#this took three days of emailing back and forth to get sorted out

[specialagentlokitty]

Mr Evershed x Student!reader - what makes us who we are

Part three:

First Mr Evershed dealt with the teacher in the school, he arranged a meeting for that very safe afternoon once school finished.

“Come on Martin, some of us want to go home.” Mrs Carp sighed.

“No, I’ve had it up to here with you lot. We’re going to talk about what happened today regarding one of the students.”

All the teachers shared a look and he began to talk.

Berating them for judging their own students, for judging them on who they are or what they look like.

All the teachers just sat in silence, a few of them looking away with guilty looks on their faces.

“A teacher assaulted a student today. They left before the end of the day, but police have been informed and there will be an investigation again that teacher and this school.”

The teachers gasped.

“Are they okay?” Mrs Paracha asked.

“No because of the actions of you lot and that substitute teacher the student has sworn to never return to school. You’ve failed them, failed to support them, help them.”

He grabbed his jacket and looked at them all.

“I will be having a meeting with the trust about this incident.”

With that he left, having to speak to the police next he helped them with your contact details and address, and the following morning he had a meeting with the trust.

It was a long meeting, a lot of back and forth with them, but they finally agreed to roll out more training for the teachers.

Mr Evershed was given permission to do whatever it took to get you to return to the school, even if it meant him going to find out outside of school, and offering you online classes if that’s what you wanted.

So when his meeting ended he immediately went to his office to try and call you, but he got sent straight to voicemail.

He sighed, deciding to leave a voicemail and give you a day or two to see if you would get in contact.

You woke up to the new voicemail, so you decided to check what it was and stuck your phone on speaker as you sat up.

“Hi (Y/N) it’s Mr Evershed, please call us back as soon as you get this so we know you’re okay. Thank you.”

Scoffing a little, you hung up and shook your head, making your way down the stairs as you grabbed a drink and sat on the back doorstep.

Looking out at the dark clouds rolling in, you sighed to yourself and started pulling all the garden furniture into the small gap between your house and the fence and went back inside.

You turned all the lights on, closed the windows and curtains and settled to watch some TV instead.

The following day you received another phone call and an email which you ignored, and on the third day, with the weather being nice you decided to do some cleaning.

You opened all the windows, music flowing out from them as you walked around in some sorts and a short sleeved T-shirt.

There was a knock on your door and you sat up, heading to the window, you peaked through the blinds to see two officers standing there with Mr Evershed.

They knocked again.

Sighing, you grabbed a hoodie and pulled it on, and put your mask on before you opened the door.

“Can we have a chat?” An officer smiled.

“Names and badge numbers.”

They complied and you nodded, looking them up and down before stepping aside to let them in and took them through the living room and you sat down, covering your legs with a blanket.

“Your headteacher spoke to us about the incident, we’ve taken statements and we will be pressing charges as you’re a minor, but we’d like a statement from you if that’s okay?”

You shrugged a little, telling them briefly what had happened and they made note of it all.

“We can offer you resources to help, counselling, therapy?” One of them offered.

“Don’t bother, not interested.”

“Well, if you change your mind just give a call.”

One left his card on the table and Mr Evershed showed them out before coming back in and you narrowed your gaze at him.

“I’d like to talk too if that’s okay?”

“Well you’ve already invited yourself in so whatever I guess.”

Getting up, you headed to the back garden and sat on one of the steps leading to the grass, and he followed you, sitting next to you.

Stretching your legs, you placed your hands behind you and leant back a little.

“Why’d you file a report?”

“You were assaulted, it had ti be taken further.”

“Don’t really matter since I’m not going back.”

He sighed.

“I’ve spoken to all the teachers, and the trust. That’s not going to happen anymore (Y/N) I promise.”

You shook your head.

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can, because I mean it. It’s never going to happen again (Y/N) alright? I’ll make sure it’ll never happen again.”

You loved your hands, laying down as you stared up at the bright blue sky.

Mr Evershed said, turning so he could look down at you.

“Don’t throw everything away (Y/N), you’ve got your whole future ahead of you!”

“Do I? Do I really? I can’t work in any customer facing jobs because of my scars.”

“Scars?” He asked confused.

Yes, he’d seen the one on your face, but he thought that was the only one.

You sat up, and took your mask off, placing it on the grass, you took your hoodie off, tossing it with the mask and you held out one of your arms to him.

He noticed another two scars, just as wide and jagged as the one going across your face.

You then lowered your arm and pointed to both of your legs, and was a few scars on your legs as well, and he frowned a little.

“Not the only ones, got more.”

He looked at you, sad eyes connecting with yours for a second.

“(Y/N) what on earth happened?” He asked softly.

“Accident.”

You ran a hand up and down your arm, fingers brushing again the scars as you stared at the grass.

“(Y/N)?”

You held a blank expression on your face, you just stared. It’s like you were sat there but at the same time you weren’t.

You blinked and flicked your eyes to him before looking at your hoodie and mask.

“It was years ago, just before I went to secondary school. We were coming back from a holiday, my mum and I were playing a game and my dad was driving. It was late, like real late, pitch black, and stormy too.”

He nodded his head. Carefully listening as you spoke.

“My dad said there was something wrong with the car and pulled over on to the grass so he could take a look, and my mum got out to help him. It was a hill we were parked on top, and apparently that road was known for its drunk drivers and speeders.”

Mr Evershed felt his heart drop as he realised where this story was going.

“One minute everything was fine, the next thing I knew I was waking up in hospital after months of being in a coma. I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t talk. We’d been hit by some drunk teens, my mum and dad were killed on impact. I’d been trapped in the car when it hit the bottom of that hill, most of the injuries were blunt force trauma and glass.”

He watched as you gestured your legs, and a few small scars along your forearms.

