‘Newborn Kittens’.

He honestly wasn’t sure what was going through his head, but he was feeling something deep down inside. The feeling started sometime a little after you had adopted him and it had only grown stronger when the two of you had gotten together. Originally he thought that was the feeling, the need to be with you. You were his mate and you were it for him; he loved you with every little fiber in his being. But there was still something missing in Yoongi’s heart, and that is what it was.

He really wanted to be a dad. 

Not for like human babies though, no. He didn’t think that either of you were ready for that yet, not for a while. But he really wanted to care and love for something as his own, which has slowly led him down the rabbit hole of kitten videos. Volume set to low, he played videos and listened to the small innocent newborns cry and whine at the new world they were in. The cries resonated deep in Yoongi’s heart. He wanted to care for, guide, and love on a kitten so badly. The only thing is he had to convince you about it. 

After about an hour of him watching and holding back tears over the newborns, he let out a yawn. He exited the tab and cleared the browsing history, an extra precaution he’d taken to make sure you accidentally stumble across it. He didn’t know why he was so nervous about asking you, maybe it’s cause you never talked about having another pet or an actual animal? He vaguely remembered you mentioning the reason you got a hybrid in the first place. You wanted someone to talk to and to keep you in check, which Yoongi thought he did a pretty good job of. You were a bit of an idiot sometimes, but you were his idiot now. His idiot that he had no idea how to tell he wanted to have a baby kitten. 

He quietly tiptoed back over to the bed and carefully slotted himself to lay next to you, once again. You sleepily register the bed dipping next to you, turning over and wrapping your arms back around him; holding him even tighter so he can’t leave you again. He let out a low chuckle at your action, letting you mold yourself against him. With another kiss to the top of your head, Yoongi let his eyes slowly fall shut. Dreaming of the kittens he wanted so badly. 

You woke up earlier than Yoongi the following morning, which was strange, seeing how normally he’s the first to rise. As of lately though, he’s been sleeping in more. You didn’t mind, the past few times he slept in, he had the warmest smile on his face. It was so blissful and it always pulled at your heartstrings to see him look so soft. But whenever he woke up, he acted distant. Like he was holding his breath around you. You don’t know what led him to start acting like this, you tried talking to him about it, you really did. Everytime you brought it up, he acted like it was nothing and dismissed the issue or said he was in a funk. So you’ve taken a back seat, waiting for him to either truly tell you what’s going on or for him to pull himself out of his self-proclaimed funk. With a small sigh passing your lips, you kissed his cheek and gave one of his little ears a scratch, you pulled yourself out of bed to get started on your morning routine. 

With a yawn, you padded down the hallway of your small apartment towards the kitchen. Glancing at the calendar pinned to the fridge, you let out a low groan. Today, you had a lot of paperwork that you could thankfully do at home, but that didn’t help the fact you just wanted a lazy day to cuddle with your boyfriend. But you have work to do, then you can cuddle Yoongi to your heart's content. Quickly, you fashioned a breakfast milkshake; consisting of your last banana, an egg, milk, and some chocolate sauce. The roar of the blender must’ve woken up Yoongi, as soon as you turned it off, you heard his heavy footsteps get closer and closer. You don’t turn to look behind you as two arms and a tail wrap around your waist. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” You smiled as he buried his head into your neck. 

“Morning,” he grumbled, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. 

You stop from finishing your shake to lean into him, nuzzling your cheek against his messy dark hair. “You sleep alright? I thought I felt you get up in the middle of the night.”

“I’m good, just. . . had trouble sleeping last night,” You felt him shift behind you, readjusting himself so his chin is now resting on your shoulder, watching you finish making your shake, “decided to have a wikipedia deep dive to try and bore myself to sleep.”

“Aw, I’m glad you were able to get some sleep though.” You said as you pulled out a metal straw from your utensil drawer into your finished banana-chocolate milkshake. However, Yoongi doesn’t loosen his grip on you. Carefully, you manage to twist yourself around in his arms to look at him. His face is still puffy from sleep, his eyes are blinking lazily as you give him a chaste kiss. “Sleepy kitty.” Upon saying that phrase, you felt Yoongi’s arms stiffen around you. It was only for a moment, then he relaxed and nuzzled his nose to brush against your cheek before letting his arms slip from around you. You don’t let the way Yoongi tensed up at your words, but elect not to bring it up. It’s too early.  

“What do you have planned for today?” Yoongi asked, stifling a yawn as he went to make himself some coffee. 

“Just paperwork,” you huffed as you siphoned through the utensils to find your precious metal straw. “You got anything? Besides taking a cat nap.” You smiled as you took a sip of your shake. 

Yoongi shook his head as he concentrated on his coffee making task, “I got nothing.”

“Maybe when I’m done, we can watch a movie?” You suggested, as you leaned against the countertop. 

“Mm, sounds good.” He responded as he mixed in his coffee creamer. Satisfied with his stirring, he turned back to face you. “There’s a few things I’ve found that I think you might like”, he said as he brought the mug to his lips. 

The small conversation fell and the two of you got started on your routines. You handed Yoongi your glass for him to clean then went to your bathroom to start the day. You couldn’t get over how he froze around you at the little nickname you bestowed on him. Sleepy kitty. Did he not like that? He never had any objections to your pet names previous to this. You couldn’t just chalk it up to it being one of his ‘moods’ because this was a constant thing now. You needed to talk to him, maybe before the movie.

Yoongi on the other hand, felt like banging his head into a wall. How could he be so stupid to have such a blatant reaction to the pet name?! He supposes it has everything to do with the dream he had after he had finally fallen asleep after an hour long cat video binge at such an ungodly hour. He had dreamt of a small tabby kitten, probably no more than 4 weeks old. It was snuggling into his shoulder while he slept, swiping at his tail while he sat and worked, nibbling on his ears- God even just reminiscing about the dream had his heart aching again. 

Shaking his head, tried to push past the consuming thoughts of kittens, refusing to give into his instincts. He focused all his energy into cleaning the dishes; totally not imagining the small cup he was washing as a small kitten, scrubbing it delicately and making sure not to go too hard on it’s small fragile head-

Yoongi dropped the cup in the sink, the plastic banging against the other dishes ringing in his ears as he held his head. He was going to lose it, he knows it. To his concern there’s only one solution to this issue: get a kitten and take care of it. Digging the heels of his palm into his eyes, he let out a deep sigh. There was no other choice he had, he had to talk to you about his kitten fever. 

Finishing up the last of what was in the sink, he dried off his hands and made his way back over to the room. You had already gotten to work, judging by how you barely acknowledged him as he walked in. Walking over to the bed, Yoongi stretched himself over the messed up covers. This was how the two of you did spend most of your days when you were allowed to work from home; with him laying down and watching you work. Resting his cheek on his folded arms, Yoongi kept his eyes on you. Trying his damndest not to let his mind wander from you and to imagining you working with a small kitten on your lap. Your hand caressing its small body while it meows loudly at you as you play with it- He let out a groan, burying his face in his arms to try and escape the mental image he created. 

Hearing him, you turn in your chair to face him, “Yoongi, are you okay?”

Peeking from behind his elbows, concern is written all over your face. He shut his eyes and sat up, “Y/N. . . Can I talk to you?” Your brows furrowed together, a look of panic dashes through your eyes as you nod. Taking a deep breath, he stood up from where he sat and walked over to your desk, leaning against it. “I-,” he started, “I want kittens.”

His admission out in the air, he closed his eyes, fearing your reaction. But no sound of rejection came from you. Opening one eye to peep at you, you were confused. Yoongi could also see the gears turning in your head as you thought of something, anything to respond to him.

“Yoongi, I-I don’t think we’re-”

“Not like that!” He stopped you, seeing how you didn’t quite understand what he was talking about. “I mean like, actual kittens. . . Cats. . .” He explained.

Your mouth parted, “Oooh.” The dots connected, Yoongi’s sudden mood changes started to make sense; especially this morning’s when you called him kitty. All this because he wanted to father kittens? “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Hmm?”

“How long have you wanted kittens, Yoongi?” You questioned.

Bashfully, he looked to his feet, “I don’t know. . . Since we got together, I suppose?”

Your eyebrows shot up into your hairline, “That long?! Why haven’t you told me, baby?” You went to grab his hands, holding them in yours.

“You never said anything about wanting kids, animal or not so I just. . . didn’t say anything.” He responded, keeping his eyes on your interlocked hands. 

“Yoongi, look at me.” He raised his head to meet your gaze, “Human babies I never really thought much on, but kittens? I love kittens so much, of course I’d want to have them with you.”

“Really?” He felt like his eyes were going to pop right out of their sockets “You mean it? I can-We can get a kitten? A baby?” Yoongi couldn’t believe his ears; his vision started to blur as tears welled up in them. The blurry outline of you nodded as you stood, pulling him into a hug as the happy tears fell from his face. 

You cooed at him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, his face burying itself in your neck. “Aww, we can definitely get a kitten. I think having one might be a wonderful little addition to our family, don’t you think?” Yoongi only cried harder in response. You stroked the hairs at the back of his neck, soothing him from his happy tears. “I’ll take that as a yes, I’ll get all my work done today and tomorrow we can go to a shelter and adopt. Okay?” With a nod of his head and a couple sniffles, he pulled away from the hug. You moved your hand to lay it on his cheek, wiping away the remaining tears from his cheeks. “Let me finish this up okay? You do research on some kitten supplies and shelters nearby?”

With that, Yoongi immediately got to work on researching products (within your established budget) and found a shelter a few blocks away from your apartment building. You thanked whatever deity that was watching over you that allowed your apartment to put in a notice for a new pet so last minute. Normally you’d have no qualms about waiting a few days, but the way Yoongi had been keeping this to himself, you didn’t want him to wait any longer. He deserved to be a proud father of a little fur baby. 

All night long, you could feel Yoongi’s excitement radiate from him as he tossed and turned in the bed all night. You could hear him even giggle to himself, whispering how he’s going to be a dad. The words squeezed your heart as you turned to wrap your arms around him, partially to keep him still but also because you were happy that he was so happy about this step for the both of you. Maybe him a little more than you though.

You woke up to an empty bed, you patted around Yoongi’s side, noting it was cold. You were puzzled for a moment, wondering where he might be when the smell of bacon flooded your nose. You let out a light chuckle as you got out of bed, and shuffled down the hallway to see Yoongi in the kitchen, buzzing as he cooked breakfast. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d mistake you for a dog hybrid for being this excited.” You chuckled as you sat down at the table. He narrowed his eyes at you before returning to cooking. Normally Yoongi never went all out with breakfast unless it was a special occasion, you suppose that today might as well be a special occasion, it being the day he finally gets to become a dad. “Did you get any sleep?” You asked as he put some bacon and toast on a couple plates. 

“Enough,” he answered, placing a plate in front of you on the table. You rolled your eyes at his response, you should’ve figured he didn’t get much; but at least he got some of it. “Gotta get used to not sleeping all throughout the night.”

“Yoongi, it’s a kitten. Not an actual baby.” You chortled as you took a bite of bacon, “It’s not gonna wake us up in the middle of the night crying.”

“Yeah, but kittens in a new environment often are excited and don’t sleep much the first night or so.” He responded as he sat down in front of you, “While I’m not a full cat, you should remember how restless I was when you first got me.”

You do remember. He stayed up all night the first few days, getting a feel of your apartment; sniffing around and making some noise, but after that he started to settle in and get comfortable in his new home. “Yes, but cats don’t whine every few hours to be fed.”

“Touche,” he bowed his head in defeat before going to take a bite out of his toast. 

You watched him as he ate, nibbling a bit on your breakfast as you did. As you continued to eat, you noticed he was getting more and more fidgety. Figuring how he wasn’t very upfront with you about getting a kitten, he was waiting on your word to get ready to find a shelter. You smirked a bit as you took a few more bites of your toast before pushing your plate away. “Alright, ready to go?” Before you even finished, Yoongi jumped from his seat and kissed your cheek. You barked out a laugh as your hybrid dashed down the hallways towards the bedroom in a blur of black and white. 

Deciding to take it upon yourself, you cleared the table, seeing how Yoongi was too excited to focus on anything else. You shook your head as you picked up his abandoned breakfast on the table; if he was too excited to sleep, you should’ve figured he’d be too excited to eat. Better make sure the second that kitten crosses the threshold of your apartment that you feed him before he forgets completely to eat. As you finished up in the kitchen, said hybrid came back, “What are you doing?! Why aren’t you getting dressed?!” He exasperated at you, still dressed in pajamas, while he was all nicely dressed. 

“I’m sorry that I want to make a nice impression on the newcomer, when they arrive.” You chuckled as you walked up to him, ruffling his hair. “I’ll get dressed. You finish up here.” In a flash, he was at the sink, furiously scrubbing the pans and plates. You laughed at him again, you wonder how he’s going to react when you tell him that you’re not even gonna stop at the shelter first, seeing how you should get the products first before the kitten steps it’s paws in the apartment. No matter how eager Yoongi was, you needed a litter box first. Kitten second. 

Once you’re dressed and down the hall, your overly eager feline partner was frantically checking himself in the hallway mirror. Letting out a chuckle as he made his hair and ears look as neat as possible. You held up your keys, the jingling catching his attention, he beamed as you moved to put your shoes on and get out of the door.

“What kind should we get? I looked at some of the ones at the shelter and there’s this pretty ragdoll, she’s all white and fluffy- Ooh! There’s this siamese kitten that just had the most beautiful eyes-”

“Yoongi,” you cut off his rambling as you approached your car. “I love you, I really do and I’m excited that you’re excited. But don’t overthink it, let’s just go to the shelter first and see who speaks out to you more. Okay?” 

You watched as he bashfully scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry.” He chuckled nervously.

“Don’t apologize, baby. Now come on, we gotta get going.” You hopped in the car, Yoongi followed behind you, climbing into the backseat. The two of you sit in silence as you drive off, your hybrid humming happily as he stared out the window. It’s only when you pull up to the pet store does Yoongi let out a low groan. 

“This isn’t the shelter!”

You grabbed his hand as he pouted his lips at you, “I know. But we need litter, food, and toys. I don’t want to forget that on the way home.” You pressed a kiss to his knuckles as he dropped his pout. 

“Fine,” he sighed as he unbuckled and got out, clearly unhappy with the decision, but realizing it was the right one either way. 

“You’re acting more like a moody teen than a father to be, you sure you’re ready?” You raised a brow at him, which quickly had him standing up straighter.

“Yes, I am.” He gave a firm nod as he spoke, “Now come on, the fast we get the supplies, the faster we can get the baby.” He took your hand in his and led you into the store. 

You let Yoongi take the lead pushing the cart through the aisles as you searched for the supplies you needed. You could feel stares from other customers as Yoongi was looking at the different types of kitten litter and which one would be best. You felt like they were judging you for bringing your hybrid to the pet store, like you were going to make him actually use the items that were meant for his animal counterpart. 

“Can I help you with anything?” You both turned your head to see a young woman in a blue vest standing there, a confused expression on her face. 

“Actually yes, what brand of litter would you recommend? I’ve read all the reviews but, I’m curious about your opinion?” Yoongi rambled off as he stood, walking to get closer to the employee. “We’re going to adopt a kitten later today and this is both of our first times owning a cat.”

“Oh!” The employee's eyes widened and nodded, now understanding the situation instead of assuming the worst. “Well what age are you looking to adopt?”

“Not sure, I was thinking maybe four to six weeks?” He said as the worker’s eyes examined the wall of litter in front of her. 

“Hmm,” she stepped down and pulled out a medium sized pink box. “This brand is what I’ve seen the best reviews on, anyone with a kitten seems to like it before going on to other litter.” She handed it over to Yoongi, who was bowing his head as he accepted the box. 

“Thank you very much!” He replied, gracious for the help. 

“No problem, anything else I can help you with?” She responded with a grin of her own as she looked between the two of you. 

Yoongi glanced over his shoulder to you, waiting to see if you needed anything at all. You shook your head, “No. Thank you for the offer though, I think we got it.”

Yoongi thanked the employee again before turning to put the box of litter in the cart. “Got litter, got the litter box, food, what else?”

“Toys and a collar?” You noticed that was something lacking from your growing collection of cat necessities. Looking up to Yoongi, you see him with his lips pursed in thought as he stared down into the cart. “Something wrong with that?”

“Toys no,” he said, moving to push the cart forward towards the cat toy aisle. “Collar, I don’t know. I mean, it’s going to be indoors anyways. Does it even really need it?” 

He did have a point, a collar was to ensure that if it got lost you’ll be contacted as soon as it’s found. But considering how it is going to be inside all the time, and with Yoongi always around too, did you really need it? “You’re right, but we don’t know. Why don’t we skip the collar today, and get it when we know for sure. Does that sound good?”

You followed close behind him as he turned into the next aisle, thinking of what you said. “Yeah, sounds good. Just don’t want to make any unnecessary purchases.” You stopped in front of a small wall of colorful toys and stretching posts. Your eyes shifted towards him as he closely examined each and every toy in front of him. “There a limit on how many toys we can get?”

“Let’s start with three,” you laughed lightly as you moved to stand beside him, looking over the different options. “We do need a scratching post, so let’s get this one,” you move to grab a long cardboard scratcher and put it in the cart, “because we don’t need the little baby scratching up the furniture.”

“No we do not,” Yoongi returned with a chuckle, reaching out to grab a small pack of toys in the shape of mice. “These look fun.” 

“What are you gonna play with it too?” You elbowed him gently as he tossed them into the wagon. 

“I just might.” He teased as his attention went back to the wall of toys, he reached forward and grabbed a small plush octopus. He gave it a little shake and it chimed, his eyes immediately lit right up and placed it right next to the other toys. 

“I’m beginning to think those toys are for you more than the kitten,” you joked as Yoongi moved to push the cart out of the aisle and towards check out. He scrunched his nose up at you but didn’t deny your statement. 

Once at the check out, Yoongi put all the items up on the conveyor belt while you went up to the cashier, who was eyeing Yoongi carefully as he checked out each item.Not liking the way he was looking at your hybrid, you cleared your throat, directing his attention back to you. You knew there was still some judgement towards hybrids being out and about in public, but that shouldn’t matter because he was with you. His owner. 

“Did you find everything alright?” The cashier huffed as he bagged your items, going over the register to double check that he scanned everything. 

“Yup!” You gave him a tight smile, not wanting him to give away your displeasure at his behavior. You just wanted out of this pet store now. Yoongi, on the other hand, must’ve sensed your uneasiness and in an instant he stood right next to you, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. Letting out a shaking breath, you returned his squeeze before finishing up your purchase. It certainly was a small hit to your bank account but this was worth it, it was for Yoongi. 

You both gave a quick thank you to the worker before you made your leave, cart full of brand new kitten supplies. As you were loading up the car, Yoongi placed a hand on your shoulder. “You okay?”

“I didn’t like those eyes on us, on you.” You muttered as you shut the trunk closed. 

“Y/N look at me,” he placed his hand on your cheek. “It’s alright, I can deal with a couple of staring strangers. But you’re with me that’s all that matters.” He smiled as his thumb caressed your cheek.

You stood there for a moment, letting him sooth your anxieties before you pulled away. “Okay, now let’s go get that kitten. No sadness today, this is supposed to be a happy time.” Soon as the words left your mouth, Yoongi’s entire demeanor shifted; going from a caring partner, to an excited child with only a few words. 

 “Right! Let’s go!!” With that, Yoongi gave you a chaste kiss before jumping into the passenger side door. 