He nodded his head and gestured to your upper arm and face.

“What happened there?”

“What stopped the car.”

You looked at him.

“Barbed wire.”

“Oh god…” he whispered.

You shrugged a little, resting your arms on your knees.

“Just life innit.”

He shook his head and wiped a few tears that had fallen.

He had never felt so heartbroken before, so upset over something that had happened.

You were the victim of a tragic accident, and people looked at you as if you were some criminal mastermind.

“People look at me and they see some deformed freak. They looked disgusted and scared when they see me, why do you think I don’t look at people?”

He reached out and carefully placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Look at me.”

You turned your head but you didn’t meet his gaze.

“Please?”

You finally met his eyes, and he smiled softly, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“You’re not deformed, you’re not a freak or a monster. You’re you. And that’s a great thing, that’s an amazing thing! You’re a great person, scars are what make us who we are you know.”

“What does mine make me…?” You mumbled.

He smiled a little more and took his hand away, clapping them together.

“A survivor.”

You looked at him, and you smiled a little.

It was a crooked smile because of the scar on your face, but it was still a smile. A real smile.

Mr Evershed didn’t look at you like everyone else did, he looked at you with compassion and kindness, looking past the obvious marks on your skin to see who you really were.

He could see you for the person that you were.

“Everything like this is what makes us who we are, and I’m so sorry for what happened. But I know somewhere deep down inside that stubborn exterior there is a wonderful young person who has so much potential.”

“You think?”

He nodded his head.

“I know it. Please come back, finish your education and show the world you’re more than your scars and you’re more than the bad things that have happened.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He asked.

“Okay.” You nodded.

He beamed brightly and told you to come in the following morning.

So, as much as you didn’t want to, you did, and you stood in reception waiting for him, a small smile on your face as you saw him wave you over.

Padding over, he led you over to the desk in reception and started to put papers on the desk.

“You just need to fill these in, just some stuff you missed and a form to say I can attend the court case with you next month if you want.”

“I’d like that. Thank you sir.”

He handed you a pen so you could sign it there and then, and he got you to waited so he could walk you to your first lesson of the day.

You started coming into school every day, putting all your effort into your work.

It was an improvement that took a while for anyone else to see, you were getting better grades, your attendance had gone up and you started to attend school events as well.

Today you walked in, and you stopped when you saw Mr Evershed and you gave him a small wave and he blinked in surprise.

“You’re not wearing your mask.” He said.

“I’m more than my scars. I don’t think I should hide them anymore.”

He smiled and nodded his head in understanding.

“You are, I’m proud of you.”

You smiled and carried on walking to school, and no one looked twice at you, a few students stared but they offered you a smile as you walked to your first class.

Mr Evershed was right.

You’re more than your scars. More than the things that had happened, and you just needed a little help to navigate around the world and figure out what your path was in life.

But you had so much ahead of you

[lifewithoutmeds]

November 27, 2023

Wow, it's kind of been a long time since I wrote.

I'm not really sure what's going on, if anything. i "work," but mostly i stay in bed for a long time and stare at my phone. on days i don't drink coffee, i just lounge around, do minimal time-sensitive work, answer a few emails, but mostly just lie down and play games on my phone, scan the news headlines, catch up on celebrity gossip, read stories on divorces and break-ups, and fall asleep to true crime youtube. on weekends i sleep some 12-14 hours when I have nothing planned.

this past weekend was thanksgiving. lana didn't want to host and most of her other family were doing other things, so we decided that i'd host and lana brought over a 4-person thanksgiving meal set from Whole Foods, i orderded and picked up a pie from Lark Bakery, as well as made green bean casserole, and picked up a frozen mudd pie and key lime pie from ralphs.

i cleaned a bit, they came over, we ate, they played around with Guitar Hero, some darts, and various other make-believe games. i was exhausted and then they left.

the next day i took over a plate to my mom for lunch. not sure what else i did, but i did go get a thai massage at 6pm.

on saturday i had brunch with kelly, and we simultaneously got the official news that xio had passed, via a text from. matt as well as a link to her obituary. i had heard it might be true the wednesday prior and cried then, but seeing it from matt broke me differently, and kelly and i cried and hugged each other (shoulder hug).

afterward i walked over to jingmai's where we caught up and had tea, and then we walked over to grace's where we drank a loooot and caught up some more. jingmai eventually left and grace and steven had some korean chicken delivered which i gratefully ate before going home.

then on sunday i just slept for 12-14 hours. just sleeping, waking to eat and go to the bathroom, and back again, in a weird, listless, pointless kind of way. i was annoyed with myself for not being productive, for not attending to the dishes, for not taking a healthy walk, for not eating healthily, and i got a notification that despite my goal of decreasing my screen time from 9.5 to 9 hours, i had actually increased it to 10.5 hours. i should probably try not to fall asleep to it. it might knock off an hour or two hourly.

today i woke up sad and with the feels. i quickly checked my fitbit, and my period is 1 week away. i'm hoping i can chalk it up to that. i felt very sad, very heavy, and just overall sort of overwhelmed with helplessness. i thought a little about jadai, and a lot about xio. i cried more today. i texted danielle and ray and we cried some more. i texted elaine too but didn't cry so much. she seemed strangely unmoved. i'm not sure if there was some weird history there or what.

but today felt sort of .... just emptier than usual, stupider than usual.

i was "productive." i pulled off a sheet to toss out that was getting pretty ratty and the middle was kind of balling up with cotton bits, and would feel rough against my skin. i did three loads of laundry. i did three loads of dishes. i watered plants, checked the mail, texted some people, purchased a tv stand for my mom online. i ate up some things in the fridge. i did more work than i had in some days. and i mean, it was fine i guess? but like, i thought of matt a lot. i thought of how he had worked his way up to be a supervisor, to buy a house, and now he was going home to nothing. to a dog that didn't know where her mom was. like what was the work for? what was it all going toward? he had love, he had adventure, companionship, a partner, and now he doesn't. it was a beautiful love story that we all got to witness, and now he ... he is a widower. how does that make sense? what is it all good for? his promotion, his button down collared shirts.

as i went about, back and forth, getting my laundry to and from the washer and dryer, taking out trash and recycling, it just all felt very stupid. i thought again and again, what is this all for? is it supposed to be fun? we spend so much time just "maintaining," with our routines and our daily necessary habits and eating and sleeping and hygiene and then we need our daily doses of socializing and resting, just sims trying to keep our little statuses in the green.

and i know that somehow it's supposed to work toward something. you work a 9-5 so that you have your evenings and weekends and the occasional 1-2 week vacation. you go to concerts, and celebrations for momentous occasions for friends and family. you buy your gift on amazon and they get their food from costco and porto's, and just on and on while people around us die and suffer and then we eventually suffer and die as well.

there seems to be no meaning, no rhyme or reason to it.

sometimes i think that maybe my life would have more meaning if i could reduce the suffering of others. whether it be via offering food, water, shelter, just some sort of momentary reprieve from life's hardships, but .... say everyone, the whole world's suffering eased some. we all went up two degrees, or we all had the same amount of "suffering" that i would have. then would life be pointless all over again? what if we achieved some sort of radical decrease in overall suffering. then what?

i feel like xio represented some of the best of us. even when she saw the end coming, she was a loving wife, daughter, friend, sister. she took care of and loved her dog. she kept up her sense of wit and humor. she went to concerts, traveled, and did as much as she could until she couldn't. i think she really loved life and she wanted to live so much, that she actually outlived her prognosis/estimate by 3 years. her will to live overpowered her physical illness beyond what people could really fathom.

i don't know what it's all for. i know with jadai, i had comfort. i had security, stability, i felt seen and known and loved. i knew i had a partner to listen to me, to listen to, someone cared about me, and knew the ins and outs of my day, and would follow up with me. only other assessor folk know what's going on with xio. if i tell other friends, they sort of tsk tsk and say they're sorry, but they don't know what she was like, who she was, why this was such a loss. and there are so many things like that. where nobody knows what i'm going through, with how i feel, with the minutiae of my day and how i feel, how i'm affected.

i used to go to amir a lot, but he's fallen off. gyoon has fallen off, and i know she's busy with work, and with family, and trips, and her new best friend julie, and her creative endeavors. amir has somehow gotten over his heartbreak and is back helping out with his family, his church, visiting his friends. we used to text/call each other everyday, but he hasn't called for days now, even when i texted him to do so a few days ago. danielle has consistently been there, texting at least every other day if i don't text the other days. but even she's busy, going to concerts, watching after her dog, hanging out with heidi.

*update Amir just called and i picked up, sobbing. then halfway through our call i heard a loud banging on the door and startled, opened the door. and there he was. amir. i cried afresh.

he ate an unripe persimmon, drank a la croix, and ate some rice, kimchi, and kim, and then headed out to go to mike's for the night. he's such a good friend. i lowkey feel bad that i kindof dismissed him, but as soon as he heard my voice, he diverted, and came right over. what a guy.

i know a lot of this is xio. some of it is PMS. some of it is feeling like i don't have a lot of friends right now. lt is pretty focused on her relationship and will go hours without texting or responding, or just responding in part, and never acknowledging everything else. the venice group has their stuff going on. i feel like antoinette never initiates or keeps up a conversation and just gives me one-word responses. christina d never asks how i am but when i ask, she just bitches forever and ever. everyone's too busy with everything, and i'm feeling disconnected and left out.

hopefully this too shall pass. if the good passes, i'm hoping so will the bad.

[1310miles]

Forty one

My dear mother passed away on December 22nd. It’s no exaggeration to say that my heart was broken that day and that I’m still probably in a state of shock. Proceeding with normal life while you are grieving is an unsettling experience. I have felt off balance, as though I am functioning on two different plains. All this being said, I wasn’t in the mind set to run my next marathon on January 15th.

I arranged this trip back in September with my friend Lisa. Lisa is pursuing the goal of running a half marathon in all 50 states, and since we are both single travelers, she reached out to coordinate at least one trip together in 2023. It was far outside my experience to travel with another runner, but in the spirit of pushing my comfort zone, I jumped in. We were headed for a three day trip to Baton Rouge, Louisiana!

Right off the marathon I ran in Maine, I continued my training. My mom’s medical issues became apparent in early December, and despite traveling back and forth to Indiana often that month, I was able to keep up with my long runs and check my workouts off. Everything took a terrible turn the week of Christmas, however, and even though it would have helped my mental state, I wasn’t able to run for several days over a two week stretch.

Coming into January, not only did I not feel enthusiastic about traveling and running a marathon, I was nervous that my training hadn’t been complete. If it wasn’t for Lisa, I would have likely bailed on the marathon and the trip. But I had committed to her, and in my heart I knew it would be good for me to go, so I packed my shoes and lowered my expectations.

Lisa was so easy to travel with, and we had a great time getting to Louisiana. I even got some speed work in while sprinting to our connecting flight in Houston. We arrived late Friday, and on Saturday morning we got out for a nice run along the Mississippi River. It was incredible to see the sun shine after many dark days in the Midwest.

At the expo, we discovered that Lisa Way was not registered for the half marathon! She created quite a queue behind her while she sorted through what must have gone wrong. Through sleuthing, the expo volunteers finally discovered that when she registered, she auto filled her last name as her email address. We had a great laugh as we imagined her results being posted as “Lisa lisaway77@gmail.com.”