The drive to the shelter wasn’t that long, and Yoongi was bouncing up and down in his seat like a child on his way to Toys R Us. It was cute though, seeing him this excited. You don’t think you’ve seen him this giddy; you’ve seen him happy of course, but not this kind of emotion. It looked good on him, you hoped he manages to keep it going as the kitten grows old. 

“We’re here!!” Yoongi announced ecstatically as you pulled up in the parking lot. The hybrid waited patiently as he could as you got out of the car, his eyes locked on the door of the small building. It was a bit on the smaller side, but it was a bit more of a homey feeling to it. Something that you thought would be good seeing how this will be the new addition to your family.

Soon as you stepped forward towards him, he bounded ahead of you, eager to get through the door. “Hurry up!” He whined as you leisurely took your time walking up the path to the door. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you huffed as you finally managed to get to the front door. Yoongi was grinning so hard his cheek muscles were sore, but that didn’t matter. It was finally happening. He was gonna be a dad! 

Door to the shelter opened, he followed you as you stepped inside, glancing around at the posters of various cats and dogs on the wall. He stared at them while a volunteer at the front desk asked to help you. He moved his head to pay attention to the conversation, but little meows echoed from the door where the volunteer entered from. His hand instantly grabbed yours as he heard the little cries; not coming from his computer, but from actual kittens. 

His attention was brought back to you at the sound of your laughter. “You ready, Yoon?” He nodded his head so hard, you feared his head might pop off. Your shoulders shook with another laugh as you looked back to the volunteer, “Can we see them now?”

“Of course!” She answered as she took a few steps back towards the door, holding it open for the two of you. Yoongi followed after her quickly, tugging you along with your hand still tightly grasped in his. The smell of all the other animals filled Yoongi’s senses as they walked down a short hallway. He could hear the sounds of them as well, all calling for the attention of the new people that they no doubt smelled. Soon enough, they approached a door marked CATS, Yoongi felt your eyes on him as the volunteer opened the door and walked in. 

“You ready to be a dad, Yoongi?” Your voice was soft as you squeezed his hand. All he could do was nod as you entered. 

The scent hit him first, the smell of fur and cat food, and litter boxes. Not the most pleasant thing in the world, but at that very moment, it was better than roses to him. Then the sound of dozens of cats meowing away filled his eardrums and he felt his smile get wider as he glanced around the small room. There was a small cat tree in the middle of the room, with silver kennels on either side of it. Some of the doors were open, the felines who inhabited them wandered about the room. The rest of them remained closed, but that didn’t stop them from sticking out their paws between the wires, going out to grab the other volunteers in the room. 

“So all our kittens are about four to six weeks old, all siblings are in the same kennel. Feel free to open them up if you want,” she explained as she walked over to another male volunteer to talk to him. “All their names are on that white board, by the way!” 

There was a small brush against Yoongi’s pant leg. Glancing down, he made eye contact with an orange tabby cat; rubbing it’s head against his calf. The creature looked up and meowed at him, curious about the two new strangers who came in. Ever so slowly, Yoongi knelt down petting it’s head and letting it keen into his hand. Above, he could hear you coo as at the sight before getting distracted with another cat that came up to you. 

Yoongi felt like he was going to cry, he had to only take one home? When there’s so many here that all need homes? He was so close to just begging you to take them all home, but he knew that that wouldn’t be a good idea. Taking a deep breath, he got back up to his feet and walked over to one of the kennels and peered in, looking at the small fluff balls curl together for warmth. Carefully, he moved to open the wire door without waking any of them, but it appears his presence was enough to wake them because sure enough, small mewls added into the already noisy room as he opened the door completely. 

“Hi,” his voice was barely a whisper as he reached in and let the kitten sniff at him, getting adjusted to his scent before moving to touch any of them. A small white kitten with the bluest eyes reached up to grab at his fingers, its small claws digging into his skin. “Ow,” he feigned with a chuckle as he lowered his head to scratch at the fur balls ears. “You’re a curious one, aren’t you.” He lilted as he turned his attention to another kitten. This one was black, but strangely enough has small light grey stripes decorated its body. It was a bit more separated from the rest of the litter, smaller too. Intrigued, he moved his hand over to it and let the kitten sniff it. When it seemed to accept him, he let his hand curl around its small body, lifting it out of the cage and into his arms.

“You found someone, Yoongi?” He heard you ask as you approach him, a small gasp leaving your lips when you see the tiny creature in his arms. “Oh my goodness! Aren’t you precious!” You melted as you reached your finger out to stroke its head. 

“I see you’ve found the runt of the litter,” the volunteer noted as she walked over to you both, a smile on her face. “She’s all healthy, so if she’s the one you want, she’s ready to go home with you.”

Yoongi could feel your eyes on him, looking for an answer on if this was the one you were going to take home. He stared down at the small cat in his arms, who’s big eyes stared right back at him. He could feel it deep in his heart, this was the one. This was his baby. “Yeah, it’s her.”

“Okay, babe.” You kissed his cheek before looking back to the kitten still in his arms. “Hi baby, you almost match your daddy.” You giggled as you gave her one last scratch before confirming with the volunteer that you’ll be taking that one home. 

With a smile, she nodded, asking you to follow her to finish up the paperwork while telling another volunteer to help Yoongi with getting her ready to leave. He readjusted the kitten in his arms so she was now laying against his chest, rather than in his arms. The other volunteer held a cardboard carrier with an old towel in it out. Yoongi was hesitant at first, not quite ready to let his new found child out of his arms just yet. 

“Come on, buddy. She’s gonna be okay,” he encouraged Yoongi as he reached for the cat. Holding back the urge to swipe at him and carry the cat out in his arms, he knew you wouldn’t want him to make a scene. So he complied, letting him take the kitten from him and into the carrier. The volunteer handed it over to him; but instead of holding it by the handle, he held it by the bottom in both hands. Not wanting to jostle her around before getting to the car. 

The volunteer escorted him back out to the lobby, where you were finishing up. “Yoongi, what are you gonna name her?” You asked. The question caught him off guard, he didn’t know what he was gonna name his kitten. He’s wanted one for how long and he never thought of one? He quickly racked his brain for names, not wanting it to sound too cheesy or weird but none came to mind. 

“I, uh,” he was embarrassed at the predicament. But you merely laughed at him before placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s just for the chip she got, I’ll just put down Min for now alright?” You looked to him for his permission. He nodded, the two of you will figure out a better name to call her in the meantime. But at least she’s got a nickname on her. 

Paperwork all done, and a car full of new cat stuff. The two of you drove back to your apartment, and all the while Yoongi was flinching with every confused little meow that came from the white box on his lap. Unable to take it anymore, he cracked open the carrier a bit, just enough to stick his hand in and sooth her of both his and her anxieties about the drive. You rolled your eyes at the action, mumbling something under your breath about coddling her before she’s even gotten to the house. But Yoongi couldn’t help it! He hated hearing the small and scared whimpers, he couldn’t just do nothing!

When the drive finally came to a stop, you handed Yoongi the key to the apartment. “Put her in our room, close the door and come back here to help me with the rest of the stuff. Okay?” You instructed, to which Yoongi followed to the T. Well almost to the T.

Once he got into the house, he opened up the carrier and pulled out the kitten. “This is your new home.” He started as he walked around, showing her the place. “This is the living room and the kitchen area, we’re out here a lot. Don’t try to scratch up the couch please, or Y/N is gonna kill us both.” He chuckled as he made his way down the hall, pointing at different photos and giving a story. “This is the bedroom, where we sleep. You can sleep here too.” He went on and he placed her down on the ground. “Now you can explore while we go get your things.” He said, but didn’t move. Watching how the kitten sniffed around the new place, getting a feel of it. A smile on his face, he slowly started backing out of the room, closing it behind him.

He rushed back out of the door, but before he made it to your car, he ran into you, an annoyed look on your face. “You got distracted with the kitty, didn’t you?” Yoongi looked down at the ground, feeling a bit guilty for putting the baby before his partner but thankfully you seemed to understand. “Fine, just get the cat litter. Couldn’t carry it all by myself.” You jerked your head in the direction of the car. Nodding, he ran down to go get the rest of the things.

Setting the majority of the cat stuff down, you quietly started towards the bedroom. Cracking open the door, you don’t see anything just yet. You push the door open a bit more, still nothing but there is a small little lump of poop on the floor, stinking up the whole room. “Gah,” you gagged as you quickly went to the kitchen to grab some paper towels and cleaner. “Knew I should’ve told him to get the kitty litter ready first,” you muttered to yourself as you cleaned up the little troublemaker’s poop. After being sure to toss it in a trashcan in the bathroom, you began looking for the little one.

Laying flat on the ground, you peered under your bed. The small outline of the kitten was seen in the middle of the bed, out of reach for you to grab. “Aww, come here baby. No ones gonna hurt you.” You stretched your arm out under the bed, the tips of your fingers barely grazing her soft fur. You could feel her lower her nose to your hand, sniffing you out before rubbing her head against your palm. 

“What are you doing?” You heard Yoongi’s voice called out from above you.

“She hid under the bed,” you explained as you pulled your arm out from underneath the space. 

Yoongi pursed his lips in thought as he leaned down, taking his turn to reach under the bed. “Come here baby, come on.” He made kissy noises, trying to lure her out. “Come to daddy.” But to no avail, she didn’t come out. 

Disappointment was written across his face as he sat up. “Aww, don’t be upset Yoon. She;s just scared. She’s in a new place,” you placed your hand on his cheek. “Why don’t we set up her stuff, maybe she’ll come out then.”

Begrudgingly, he agreed. You set up all the stuff in the room first, just to get her accompanied to the new place before the rest of the apartment. You had Yoongi handle setting up her litter box and opening up her toys while you set up her food and water. Cat stuff thoroughly thrown about the place, you saw small little paws peek out from underneath the bed. 

“Yoongi,” you nudged your hybrid to look at where you were pointing. 

Instantly, he began to lower himself to the ground, not breaking eye contact with her as she watched him slowly go down and down until he was laying flat on his stomach. Taking a few tentative steps, she got closer to him. Sniffing at his ear which twitched at the close proximity of her black little nose. “Those are my ears,” he stated simply as she started to swat at them and his hair. “Hey,” he chuckled, lifting his head away from her paws. “Don’t hurt daddy.”

“You’re really gonna stick with daddy?” 

“Got a problem with that?”

“Not at all,” you raised your hands in defense, not wanting to argue with him. He moved back to sit on the ground next to you and watch as the kitten curiously bounded around the room. She looked up at you before making slow steps over, before putting her paws on your thighs. You looked up at Yoongi who looked nearly green with envy. “Guess we know who her favorite is.” You teased. 

“No no no no,” he said as he leaned over before picking up the cat, plopping her on his lap. “She’s gonna be a daddy’s girl, if it’s the last thing I do.” You would’ve thought she would’ve hated being moved by force and would’ve jumped away, but she didn’t. She snuggled herself deeper into his lap and started purring. Now it’s your turn to be jealous.

“No fair,” you grumbled as you leaned forward to pet her again.

Yoongi only stuck his tongue out at you before turning his attention back down to the cat. “Moonlight.”

“What was that?”

“Her name is Moonlight. Moonie for short,” he said, his eyes never leaving her as he let his hand stroke her.

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the kitten. “Welcome to the family, Moonie.”

The rest of the day is spent with you and Yoongi on the ground, playing with her, completely ignoring the rest of the world. You took a lot of videos of her playing around Yoongi’s tail. It was precious to see how well he was with her; jumping into his new role as a cat dad. It warmed your heart. With each of her squeaky meows,  Yoogni would respond with one of his own; his deep voice making a low meow, sounding nothing at all like a cat. Yet she still responded, meowing back only louder and more pitchy.

As they continued to play, it became painfully obvious that Yoongi definitely bought those small mouse toys for him because he was playing around with them a lot more than her. Moonlight on the other hand, was approaching your bed. Pouncing on it in an attempt to climb up top. With a laugh, you helped her up onto the mattress, watching her as she waddled about the uneasy surface. 

Your stomach growled, hungry for some food. “I’m gonna go make something real quick.” You got up and kissed the top of Yoongi’s head before walking out of the room and towards the kitchen. You made a quick sandwich to refuel before getting back to playing. As you ate, you thought of how well this was going to be. Granted it was only the first day, but this was going to be good. Just by the look on Yoongi’s face you could tell. He was absolutely in love with that small little ball of fur, his baby. Your baby. 

Finishing up your little sandwich, you made your way back to the bedroom. It was quiet, you didn’t hear any more rustling or mewling. Brows furrowed, you opened the door and the sight you saw before you melted you. Yoongi laid curled up in the middle of the bed, similar to how he did when he first got comfortable with you when you got him. Moonlight was tucked close to his chest with an arm draped over her, fast asleep.

On your tiptoes, you made your way over to the bed to lay opposite of Yoongi. They both stirred as the mattress dipped beneath your weight, but both remained with eyes closed. You let your arm drape over Yoongi’s side, effectively sandwiching Moonlight between the two of you. There the three of your laid, tired smiles on your faces as you warmed the new addition of the family between you.

[gotnofucks]

One Day

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: Ransom meets sub!reader but she won’t kneel for him

Warnings: Strong language, talk about BDSM

A/N: Needed to write an angst/fluff for my fav sweater daddy. 

MASTERLIST

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Ransom thought he should be paid to attend these gatherings, but then, in a way he was. As long as he kept up appearances at the family dinners and social events, he got to keep his inheritance. The million dollars were worth a couple hours in the company of his shit eating family and their friends. Sometimes though he was severely tempted to throw a drink in his mother’s face and just leave. These things were anyways getting even more tedious than usual now that Meg had started to bring her feminazi college friends along. It was here that Ransom caught sight of you, standing with Meg, probably the only person with a non-alcoholic drink in her hands. He smirked, because he didn’t think you would be here, especially not in a group of self-proclaimed feminists. He made his way towards you and his cousin, glad something interesting finally happened.

“Hey Meg, how’s your man-hating degree going?”, He asked with a slight drawl in his voice. Meg wrinkled her nose at him and scoffed.  

“Asshole, why granddad still insists on inviting you is beyond me.”

Ransom smirked then looked at you, finding your eyes already on him and an amused smile on your lips. You were beautiful like this, but he knew you looked absolutely radiant in some other positions. Meg followed his look and rolled her eyes.

“Y/n, this is my cousin Ransom and if you have any sense in you, you’ll stay away from him.” Meg said and with that she left.

Ransom and you didn’t spare Meg a look and instead looked at each other, both surprised to have met today.

“You pregnant?” Ransom asked pointing at your drink and you laughed.

“I don’t drink”, you said sipping your mocktail. Ransom’s gaze trained on your lips, soft and wet and he licked his own lips in response.

“I’m surprised you’re here, especially with Meg” He commented casually.

“Why? She’s a friend from college. I didn’t know you’re her cousin or I would have reconsidered her invitation to come here today.”

Ransom chuckled and took your elbow, leading you towards a corner to talk without others eavesdropping on your conversation. There was no bigger bunch of nosey losers as that of Thrombeys.

“I didn’t mean that. Does Meg know you stand against everything you guys study in that college of yours?” He asked you. You frowned in confusion.

“Stand against? Why would I stand against that? I am a feminist Ransom, that is why I’m studying it”

Ransom laughed and pushed your shoulder lightly with his.

“Right,” his voice was full of mocking “Is that why you spend your evenings kneeling in front of a man and asking permission to kiss his boots?”

You looked at him with sober eyes, all amusement gone from your eyes. Though his tone was mocking and meant to hurt you, the jealousy in his voice was plain as day.

“You have the most screwed up sense of feminism, Ransom. I don’t see why they don’t ban you from the club already. You clearly don’t understand what happens in there and why.”

Ransom put his drink down and leaned closer to you, his whiskey stained voice fanning your face.

“It’s a BDSM club sweetheart. I know what happens in there. I’ve seen you there on your knees with your hands tied back, I’ve seen you plead and obey. I’ve seen you be such a good girl for him. So, don’t stand in front of me with that bullcrap about women rights when you would drop your panties and ask to be spanked so nicely with hardly a word from a man.”

His words were cruel and taunting, coated deep in envy and rage. You knew that because you’d been fending his advances for months now. You don’t know why he even came to the club. He didn’t have his Dom or sub; he just came to watch.

“You are an idiot Ransom, if you think what I do in my sex life degrades me. Yes, I kneel in front of a man, but only because I want to. I kneel in front of him not because he’s making me do that, but because it’s what I want to do. He’s my Dom and I do what he says, but even in the most intense of scenes, he never makes me do anything I wouldn’t want to. It’s not degrading Ransom, its freeing. I’m a submissive to him because that turns me on, taking his command turns me on. And I’ll be damned if I let someone like you lecture me on my life choices.” You turned around and started to walk away, cursing yourself for coming here in the first place. You’ll talk with someone at the club and see to it that you’re never there with this asshole present.

You said quick goodbyes to Meg and their friends and made your way to the parking lot, ready to go home and relax. You had only just opened your car door when a hand shot from behind and shut it, wrapping around your arm, and turning you around. Startled, you gasped and looked into Ransom’s angry eyes.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You shouted, pushing against his sweater covered chest. He barely moved and inch and cornered you against your car, hands resting beside you and body slightly bent.

“If this is your choice, why did you choose him?” Ransom asked.

“Excuse me?”

“You could choose anyone, and yet you kneel in front of him?”

There is was, the jealousy. Your Dom was a constant source of jealousy in Ransom’s life. Whenever he went to the club, he would see you in his arms, tugged into his side wearing his collar. Sometimes he had you on his knees, other times you knelt at his feet, quiet content to rest your head against his thigh while her caressed your hair. Ransom hated the sight of you with him, obeying his commands unashamedly in front of other club patrons. He’d wanted you from the very first moment he had seen you there, tied to a pole while taking a spanking for everyone to see. While there were other couples going at it around him, it was you who caught his eye. Your grace and form, eagerly counting the spank and asking for more. He wanted you and he asked you to be his, more than once, but you always shook it off. Not anymore though.

“Ransom, you’re drunk. You need to leave” You said, your voice soft yet firm.

Ransom growled and moved a hand to the back of your head, pulling you forward and hovering his lips over yours.

“If you want to kneel before a man, kneel before me!” He said, trying to kiss you but you averted your head and pushed against him until he relented and put a little distance between you.

“Don’t be stupid Ransom, you don’t know the first thing about being a Dom.” You sneer, your hand itching to grab your pepper spray from your pocket and just decking him with it in the eyes.

“I’ll take care of you way better than him. You don’t love him! I know that.” He whispered, taking your hand, and pressing a kiss on your knuckles. You sighed because sometimes Ransom Drysdale was like a baby.

“I don’t love him, true, but I trust him. A D/s relationship thrives on trust, Ransom. I trust him with my body and heart. I know he would never hurt me, and if there ever comes a time for me use my safe word, I know he will respect it. Our relationship is consensual and safe. There is a reason I can bare myself in front of him with no shame and fear…it’s because I trust him to never mock me. Well, unless I ask him to”, you say with a small smile.

Ransom looked at you and tugged you to him, placing your hand on his shoulder and his around your waist.

“You can trust me; I promise to never hurt you. You can love me too”, he said softly, nuzzling his nose in your hair and hugging you. You’d never allowed him to hold you before, having always been around your Dom who didn’t like sharing. You ran a hand through Ransom’s hair before pulling away.