Downtown Baton Rouge was sleepy and there were no interesting tourist attractions within walking distance, so the rest of our Saturday found us laying in our hotel room, reading and napping. Exactly what we both needed! We talked about our plans for the race, and based on the route map, we saw that we could run together for 11 miles. That’s where the half marathon would break off from the marathon.

Lisa was planning to take the race very easy. She is strong and fast, but she hadn’t trained hard for this race and wasn’t doing much speed work. She thought she’d run about 9:15 miles. I thought about starting and staying with her. But as I laid there, I couldn’t think of a compelling reason as to why I couldn’t run faster. True, my focus was shaken, and my training wasn’t 100% complete, but I had been running strong. Additionally, I find that if I don’t run “my” speed, my body feels uncomfortable and eventually hurts. If I started with Lisa at the speed she planned to go, I might find the race more challenging than if I pushed my pace and ran quicker. I decided my plan would be to start at 8:25 miles and try to keep up that pace.

Sunday morning we walked to the starting line at the state capital building. The sun was just coming up and Lisa and I were in our matching visors. We took off and quickly headed out of downtown Baton Rouge toward the garden district and LSU. For as non-descript as the downtown area was, the residential areas were amazing. I have never run through such unique, diverse residential architecture in any other race. I was so entertained by looking at all the different houses and admiring them. Also, it was refreshing to see leaves on trees and green plants growing.

We headed into the LSU campus, which was enormous. It looked like we were going to go inside Tiger Stadium, but we only ran around the perimeter. I was thinking about how wild and busy games days must be there. The campus was so spread out you would definitely need a car if you went to school there. It was miles from one end to the other.

As we came out of campus and back into a neighborhood, we circled a few lakes that just added to the beautiful ambiance. We rounded one corner and I was preoccupied with reading a spectators sign when I tripped on the ground at the same moment as the man next to me did the same thing! I recovered easily, but he almost fell completely onto his face. It was strange, there must have been a rise in the pavement right there, and it caught us both dragging our feet. Honestly, the roads that we ran in Baton Rouge were in terrible condition. Potholes everywhere. Worse than Chicago! The “falling guy” and I stayed about the same pace the entire race. I would catch up with him or he would catch up with me, but in general we were pretty much matched and laughed about him almost wiping out more than once.

I was cruising along, running around 8:25 miles consistently. My body felt good and the weather and course were basically perfect. The temperature lingered in the low 50s and the sun was out but not too bright. There were no notable hills, but the course wasn’t flat. There were slight ups and downs that kept my muscles engaged. Flat courses just feel tiring because you are using the same muscles the entire time. It was nice to not have to plan for some extreme hill late in the race, but it can be nice to have a great downhill to fly down. None in this race.

Running at such a consistent pace had me lingering around the 3:40 pace group. I never stuck with the group tightly, but they kept passing me and I kept passing them. The group was led by one male runner for the first half, and then he was joined by his friend for the second half. The new assistant leader seemed to simply provide relief from holding the “3:40” sign and to add some energy. They were both nice guys and seemed to know everyone along the course.

Around mile 20, the leader shouted “is anyone here doing their first marathon?” and some runners from the group said they were. Then he shouted “is anyone here doing the 50 states challenge?” to which I said I was. They were all boisterous when I said it would be my 41st state. A woman next to me said “have you heard of the sub 4 club? Because you are running a great pace!” and of course I told her about the people I met in New Hampshire, and that I’d have to run about 30 of my marathons over again to qualify!

I had engaged with this same woman a little earlier in the race. She was running in front of me, and I was looking at the back of her t-shirt. It had a picture of a chicken head and underneath, it said “teaching chickens how to read.” I became lost in thought…teaching chickens how to read!?!? How is this possible. What a very, very strange thing to put on a t-shirt. Looking up again, I realized that my exhausted running brain had completely interpreted it wrong. The shirt said “teaching chickens how to run.” Ok, yes, that’s still very strange. So I told her I thought she was teaching chickens how to read and how silly that was. She laughed, and then told me that she has a chicken sanctuary and saves chickens from slaughter and lets them live out their lives on her farm. I told her that perhaps she could try to teach them how to read in her free time.

The miles continued to add up, and my pace was holding strong. Spectators were really great during this race. Most of the course was through residential areas, so lots of neighbors had their lawns set up to cheer for us. Pretty much everyone was drinking heavily. One of the best lawns advertised a “Corona shot and a Kleenex” and they featured small cups of Corona beer. They were all having a good time, as I think people in Baton Rouge do almost every chance they get.

The finish line was back in downtown Baton Rouge, so as I came out of the final neighborhood, I could see the capital building and knew I just needed to make it there. My energy stayed high and when we were at 1.25 miles left to go, a runner said “only five laps around the track.” I liked that because that’s how I think a lot. I was glad to hear that other people do the same thing. About a quarter mile from the finish I saw Lisa, who had run the half marathon, gone back to shower, and had a coffee in hand. She cheered me on as I came through the finish line. I commiserated with the 3:40 group, the falling guy and the chicken lady, all of us congratulating each other. 

Another 2nd place win in my age group resulted in another awesome medal! It could have been a big celebration, because all of the finishers were given SIX drink tickets to enjoy at the after race party. But Lisa and I needed to head for the airport and return home. We did celebrate with chicken and waffles though. I hope that chicken that I ate didn’t know how to read.