“That’s the thing, Ransom. I can’t trust you. You’re prone to anger and jealousy, you’re so unpredictable. More than that, you need to learn to respect me too. Your ego doesn’t allow for that. Unless you’re a man who respects me, I can’t trust you, let alone love you. Right now, you want me, but what about after you’ve had your way with me? A relationship is a commitment, and as of now you’re not ready for it.”

Ransom looked at you with eyes that had equal part sadness and rage. He let his eyes wander over you, taking in everything. He let himself memorize the curve of your neck and the feeling of your small body against his huge one. He took both your hands in his and squeezed.

“This is not the end of us, you get it? One day, you will trust me with yourself, mind, body, and heart. You will crave me and my touch. One day I’ll ask you to be mine and you’ll say yes.”

Saying this he closed the distance between you and pressed the softest kiss on your lips. His heartfelt confession moved you and you allowed yourself to kiss back, to return his affection for just a moment. Pulling away, Ransom stroked your cheek with his thumb before taking off his pinky ring and pressing it in your palm.

“This is a promise. I’ll have you by my side and you will want it. I’ll make you want to kneel before me, but until that happens, know that I will also always kneel before you.”

He walked away then, but you knew he’d be back. You looked at the ring in your palm before closing your fist and smiling. When the day came, you knew you would willingly surrender to Ransom and you’d be proud to kneel at his feet.

[ahs-loki-and-more]

No Choice (Michael Langdon x OFC) Pt. 2

Repost from my old blog. Also available on my AO3: Link here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051317/chapters/63355714#workskin

2 Years Later 18 months. We’d been down here for 18 months. I was certain I was close to losing my calm.

Michael had visited me once around 3 months ago. Of course, no one knew this. He had spent his time here kissing me, touching me, fucking me, even impregnating me. He had not returned since. I knew it could be a while until he did. I had yet to tell him of our family’s growth.

I was sitting in the lounge area in front of the fire. I was on the floor, looking for some sort of sign, even if I knew the chances of there being one was slim to none. I was attempting to now meditate when Coco came into the room. She plopped down, rather ungracefully. She began droning on about how the outpost wasn’t what she wanted it to be.

“I mean no sex? Shouldn’t we be breeding for the New World or whatever?” It was a constant occurrence, her endless complaining. I had grown sick of it. “Oh, I am so sure the New World need filled with children as entitled and spoiled as you.”

“Did Ms. Solitary say something? I guess we need more anti-social bitches like you right?” I turned and looked towards her.

“Whatever, you are nothing. All you are good for is being a spoiled brat. You know so little about me, and refuse to try, so caught in your self-absorbed ways. ‘Because my daddy had money, I got to survive the fucking apocalypse. But there’s no 5 course meals, and no sex. Poor me.’ You know, even if we were allowed to, no one would want to fuck a narcissistic bitch like you.” I stood. “You must get off from hearing your own voice, because you use it so damn much. You’d be the only one to, cause no one else wants to hear that.” She walked over and slapped me. I faced her smiling, knowing I’d gotten to her. I turned sharply and went to my room.

Not even 10 minutes after I returned to my quarters, Veneble busted in. “Lounge. Now. We have a very important guest.” I got up and she pulled me to her. She whispered into my ear. “You will be punished for what was said to Coco.” I moved back and around her, heading into the lounge once again.

That’s when I saw him. Michael. He was finally here, in the flesh.

“Hello again Ash,” he spoke.

“You know him?” Coco asked disgusted. I ignored her.

“Now that everyone is here…I’m Mr. Langdon, and I represent the Cooperative. I have been assigned to evaluate the people here and select the ones most worthy of survival. I could take all of you, or none of you. Those who make it, live. Those who don’t end up like my horses. I will begin by interviewing each and every one of you individually.”

“I’ll go first,” I heard Gallant proclaim.

“Ms. March will be first.” He spoke looking at me. I got up and stood by him.

“If you know each other, how is it fair to me? She’ll obviously get in, without even earning it,” Coco complained, yet again.

“Now, now Miss St. Pierre Vanderbilt. I’ll put all of our previous meetings away. It will be based on interview. This is not a know-who situation.” Langdon had stoked my upper arm, before escorting me to his office. Once the door was closed he spoke again.

“You’re pregnant.” It was a statement not a question. Of course he knew, he was the anti-Christ after all.

“Yes, Mr. Langdon. I assume you knew as soon as it happened, yes?”

“So wise. Our child will inherit the world, Mrs. Langdon. He will be a great and powerful leader.” I smiled. The gap between us was closing very quickly.

“I’m aware, your father had informed me of that even before I came to Earth.” I reached my hand up and pulled his lips to mine. “How missed you, my dear husband.” He laid his hands on my belly, smiling.

“I’ve missed you too my sweet.” He led me to his chair. He sat and had me sit on his lap.

“Are you going to interview me? How else will I get into the Sanctuary?” I smiled and he kissed me again.

“I suppose you could earn your way. Maybe, service me and I’ll allow it.”

“With great pleasure, sir.” I smirked kissing him again more passionately. Just then there was a knock on the door. I got off of him and he went to answer it.

“What?” He angrily spoke to the person.

“I believe Ms. March here has broken a few rules. Including our most important. How else would she have ended up pregnant?” It was Veneble. She had never liked me and now probably hated me for knowing Michael.

“Well, I’m sure I can a fit and just punishment for her. How do you know she is?”

“I have my ways Mr. Langdon.” With that she shot me a glare and left.

“A good little girl getting pregnant? What would God think? I mean perhaps he’d smite you where you stand.” He was playing now.

“Pleasures of the flesh, are so addictive darling. Fuck God. Hail Satan.” We reconnected our bodies. “Besides is it really a sin to have sexual relations with one’s husband?”

“I suppose I should punish you then. Since you’ve broken such an important rule.” I bit my lip. “We should wait until tonight, that way I truly draw it out. Now, go. I have more interviews to conduct.” I got up and went to the door. “Until tonight, Mrs. Langdon.”

[babysizedfics]

9!!

9. romans discovers logan has a ticklish back. revenge is sweet

By now you all know the drill. I get a headcanon request. I have no self-control. It becomes another oneshot. Same old, same old.

NOTE: Set the morning after Roman asks Logan to read to him and he gets to spend the night in Mommy’s room!

oOo

Title: Vroom on the Bed 

Summary: Roman discovers his Mommy has a ticklish back. Revenge is sweet.

Word count: 2,500

Content warning: Swearing

Also on AO3!

oOo

The red toy car zoomed off a thick fold in the bedsheets. Roman held it in mid-air, making it do several flips before dropping it back to the mattress with a muffled thump.

‘That was terrible!’ he made his teddy bear, Aladdin, whisper.

‘What?’ he gasped back, offended. ‘My driver did the best he could considering -’

A loud snore cut him off. He hunched his shoulders and sucked his lips in a tight line. Rolling on his tummy a little, he got a glimpse of the figure that lay on the very edge of the mattress, since Roman was starfished out across most of it. Logan was, thankfully, still asleep.

‘Considering our limitations,’ Roman finished under his breath, nodding over to his Mom pointedly then sending a glare to Aladdin.

The teddy looked back with a beady, dead stare.

A quiet groan rumbled in the back of Roman’s throat. ‘I know that look. I know you wanna play in my room, but I wanna stay with Mommy!’ He shook Aladdin slightly to get his point across.

The toy was limp in his hands. A wave of disillusionment swept over Roman, all too aware of how childish he was being. ‘Stop being such a baby,’ he mumbled, unsure whether it was him or Aladdin speaking anymore.

Though he usually had a lot of fun being an independent kid and playing on his own, Roman was struggling to stay in his littlespace without one of his caregivers giving him attention. He really wanted to be extra little this morning - it just felt right after spending the night in Mom’s bed - but he hardly ever acted this young. He was out of practice and it was tricky to stay in character without Daddy calling him nice nicknames and without Mommy asking him lots of questions.

Mom really liked sleeping, though, and Roman knew no-one was allowed to wake him up in the mornings. So he had snuck back to his room for his cars and came straight back, ready to entertain himself! But he had been playing with the toys for what must have been hours now (later he would realise it was more akin to five minutes), and his head was starting to feel noisy and stuffy and his hands were jiggly. He was bored.

Being bored was awful. It hurt his head and made Roman’s legs itch, so he thought maybe Mom wouldn’t mind if he woke him up early just this once. Besides, he really wanted his Mom to play cars too. Or maybe he just wanted his Mom to watch… Actually, he really just wanted his Mom.

‘Mom?’ Roman whispered, sitting up on the mattress criss-cross-applesauce. ‘Mommy,’ he called, bouncing on the mattress slightly, ‘wakey, wakey.’ He had tried not to speak too loud but it came out a bit more booming than he had hoped. Mom shuffled on the bed but didn’t wake up. Roman pouted. ‘Mommyyyy,’ he whined, shaking Logan’s arm with both hands.

A sharp gasp echoed in the space between them. Mom’s face suddenly rose, his cheek flushed with crease marks from being pressed against the pillow all morning. ‘Hmph?’

‘Mommy, mommy, mommy!’ Roman rambled excitedly. Now his Mom could give him attention!

‘Hoosuh?’ Logan mumbled, face pinching and body swaying slightly as he propped himself up on his elbows. ‘Kay s’art?’

Roman giggled, ‘What?’ Mom never made a lot of sense when he first woke up.

‘Who’s hurt?’ Logan tried again, his voice gruff and mumbled, but at least coherent now. ‘Are you ‘kay, sweetheart?’

The nickname already made Roman feel a lot happier and soothed the fizzles in his fingertips a bit. He felt littler again. ‘No, I’m just really, really bored!’

Logan blinked blearily at Roman, his eyes barely open past a tired squint. Then he collapsed straight back onto his front with a sharp sigh. ‘Inabit,’ he mumbled into his pillow.

‘Mommy, no,’ Roman whined, watching as Logan’s body instantly sunk back into the mattress. Within mere seconds his shoulders were rising and falling in deep, steady breaths. A noise of indignance wormed its way from Roman’s lips. Mom was asleep already?!

Roman crossed his arms tightly against his chest and pushed his lip out in a pout that would have definitely gotten Daddy to dote on him (if he was there to see it, that is). Mom was being mean. For a few seconds, he sulked, watching the curves of Logan’s back and shoulders and ribs. Then inspiration struck. Just because Mommy didn’t want to play with Roman, it didn’t necessarily mean Roman couldn’t play with Mommy. Logan’s arms and back were way better ramps than the bedsheets!

He smiled and bit the tip of his tongue as he quickly grabbed his toys. Hugging Aladdin to his chest, he scooched over on the bed, tentatively settling by his Mom’s side. First, he balanced the red car on the back of Logan’s shoulder. As soon as he pulled his hand away, though, Mom took a deep breath in his sleep and it made the car move. Roman’s heart dropped - until he saw that the movement made the car roll all the way down Mom’s arm to his hand. It didn’t even tumble off!

Roman smiled brightly and carefully picked the car up again, placing it in exactly the same spot. The same thing happened again, the car rolling down Logan’s arm without a hitch and landing softly by his hand on the bed. Roman giggled and grabbed the toy again.

‘Ingenius,’ he said in Aladdin’s voice, then hugged the teddy tighter.

‘That’s ‘cause I’m a clever boy,’ Roman bragged quietly, setting the car on a different spot on Mom’s shoulder this time. ‘Mommy always says so!’

‘Yes, I do,’ Mommy rumbled into his pillow.

It startled Roman and he gasped, jumping a bit in his seat. The car wheels squeaked quietly as they rolled again - this time down Logan’s back.

Mom started chuckling and reached behind himself to swipe the toy car off from his hip. ‘What are you doing, little prince?’ he asked, pushing the toy back into Roman’s hand.

‘Sorry,’ Roman said, but he was smiling again. Mommy had laughed and that always meant he was in a good mood and would play with Roman!

Dark blue eyes blinked open and Mom smiled at him softly. It made Roman feel giddy, and he scrunched and unscrunched his toes in the fluffy socks that “Santa” had got him. ‘You don’t need to be sorry, Roman.’ Mom dropped his cheek back to the pillow, but he was still awake and happy. ‘Do you want to tell me what you’re playing?’

‘Yeah!’ Roman immediately yelled, squeezing the car in his hand and bouncing a bit on his butt. ‘There’s a racecar flipping coolness contest and Aladdin is a really bossy judge and he’s really hard to impress!’

‘Oh my, that sounds quite stressful,’ Logan hummed.

‘Yeah, but not for me ‘cause I’m the best racecar driver ever and -’ Mom’s eyes were shut again. Roman glared at him. ‘Mom, are you gonna fall asleep again?’

‘Hmm,’ Logan hummed. ‘Probably.’

Well, Roman supposed he had to hand it to Mom for being honest… Except no, he didn’t!

‘You’re not allowed to sleep, you’re playing too!’

‘Oh, I didn’t realise you were in charge of your Mom now, little prince,’ Mom said. It was kind of like being told off, but also kind of like Mom was sharing a joke with him. Sarcasm! Roman liked when Mom made big kid jokes with him. ‘What is my role in this game, anyway?’

‘You’re the racetrack,’ Roman proclaimed, smiling and setting the car on the back of Mom’s neck this time. His spine looked like a cool ramp to try next. He made Aladdin count down from three.

‘Oh, yes -’ Roman pushed the car down as Logan spoke, ‘- of cour-ha-horse!’ Mom’s mumble turned into a huffy kind of yelp.

‘Did it hurt?!’ Roman snatched the car away from Mom’s back, nervous that he would be in trouble.

‘Don’t worry, little one,’ Mom said calmly. His voice was back to normal. His eyes were a bit wider though. ‘It just itched a little, that’s all.’

That was weird. ‘Oh, okay.’ Roman shrugged and immediately started rolling the car over the ramp again.

Then Mommy’s whole body twitched and he started chuckling into his arm.

‘What?’ Roman asked, frowning a little. Was Mom laughing at him?

‘No, nothing,’ Logan assured, kind of breathless. ‘Maybe you shou-hould use the - the pillows as a racetrack instead.’

‘No, those are the spectators! The supportive friends! The fans!’ At the reminder that the fans were watching, Roman made the car do a cool skid to impress the imaginary onlookers.

There was a deep snort and the racetrack quivered under Roman’s car. Roman’s lips pulled up into a smile. Mommy was laughing! It was hard not to join in. ‘Mom, c’mon!’ he laughed. ‘What’s so funny?’ It was no fun if he wasn’t in on the joke too.

Logan was shaking his head, but his shoulders rocked with silent laughter still. It made the entire atmosphere of the room feel light and happy and it made Roman excited! He giggled and his whole body felt bubbly, especially his hands. Daddy called them happy hands. Roman rolled the car back and forth really fast on Mommy’s back, making the wheels squeak loads. Wait…

‘Ro-Ro-ho-man!’

It was Mom who was squeaking!

Roman looked down at the racecar rolling across Logan’s ribs, then back at the way Mom had buried his head into the pillow. Then he smirked.

‘Hello, is Logan ticklish?’ Roman teased in his usual baritone, completely grown-up all of a sudden. Despite not being little, he continued playing with the toy car.

The wild eyes that fixed on him as Logan snapped his head around were hilarious to behold.

‘No, ge-he-het little again! Little pri-ha-ha-ha!’ Logan broke down into deeper guffaws as Roman’s spare hand joined the car in skittering over his spine.

‘Maybe Karma isn’t such a bitch after all!’ Roman cried triumphantly, throwing his knee on top of Logan’s lower back to stop him from wriggling around so much. Logan may have had the height advantage, but Roman did fifty squats a day. They both knew Logan wouldn’t be able to shake off Roman’s leg.

‘Wa-ha-tch your mouth, li-little -’ Another snort of laughter cut Logan’s threat short.

‘Too bad you didn’t watch your back, huh, Specs?’ Roman laughed, readjusting the angle of his leg so he could reach Logan’s hip to see if that was ticklish too.

Logan literally tittered. This was just perfect.

Sure, Roman might have been a bit overly-enthusiastic, but he thought it was perfectly justified. This was payback! It wasn’t very often that Logan tickled him, but when he did he was utterly merciless. Patton had had to physically stop him a couple of times because Roman was so out of breath from cackling and wheezing!

Roman’s teeth bared in a sadistic grin as he heard Logan gasp for breath between laughter. What goes around comes around, and so on and so forth.

Then within a fraction of a second, long fingers wrapped firmly around his foot. It was at that moment Roman knew he had made a mistake. He threw the toy car across the room as if that would prove his innocence.

‘O-ho-kay, little one, you asked for this,’ Logan breathed, interspersed with distant chuckles. The warmth of Roman’s sock was swiftly pulled off and somehow just the cold air of the room was enough to make his toes tingle.

‘Mommy, I’m hungry,’ Roman hurriedly whined with what he hoped was an adorable pout. It was the most angelically innocent, childish voice he could possibly muster. He threw himself down onto the bed beside Logan.

But there was suddenly a warm, vice-like grip on his ankle and his lips started trembling with the effort not to smile in anticipation. ‘Can we pretty please go have breakfast?’ he asked a bit shakily, looking up to his Mom with wide eyes.

Logan laughed louder than he had all morning. ‘Nope, that face won’t work on me, little prince. I’m not your Dad.’ Surprisingly, his fingers actually loosened around Roman’s ankle.

For all of half a second, Roman thought he was being given the benefit of the doubt. That is until there was a light fluttering on the inside of his ankle and he fell into a stream of constant giggling. He kicked out but it did nothing to dislodge Mom’s hold and suddenly Mom’s free arm was pulling Roman into his chest. The fingers on his foot switched between fluttering over Roman’s ankle and scratching his heel and pinching his toes.

‘Mo-ho-mmy!’ Roman squealed, wriggling in his Mom’s firm embrace.

‘Whatever’s the matter, sweetheart?’ Logan asked very seriously, gently swirling a fingernail over the tip of Roman’s big toe.

Roman bucked off the mattress and positively cackled.

Logan was quick to just hug him tighter and chuckle, ‘I thought you wanted to play with Mommy.’ The arm that was keeping Roman secure in Logan’s hold curved and suddenly there were wiggling fingertips under his arm too. Roman screamed joyously, his cheeks aching so much they felt like they would cramp. ‘Don’t you want to play, Roman?’

It was almost impossible to think through the sounds of his own hysterical laughter, but Roman did his best. He did want to play with Mommy, but this wasn’t exactly what he had had in mind. Then again, if he said no, would Mommy never play with him again? It was a trick question!

‘Da-ha-ha-ddy, help!’ Roman cried out instead, feeling like there were a million butterflies chasing each other through his body. Honestly, he never wanted to stop smiling so much.

‘No, this is Mommy’s time with the little prince,’ Logan insisted, letting up in his ticklish attack enough so that Roman could splutter and gasp in some much-needed oxygen. Though he still giggled and squirmed as Logan’s fingers drew little spirals over the sole of his foot and the very edge of his armpit.

‘Besides,’ Logan said, pausing for dramatic effect. Roman giggled and looked up at his Mommy through tears of laughter. Mom’s cheeks were a bit pink and his lips were pulled into a wide smile and his eyes were sparkling with a mixture of mirth and mischievousness. It was quite possibly the happiest look he had ever directed at Roman. ‘We haven’t even finished our game yet!’

The tickling picked back up threefold. Roman writhed and howled and snorted and squeaked. But not a single protest fell from his lips because maybe this game wasn’t so bad after all. It wasn’t his game, but it was still a lot of fun. As long as Roman was with his Mommy, he was happy!

oOo

Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated!

[lovehotelreservation]

[Hey, just for the day, we’ll pretend I’m made of money. I’ll be your sugar daddy. - Dance Gavin Dance] Gran has finally graduated(?) from an idol of the prestigious Gran Cypher Entertainment and signed a new contract as solo artist. With all this newfound freedom from the idol lifestyle, Gran plans to party hard with tables and bottles of Dom Perignon. He is no longer baby, he wants power.

THANK U JESSICA 4 THIS PROMPT OF SELF LUV U UNDERSTAND ME SO WELL

The Ideal Idol.

The Eternal Valentine.

The Singularity of the Music Industry.

The Captain of All.

There were many phrases drummed up by journalists and squealed by adoring fans to describe the one and only Gran of Gran Cypher Entertainment. As leader of GC Entertainment’s newly debuted boyband SPARK, he already had to be front and center for variety show appearances, interviews, and the like. However, with his boyish looks, incredible vocals, mastery of dance, commanding stage presence, and captivating personality, it did not take long for many fans within the Japanese idol community to take immediate notice of his rise in popularity. 

His merch always being the first to sell out, tv producers practically fighting one another to have him so much as cameo in their newest drama, and more.

A promising future in the entertainment industry was practically assured. He need only say the word.

And so, when it came time for Gran to make his highly publicized graduation out of GC Entertainment, he had his eyes set on a solo career with the famed Crystal Records.

The nation’s idol was taking his first big step towards becoming his own artist.

And he was doing so by taking a grand stand atop a VIP table of a Vegas nightclub, pumping his fist into the air as he proceeded to chug back a bottle of Dom Perignon while the performing DJ was blasting some sexy EDM remix of Paradise Lost. The surrounding crowd of Americans--all unaware of his pristine, clean image back in Japan--cheered and jeered in support of his stranger who seemed to be paying top dollar for a fun night. 

Champagne bottles, platters of hors d'oeuvres and sushi--there was a feast all on Gran’s black card to commemorate his newfound freedom from his idol days and to give thanks to his management team for their guidance throughout his career up until now and beyond.

You didn’t feel thanked.

Rather, you felt stressed.

Quite stressed.

From the day that SPARK was selected, you were assigned to be Gran’s personal manager. Wherever he went, you would go--all to make sure he kept to his schedule and was on his best behavior. Of course, given that you both were rather close in age, your professional relationship became more relaxed and at ease. You saw firsthand the struggle to keep up to such an inane perfect ideal as an idol that he faced, and you did your best to give him time to unwind, whether time to sleep in or indulging his desire to sneak out for a fun night around Tokyo.

This closeness was why he almost turned down Crystal Records’s initial contract upon hearing that they would assign him to new management. He would only allow his signature to glide along the paper if you came with him.

And so it was done.

And it was why you were standing in this club, watching what was basically immediate grounds for the end of an idol’s career unfold before your very eyes.

No wonder he insisted on celebrating in Vegas.

To the other clubgoers, he just looked like some rich influencer balling out.

To you, it was the sight of Japan’s most cherished idol freely handing out retirement savings to all sorts of unscrupulous paparazzi.

It was almost inevitable that he was about to literally begin to rock out with his cock out.

You had to act fast.

Though Gran didn’t have to abide by idol standards anymore, you refused to see his solo career to be tainted in debauchery by the work of Instagram Live.

One moment you were at the other end of the club, the next you were halfway at the center by the poolside bar, asking for napkins and a pen from the bartender.

When it came to the idol industry, far too often did you have to create NDAs on the spot to ensure and protect the image of your idols. Never once did you step into law school, but you were familiar with striking down any potential leaks.

With your makeshift agreements in hand, you were ready to hunt down anyone who was taking pictures of Gran’s shameless display.

Your eyes shifted over to the table he reserved for tonight’s party.

He wasn’t there any longer.

“Just a step behind, manager.”

Because one of his arms was busy slinging around your shoulder, hugging you close to his side as you were quickly led away from the bar towards one of the nearby poolside cabanas--another special rental for tonight’s celebration.

Heat quickly rose to your cheeks. Both out of fear and a feeling of something that only he was privy to. Your head turned around while your fingers clawed at your stack of napkins, alarmed as you looked around to see if anyone--mere clubgoer or sneaky paparazzi--was looking your way.

“G-Gran! What are you doing--?!” You gasped out to him above the deafening club music and the chatter of the crowd. “How drunk are you that you’re doing this?!”

He only grinned toothily as he opened the tent flap, ushering you in while his hand stayed on the small of your back. “I’m not drunk, I’m alive!”

Gran entered after you. 

As the opening flap of the cabana fell closed behind him, he immediately brought his hands up to your cheeks and drew you in for a kiss.

The two of you were close after all.

“Gra— Gran…!” The gasp of his name was muffled between your mouths, his tongue swiping at your bottom lip. Your body was quickly ensnared within his grasp, his arms toned from years dedicated to staying in shape for his years as an idol. Hands that left fans buckling with a mere wave were now roaming over your body, finding much indulgence in squeezing your ass or grabbing at your breasts.

It wasn’t until you felt the slight brush of a napkin against your leg that you realized that you dropped your makeshift NDAs in the process, suddenly making you aware of what you were doing and who you were doing this with.

You pulled away with a weak whine. “We’re still in public—!”

He pursued and kissed you over and over, a grin plastered on his lips. “Who’s to say that everyone out there wouldn’t do the same if they had the chance?”

His fingers ran over the fabric of your dress, brushing at the hem as he teased, “I got this dress for you because I wanted to celebrate, and yet you were still working.” With you still in his arms, he guided you over to a nearby wicker sofa, having you lay across the ivory cushion on top as he hovered above you, gazing down into your eyes with a mischievous expression. “Bad girl~”

As his manager, you were the one to always guide him along his career path, making sure he followed up on his schedule as an idol while giving him space as needed.

But Gran was a leader for a reason.

And he reminded you of this as his fingers tugged down at the neckline of your dress while hiking up its hem.

Fanservice for hands was common for his days as an idol, with him being an expert of winking at a camera during a televised performance, or murmuring a tender line of romance to an audience of adoring fans during a variety show appearance.

But nothing he did publicly could compare to how effortlessly he made you melt with the filth he spoiled you with as the two of you remained locked in your own little world together as the party outside raged on.

“Manager’s pretty nipples--” He groaned in-between noisy suckles and kisses along your breasts, his lips clamped around your hardened peaks, all while his hips ground against yours, making sure you felt the weight of his clothed, erect cock through the flimsy material of your panties, of which were soon removed afterwards.

Were it not knowing that he would only tease and torture you further if you proceeded to do so, you wanted to hide your face in embarrassment--even now, it was still just so much to have the nation’s idol be so dirty towards you.

Especially when it came time for when his desire for you could not wait any further, with the hasty unbuckle of his belt and the tug of his zipper before you felt the hot, drippy tip of his cock nudge and slide against your dribbling center as he groaned out, “--manager’s pretty pussy.” With adoration in his eyes, he then breathed out with reverence as he drank in the sight of your disheveled state. “Everything about you is pretty.”

“You are too much,” you shuddered with a whine, the barrage of his relentless sweetness. “To think I let you get away with practically everything.”

“‘Too much?’” He repeated curiously with a chuckle. “Are you saying you want less? Because I’m pretty sure you want more, right…!”

His hands grabbed hold of your waist as he sheathed his cock inside you fully in one thrust. The squeal of his name on your lips and the adrenaline of partying so hard had him wasting no time to begin pounding away into your core with heavy, hearty thrusts. With a twinkle in his eyes, he admired how precious you looked as you were left to grab at the cushion of the sofa beneath you, all while humming out, “I guess it’s only reasonable that I behave like I do when my manager is so naughty~”

“Gran--!” This man was just too damn good.

His lips were all over yours again, a mix of tender love and shameless desire with each kiss. “No matter where we go from here together, that’s the sound I always wanna hear above anything else in the world!”

It was nearing 3 AM at this point, but as everyone in the club continued to party the night away, so would you and Gran as the both of you celebrated not just his newfound solo career, but a new chapter where he was no longer bound to his duties and expectations of an idol, but to being his own individual, one who would eagerly and happily proclaim his love for you soon enough.

Because while everyone beneath the blue sky saw Gran as their one true idol, there was no one in the world who idolized you like him.

[1zashreena1]

Diego Requests an Audience -1

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary: Princess gets the rich bad boy equivalent of a call the next day from what she thought was a fairy tale of a one night stand.

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and 'the code is more like guidelines' outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

Mentions of drugs/alcohol use, no actual smut in this one but references to multiple forms of sexual activity with m/f dynamics, plus size woman+fit man, early stage sugar daddy vibes, bad boys with too much money and not enough impulse control, secondary OCs, excessive swearing (???), illegal business dealings... I mean, its DIEGO

A/N: Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me. If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I'm not a fan of "plot" so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

Constructive criticism is always welcome. I'm an old timer at Fandom but a baby content creator.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read @chelsfic Princess pieces first, that is the beginning.

https://chelsfic.tumblr.com/post/613340476058304512/princess-for-1zashreena1-diego-jimenez-x

https://chelsfic.tumblr.com/post/618297838815920128/princess-awakes-diego-jim%C3%A9nez-x-reader-ficlet

Last thing before Murder Panther, I promise!

Huge, tremendous, throbbing THANK YOU to @chelsfic​ !  My fanfic creator mommy, I could not and would not have done this without you or your devious reverse psychology  You're gonna have to thwack me super duper hard with a rolled up newspaper to get rid of me because ily.

Massive shoutouts to @symbiont13​ @rosee-sensuelle​ @bunnykjm​ @mandoplease​ @nicke0115​ (y’all know what you did)

You're sitting in your car on your lunch break listening to the same song for the seventh time in a row because that is a thing that you do. When you like something, you like it. The song has pounding bass, if you close your eyes you can almost imagine being in a club. You never did get to do much of that, your twenties were spent working two jobs and sleeping in your car sometimes, so your just passed birthday weekend escapade was really something else. You've never done anything like that before and it was-

Ding-DING

Your phone chirps with a text message from an unknown number. You peer at the screen with a furrowed brow, I don't know anyone in California, must be a wrong number. You open the message cautiously, who knows what kind of weirdness it might be. 

Good morning Princess

What. No. There is no way. Absolutely not possible. Un uhh. Nope.

You should come back to NYC. I want to have you again.

Holy fucking shit. Its really him. It's Diego. Its Diego of the big brown eyes, even bigger hands, and absolutely the biggest cock you have ever seen. Diego viciously-gorgeous stupefyingly-rich incredibly-dangerous exhaustingly-insatiable Jimenez. 

Whom you most definitely did not Google upon your return home only to discover that he is an international criminal. Yeah, he's criminally hot.

You really do wish that little voice in the back of your mind was helpful. 

Yes, but he was nice to you. Really not helpful. How many times did you even come that night? There was the bed, the floor, over the back of the sofa, the kitchen counter (which he referred to as 'snack time' because he ate, and wasn't that adorable), and then that kiss/invasion of your oral cavity before you left. After he made you breakfast. And gave you a pair of Ugg boots that were magically in your size because it was cold out. Okay, so he was REALLY nice.

Wait. I didn't give him my number, what the fuck.

Hi Diego

And you hit send before you can stop yourself. What in the actual fuck am I doing?

I knew you remembered me. 😉Come up here this weekend. I want you

He wants you. He said it himself. Oh my god oh my god oh my god. Like, want-want? He saw you naked in broad daylight so he definitely knows what you look like. I want you, your mind just keeps repeating it. Hold up, is an international drug lord, cartel boss, top ten FBI most wanted man texting you with emojis???

I hadn't really budgeted on another trip so soon

Is that too much? Are you revealing your pathetic poor-ness and he definitely will not be into that?

Please🤚 Do you want to come?

Oh lordy, but he knows exactly how to word things. 

… I mean, yeah. Preferably repeatedly

Okay, yes, you've always been a pervert but something about this man only encourages you. Surely it wasn't how he laughed every time you made an innuendo. 

Then I've got you 💵😙 Princess👑

Do you want a hotel or stay with me?

Harrisburg is your nearest airport, yes?

Never before in your life have you had cause to use the word 'Baller' but here you are. Is he seriously going to fly me to him? Am I seriously going to go? What level of booty call is this?

Penthouse. Spoil me 😏

And yes Harrisburg. What are you going to do, fly me up there?? Lol

At this point you might as well see how far you can milk this. Also, apparently he knows where you live?

...yes. I have a private jet. I'll text you the info. We're going to have fun little girl😈

Well damn. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You send the entire conversation to Lisa in three screenshots. She calls you at 4:37 while she knows you're still in the car and you spend the entire drive home screaming together as best friends do. 

"I can't believe him! A private jet? Oh my god girl, you better bring home some stacks!"

"I know! Like, what the fuuuuuuuuuck! Lisa, Lisa, oh my god, Lis, what the hell should I pack?! Oh no, oh shit, I don't have any sexy pajamas!" Your high is coming crashing down. Its Tuesday, so you have two whole days to figure this out.

Her laughter is so loud it makes your speakers crackle. "After what you told me from that first night it sounds like you better pack a case of lube and an ice pack!" She dissolves into hysterics.

Well, she's not wrong. "Dude! I was so sore, I couldn't walk for days. This shit is BYOIP: Bring Your Own Ice Pack!" Lisa shrieks while you howl with laughter. 

"Okay, okay. Meet me at Macaroni Grill and we'll formulate a strategic plan of attack over carbs. We have to go to the Frederick's of Hollywood outlet." Lisa is already crafting a plan. 

"See, this is why you're my BFF!" You proclaim before you whip across three lanes of traffic to change course. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You take way more clothing than you could possibly need for a weekend but better safe than sorry. The private jet looks like it came straight out of a music video, you're afraid to even think about how much this costs. Hell, he even paid to have your car valet parked in the only locked and guarded parking garage at this tiny regional airport. There are all kinds of snacks and drinks on the plane, there's even a tiny galley and what looks like a daybed. Noted for later.

The driver who picks you up at the airstrip in New York is Bastian and he is pleasantly surprised that you talk to him. You're pleasantly surprised at how nice Escalades are on the inside. The last time you were in this vehicle you were a little, ahem, distracted.

Diego is extraordinarily pleased to see you wearing the Ugg boots he gave you. The man is all growly innuendo and (mostly) gentlemanly manners, the contrasts are mind-meltingly hot. The weekend passes in a blur of a good time; orgasms, a stroll through some really expensive stores, more orgasms, two clubs on Saturday night, another set of orgasms (Did I really let him finger me in a VIP booth??), your first time trying weed, a sleepy orgasm in a jacuzzi tub (Wet Diego, so gorgeous), the best brunch of your life, another first by having orgasms while on top of a man, and, just before you leave on Sunday evening, a very nice Brahmin purse that you gawked at in one of the stores on Saturday. 