[buffcontrol]

A TRIP TO JAPAN Part One (F2M Bodyswap)

Kimberly had been looking forward to her homestay in Japan for months. Having finished her first year of Japanese studies, she was now fourteen years old and qualified for a special Study Swap Trip with a Japanese schoolgirl the same age as her for the summer. All the foreign language students at her high school got the chance for the Study Swap trip when they were old enough – her older sister had studied in Mexico – and Kimberly had been excited for months. Of course, she had been a little nervous about the body swap. The idea that in just a few days time she would be living in someone else’s body was really embarrassing, but she felt comforted knowing it would be a girl not too different from her. The Swap Trip Staff carefully selected matching heights, similar weights and, of course, genders for each pair as to make the transition as easy as impossible. She’d seen some pictures of her partner and sent emails back and forth with her – her partner, Saya, was really cute. Kimberly was even getting a little excited thinking about how fun it would be to spend time living Saya’s life.  

Even though her Japanese was beginner and she had problems with pronunciation and remembering all sorts of words, on the day she left for her Study Swap Trip, Kimberly felt confident and assured. She was convinced that by the time she was back from her trip, she’d be great at Japanese and know more than she could ever dream about an unfamiliar culture. It was sad and a little strange saying goodbye to her parents and big sister, but she felt okay knowing that at the very least, her body would still be there while she was away. 

At the Study Swap Trip offices, Kimberly was told about the procedure by a team of Swap Trip staff members. They explained that through advanced technology, her brain would be wired up to a Swap Machine and through a quick and painless process, her mind would be transferred to that of Saya’s in Japan. “It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes,” one of the staff members told her. “And then you’ll be all set for your homestay in Japan.”

Saya’s family would be waiting to pick her up at the Swap Trip offices in Japan and then she’d be off to living three months of her life as a schoolgirl in another country. Kimberly could hardly believe it was happening at last. She loaded into the transfer pod while a team of the staff members made adjustments on their computer. Taping some of the wires to her forehead, one of the staff members asked if she was ready.

“I’m ready,” she said. Just then, she felt a little bit of nerves. She felt for just a moment that maybe something was about to go wrong. But she told herself she was worried over nothing – the staff members had done this thousands of times before. Everything would be fine. 

“Alright then,” said the staff member, smiling. “Let’s get started.”

He walked back to the computer and made some final directions to the rest of the staff. Then the lights lowered and the sound of an enormous electric motor began. Kimberly closed her eyes, repeating to herself that it was going to be okay. 

She suddenly noticed something strange happening outside of the pod. The staff member looked panicked, and suddenly he cried, “Wait! Stop the machine, you put the wrong coordinates–”

But it was too late. A strange, electric surge ran through her and it felt as if her whole being was being sucked out of her body and shot elsewhere. When she opened her eyes again, she was somewhere else. 

–

Stepping out of the pod, she felt incredibly dizzy. “Where am I?” she asked. It took a moment for her brain to catch up with what had just happened, like she was slowly filling up with her old self. Something felt wrong – suddenly, she jolted up straight. Why was her voice so low? 

“Huh?” She asked – immediately covering her mouth in horror. Why was Saya’s voice so low and masculine? And then she felt the strength and size of the fingers gripping her face. Kimberly stretched her new arms in front of her and examined them – these were not the arms of a teenage girl. They were rough, long and laced with muscle. And on her forearms was a light dusting of stiff, black arm hair. 

She cried out, “What’s going on!” But hearing the sound of her deep voice made her feel only more frightened. “Wait, what’s happening to me!” Her masculine voice was cracking with her girlish, feminine fear. She was beginning to panic as she suddenly looked down and found that this was really no woman’s body at all. She was standing in 

She thought she was about to faint. This couldn’t be real, it had to be a bad dream. Suddenly, Swap Trip staff members were rushing to her side, trying to hold her up, repeating, “It’s okay, it’s fine. Relax, you’re okay.”

But she was not okay. She pushed them to side with one arm, horrified to find out how strong she was. It took just one push and the weak staff members stumbled back. There was a mirror in the corner, and before she knew it, she was desperately trying to race over to see what had happened to her.

But she wasn’t used to being in a body so much bigger and taller than her own. Her feet were so much more huge than her own had been that she felt as if she was trying to run in a pair of shoes several sizes too big. She tripped to the floor, crying out like the little girl that was trapped inside this man’s body. And when she looked up, she finally saw the shape of her face. 

She was a man. The thought refused to make sense to her, but she gripped her face, pushing around the new flesh and examining each detail in horrified shock. Her skin was a completely different shade, darker and warmer, she couldn’t believe this was her skin when she had been pale and white her whole life. Her eyes were so different, she noticed, the color was banished for a deep brown, and her face was so much flatter. The eyebrows were thicker than she could have ever imagined, and at first, she felt a small kick of disgust. It wasn’t just a Japanese face, she thought, it was a Japanese’s man’s face! And worst of all there was a lightly scratchy and prickly sensation around her mouth, the faint blue shadow of where facial hair had been shaved from. 

Rubbing it back and forth, choking back girlish tears, she noticed that even the shape of her fingernails were different from that of her American body’s. The fingernails were flat, long and strong, and the masculine fingers were laced with muscle and firmness. She even noticed a few long black hairs around her knuckles and wrists as her powerful hands flexed across her face. “No, no!” she cried. “This isn’t happening!” 

The Staff looked on in shock. This young girl was stuck in a 24 year old man’s body, a whole ten years older than her and having already gone through puberty. But to them, it looked like a normal Japanese man had lost his mind as he cried and rubbed his face before the mirror. 

Of course, this wasn’t just a normal Japanese man’s body. As Kimberly touched the surprisingly stiff and straight black hair on her head, shocked by its hardness, she noticed that the robe the body had been dressed in had come slightly undone, revealing a view into the strength of her upper body. She was extremely fit, her muscles were protruding in a way that felt almost vulgar to her – it looked like what girls imagined the hottest man possible might be. It was horrifying enough to see that her previously nicely shaped, small breasts had been replaced by two powerful plates of muscle, but what she was truly shocked by was just how strong and powerful she felt, even slumped over the floor. This was no normal man’s body. 