Yet again, Diego corners you by the elevator and attempts to climb down your throat before you're allowed to leave. You have no complaints.

~~~~~~~~~~

The very next Monday you get an extremely sweet text very early in the morning thanking you for coming (all puns intended). Wednesday brings a cookie bouquet to your front door with a note stating that you don't seem like a flowers kind of girl. Incredibly early on Saturday morning is another text, he sounds like he might be a little drunk, confessing that he wants to do it again. 

You forward the message to Lisa with your own addition:

Look, all I'm saying is I'm gonna take this top shelf dick and all the gifts that come with it for as long as he wants to give it to me

It only progresses from there.

[jasiper]

golden

fine line series 1/12

you’re so golden

i’m out of my head

i know that you’re scared

because hearts get broken

A golden state of mind. That’s the California dream, isn’t it? The place where dreams come true, where fleeting thoughts can transform into a tangible reality. The place where the sun never seems to set. The place where nobody is sad—and if someone is sad, there are the means to not feel sad anymore.

Piper’s life seemed to begin—and end—in the golden state. Her dad was living the golden life, making money and walking the red carpets and flashing his pearly whites on the big screen. When she went to the store, his face was plastered on every other magazine cover. He was what the famous people called a California dream. He made something out of nothing. His daughter? Well, she was trying.

But even trying is a generous word for her. California is the place where her dad found his career but lost Piper in the frenzy of the media. This was the place she felt the most alone. This is the place she found herself in the backseat of a police cruiser. This is the place she appeared in court. This is the place where her dad told her she shouldn’t be. She found herself forced across state lines and as she stared over the desert, she saw that Nevada had golden sunsets. Just like California. Only there was no water to reflect the light—only miles and miles of dry land and broken dreams and white walls where bad kids like her resided. But Piper wasn’t a bad kid. She just couldn’t find a place in the golden state.

Dreams came true in California. Only her dream didn’t.

Most people found heartbreak later on in life. Piper felt her first heartbreak as a kid. She should have been tucked into bed by her dad after a bedtime story with a kiss on the forehead. She fell asleep alone, clutching a teddy bear to her chest because her dad was off shooting another movie. Dance recitals meant that she looked out at the audience without a familiar face in sight. She never attended a daddy/daughter dance. Her first heartbreak was due to her own father’s negligence. She promised herself that no one would ever hurt her the way her dad did.

As Piper expected, she didn’t experience a golden state of mind in California. She felt that anticipated bliss in the middle of the winter in New York.

After a whirlwind December, everything Piper thought she knew turned out to be false. Her entire world flipped upside down. It took her the whole month of January to learn the ropes of being half-god. Turns out, there are a lot of things to be taught when your mother is the Greek goddess of love, including how to fight with a dagger, how to detect monsters, and how to come to terms with the fact that an evil earth entity is waking up. Maybe Piper would never achieve the California dream her dad was living; how could she? Everything she ever knew was a lie. Even if she had believed in God or whatever before all of this, she isn’t sure she’d be able to handle the real truth well.

If not for Leo, Piper probably wouldn’t survive this. Not with her life in jeopardy. Not with the knowledge of being a charmspeaker. And certainly not with the fact that her boyfriend wasn’t really her boyfriend at all.

It seems shallow, even to Piper. Her dad almost died and she almost died and the world almost ended but the Mist incident was—and still is—the lowest blow in this entire mess. The closest thing to a golden state of mind was just a hallucination, an illusion, a dream. So ironic since her mom is Aphrodite; shouldn’t her one success be in the romance department?

It took two months for them to kiss (for real this time). It happened so fast, it felt like a dream. Piper was being her usual nervous self, fiddling with her own fingers and she was babbling away and suddenly Jason leaned in to kiss her. The warm feeling in her stomach didn’t go away for a whole week after the kiss. She was smiling like an idiot even while training. Leo gave her shit for her grin and Annabeth rolled her eyes, but she didn’t care. The boy she liked kissed her after everything she endured—Jason didn’t have to like her after the Mist gave her fake memories.

But Piper stopped smiling when reality sank in. Sure, she and Jason were now exclusive, but when did things ever go right for demigods? She heard of the tragedy of her late older sister, Silena, and her boyfriend Beckendorf. Things ended horribly for them. She looked to her new friend, Annabeth, and her tired grey eyes, defeated from dead ends in the search to find her missing boyfriend. There were picture frames lining the walls of the Big House. Half of the faces were strangers to her even though the picture was recent, and although Chiron would never say it, she knew they were dead. How many people really achieved a happy ending here? Camp Half-Blood was the self-proclaimed safe place for Greek demigods, but she felt like she was walking on a gravesite.

And even if Piper somehow were to beat the odds and live through this war, love was never kind. Anyone could see that, not just a daughter of Aphrodite. She grew up in Hollywood’s backyard—she saw the headlines reporting that celebrity couples were divorcing. Love, as powerful as it is, is cruel. It’s ruthless and even has gods at its mercy. Her mother is feared for a reason.

If her own father had the ability to break her heart, what was stopping Jason from doing the same thing?

The walls go up. Piper feels like a child again, staring at her darkened bedroom wall, wishing more than anything that she could live her life without fear.

Unlike her past, someone recognizes that her walls are up.

It must have been hours upon hours of sparring. A sidestep, a parry, a kick to the dummy’s chest. When the dummy fell, Piper would wipe her sweaty forehead, take a breath, pick up the dummy, and start again. A mindless, tedious routine. Anything to get the image of her bedroom wall out of her mind. Anything to chase away the irrational fear dormant in her chest. 

By the time she kicks down the dummy again, she looks up mid-forehead wipe and sees Jason. He stands about five feet away, frustratingly dashing in his black tank top with the sleeves cut off. His sword hangs from the sheath on his hip and by the look of his own sweaty brow, Piper can only guess he had been training as well. When he runs his fingers through his hair—which is glistening in the sun, may she add—she can see his tattoo, forever a reminder of the Mist.

“You’ve been out here for a while,” Jason finally says after several moments of silence.

Piper sheaths her knife. When she finally allows her body to relax, she notices how her arms feel like jello. She’s more exhausted than she thought. “Not too long. I’m still a little shaky on my technique,” she answers, voice hoarse.

Jason bends down and grabs her water bottle. He extends an arm and she gratefully takes it, taking a swig. As she’s drinking, he says gently, “Pipes, you’ve been out here for hours. Annabeth was ready to drag you away from the dummy herself, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate that when you’re so, uh, on edge.”

On edge? Am I on edge? Piper wants to ask, but she can see Jason’s concern even though he tries to hide it. There’s that crease between his eyebrows that develops when he’s worried. She saw it when she broke her ankle and got hypothermia. She doesn’t like how he’s worried. He shouldn’t be worried, right?

“I’m fine,” Piper replies, though she doesn’t sound so sure.

The crease only deepens between his eyes. “Really? Fine?”

Piper’s knuckles are white around her water bottle. Jason’s looking at her with a concerned, almost bewildered expression. This should comfort her; someone with the intention of breaking her heart shouldn’t be this worried about her, right?

But Jason is a good person. Break him down to his soul and that’s what he is: a good person. He’s the kind of guy who offers up half of his sandwich if someone forgot to pack lunch. He’s the kind of guy who holds the door open for a crowd of people even if they’re ten feet away. He’s also the kind of guy who jumps into the Grand Canyon for a complete stranger.

What’s stopping a good person from realizing he made a mistake and leaving and unintentionally breaking Piper’s heart anyway?

“Pipes?” Jason’s voice snaps her out of her reverie. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to be sick.”

“I’m fine,” is her instant reply. Her voice wobbles and she winces because she does not sound fine. Jason’s look of concern grows more apparent and she clears her throat to try speaking again. “Really. Just… Wow, I am so tired. You’re right, I’ve been out here for a while and I’m tired and probably dehydrated—”

“Piper—”

Piper sidesteps away as Jason moves forward. She turns so she’s walking backward, careful not to turn her back on him to assure him she’s alright. “I really need to shower and probably lay down. I’m fine, really, I am, I just—”

Her ankle snags on something on the ground as she backpedals. She tries to balance her weight a moment too late, her body too exhausted to keep herself upright. She braces herself for impact as she trips ungracefully—pun not intended— over the mysterious object on the ground.

Before she can hit the ground, a hand wraps around her wrist and tugs her forward. The momentum of the pull sends her flying and she crashes into a warm, firm body. It takes her a few seconds to realize she’s in Jason’s arms, his hands gripping her biceps. She turns her head to see that she dripped over the dummy she had been sparring with a few minutes ago.

“Piper,” Jason begins slowly, worry laced in his words, “what is going on?”

The worry in his voice isn’t enough to free Piper from her fear. She looks into his eyes and irrationally sees the end to a very recent relationship and it’s all too much to handle. It’s dumb, it’s irrational, it’s flat-out stupid to think about nonexistent relationship problems with her perfectly kind boyfriend when she’s probably destined to die from Mother Nature herself but here she is, in Jason’s arms, and it’s all too much.

Piper pushes her perfectly good boyfriend away and tries to ignore the hurt flashing to his eyes. “I’m sorry, I have to—I can’t—”

A crowd has formed. The volleyball game between some Apollo and Athena kids has come to a complete standstill. Annabeth is in her usual spot for this time of the afternoon, perched in front of her cabin, a book in her hands, and even from several yards away Piper can see those disappointed grey eyes. The only thing making this situation less embarrassing is the fact that Leo isn’t there; he’s busy with his siblings working on the Argo II. If Leo had to see Piper like this…

“Pipes?” Jason makes one last attempt. “What’s going on? Talk to me. Please.”

“I can’t, Jason,” Piper manages, voice shaky, and the edges of her vision blur together as tears prick her eyes. “I can’t.”

It takes all of her willpower not to sprint back to her cabin. She lowers her head and tries to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest—the same sinking feeling she felt when she boarded a plane to Nevada—as she walks away.

***

“You’re going to have to talk to him, you know.”

“I know I do. I just… can’t right now.”

“You already missed dinner last night. And breakfast this morning. Are you really going to let your embarrassment keep you from eating and talking to Jason?”

Piper risks a look at Annabeth from under the pillow she has covering her face. Although Annabeth’s voice is a bit condescending, there’s no hiding the worry on her friend’s face.

“I just don’t understand, Piper,” Annabeth continues. “You chased after him for two months, hoping he’d like you back and within two weeks you’re, what, pushing him away?”

“It’s not that simple,” Piper protests, burying her face deeper into her pillow and rolling on her side to face away from Annabeth. “I’m not trying to do this.”

“You’re not trying to stop it from happening,” Annabeth says softly. “You’ve had every chance to go talk to him since yesterday and you’ve locked yourself in your cabin. You won’t even talk to Leo.”

“Leo won’t understand this.”

Annabeth’s hand, calloused from hours of training, rests on Piper’s arm. It moves down to rub her back. Annabeth isn’t one for physical comfort but she must sense Piper needs it. “Why won’t Leo understand? He’s your best friend, isn’t he?”

“Leo’s never been in a relationship,” Piper mumbles, her voice mumbled by her pillowcase. “I’m sure if I tell Leo how I feel, he’ll look at me like I’m crazy.”

“You’re pushing away the guy of your dreams. You are a little crazy,” Annabeth weakly teases.

Piper lowers her pillow and stares at the cabin wall. She stares at the picture of her and her dad in front of her face and her chest tightens. “Maybe he’s not the guy of my dreams.”

“You literally called him that after he kissed you for the first time.”

“Yeah, well, I was stupid and I wasn’t thinking straight,” Piper retorts. “I’m fifteen. What do I know about love?”

Annabeth sighs. “You’re the daughter of Aphrodite. I feel out of my element here. I’m not one for relationship advice.”

Piper chews on her bottom lip. She wonders if Annabeth would understand her crazy, irrational fear of Jason breaking her heart. If her dad, the person who raised her, could break her heart, what was stopping Jason from doing the same? Good guy or not, he has a history he still doesn’t remember, a family of Roman soldiers across the country who might change his mind. The uncertainty of her relationship—and her life—had been eating away at her sanity for weeks.

Before Piper could come up with a response to Annabeth’s comment, a knock sounds from the door. Annabeth calls out, “Who is it?”

“Uh.” Piper sits up because she recognizes that voice. “It’s me, uh, Jason.”

Annabeth looks over at Piper, eyebrows raised. Piper shrugs so Annabeth asks, “What do you need?”

“I know Piper’s in there,” Jason says through the door. “I need to talk to her. Piper? Can I please talk to you? Alone?”

“We’re not allowed to be alone in a cabin together,” is Piper’s pathetic reply.

Jason sighs. “Okay, then we don’t have to—”

Annabeth stands and quickly crosses the room despite Piper’s noise of protest. She opens the door, revealing a crestfallen Jason, and says, “I’ll keep watch. You guys need to work out whatever’s up, I don’t really know what’s up, but if we’re going to go on a quest in a few weeks, we can’t have miscommunication. Got it?”

“Understood,” Jason replies obediently.

“Piper?” Annabeth’s grey eyes flash.

“Yes,” Piper mumbles, still clutching her pillow to her chest.

“Perfect. I’ll be right outside. Yell if you need me.” Annabeth sends Piper one last stop being a baby look and shuts the door behind her.

A long silence follows the door closing behind Annabeth. Jason stands just inside the cabin, staring down at his feet, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Piper’s heart races inside her chest and she grips the pillow like a lifeline.

I just don’t understand, Piper, Annabeth’s voice echoes in Piper’s head. You chased after him for two months, hoping he’d like you back and within two weeks you’re, what, pushing him away?

“You can sit down, if you want,” Piper offers softly. Jason lifts his head and she pats the bed mattress beneath her. “I promise I won’t bite. Or yell. Or push you off.”

Jason cracks a smile and he chuckles. “Promise?”

“I promise. Come here.”

Jason finally walks over and sits on the edge of her bed. He turns his body to face her and for a moment, he studies her face. Her heart races and she wonders what he’s thinking. Although she’s getting better at reading his face, sometimes it’s impossible to know what he could be thinking.

“What… happened yesterday?” Jason asks quietly. “I noticed something was wrong a few days ago, but I didn’t… I just thought you were a little down, which is totally understandable. But yesterday you really worried me. Did I do something wrong?”

It takes Piper a few seconds to realize Jason blames himself. She blinks and rapidly shakes her head. “What? No, no, of course not. You haven’t done anything wrong. I mean it. If you did, I would tell you.”

“Are you sure?” Suddenly Jason isn’t the son of Jupiter, or Zeus, or whatever. He’s not the guy who fought the king of the giants with a piece of scrap wood. He’s not the guy who jumped into the Grand Canyon to save her. He’s a scared, insecure fifteen-year-old boy who looks worried about messing up.

If only he knew the only one messing up was her.

“Jason.” Piper pushes away the pillow and scoots closer to him. She takes his hands into his, threading her fingers through hers. She looks up to meet his eyes and she sees the fear. She has to swallow her embarrassment from yesterday’s blowup as she says, “You are… perfect. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I feel like I have,” Jason whispers. “You’ve been so distant. So quiet. I thought you were overwhelmed with the upcoming quest and the fear and everything because I’m scared, too. But yesterday it seemed like you were distant from me and me only.”

Her stomach twists into knots. The hurt in his voice is so evident and it’s her fault. Her irrational fears have forced a perfectly good guy, a guy who likes her, to doubt himself. Some girlfriend she is.

“I’m… scared,” Piper breathes. Jason leans in closer, staring at her with such an intense gaze that she forces herself to look away. “I didn’t realize how scared I was until we got together.”

“Scared?” Jason asks. “Scared of… me?”

“No,” Piper assures him. She squeezes his fingers and he brings their intertwined hands up to kiss her knuckles as he sighs out a breath of relief. “Scared of… this.”

“This?” Jason keeps her knuckles against his lips. “Our relationship?”

As Piper hears it out loud, she realizes how stupid she’s being. She nods miserably, staring at her knees. “Scared of trusting someone this much.”

“Is it me? Or just in general?” Jason asks. His voice is so kind and understanding that it makes Piper want to cry.

“In general… and a little bit of you,” Piper admits. “I know that Hera’s meddling wasn’t your fault, but the Mist really messed me up.”

Jason kisses her fingertips this time. “Gods, I know. It would mess anyone up. I am still so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. The Mist and my dad and the whole demigod thing… It was a lot to swallow at once, you know? That and all of my baggage.”

“Baggage?” Jason sounds confused.

“You know. The relationship with my dad. Not having a mom.”

“Oh.” Jason tightens his grip on her hand. “Yeah. Not having a mom… sucks.”

Piper realizes how insensitive she sounds—she has a mom. Sure, Aphrodite is a goddess, but she’s still alive. She’s there in her own weird, annoying, immortal way. But Jason… His mom was abusive and she gave him away when he was a toddler and now she’s dead. At least Piper had her dad, which is more than what Jason could say; Jason has never met Zeus and judging by the tallies tattooed on his arm, his dad has had more than enough time to pop in and say hi. If Piper has it bad, Jason has it worse.

“It’s… so stupid and it’s unfair of me to be taking it out on you,” Piper continues. “But I thought I knew you and then it was all the trick of the Mist. I’m still getting to know you. And trust me, I like what I know. I really, really do. But my own dad broke my heart, Jason. He neglected me for years, thinking he was providing for us. He was gone for days and weeks at a time. He missed every dance recital, every parent-teacher conference. He didn’t see me graduate from middle school. He didn’t come to my first soccer game. My dad missed everything. I know it sounds so unfair because I had a dad, I had a pretty normal life and you didn’t, but my dad… I was a kid and he broke my heart. My own dad did that. If the person who raised me could do that much damage, what’s stopping any other person from doing the same thing? Is something wrong with me? Are you going to wake up one day and realize I’m not the person you want and leave?”

Jason is quiet for a long time after she finishes speaking. Her heart hammers uncomfortably in her throat and she’s afraid that she just drove him away. He probably sees the fifty shades of crazy she is and doesn’t want a part of that—who would want this? A BMW stealing girl who got sent to court for wanting attention? Someone who is pushing away a perfectly good person just because her dad wasn’t around? If he wants to run for the hills, she wouldn’t be able to blame him.

“My mom’s name was Beryl,” Jason says softly. “She was an actress. Hollywood’s starlet. Attracted Zeus himself not once, but twice. And when he left, she lost it. Drowned herself in every bottle she could get her hands on. I don’t remember this, but Thalia says she raised me. She was a kid and making my bottles and changing my diapers. I wouldn’t want anyone to be raised the way I was, but then to make matters worse, my mom abandoned me in the forest? She left a two-year-old in the forest with a wolf goddess to fend for himself. I didn’t even know any of this until a few weeks ago. I… I didn’t even know my mom broke my heart until recently, and I’m so angry about it.”

Piper’s chest tightens. “Jason, I’m so sorry.”

“No. I’m sorry. I’m so upset and I don’t even remember this woman. You know your dad. Your dad has recently hurt you, Pipes. You have a right to be upset. You have a right to be afraid of me. I don’t think I get that right because I hardly even know who I am.”

“I don’t accept that,” Piper argues. “You can be upset over something you don’t remember. Your mom changed your whole life. She forced you away from your sister. I’d be angry, too. I’d be furious. You’re allowed to be furious and you’re allowed to be afraid of me, too.”

Jason’s eyes are frustratingly soft when he whispers, “But I’m not afraid.”

“How?” Piper murmurs. She leans in even closer and when she does so, Jason raises one hand to cup her cheek. “How are you not terrified that I’m going to break your heart like your mom broke yours?”

“Pipes, even if you did break my heart, I’m sure I’d deserve it,” Jason says. “I was a baby then. My mom was a drunk. What she did… It wasn’t okay. That was neglect. I look at you and I’m not scared. I trust you with every cell in my body. You… you trusted me when I was just an illusion. You kept trusting me when you found out I was a Roman. You keep trusting me. You trust that I’m going to lead us to defeat Gaea and keep us alive. How could someone like you be someone I’m scared of?”

Piper’s heart skips a beat and she stares at him, a lump forming in her throat. “We might die.”

“You’re right, we might.”

“Gaea… she’s capable of killing us.”

“Yep. She is.”

“Aren’t you terrified?”

Without skipping a beat, Jason nods. “I am. But I look at you and it doesn’t seem so scary.”

It’s like falling all over again. She stares into his deep blue eyes and it’s a slow tug, a warm feeling pooling in her stomach, and she’s back at the Grand Canyon; he saved her from a death fall. He’s holding her upright, keeping her from hitting the ground. This boy in front of her is not her father. Even if he wanted to, she’s convinced he couldn’t break her heart. He could try and he’d never intentionally hurt her.

When Piper leans in, Jason meets her halfway. She kisses him softly, his warm hand cupping her cheek and his fingers burying themselves in her hair. His lips taste like strawberries and he smells of Old Spice. She melts against his lips and pulls him closer. He complies, both of his hands on her cheeks, soft and warm and comforting.

By the time they pull away, Jason’s cheeks are red and Piper’s breathless. He presses her forehead to hers and for a moment, they just look at each other.

“Next time you feel this way, can you please tell me?” Jason murmurs. “I’m pretty dumb and I can’t read your mind, even though I wish I could. I know years of abandonment aren’t going to be healed by a talk with me, but I want to help. I want you to know I’m here and I’m not going to leave you, Pipes.”

Piper feels her lips curl up in a tiny smile. “Thank you. You handled my crazy and that’s something I never asked you to do.”

“You’re not crazy, but you’re welcome.” Jason kisses her forehead. “Waking up on that bus… I felt so alone. I didn’t know who I was, and I’m still learning. But you… took control of my fears and you made me less afraid. You make me feel like me if who I am is the person I was before I woke up.”

“I don’t know who that person is either, but if you’re anything like who you used to be, I know I trust you,” Piper whispers. She pulls him in for another soft kiss. “I know you’re probably busy, but I haven’t eaten all day so I am starving. Can we head to lunch before going to Bunker Nine?”

Jason smiles and nods. “Anything for you.” He stands up and offers her his hand, which she takes. “Maybe we can take some strawberries before lunch. Sound like a plan?”

Beaming, Piper presses herself against his side. “You read my mind. Let’s go.”

And as they step out into the daylight, Piper can’t help but admire how the sun makes everything golden.

[zekroudon]

The Song of our Hearts (Lukadrien June 2020)

@lukadrien-june

Day 29 & 30: Hand-holding & I love you

After many trials, many bumps, and hiccups on his road, Luka has finally reached his big day; the wedding day where he gets to proclaim his love for the whole world to see. The day where he gets to say I do. You can read it on Ao3 as usual here.

To be honest, my original idea for the I love you prompt was to have Luka looking at Adrien and Marinette being a happy couple together while he wonders what could have been like if Adrien had chosen him. I felt horrible for ending with such angst, so I'm glad I had the idea of their wedding, even though it's more cliché and straight-forward.

It feels surreal to have finally reached the end, the last prompts. When I started writing this back in May, I had no clue how far it would go, since it is my first themed month prompt. I feel like it helped me grow as a writer. Thanks to the amazing people on APS who supported me along this journey. A big thank you for the people who organized this event, it was really awesome to be a part of it. A big thank you also to all of you who read along and left kudos/likes/reblogs and commented, it means a lot.

After many trials, many bumps, and hiccups on his road, Luka has finally reached his big day; the wedding day where he gets to proclaim his love for the whole world to see. The day where he gets to say I do.

Life in Paris is slowly returning to what it used to be before the madman terrorized the city for years. People are now allowed to feel, to cry, to be hurt and angry, to be human without fear of purple butterflies or world-ending craziness happening every day. Deep down, Luka saw the wedding as proof that love always wins in the end. That love allowed them to defeat Hawkmoth and it would allow them to rebuild themselves. It is surely still not perfect, but in the end, nothing is really perfect.

Except for the wedding.

Everything had been overseen by their usual team, except with a change in leadership, but instead of fighting akumas, they had been planning a wedding. Luka couldn’t be prouder of what they had accomplished. Nino prepared multiple playlists and remixes based on the fiancés’ requests. Alya took charge of the news and media part, being the only journalist allowed, and the meal along with her mother. Chloe handled the reservations for the park and the different pieces of equipment needed, and though she didn’t admit it outright, Luka knew she had pulled a few strings to get what she believed was best. She may have changed for the better, but she was still her Chloe self. They had chosen a small park in the less crowded suburbs of Paris. They still had to hire some security guards for Adrien’s crazy fans as well as for the people who threatened him for his father’s actions. Adrien got to choose the pastries with the Dupain-Cheng, but he had been forbidden to see the cake. Tom and Sabine wanted it to be a surprise for their “adoptive son” and his fiancé. Kagami helped Marinette decorate and kept her on track, as the fashion designer also took care of the suits and dresses for the couple, best man and maid of honor. Luka chose the band, to no surprise, he chose his own group, Kitty Section. Adrien had rolled his eyes, but he put up no fight against Luka’s smile. He also took care of coordinating everyone and kept an eye on the budget.

As the sky slowly turns to dusk, the guests slowly arrive at the park, the rows of seats filling up rather quickly. Luka spots some of Adrien’s old classmates and fellow ex superheroes, as well as their families. Juleka walks in wearing a beautiful black and purple dress that reminds Luka of the night sky with galaxies.  Rose is by her side, in her pink puffy summer dress. Juleka keeps tugging on their mother’s arm so she doesn't bother Nino for his lack of enthusiasm by putting the volume so low. Chloe enters in typical fashion, trying to catch everyone’s attention. She wears a yellow dress, one of Marinette’s newer designs. Alya kisses Nino’s cheek before he exits the park to go help Adrien prepare. The small crowd’s cheers and intermingling voices create some sort of unharmonized melody, though it makes its beauty in Luka’s opinion. So many people, all with different songs, different stories, though all their paths crossed to bring them all here to celebrate love.

Someone lays a hand on his forearm and tug on it lightly. Luka looks down and dives into the bright blue eyes of a little girl. “Just like her mother’s”, he thinks. She wears a beautiful light green dress that reminds him of Adrien's emerald eyes. He crouches so they’re at eye level.

‘’Is there a problem, Emma?’’ He asks. ‘’Mamma is waiting for you. She says that if you don’t hurry, she’ll marry uncle Adrien herself.’’ She replied looking worried. ‘’I’m sure Kagami wouldn’t be happy, but let’s go. Things tend to get ugly when your mothers are mad.’’ ‘’Also Mika and Mamma lost the rings but Tikki and Trixx found them. Uncle Adrien was so worried that he ate camembert. Mika did too and threw up.’’

Now definitely worried, Luka took the little flower girl in his arms and ran towards the tent where the maid of honor waited for him with the ring bearer.

‘’It’s so high up here, I hope I’ll be as tall as you when I grow up!’’ She tells him, looking at the sky.

Luka chuckles as he reaches the tent and sees Marinette with her wife, both small in stature, but incredibly strong, determined and fearsome. Flashbacks to the final battle against Hawkmoth and Mayura and how relentless they had been with Nino, they never stood a chance. They learned the hard way that you do not hurt Adrien.

‘’Even if you do not grow as tall as me, I know that you’ll be as strong as your mothers, my little harmony.’’

He gently lays her on the ground and she goes running to Mika trying to tackle him into a hug.

“EMMA! I’m cawwying the rings!” “Mika! I want a hug!”

Marinette stands between them to keep another catastrophe from happening again. She gives her daughter the flower petals basket.

“You’ll get plenty of hugs later, Emma. I’m sure everyone will want to hug you.” She tells her. “Not me! I do not want hugs, they are so bleurgh!” shouts Luka’s son.

Marinette looked into the man’s eyes, clearly showing that a certain kwami spent too much time with him. Luka shrugs as he knows full well that Mika and Plagg are nearly inseparable, his purrs lulling him to sleep every night. His jet black hair and sparkling green eyes made him look like Luka and Adrien’s son, but it also made him look like a human version of the cat kwami. Her eyes softened as she took his hand in hers.

“Are you ready for your big moment?” She asks. “I guess so, I’m just super nervous. What if he doesn’t like what I prepared for him?” “Luka, Adrien would love anything you did, even if it was just being there. Don’t worry.” “Don’t worry Daddy, Papa will love your song! If he do not, I will throw his ring in the hole thewe.” Mika says while pointing to a nearby manhole cover. “It’ll be okay, kitty, Papa will like it...” “I’m going to see Plagg!” he declares as he runs off, the rings still safely pinned to the cushion in his tiny hands.

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

“Papa, you have to love what Daddy has pwepared for you! He thinks you won’t like it! Where is Plagg? I found a shiny stone for him.”

Adrien chuckles as his son enters the tent where he was preparing with Nino and the Gorilla. He’s glad that most people at the wedding knew about the kwamis or it would have been a nightmare to keep the secret when this little guy ran everywhere calling for his magical friends. He pockets the stone and takes Mika in his arms. He resists the urge to ruffle his hair or Juleka would have a word with him.

“Are you ready?” He asks him. “Yes, Papa!” “Alright, is everyone here?” “I think so? Alya just texted me that the last guests sat down at their spot.” Replied his best man.

Just as Nino finished speaking, the music started, indicating the start of his last few minutes as a fiancé.

“Okay, I can do this!” Mutters to himself Adrien.

Nino walks out with Mika to follow Marinette and Emma while Adrien waits for Luka to reach the stage at the front with his mother. He wipes his sweaty palms on his pants. What if Mika trips and they lose the rings again? What if an angry lawyer from Gabriel comes in to deny the wedding because of some stupid contract he would have signed when he was a child? What if Lila shows up and tries again to mess things between him and Luka? Maybe he would trip and tear his suit, ruining Marinette’s amazing design. A strong hand gently shakes his shoulder, bringing him back to Earth. He looks aside to see his bodyguard smiling at him reassuringly. He may not say a lot, but his presence has long been a reassuring one in Adrien’s life and the blond is happy to have him stand as his father at his wedding, he deserved it.

Plagg flies through the fabric of the tent. He is wearing his usual mask of indifference, but Adrien knows that he’s just as excited if not more than Tikki.

“You’re up, kid. Tikki wants me to tell you that she loves you and that she is happy for you. Also, do you have any camembert, I’m hungry and there is no cheese!" ”Here, I brought some for you. Mika gave me a rock to add to your collection…” “Ohh, it’s sparkly! I’ll add it to my box of precious things…” “Don’t you mean your pile of dirty socks and rotten cheese?”

The kwami glares at him before leaving with his piece of camembert to meet back with his friends.

Adrien closes his eyes and inhales deeply before stepping out of the tent. His ex-bodyguard walks next to him as the entrance to the small clearing where everyone sat grows nearer. The white decorated screens hide the crowd from him, but he hears their cheering and Nino’s music. A fond smile graces his lips as he realizes that it’s the song Luka wrote for them, the combination of both their heart songs. He would never stop to amaze him, whether it be by being such a good father to Mika, an amazing future husband, a great listener with good advice, and one of his best friends who kept by his side no matter what.

The blond steps forward to the entrance, the sight of everyone looking at him barely a small bass compared to when he catches sight of Luka. He nearly stops in his tracks, too amazed by the man he is going to marry. It is as if a full orchestra is playing in his body, entrancing him.

Luka’s aqua blue eyes are filled with fondness and love, enhanced by some eyeshadow and eyeliner that melts Adrien’s legs. His hair is placed in a man bun, though it is classier than his usual, a few strands of hair remain free, keeping the look he loves so much. He wore a black waistcoat with teal blue lines embroidered on the side, reminding Adrien of snakes with staffs and notes. His white shirt gradually turns to a teal-ish blue on his sleeves, which he rolled up to his elbows, exposing his toned forearms and his snake tattoo. There are a few bracelets on his wrists, including the one he and Mika made for when he leaves on tours so they can be with him anywhere. The fairy lights hung in the trees over him make his engagement ring shine and give the park a magical vibe. Marinette could not have made anything that would be more Luka for their wedding and Adrien was impressed by his friend and superhero partner once again.

Wiping the tears that started to gather in the corner of his eyes and trying not to ruin his makeup, Adrien starts to walk towards the man of his life once again.

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

Luka's mouth forms a perfect “o” when Adrien steps in front of him. Even though he has seen so many of his old and more recent photoshoot pictures, he never looked as angelic, ravishing, and handsome as he does walking towards him between the rows of guests. Contrary to what that horrible man who was once his future husband’s father, Marinette had managed to design something for him that was simple, fancy and so Adrien at the same time. His fiancé wears something similar to him, a black waistcoat with a white shirt. The waistcoat has little cat paw prints embroidered on the sides in light green. He even spots a small cat among them on his back playing with little stars. His white shirt fades to green on his sleeves, making Adrien’s emerald eyes pop. Juleka also graced him with eyeliner and eyeshadow. His blond hair has been cut in an undercut and Lukas’s breath is taken away when his fiancé smirks, happy of the effect he has on him, though the dark-haired man sees the happy tears in his eyes.

Adrien reaches him on the stage and all the sounds and voices around them are deafened, only focussing on each other. The blonde takes his hand with the engagement ring in his hand and kisses his knuckles. Once they are done, the officiant starts her speech about weddings, hardships, and how love conquers all, but the two future husbands only have eyes for each other, smiling and communicating without a word. When the time comes for the vows, Adrien takes Luka’s other hand and bites his lip looking down nervously. The taller man caresses the other man’s hands with his thumbs, reassuring him. The blond looks up into his teal eyes before starting to speak.

“Luka. We met nearly ten years ago on the bridge of the boat you called home, the Liberty. I joined your band when you said that you needed a pianist. A few weeks later, we went on a double date with our friends Marinette and Kagami at the ice rink, though things were still complicated back then.  During those many nights spent chatting away from the bars of my old bedroom, I slowly fell in love with you. You helped me when I was shattered because my life was thrown upside down by people I trusted. You helped me pick up the pieces and to be myself again. You have always been there for me in the good times as well as the lowest ones, whether it was as a friend or as a boyfriend, and I know I will always be able to count on you. Back then, I had no idea of how important you would be in my life, but here we are, proclaiming our love to the whole world. I love you so much Luka Couffaine, you have no idea. I might be the melody that plays in your head, but you and our son are my entire world.”

Luka smiles fondly at his fiancé, the temptation to kiss him senseless so strong, but now is not the time. They will get to kiss later, and more. He was thankful Nino and Alya agreed to babysit Mika for the next few days while they go on their honeymoon. Marinette walks behind them and hands him his guitar. He sees Chloe roll her eyes, but she is still smiling, happy for Adrien.

“Adrien, all those words you told me touch me deeply. If you don’t mind, I prepared a small melody to accompany my words…” The blond nods so he continues. “I once dropped my guitar in the Seine to catch you and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. When I met you, I didn’t notice your song right away, I was too blinded by someone else’s, just like you were. As we grew closer, I got to know Adrien with his complete melody. I got to help you when you doubted yourself, I got to be by your side when you shone your light on the people you cared about. You are so loyal and full of love, I am lucky to be on the receiving end of it. You keep saying how much of a great father I am, but you are the amazing one. You are always caring for Mika and helping him. I know that you were afraid to turn into your father, but I can assure you that it will not happen. Your melody completed mine and fills my heart with happiness. I’m not as good as you with words, but what I wanted to say is that I love you, Adrien, with my whole being.”

Adrien and a few people in the crowd wipe their tears as the celebrant continues for a few words before it’s time for their vows. She nods to Luka to start.

“I, Luka Couffaine, take you, Adrien Agreste, to be my husband, to love and cherish you under storms and sunlight, and to continue our melody for as long as my heart beats. You may have slithered your way into my heart, but I will make the perfect catch by sliding this ring on your finger if you’ll have me.” “Yes.” Answered the blond.

The celebrant gestures Adrien to continue.

“I, Adrien Agreste, take you, Luka Couffaine, to be my husband, to love and cherish you no matter the distance between us or the rocks thrown on our path, meow, and fur-ever. We were mint to be and my heart purrs knowing that I’m getting meow-ied to you. Will you take this ring, the sign of our love?” “Yes.”

He smirks when he sees Marinette facepalm at his puns, but his eyes quickly return to Luka’s. He knows that no matter how often he sees it, the sheer fondness and love in those seas of teal always overwhelms him. Mika steps forward, steadily holding the small cushion with both rings resting on it. He blushes under the attention of the crowd but continues his path to his fathers with determination. Once he reaches them, he smiles brightly and raises the rings to them.

Luka takes his fiancé’s right hand. His ring finger, no longer occupied by the black cat miraculous, now on his left hand, feels empty. Luka takes his ring, a light silver with a gold line in the middle. A blue topaz rests on top, a color that reminded Adrien of Luka’s eyes when they bought the rings. He slides the ring on the blond’s finger. Adrien repeats the same with the other ring, a darker silver with an emerald. When he’s done, he ruffles his son’s hair, no doubt earning daggers from Juleka.

“I now pronounce you husband and husband! You may kiss the groom.” Cheers the celebrant.

Luka closes his eyes, leans in and Adrien meets him halfway. The crowd explodes in cheers and happy tears. Luka’s hands caress the blond’s cheek and hold him close by his waist, while Adrien’s arms snake around his husband’s neck. Their slow tender kiss turns into a passionate one. His chest starts to vibrate, but the purrs are swallowed by Luka. The two husbands part their lips to catch their breaths, foreheads pressed together as they look into their loved one’s eyes.

“I love you…”They whispered in unison, only heard by the other, but that’s what really matters in the end, that they love each other.

[wordscorrupt]

So, here’s the thing friends. This story was originally supposed to be whumpy, following the Febuwhump Day 1 prompt of Lost, with Peter getting lost on his way to Tony’s cabin one evening during a blizzard. And then my words started making their own detour and somehow this messy fluff fic was produced instead and now I don’t know what to do with it other than post it with no real ending AND try to figure out another idea for day 1.

Nothing makes sense in my world anymore.

Bon Appetit.

~

Tony feels the disappointment radiate off Pepper and smack him in the face the moment she steps onto the porch. 

“Tony, what in the world are you doing to that poor alpaca?” Pepper questions, crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

Tony huffs, tugging the pair of sparkly red and green reindeer antlers onto Gerald’s head. Morgan is by his side, distracting Gerald with a handful of goji berries. He grins innocently, looking over at his wife. “Getting him into the holiday spirit!” 

Pepper sighs, shaking her head before turning around to march back into the house. “Those better not be the berries I was saving for the pie!” 

Tony winces as the door slams behind her. 

“Uh, oh. You’re in trouble,” Morgan tuts, mimicking her mother’s signature head shake.

Tony huffs out a laugh before grabbing her and swinging her into his arms. 

“Daddy!” Morgan shrieks, laughing as she drops the rest of the berries in her hand onto the snow which Gerald immediately dives for. 

“If I’m going down, I’m taking you down with me,” Tony teases as the weight of Morgan in his arms forces him to practically waddle back into the house. 

Pepper’s in the kitchen, with a now-empty bow of goji berries in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other that she wacks Tony on the head with. 

“I deserved that,” Tony says as he plops Morgan down on the counter. 

“It was all Daddy’s idea, Mommy,” Morgan proclaims with a small pout and batted eyelashes. 

Pepper smiles, wrapping an arm around her little girl and pressing a kiss to her head. “Trust me, sweetie. I know.” She then picks Morgan up off the counter and sets her down on the floor. “Now, go change and come back here so we can get started on the cookies. “ 

Morgan lets out an excited squeal and before she can run off, Tony grabs her by the shoulders gently and warns her, “Inside voice, Moguna. Peter’s still sleeping.” 

She presses both hands over her mouth and nods slowly before carefully walking off. 

Tony smiles before turning back to Pepper who is wiping a grin off her face. 

“Speaking of,  you should probably wake him up. It’s almost noon, Tony,” Pepper points out as she takes a bag of flour out of one of the cupboards. 

Tony waves a hand, sliding into one of the chairs at the island. “He’s two days into his semester break. He needs all the catch-up sleep he can get because regardless of what he says, I know that little shit hasn’t slept for than four hours every night.”

If Rhodey was here, which he would be later on for dinner, the man would have argued how Tony used to pull two or three all-nighters in a row back in their college days. Which, while true, didn’t mean that Tony couldn’t hound Peter about it now. Because Peter was a doe-eyed, scrawny college freshman with no sense of self-preservation and the unnerving need to be self-sacrificial at any given point. 

If Tony had it his way, he’d be there every night to tuck the boy into his dorm bed, promptly ten at night. 

Pepper hums knowingly, setting up the stand mixer. “Yes, but if you don’t wake him up now, he’ll be dragging all evening long. He’s going to be so groggy at dinner, you’ll practically have to hand feed him.” 

Tony gives a little shrug, talking under his breath, “Not like I haven’t done that before.” He then sighs before slipping off the chair. “I guess I’ll go wake up our sleeping beauty.” 

Tony finds Peter in his room, curled up under a mound of blankets and pillows with just one pinkie toe sticking out. Tony installed blackout curtains the past summer to allow Peter to sleep in easily after his late-night patrols. So, therefore, when he takes one step in the dark room, he trips over Peter’s backpack and stumbles forward unable to catch his footing until he promptly lands on his peacefully sleeping kid. 

Peter lets out a loud yelp as Tony tries to roll off of him, which is hard considering he is getting tangled up into the hundreds of blankets Peter was cocooned in. 

“Get off of me!” Peter whines indignantly as he tried to maneuver out from underneath Tony. 

“I’m trying. Hold still!” Tony replies as he struggles to get his left leg free from a Captain America themed blanket. “Where in the world did you even get all these blankets?” 

Pepper then decides to stick her head into the room, trying to investigate what all the commotion was about. She sighs, shaking her head before flicking the light switch on. “Tony, you had one job,” She states as she walks into the room, grabs a corner of one blanket and practically whips all the blankets off the bed and onto the floor in one move. 

“Tony, get off Peter. Peter, sweetheart, get cleaned and dressed. You need some fresh air so you are going with Tony to the grocery store.” 

“Yes ma’am,” They both state in unison. 

“Why are we going to the grocery store?” Peter inquires once Pepper leaves. 