She was just beginning to notice that the very insides of her body felt entirely different, too. It was almost impossible to handle and she felt as if she might pass out at any moment – but her she felt as if her guts were moving differently inside of her, producing more gas, behaving strangely, and worst of all, she felt very intensely aware of something between her legs. Her new male body seemed to be calling all the attention to the organ hanging off her crotch, like the entire point of her being was focussed on what she knew must be her penis. 

She caught only just a sight of it when she finally fainted.

–

When Kimberly woke up, the staff explained to her what had happened. The coordinates of her pair had been miswritten and by a freak accident, her and her partner Saya had both been swapped into another pair of nearby users. As it turns out, two Olympians were also scheduled for a switch at the same time, and due to a mistake, they had been confused. 

“So there’s a man in my body right now!?” she screamed. It didn’t matter at all that she was now residing inside a mature, developed man – she still spoke like the immature teenage girl she was. 

She demanded they change her back and solve the problem, but as the staff explained, it was extremely dangerous to put the mind through more than one swap every few months at risk of hurting the brain. She would have to wait it out. 

At the thought of this, she began to cry. “I want my mom and dad,” she cried. “I want to go home! Send me home!” Her big body was rocking back and forth, weeping, begging for her parents. 

They gave her a special ID card that had the original name of her body’s printed on it in kanji – Arai Atsushi. It had a picture of the man’s smiling face and all the details of his body, how much he weighed, his height and blood type, all in Japanese. And on the back of the card was a sticker featuring a picture of her original face and name in english. She wanted to cry – whenever she showed anyone this card, they would think she was this man and not really her. Everyone would see her as a man, she thought, it’s not fair!

They told her it was time to meet her host family. Scold barely manage to pull herself together, so horrified by what had happened to her. And now she had to interact with people who would look at her like she was a man!

There was a 17 year old girl, Maya, and a mother and father in the family. Despite all her studies, Kimberly had never wanted to speak Japanese in her whole life, looking at the new family as they awkwardly stared at her. 

She tried her best, choking back tears, “Ha- Ha— hajime…mashite,” she said. Despite her native, male Japanese body, the words came out just like a foreigner girl struggling to speak the language. The body of the strong male olympic swimmer said, “Kimberly…desu…” She could tell her host sister was trying not to laugh as she watched what she perceived to be a fully grown Japanese man introduce himself in such broken, girly Japanese. She did cry then, just a little. Some of the passerbys on the street noticed what they thought to be a man crying and looked awkwardly away as her girly sobs escaped her lips. It was so humiliating that Kimberly couldn’t dare to speak for the entire car ride to her new home. 

And it only became more humiliating. She felt an unfamiliar sensation in the base of her gut. Although she was trying everything in her power not to think about her new penis (just the word passing through her brain made her blush red with embarrassment), she was beginning to notice a distinct and unfamiliar feeling deep inside her. “What’s happening to me,” she thought. She wondered if she was sick, or if something had gone wrong. Everything was tightening and it suddenly became as if a great pressure was wrapped around her body. 

It was becoming unbearable when she realized – this is what it felt like when a man had to pee. She couldn’t believe it felt so different, she had no idea what to do. She realized if she didn’t say anything, something terrible would happen. 

Desperately and on the verge of tears, she stuttered, “Sumima… Excuse me… sumimasen, ummm,” she had to pee so badly she was shaking in her seat. Is this what it really feels like when men have to go to the bathroom? She was trying to remember the words she wanted to say when she realized it was too late, and a feeling of relief came over her as an extremely warm gush of piss began to wet her shorts. 

Kimberly hadn’t pissed herself in her entire teenage life. Not since she was a child, but now powerless in how to control her body, she couldn’t help it. She was surprised, sitting in the carseat, to realize just how good it felt to let it all – the sensation totally different from that of how it was when she was a girl. Her face had broken into a satisfied, relieved grin as she contemplated how long it was taking her to empty it all out. She was so relieved after waiting, uncertain for so long, that she hadn’t even been able to remember where she was. 

And then she opened her eyes and realized what had happened. Her shorts, the strong thighs bursting out from them and the entire seat were covered in urine. It was in such a dark shape and so wet that it revealed the entire shape of her new penis through the fabric of her clothes. “No…” she muttered in English. “No… no no…”  Her host family was staring at her in shock – looking at what they imagined as a grown man now soaked with pee like a little girl. The smell was pungent and strong – even in her terror, Kimberly noticed as well – and nobody could say a word. It was too much. She was so embarrassed she couldn’t cry, or speak, she simply covered her face with her huge hands and tried to make herself as small as possible. 

For her first few days, she could do nothing but stay in bed and cry. She had turned the mirror around, trying to forget her new body and she refused to leave her room to faced with her host family – only leaving when she was certain no one would bother her to hurry to the bathroom so she could awkwardly try and piss. She sat on the toilet – just like she had when she was a girl – and quietly cried when she struggled to aim her new penis correctly into the toilet. More than once, she missed as she sat and accidentally sprayed urine onto the floor, crying even more as she had to clean it up with toilet paper. 

But even lying in bed, trying to do absolutely nothing at all as if she could forget what body she was trapped in that way, Kimberly was constantly reminded that she was now living inside of a man. There were so many foreign details about her bodily experience that so much as just shifting in bed reminded her of every new, unfamiliar feature. And it all disgusted her. She sometimes felt the bristle of her stiff armpit hair, so different from what she had ever seen on white people before. With a morbid curiosity, she touched and stroked it, then recoiled away in disgust with herself. She did the same with the blue shadow of facial hair that could feel, subconsciously rubbing it out of shock before realizing what she was doing and leaping away, trying to stop herself. A few times, she had even caught herself scratching her balls… what she wanted to forget about most, what she wanted to remember least. 