Tony hops off the bed with a groan, shrugging his shoulders. “I possibly, maybe, almost certainly, might have had Morgan feed Gerald the berries Pepper was going to use for the pie, in order to distract him while I put reindeer antlers on him.” 

Peter barks out a laugh. “Sounds about right.”

~

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Dearest Readers,

I know I’ve been absent during this quarantine and for that I’m sorry. It’s been pretty crazy to have to do distance learning with my six-year-old, but we’re getting by. I’ll be honest, I almost messaged the amazing @thefanficfaerie​ to tell her that I wouldn’t be able to do this, but the more I realized that I hadn’t created in what seemed like forever and thought about how much I missed interacting with you guys on here, the more I wanted to complete this challenge.

So I did what I always do, I sat down with three loose-leaf sheets and played “Penny and Me” by Hanson on a loop until this came out. I didn’t intend to be so on the nose with this one nor did I intend to use our current situation with covid19 in the fic, but here we are. Thank you so so much to @thefanficfaerie​ for creating this challenge! Also, thank you so much to @italiandoll1129​ for betaing this little diddy. I hope you guys enjoy this little imagine and I hope you’re all doing well and staying safe <3

Sinceriously,

Amanda

Your life up to the point when the world stopped had largely been made up of acoustics and half note runs. Countless moments captured in a simple bar, a single verse, a reprised chorus. Music was your lifeblood, the ticking of the muscle that resided deep in your chest and then--just a few short weeks ago--silence. The world stopped turning, life as you knew it upended, and the music in your soul faded without refrain. It seemed survival had been triggered when the governor implemented a stay-at-home order and music became little more than a distant memory of better days.

   Rafael had been more than annoyed at the disruption of his carefully crafted schedule, but had it not been for his steadfast reasoning and patience you surely would have sunk deep into the dark, bottomless pit of despair and hopelessness. Your loving, quick-witted ADA was the brain that steadied the storm in your heart. Had it not been for him you surely would have crumbled into a useless mess by day two of quarantine. Not that you weren’t on the edge every second of the day, but at least you were sure that if you did fall apart, Rafael would be there to put you back together again.

   You sat on the bumped out window seat in the corner of the living room, pillow in your lap, sipping your mug of home-brewed coffee, staring at the lifeless street below. New York City had never been so quiet, but now all of its residents waited with bated breath for the virus that had halted all to pass. Even the criminal world seemed to be practicing social distancing, though an uptick in domestic violence was certainly keeping Rafael busy. For the creatives of the world, however, the coronavirus seemed to slowly poison the well of inspiration, leaving little else aside from disconnection and isolation despite the countless public figures proclaiming “alone, together.” Or whatever they were saying.

   “Mi amor?” You heard Rafael’s voice from down the hall and let your forehead gently touch the cold, glass surface of the window as your eyes closed. “Y/N, we should go to the store today and pick up a few things, what do you think?”

   You inhaled through your nose and turned your head to look back at him, offering a weak smile. “Yeah, maybe they’ll have toilet paper this time.” How had toilet paper become more valuable than the dollar bill seemingly overnight?

   Closing the distance between the two of you, your boyfriend brought the back of his fingers to your cheek, corner of his lips quirking upward. His touch had always been enough to calm the emotional tornado that stress brewed inside you. Especially lately, you had become acutely aware of his ability to make you believe that everything would be alright.

   “This is all temporary,” he would say. It never took very much convincing on his part as long as his skin was making contact with yours.

   “We still have plenty for at least a week or two,” he said as he moved to sit on the other side of the window seat, facing you.

   Pursing your lips, you nodded. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have some extra on hand, just in case.” You tried to leave it at that instead of allowing a worst-case-scenario to form in your mind. The governor’s instructions had been clear: stay home, wash your hands, social distance until the curve flattened, remain calm. Despite your own paranoia, the world was not actually on fire...or if it was at least it wouldn’t be forever, and in truth as long as you had Rafael by your side, all would be well. Though it was times like this that made you wish you believed in God. There were moments when you envied Rafael in that sense; most of all now, when a magical sky-daddy would be a welcomed reprieve from the ever-rising death toll and unemployment rates.

   “Honey, we have to stay calm and not panic-buy, okay?” Rafael said, reaching for your hand. “You should try to keep yourself busy. You know how your anxiety gets when you sit still for too long without something to focus on.”

   “I know, I just…” You ran a hand through your hair and grimaced when you realized you hadn’t showered the day before. “I can’t slow my brain enough to create anything coherent.”

   “So create something incoherent,” he suggested with a bob of his shoulders. “Or, instead of writing music, why don’t you just play some songs you enjoy or learn to play one?” You could sense your lips trying to form a smile as your thumb stroked over the skin between his knuckles. “I just know how important music is in your life. It always makes you feel better.”

   “That’s not a bad idea, actually,” you said in a whisper as your eyes fell to your joined hands. “Maybe I could go live on Instagram,” you added carefully. “I’ve seen a lot of people talking about how scared they are, too.”

   He narrowed his eyes. “I thought we agreed you should stay off social media for now.”

   In the beginning of your self-isolation, you spent nearly every waking minute refreshing your Twitter and Instagram feeds, which in turn, had served only to fuel your anxiety and almost caused a panic attack. The logical thing was to avoid social media; the daily press conferences and videos from Philip DeFranco were more than enough to keep you updated on the situation without causing you to cry yourself to sleep because Dr-Random-Twitter-Handle had posted about his hospital’s desperate need for PPE, and how a portion of his staff had become sick, which would convince you that this was in fact the end of the world and there was literally nothing that could be done to stop it.

   So yeah, no social media had been the plan.

   However, your desire to share music had been a part of you since you could remember, and especially at a time like this, music could be the very thing to soothe people’s fears, even if only a little bit.

   “I know but I can’t help but wonder whether playing where other people can hear would help in some small way,” you said. 

    Rafael lowered his eyes as if in thought, nodding once. “What if you opened the window so the neighbors could hear?” His gaze came back to meet yours. “It’s been pretty quiet the last few weeks.”

   It had been quiet in the neighborhood since all the bars and clubs shut down, including Penny and Me’s, the bar just downstairs that normally featured live music, which would fill the entire neighborhood and carry over to the next block. You smiled at your boyfriend.

   “You don’t think people might get annoyed?”

   “No,” he answered. “I think people are reaching for as many positive things as they can get. And some music, especially when the neighborhood has been so eerily quiet, might be just the thing that makes them feel normal again. Even if it’s only for a moment.”

   You eyed your guitar in the far corner of the living room, leaning against the bookcase that held countless escapes into other worlds. Normally when reality came to be too much, a mix of other worlds and strums on your guitar would be enough to keep you from losing it completely. But right then, when the world as you knew it was forever changed, you couldn’t justify leaving it, even to save your sanity.

   “And,” Rafael added. “If anyone complains, they’ll have me to deal with.”

   You snorted, standing and opening the window before you went to pick up your guitar. Sitting back on the window seat, you took your time tuning it while your eyes periodically wandered, looking for an idea of what song to play. From the corner of your eye, you saw Rafael take out his phone, tap his screen a few times before he held it up. You knitted your brows at him; wasn’t he just trying to talk you out of going live?

   “I just realized your family might want to hear you play,” he said as though he’d been inside your head. “What are you gonna play, corazon?”

   “I don’t know.” Your gaze fell on the unlit, cursive lettering on the building across the street and the familiar chalkboard by the door that now read, “Stay home. Stay safe.”

   With a gentle smile, you began to strum an intro of chords, the beginning of a song that was written strictly as a love letter to music, highlighting the importance of a song in our hearts and how a simple, familiar melody could remind us of our favorite moments in our lives. Music, without which the world would be a much darker place, the one thing that in an instant could heal a hole in your heart, the thing that often formed fond memories of nights up late by the fireplace. Music that could speak for you with such clarity if you had trouble forming words.

   “That’s not obvious at all,” Rafael mumbled after hearing you sing the first chorus.

   “Hush, you,” you replied quickly, not missing a single strum. “Cause Penny and Me like to roll the windows down…”

   As you sang through the full chorus, a second voice joined in from below. Rafael carefully stepped closer to the window, mindful to keep his phone pointed in your direction as he leaned to stick his head out the open square.

   “Lawrence?” you heard him call out between lyrics.

   “Hey Rafael!” the voice replied. “And Penny and Me like to gaze at starry skies…”

   Your ADA chuckled under his breath when a third voice sounded from further down the building, and a fourth from above. By the time you reached the bridge, it was as though half the block joined in. Your focus was on keeping time with your strums against the strings, but your skin had prickled into goosebumps at the sound of your neighbors singing along with you. 

   For the first time since you’d been stuck inside, it actually felt like despite the fact that you were all self-isolating, none of you were alone. In that moment, the entire block of 82nd street was one, singing through their pain and loneliness, belting their affections for each other simply by joining you in a cover of an early 2000s tune by one of the original popstars of the 90s. Through the final chorus you could hear the longing, the desire to be together truly once again, going to Penny and Me’s for a drink after a long week and weaving in and out of clusters of people on the sidewalk to get home after it got late. It reminded you that New Yorkers were fighters, that you had all seen worse than this pandemic and that one day soon you would be reminiscing about where you were during the 2020 pandemic that had paused the world and forced people to appreciate each other just a little bit more. The time when music, as always, kept you connected while you distanced.

   “Do you think this is going to go viral?” Rafael asked no one in particular after you’d played the final chord of the song. 

   “I don’t think so, it’s a fairly obscure song,” you answered with a grin as you leaned back against the window sill, allowing the breeze to blow strands of hair against your face. 

   “Still,” Rafael mumbled as he tagged your parents in the post and, at your request, tagged the song and the virus for easy reference if you needed a pick-me-up later in the night. “Okay, I’m gonna head out to the store. Did you wanna come?”

   “I think I’m gonna stay here,” you answered, rolling your head to one side until your eyes met his. “I should clean the bathroom...and myself. Then afterward, I might try to work on some more music.”

   The smirk you knew all too well flashed in your direction as he closed the space between you to kiss your forehead. “Maybe without the window being open. The neighbors didn’t mind a song they knew, but the last thing we’d want is to disrupt their marathon of Tiger King.”

   “Speaking of which, they added an episode,” you said.

   “They did?”

   “Yep, Carol Baskins isn’t in it though, from what I’ve heard,” you said.

   “Fucking Carol Baskins. Okay, I’ll be back in an hour, tops,” he said, going to the door and putting on his coat. “When I get back, I think we should make dinner and watch that episode.”

   “And after that?”

   He bobbed his shoulders. “You’ve been trying to get me to watch Lost for years. Maybe now is when you do.”

   “I don’t know if I wanna watch a show about a plane that disappears to an island no one knows about. We’ll see what my paranoia level is by the time we finish the last Tiger King episode.”

   “Well, you know I’ve been dying for you to watch Catch-22,” he replied with a smirk.

   You paused a moment, grimacing at the thought of the show adaptation of a Joseph Heller novel that you hadn’t very much enjoyed in the first place. “Lost it is.”

[theplumsoldier]

DADDY DEAREST

Request: Anonymous asked: Yon-rogg X reader where he is coming back from a mission, and learns his wife is having their daughter maybe? Or just some cute daddy yon-rogg? Love your stories!!

A/N: tyyy friend and thought id stick to the already a dad deal as ive priorly written one where he learns of this (which you can read here). though its not much i hope you can find it in you to enjoy some fluffy, angsty family love

Pairing: yon-rogg x reader

Word count: 1291

Warnings: none.

Squinted eyes warily glaring down at the sullen pout, he sucked in his cheek and momentarily heaved his hand to scratch the stubbles growing from his jaw. A yawn escaped him and as he stood for what felt like the hundredth time in his baby girl’s chambers, cradling her and humming her back to sleep, Yon-Rogg failed to comprehend how this had seemed like nothing but perfect in his mind. Now he was no man to vent his spleen nor expose his contemporary lack of tolerance—but he was worth little when abstained to sleep, that much he dared admit.

Fortunately for you, you knew who you had married and just as you had accepted his timely need of space every now and then, you were aware he was far from perfect. He was flawed and had his moments where he just about lost it, in a moment of weakness screaming more hostile words than he had ever spoken to the enemy, heaving chest, rapid breath and venting through a punch to the wall. It scared you and you would cry, whimper, as you did what possible within your power, knowing no words, would calm him as time, for it never was what you had did, but what the prying voices in his head taunted. You could not fathom what nightmares he had crawled through, what pains he had felt nor how worthless he felt when letting it out on you. It scared you. That unfamiliar touch, far from anything you yourself had ever experienced and had not for long been a part of your life. Nonetheless, no matter how hurtful his words would sound, they never were charged at you and so with an admitted moment of weakness, his frail frame would hug onto you, swearing and crying and begging for you to forgive him. Excuse his unacceptable behavior and even imploring you to yell back at him, punch him to make up. You would tug him closer and pull him to meet you in an intricate instance, forcing his watery, amber orbs to meet your own as you assured him, one day he finally would be relieved of those demons. One day, and to that day you would be by his side and to the next. “You will find peace.”

You had always forgiven him before he had asked you to. There really was no need. It was that wicked war messing him up in the head. The nights you would spend with your hands clasped tightly, thanking the Gods for the second chance bestowed unto you, living far from that evil warfare at peace with all in the beyond. Later you would be huddled up with your husband, sweet whisperers serving the final memory with a warm body tugging you close, drifting off into the welcoming night.

Night itself, though, was no longer welcoming. Much on the contrary, in fact, seemingly the unfamiliar now, neither Yon-Rogg nor his wife was offered much sleep, with a child screaming in the other room, calling attention to herself each time you were close to drifting off. Exhausted, you had nudged your husband in the side and wrapped the sheets closer to your body, murmuring, “your turn.”

He thought no problem of it, no more than needed at least. If he himself could not be allowed little sleep, perhaps you could and as the dark began to turn light, Yon-Rogg got out of the bed and figured he might as well give up on the hopeless fight.

“Think you can sleep one more hour for daddy? Huh?” whispered he when his girl’s eyes became heavy to the sound of his humming. Gently placing her back in the crib, he placed a kiss on her forehead. Breathing out, he was careful in his steps as he exited the room, closing the door just enough to hear should she call out again.

Back in your bedroom, he found you nowhere in sight and though his first reaction was a taste of panic, he shook his head when he heard the sound of water. The door to the bathroom was on creaked open and he sauntered his way to peak from the door, figure relaxing and glower falling when finding you bending over the sink, washing the sleep from your eyes.

“You know,” spoke she without turning to face him, wiping her face in a cloth. “Babysitting is a thing.”

Huffing, Yon-Rogg shrugged his shoulder before folding his arms, shifting to lean against the doorframe with his eyes attached to your own stature. “I’m not very fond of the thought of leaving her with some stranger.”

“Well, sooner or later, sleep will become necessary. Especially if I’m gonna stay awake on this 12-hour shift,” you informed and straightened your arms behind your back, stretching out the side of your neck.

Coming to meet you in your place, Yon-Rogg’s hand slid down your arm, trailing across the soft material of your shirt as he pulled you close. Watching him in the mirror before you, you could not help but smile at his fatigued expression. Too pure in the light, appearing as peaceful as he did when fast asleep, huddled up at your side and your hand found its way to his hair, tilting your head as his look met your own through the glass.

He breathed out and leaned on your shoulder, pecking your neck and closing his eyes, nostrils taking in the familiar homely smell. “I only wish we could spend our time as a family. Instead, we are here on this forsaken planet, taking turns lulling our girls to sleep.”

“Are you not having fun?” pouted you, pushing lightly back and he only tightened his grip, his heavy figure only making you long for your bed all the more.

“I am,” chuckled he. “I’m just—I cannot abolish the idea of how we could have lived off my discharge compensation. We could have money, land. We would never have to respond to anyone again.”

“Our child would grow up in a never-ending war. They never would allow our return; even if we begged—we made our choice.”

It was true. As your leave had been over the span of a single night and, looking back on it, rather rash, you had left behind a fine deal of authority, abandoning positions in the empire and purloin a self-proclaimed furlough. Therefore, fully culpable, the two of you made the hasty decision to raise a family far from the skirmish.

His furrowed forehead gave up and with just his hands, he turned you to face you. His gut, his heart, his mind—they all told him you no longer could stay on this planet, not to say galaxy. You had surged leave to make a happy family, one impossible alongside your fellow Kree for, after all, it was highly unusual to marry for love rather than money and title.

If only they could see him now, how they must take him for a fool, falling for his own colleague. The retired commander shook his head and his thumb caressed your cheek. “This feels like a burden now, I know, but I promise you Y/N, one day, soon or in the next life, all this will be worth it. The sun will shine on us, finally.”

Letting go of your bottom lip, you leaned into his coarse hand. He was right, you knew it. Few times happened it so he was not, even in times where it all seemed gloomy with struggle and worry coming to no end, he was there. He always was there. Though your eyes had watered to expose a glossy layer, you smiled and repeated your husband’s words. “The sun will shine on us.”

And bursting in time to break the peace of mind, shared comfort in silence, sounded your daughter, her cries tearing through your ears and although the pounding in your head, broke you a grin for your husband. Tugging his hand and kissing him dearly, 

[mysticmelove]

Hi! I really like your work and I was wondering if I could have a request for Juju x MC. MC is also the child of a wealthy CEO but of a rival company. Jumin only sees her as a rival until the two get closer and he realises his feelings ♡

*I’m not really one to write NSFW (I’m usually not comfortable with it) but I thought I would for a change. I’m not gonna tag it as NSFW because tumblr likes to kill blogs... Anyway, be warned.

Forbidden love

(Jumin x MC) [NSFW]

.

The sound of MC’s gasps filled the room, her moans loud and present as the air pricked at her skin. Jumin thrusted once more, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips- enough to bruise her porcelain skin- and forcing her closer to the door. “You need to be quiet MC,” his breath and words serenading the hairs of her neck made MC weak at the knees; if he hadn’t been holding her she would have collapsed long ago. “I thought I made that clear,” his husked whispers sent shivers down her spine, “You wouldn’t want your daddy to find out his precious princess is fucking the opposition.” His movement could be irrelevant; Jumin’s way with words and his tone alone could make her cum. She tried desperately to contain her moans as Jumin rocked her hips forwards and back, her hands bound above her head with his belt. Given the chance she would turn to face him, capture his lips, and melt in his hold- but that wasn’t Jumin’s style when it came to sneaking around.

God knows the two of them even conversing in too a friendly manner would be frowned upon, so Jumin took things into his own hands. He wanted MC and she wanted him, so he’d make it would happen. Even if no one else could know about it.

This started only with the knowledge of who she was. MC. Daughter of a CEO and a corporate heir. She was a rival in the Korean business industry, and a good one at that. He believed her approach to business was similar to his, she was a firm leader and she played no games. Well rounded, well respected, and voted Korea’s most beautiful woman on many occasions. You see, her intelligence and work skills weren’t the only desirable thing, her looks were to die for and she’d be hounded for photographs. However, Jumin wasn’t one to be drawn by looks. In almost every way, she was socially equivalent to him. Although, while Jumin was one to avoid it, MC fed the media and gave interviews constantly. A shameful thing in his mind. Feeding tabloids was a foolish move; it gave too much insight into one’s life and business, and only encouraged people to snoop into your life, though he’d commend her for her lack of scandals. She was obviously a smart woman.

“Ju- Jumin!” MC cried out, short of breath and her knuckles painted white. “Jumin... Ah! P- please!” Her lewd begging was only intensified by the sound of her whines escaping from her once mute mouth. It was impossible to hold back, her reputation could have been ruined but she’d lost all self control and there was no going back. MC was falling apart in Jumin’s hold but it only excited him more, encouraging him to go harder, faster.

MC yelped at his new found force, only to be rewarded with his firm hand cupping her mouth. “You really don’t listen, hm?”

Such a shameful situation for her to put herself in: bound and silenced under someone else’s control.