The thing she really noticed was how hungry she was. Never before had she felt an appetite like this before – it was nearly unfathomable. Her female body never demanded such absurd amounts food, but this man’s physiognomy seemed to only think about eating more and more. When her homestay mother left out rice, miso soup and whatever else was for dinner outside Kimberly’s door, she would eat through the whole plate like an animal, shoving the rice with her hands and drinking the entire bowl of soup in one slurp. And she would still be hungry. This too made her upset, because she was too embarrassed to ask in Japanese for more food and even more embarrassed that this man’s body was so desperate to eat. When she let out a powerful burp after slamming through her food, she was so humiliated she could hardly imagine ever leaving the room she had locked herself in. 

One of the worst sensations of her body was the smell. Since she refused to be naked or take a shower, too embarrassed by her new body, she had gathered an intense body odor. The scent of her body was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. The sweat gathered between her ballsack and her muscular thighs, between her hairy armpits and biceps, between both of her ass cheeks produced a smell that was utterly confusing to her. When she first noticed it, she was disgusted. How could a human being smell like this, she thought. It was different from the smell of men back in America, different from women, she had never smelled a Japanese body before let alone that of a man's.

She would pinch her nose and dread, knowing that eventually she would have to take a shower and look at her whole naked body, the horrible thing between her legs. It didn't even occur to her that the masculine scent was so strong that outside of the room her host family had given her, everyone could notice the smell seeping out from underneath the door. 

And after long enough of lying in the bed, burying her face in the sheets, she began without thinking, to stick her manly fingers into her pits and bring the scent to her nose. She hadn't meant to, but she was somehow intrigued by the foreign scent. More and more, she started rubbing the sweaty parts of her body -- not as sweaty as an american body she thought, but still sweaty nonetheless -- and smelling it. 

She realized she liked the scent of her own body. It was so virile and masculine, it was so strong and full bodied. The thought disgusted her. What's wrong with me, she thought. This is all wrong! But even as she tried to stop, she realized a few moments later that she was rubbing her fingers around her dick and sniffing the smell over and over again.

And then she realized something truly terrible. Smelling herself over and over again had made her feel funny. It was an impossible to describe feeling, and she was both fascinated and disgusted by it. It was like a big swelling, like a big intense ball forming inside of her. And it was forming inside of her dick. 

After gathering enough courage, she looked down and saw that her penis was hard. It was the first time she had looked at it, and she was surprised to realize she was not afraid. She was interested. Her dick was long and strong and curved in a strange way... she had seen pictures of penises before but never a real one. She thought that she should be disgusted, but she wasn't. It felt good to look at it, hard and standing up, and the more she looked at it, the harder and stronger it stood up. Yeah, she thought, it feels so... good to look at this. It feels good to... have this? she thought.

No! She thought. This isn't right, she told herself, I'm not a man. I don't want to have a penis! She covered herself back up with the sheets and tried to forget, but she couldn't stop thinking about her cock. The male hormones coursing through her made it so even as she fought desperately not to, all she could think about was her big dick and how good it felt when it was hard and standing up. She didn't want to look at it, but she couldn't stop herself from rubbing her cock against the bed. She was bucking and grinding against the bed sheets, realizing it felt too good. The hormones flooding her brain stopped her from questioning it -- yes, she thought, this feels so good! I want to feel like this all the time! -- and as she rubbed her dick into the bed, practically fucking it, she felt the feeling get even more intense. She had no control over her body, she was mindlessly giving into the primal male urges her female body was possessed by, until she suddenly exploded into the bedsheets.

She was so out of breath, so shocked by the sensation, that she had hardly realized what had happened until she woke up the next morning and found a mysterious, white sticky substance caked to her pelvis and the bed sheets. The whole room smelled funny and salty (of course, everyone else in the house had noticed) and she was struck with guilt and disgust. She cried, looking at the mess, and used the old shirt her host father had given her, to clean it up. But the scent wouldn't go away.

It was later that night as she cried, hoping the feeling she had was experienced would never come back, that she realized this salty, manly smell was just as interesting as the sweaty smell of her body. Coyly, she left the bed, went to the corner of the room and picked up the shirt covered in semen. She rose it to her nose and sniffed -- immediately, she felt the beginning of that strange feeling she had felt before.

And that's when she caught her reflection in the mirror. He had been so afraid to look at herself, but now, feeling the excitement of the cum filling her nostrils and the strange sensation of the male body, she realized that she was... hot. Of course she had noticed the bulbous muscles spread across her form, but now she couldn't stop herself from looking closely. She took off her shirt and flexed her muscles, gazing into the reflection.

I can't believe this is really me.... she thought. She leaned in closer and flexed harder, spreading her biceps and rubbing her pecs. She suddenly understood the body she was trapped in was giving her the same horny feeling she had felt the night before.

It was so exciting and so intense to see this male body under her control that she couldn't stop herself this time, she ripped her shorts off and immediately began touching herself in the mirror. Her hormones and sex drive -- that of a virile young man -- were totally in control of the fourteen year old girl. Every ripple in her muscled body, the stinking scent of cum and sweat, the handsome and chiseled face of a real athlete, all of it only made the strange new sex organ belonging to her more firm and desperate to cum. Without thinking, she knew what to do: she grabbed the flesh of her meaty dick and rubbed it as fast as she could. It didn't take long as she watched the meat on her chest jiggle up and down and as her mind cleared of all feminine restraint: she came all over the mirror looking at herself, at this man's body. 

Looking at the mirror stained in cum, Kimberly realized something truly disturbing was happening to her. She was afraid and disturbed and repulsed by what she had done, but somewhere deep inside of her, she knew this was going to happen again and again...