The first time they met must have been at a conference, with both standing-in in place of their respective fathers. MC hadn’t taken much notice in him at first to be honest. She knew of him and he was very attractive and intelligent man, but she was there for business. Business was always a priority.

They sat across from each other, stealing glances every now and then. The enemy was so close yet so distant. MC watched him closely; he was reserved, quiet, but so completely commanding in his actions. Everything about him screamed that he was a man in control, deciding his own fate, and creating his own path.

Jumin caught her eyes several times, she was staring evidently. Unprofessional at its finest. It’d be amusing to think she was bringing in the same profits as him; the woman couldn’t even pay attention in a board meeting.

“MC, what is your company’s stance in the proposal?”

Jumin was ready for the downfall, the fluster of being lost.

“We think the best stance would be to wait for winter. Spending increases majorly and we can fit in some good advertising across a majority of stations.” Her words rolled straight off the tongue, smooth with no hesitation. Jumin was the one left lost for words. An amazing woman indeed.

Jumin pressed his nose into the nape of her neck, unafraid to leave his mark. His teeth sunk into her skin slowly, eliciting a low moan in his hand. The sound was pure ecstasy to him; not having the freedom to be with her whenever he wished was torture. “Go on, MC... Tell me what you want.” He removed his hand, using it to scoop her hair out of the way of his mouth.

She panted wildly, struggling to keep her muscles from giving out. “I... I want to cum... Jumin, please!”

“I love that sound,” he proclaimed, “...hearing such a beautiful woman beg for me.” He forced her against the wall, giving her the last of his pent-up energy. “You know I love you,” he groaned into the shell of her ear: “...I love you so much...”

“Lift your head more; your jaw looks better from that angle,” MC chimed as she walked behind the camera, fiddling with the backs of her earrings.

Jumin sighed: “I suppose only those who take so many pictures would know such a thing.”

“Possibly,” she shot back, biting her lip teasingly, “but that’s probably why you were beaten out this year. Too detached, Mr Han.” He hated the way she did that; whether it was subconscious flirting or completely intentional, he hated the way she’d bite her lips, or twirl her hair, cutting him glances from across the room. It had happened a lot since they first met. Perhaps, Jumin was just looking at her too much?

“Publicity has nothing to do with my work efforts. Nor does losing out to ‘Business person of the year’ bother me.” It did bother him somewhat, only because he had lost out to her though. However, he would have much rather not have been sat in a photo studio all day.

“Of course, Mr Han.” She teased once more from behind the camera.

He glared, before the photographer could interrupt the two: “Can I have a picture with the winner and runner-up, please?”

Jumin had to hold back his scowl as the woman strolled towards him, smug smile adorning her and her heels sounding her presence. “I’ll show you how to pose. How about that, Mr–“

“Jumin.” He cut her off abruptly, that mocking tone growing too much for him. “Just call me Jumin, MC.” He stood from the chair and offered it to her, stepping silently behind it.

She looked up to him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “You can relax. I don’t bite.”

Still with shoulders tensed, he mumbled to himself: “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

MC looked back to the camera, raising her head and laughing slightly. There was a glint in her eyes, “You can find out if you want... I think you’re much rather the type.”

Jumin’s eyes shot open wide within an instant. What was she suggesting? Moreover, what was he thinking? Surely she wasn’t serious. She turned to him again, an innocent look decorating her eyes but the most devilish smirk on her lips.

He loved those lips.

Those lips were the epitome of Jumin’s happiness. For all the time they spent pleasuring each other or simply just enjoying the other’s company, he found solace in them. So soft, so loving. He didn’t need her up against a wall to feel the pleasure of them dancing against his skin.

His hands roamed her body tantalisingly as she tried to make herself presentable, not once did his gaze leave her form. They’d both come down from their highs, returned to reality, and were preparing to go back to the usual routine of hiding themselves from the world. Though, it appeared as if Jumin were struggling to come to terms on this occasion. He wanted more of her; he wanted her in his sights at all times, and to hold her whenever he felt like it. He cupped her cheek with one hand, the other around her waist, and pressed his forehead to hers. “I miss you already, MC... Must we continue like this?”

She glanced to the floor, “...There’s always the conference next month...”

“I don’t want to have to wait months to see you. I want you now and always, MC.” He pleaded.

“I know but,” she looked to the mirror, the sight of the two reflected back at her, “imagine if this got out... Fraternising with the enemy and putting the company at risk. We’d both be screwed.”

He guided her gaze back to himself, “What about the day you start to mean more to me than that business.”

“Jumin...”

After that photo shoot was, admittedly, the first time. A first for quite a few things, really. The first time Jumin had honestly opened up to someone and talked freely; the first time he allowed someone to know personal thing about him. Never before had he spent the night with a woman to feel so liberated. He hated the way she was everything he never knew he wanted.

He loved her.

Likewise, their night was a first for MC. As a woman of great position in the business world her presence was strong, powerful. She was strong and powerful. Yet, under his hands she wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable. He made her fragile and weak, but she wasn’t afraid. Rather, MC loved it. It was addictive- not being the one in control- and she wanted more of it. God forbid they’d never get the chance again.

“I’m serious, MC,” he stood away from her contemplating his words, “If I was in the state to give up on the company I would, just for you...”

MC attempted to fix his tie, shaking her head in dismissal. “...You can’t do that...”

“I know.” He took her hands in his own kissing her knuckles gently. “But that’s not to say I can’t change things... We can partner, invest, merge for all I care. The media can crucify me. I don’t care... I need you more than this horrid routine allows.”

“You’d be stuck with me from then on.”

“So be it.”

She grinned, “And you’ll have to learn how to pose if we’re to be in pictures together.”

He laughed in response, eyes crinkled shut, “I’ll learn quickly then.”

[dontdoitluke]

We Could Be Heroes - Ch 5

Sky High AU, but instead, it’s a superhero University.

Summary: First aid class proves to be much more complicated than what’s expected, a self proclaimed princess is knocked down a peg or two, and Michael is being suspicious.

Chapter: 5/?

Word Count: 3,132

CHAPTER INDEX

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The university had decided to add a required class on first aid to their curriculum. Sky High and S.A.V.E.U. had been training heroes for decades and the higher ups had only just now decided that first aid was necessary to a school made for people who are meant to rescue others.

Ashton thought it would be a good idea if everyone in their group went together since the impromptu first class was more like an open workshop. Most of the group knew there was deeper meaning behind that, regardless of the reasoning that he gave. He was convinced that he was only good for destruction and demolition. He wanted to learn how to heal, but he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to control his anxieties about the subject without his closest friends nearby.

They were the bulk of the class sitting in the metal chairs, but aside from them, there were only six other students. An elderly woman who appeared to be sleeping sat at a folding table while her jade-haired assistant gathered white three ring binders in her arms and moved to the front of the waiting students.

“Hello everyone. Thanks for coming to our first session. I just wanna apologize on behalf of the school for not having a legit classroom setting yet, because sitting on those chairs for almost an hour is gonna be about as comfortable as sitting on a pile of rocks.” Most students nodded and chuckled while shifting in their seats at that.

“I’m Persephone Quinn, but you can just call me Persey. This sleeping beauty is Professor Ko’zabah. She’s agreed to let me take over the class for this semester to earn internship credits. I’m gonna be real with you, that’s probably best for all of us involved. Also, I don’t like to waste time with unnecessary bullshit, so I’m gonna give y’all these binders and... uh, yeah. Let’s get crackin’. Take one and pass it around, please.”

Persey handed the stack of folders to Calum, who was nearest to her, and moved to the table at the front and perched herself on top of it to wait until everyone had a folder of their own.  

“These are just some one-inch binders for you guys to keep your stuff in, but I already added the syllabus and some paper and dividers so that you don’t have to worry about it yourselves. The first page is just like a run-through of exactly how hands-on this class is g-”

“Excuse me, but I just have to ask something really quick.”

Persey and the rest of the class irritably turned toward the asker. It was the same pretentious red headed girl who always had something to say in every one of her classes. Jenna groaned loudly while pulling her water bottle out of her backpack, preparing to shut her up if needed.

“Uh... yeah, okay, what is it?”

“So, you’re telling me that this class is going to be taught by someone who isn’t even qualified to be a teacher?”

Persey hopped down off of the table and stared daggers at the girl, who just leaned back in her chair nonchalantly, waiting for her answer.

“I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“Cherice Alistair, Montgomery Alistair’s daughter.”

“Am I supposed to know who that is, Sharon?”

“It’s Cherice. And everyone who’s anyone knows who he is.”

“Guess that says a lot about me, then, doesn’t it, Shirley? And... what exactly makes you think I’m not qualified to be a teacher? Do you think you could do a better job? Or would you rather we wake up Madam Snores-A-Lot so that we can read medical journals instead of actually learning how to deal with real issues?”

“It’s CHERICE. And I mean, what is there to learn? My father, since you don’t seem to know, is the guy who owns the Alistair Regional Hospital, and he could teach me everything there is to know in, like, less than a day. It’s literally just first aid. Any idiot could tell you how to put on a bandaid. It’s not that hard, and it’s not that much to learn.”

Inhaling deeply, Persey put her palms together and closed her eyes. She held her breath for a few seconds before exhaling slowly. The rest of the class was dead silent; most of them tried to stay out of it and busied themselves with reading through the syllabus, and Jenna slowly put her water bottle back into her bag and watched the two carefully. Michelle tapped Luke’s knee and directed her thoughts toward him.

“Daddy’s girl is about to fucking get it.”

Persey cleared her throat and opened her eyes, smiling sweetly at her smug student.

“Okay. So, what do you do when you find a victim of a bank robbery with a bullet wound in their leg?”

Cherice scoffed and shrugged her shoulders. “Easy. Apply pressure to stop the bleeding.”

“And what else?”

“You wait until the bleeding stops, then wrap it up.”

“What do you do before all of that?”

“Uh... I’m pretty sure that’s it.”

“What do you even wrap it with?”

Papa’s pride and joy was beginning to get nervous. She flexed her fingers and fidgeted with a button on her shirt.  

“Ace bandage?”

“What’s the first thing you do when you find someone that’s been stabbed in the chest?”

“What are y-”

“And what do you do when you’re cutting into, I don’t know, a mango, and you accidentally slice your thumb off? What’s the first step you take, Debra?”

“Okay, that’s not even close to my name, I-”

“Let me guess? Apply pressure? What do you do when you find someone who’s got severe burns all over their body? How do you identify what kind of burns they are? What do you do when a villain with acidic spit licks your arm and your skin is corroding? What do you do when you find the survivor of an earthquake staked to the ground with a steel support beam sticking out of their gut?”

Cherice turned bright red and huffed in anger, averting her eyes toward the floor.

“First aid is not just about applying pressure. What are you gonna do, finish capturing the criminal while applying pressure to the injured? Most of us don’t have powers that allow that. You need to learn how to quickly create a durable makeshift tourniquet with nothing around you but the clothes on your back. You need to know when a person should NOT have a knife removed from their body. You need to know the difference between hypovolemic shock and septic shock, and you need to know the symptoms of dehydration, hypothermia, and hyperthermia as well as remember how to treat them. And this isn’t just basic first aid, honey. This is HERO first aid. You’re in this school to learn how to save the world. You’re gonna have to deal with extreme situations. If you don’t wanna find out what to do in extreme situations, you’re more than welcome to hit the road. And if you haven’t figured it out by now, I really don’t like being interrupted, so I recommend that you don’t do that shit again.”

The students tried, and failed, to cover their giggles. Most professors and even most of the student body just went along with Cherice’s antics, since her father had a finger in pretty much every pie and could easily ruin someone’s reputation with a simple flick of his checkbook. Cherice was mortified and her eyes brimmed with furious tears as she stood, throwing her binder to the ground.  

“You’re gonna regret pissing me off like that.”

Persey grinned and clapped her hands together with every word she spoke. “Come at me, bitch. I. Dare. You.”

The self-proclaimed Princess stormed out of the room, slamming the door with one hand and furiously typing on her phone with the other. Persey, however, simply took off her cardigan and draped it over Professor Ko’zabah’s still sleeping figure while moving on with the lesson.

“So anyway, as I was saying... what was I saying?”

“You were talking about the first page of the syllabus,” Michael reminded while adjusting his headphones.  

“Right, okay, so yeah, you heard a lot of it when I was sassing Sheldon a second ago, but I’m gonna say it again because I feel like it. This isn’t basic grade school first aid. Someone’s gonna get yeeted out of a window and you’re gonna have to know what to do with their injuries.”

Throughout the rest of the lecture, Ashton drank in every word that Persey spoke. He wrote down as many notes as he could and listened harder than anyone else in the room; he wanted so badly to help people, even if he couldn’t use his power to do so. Everyone seemed to have a first aid use for their power, Jenna can remove liquids from a drowning person’s lungs, Michael can listen for irregular heartbeats or breathing issues, and Persey suggested that Calum could even digest deadly parasites and disease cells to prevent them from spreading. Ashton, however, felt like he couldn’t do anything except make buildings crumble.  

“Once we get, like, an actual classroom, you guys are each gonna get a personalized first aid kit. It’s gonna have the basic shit in it, like bandages, alcohol pads, stuff like that, but it’ll also contain equipment and supplies that cater to your specific powers,” Persey continued gleefully. “I’m so excited about this, y’all have no idea. I’m not gonna get too far into it right now but trust me, it’s gonna be great. For example, Calum, we just mentioned that you could digest parasites, right?”

Calum turned a pale shade of green and nodded slowly. “Unfortunately.”

“I’m not a parasite, you could just swallow me instead.”

“Val please, I’m queasy enough already.”

Persey tried desperately to ignore the interaction and cleared her throat. “Well, your kit could possibly contain something like capsules to trap the little assholes in so that they don’t, like, cling to your insides on the way down and hurt you.”

Calum closed his eyes and squeezed his lips together tightly. “Why couldn’t I have been born with super strength or something?”

“Fate gave you this power, just like fate gave me mine,” Val argued. “We were meant to be together.”

“I think I’m gonna fucking vomit.”

“Actually,” Persey interjected. “With the shrinking and digesting, that could work well together. Val can shrink down and trap the parasite or whatever it happens to be, and Calum can dispose of it.”

Emma raised her hand. “What about mine? I’m a shifter, how could I use that?”

“Some animals have heightened senses, right? You can possibly diagnose problems that aren’t easily seen. That... holy shit, guys, I just got the best idea. I’m gonna give y’all some homework.”

The class collectively groaned, but Persey held up her hands in defense. “Hold on, hear me out, this is gonna be awesome. I want you guys to think about how you could use your powers in a first aid situation. Come up with as many scenarios as you can, it can be as simple or as complex as you want. You don’t have to write an essay, because fuck that noise, just like, take a note in your phone or write it in your binders or something and bring it with you the next time you come in. Oh, and if you could, fill out the contact cards in the back of your binders for me and bring them up here on your way out, please.”

Ashton sunk lower in his chair and chewed on his thumb nail. This was what he was dreading; he had anxiety attacks relatively often, but he loathed having them in public. He already knew that he couldn’t use his power to help people and the mere thought of it made his head spin, and he couldn’t even imagine the damage he’d cause if he spent all night trying in vain to come up with something. He nervously tapped his foot on the ground and took a few shaky, deep breaths. Hiding it was worse, but he’d rather suffer in silence than let the whole class in on what was happening to him. His palms and forehead were beginning to sweat, his skin was hot, yet he felt cold, the pounding in his chest and the ringing in his ears were the only thing he could hear. Next to him, Viv and Luke sensed his panic and placed their hands on his shoulders to calm him and bring him back down, and after a few seconds, he was able focus on the warmth of his friends’ palms and he slowly began to relax and control his breathing. Jenna took his binder out from under his arm and filled out his contact card for him and handed it back once she felt he was relaxed enough to focus, and Ashton was so glad that his friends were there to help bring him back before it turned into a full-blown attack. He was even more glad that no one else in the room noticed what was going on.  

Everyone in the room lined up to turn their cards in. Ashton held his head low and handed his to Persey, who tapped his arm softly and leaned in to whisper.

“Hang out here for a sec, please.”

His heart raced and his palms grew sweaty again. A million thoughts rushed through his mind. Did he do something wrong? Should he have interacted more? Does she know his power is useless and is going to excuse him from the homework? He waved goodbye to his friends and waited nervously.  

Once all the students were gone and she was sure she could speak with him privately, she faced him and gave him a gentle smile.

“First off, you didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing is wrong, so don’t worry,” Persey began, turning around and bending behind the table to dig into her bag. “I just wanted to give you something.”

Ashton scratched the back of his head in confusion. “Give me something? Do I need like, extra credit work?”

She stood up shook her head with a smile. “No, nothing like that. Really, nothing is wrong. I just wanted to give you some of this.”

She held out her hands to show him what she had. In one of her palms she held an amber colored bottle with a rubber dropper, and in the other she had a smaller, clear bottle with the same kind of dropper. She set the items on the desk to work on transferring some of the liquid from the larger bottle to the smaller one.

“I always keep some of this in my bag with me. It’s just some lavender oil, it’s completely safe, I promise.”

“I... I don’t understand.”

“Listen, I know anxiety attacks when I see them. I saw your friends helping you. They did a good job, and kept quiet about it. But sometimes you can’t always have them around, so this should help. Lavender is known for being very soothing and that alone helps, but it’ll give you something to focus on as well to help bring that anxiety down. If you’re ever alone and feel like you’re about to have one of those attacks again, put some of that oil on your wrist or the back of your hand or something and focus on the way it smells until you come back down.”

Ashton’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. He was really hoping that no one had noticed, but if any stranger did, he was glad it was someone who could help.

“Thanks, I... thank you. I’ll definitely use this.”

“Come back to me if you need more, okay?”

He nodded and smiled shyly. “I will.”

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“Show me the rule that says I can’t have him with me.”

“There isn’t... this library is for students only!”

“He’s technically a student, he’s a literal copy of me, and I’m a student.”

“That doesn’t even make sense...”

Skyler looked up from her laptop and glanced toward the library door, where Michael and the librarian argued about whether or not Mickey was allowed inside. She sighed and set her things down next to her and stood, preparing to defend Mickey’s honor with her life. And Michael’s, of course.  

“He won’t cause a ruckus, I promise. He can’t be alone, and I just need to print out some forms. Come on, have a heart?”

The librarian groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose irritatedly. “Fine, fine, but hurry up. I can't be-”

Michael, with Mickey riding in his book bag, was already halfway to the computer area where Skyler was standing before the exasperated librarian could finish his sentence.

“Hey, guys. Is everything okay? I’ll throw hands if I gotta,” Skyler joked. Well, half joked. She would one hundred percent throw hands for her friends. She’d throw whatever body parts that she needed to.

“Oh yeah, it’s all good now.”

“Am Mickey!”

“He says hello.”

“Hello to you too, little dude,” Skyler chuckled, reaching out to hold one of Mickey’s tiny hands. “You’re growing some more hair! And you look so handsome in your new clothes!”

Both versions of Michael blushed and hummed in unison. “He knows it too. He likes to check himself out in the mirror while I’m getting ready in the morning.”

Mickey squealed and hid his face in Michael’s neck while Michael connected his thumb drive to a nearby computer. His face showed no signs of emotion, but Skyler could tell he was excited about something.

“What’s got you so riled up today?”

Michael sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth and his eyes remained unblinking and focused, his expression illuminated by the soft blue light coming from the screen.

“Oh, nothing in particular.”

She hummed disbelievingly and went back to work on her list of first aid scenarios. So far, she’d only come up with two. She could use her forcefield to protect the victim and herself while she tended to the wounds, and she can also turn herself and the injured invisible to safely remove them from a dangerous situation. She furrowed her brows and tried to come up with a third scenario when Mickey suddenly trilled loudly, causing her to jump and almost drop her laptop onto the floor.

“What the f... you good, little bit?”

“Mickey!”

“Yeah, we’re good. See you later, Sky!”  

Michael jumped up and grabbed his thumb drive, his printed documents, and his bag and took off running toward the door, much to the dismay of the librarian. Sky narrowed her eyes and stared at the spot Michael was sitting and took out her phone, sending a quick text to Michelle.

“somethings up with mikey. can you meet me at pablos?”