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

First date: Seokjin’s POV

kim seokjin x reader warnings; none! words; 2,196 words

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

Seokjin felt like a drink. It was nine o’clock in the morning, so absolutely out of the question, but it didn’t stop him from craving it. Whiskey. Definitely whiskey. Nana’s PA had just been to pick up Arin for the weekend – Thank God. Finally she would be able to spend time with her mom after a month, which he was over the moon about, and selfishly, that meant his date with you could go ahead. Even if he was so nervous he could throw up. 

Work had been a great distraction for the past two days but once he’d woken up this morning the realisation had dawned on him. He was going on a date tonight. His first in a decade. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually gone through with it and asked you to dinner. He’d faced his fears, possibly made a fool of himself and shared too much about his personal life in the process, but you hadn’t seemed to mind at all. You were so easy to talk to, it was refreshing. He’d felt brave for the first time in months – years.   But it still didn’t stop him from being on pins as soon as he’d opened his eyes this morning. 

He’d showered early, just after Arin had woken up and then he’d helped her get ready for the day too, allowing her to eat her breakfast in front of the television as he tried to swallow down his bowl of porridge too. It tasted like cardboard – but then again, it might have been his cooking. Misook usually made the food around her, when he wasn’t dining out or ordering take out of course. 

Arin had noticed his strange mood straight away. Obviously. 

“Daddy, what’s wrong with you this morning?” She’d asked, looking over at him warily before hesitating. “I am spending the weekend with mom, right?”

“Of course you are, sweetie” he’d rushed, shaking away the  surge of anger he’d felt. It pained him to know she was always expecting the worst lately. “Your mom just text me to say Jia is on her way.” 

She’d smiled then, her face lighting up and he couldn’t help but match it, his nerves disappearing for a while. That was until he was left all alone, the house now empty and silent. He eyed the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter (where he’d left it after his small nightcap last night) and shook his head. He should drop you a text, just to check in and see if you were still on for tonight. He needed to find out what time to pick you up anyway. He probably should have messaged you the day before, he panicked suddenly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled his phone from his sweatpants pocket. Oh well, there was no time for regrets, that’s what his father always said. 

It took him at least ten minutes to figure out what to say. His first draft sounded too cheerful, too false, he was trying way too hard and had added an examination point. His second was too formal, fifteen years of sending business emails back and forth obvious. He settled on something in the middle – he hoped.  

Unknown (9:32am)  Hi Y/N,  It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up.  Regards, Seokjin 

Only, reading it back after he hit send he began to second guess himself. Of course you knew who he was, his confidence might be lacking a little right now but he knew he wasn’t totally forgettable. What an idiot. Not that he could do much, there was no turning back. He’d committed. 

He busied himself with a bit of Saturday morning cleaning while he waited for your reply, and by that he meant straightening up the pillows he and Arin had been sitting against earlier. When he returned to the kitchen, your message was waiting for him. 

You (9:43am)  Of course, send the details. I trust your taste! 

See, exclamation points suited you. It was cute. He could just imagine you saying it in person, your dazzling smile, maybe that little giggle you’d made a few times on Wednesday. He felt something warm in his chest as he got lost in his thoughts, nerves easing once again. You were excited for tonight, he told himself.   Maybe you were even just as nervous as him possibly… 

He spent yet another few minutes composing his reply. A lot more casual this time, signing off with just his name. He didn’t always text like this, Namjoon could vouch for him, but he didn’t think you were both quite there yet. He wanted to show his best self after all. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to make you like him as much as he liked you. 

Seokjin (9:50am)  The sudden pressure… The restaurant’s name is KIM. I hope you like it. Is 7 alright to pick you up? I made reservations for 7:30.  Seokjin 

In truth, this restaurant was one he co-owned with his brother. Seokchul was the executive chef and they were both very proud of how successful their business venture had become. He knew taking you to such a place might seem like a cop-out – or worse, a brag – but that wasn’t the case at all. He wanted to treat you in a place that meant a lot to him. He could have chosen multiple restaurants, he was a regular at quite a few and could easily get a great table, but see, that did seem like he was showing off and he did not want to give you that impression at all. It was the complete opposite of his personality. KIM was a good choice, he was sure of it, and it helped that his brother didn’t work weekends, so there was no risk of bumping into him. Although, he had let him know about the date (and had begged him not to spill to their mother). 

You (9:52am)  I will. 7 sounds perfect. I’ll send through my address. See you later! 

You followed up with a Google Maps link to your home, and he sent a quick thank you – sans his name this time. With a quick sigh he pocketed his phone again, it was time to get on with his day. He had some paperwork from yesterday to complete by Monday morning so he should probably make a start. He stopped to order a light lunch at midday, ate it as he scrolled through his very limited social media before getting back to it. 

He called it a day around 3pm, a call from his mom interrupting his flow. He spent an hour talking, their weekend phone calls were habitual by now and he enjoyed them immensely.  He loved his father of course, but their conversations mostly revolved around work. Despite stepping down as CEO three years ago, he was still a vital member of the company, and Seokjin continued to consult him at every opportunity and lean on him for support when things got stressful. With his mom, she was the woman he could still be a kid around. They could talk about anything and everything, but for her own benefit he left out his plans for tonight. He knew what she was like, she’d get way too excited and overwhelmed and before long she’d be sobbing down the line while simultaneously asking to meet you. She’d been wanting him to meet someone new for so long, much like Mrs. Shin. It was a surprise the two women weren’t conspiring behind his back. 

No, he’d keep it a secret for now. If things went well tonight, then possibly his mother would get to find out. He wasn’t getting his hopes up though – or at least he was trying not to. 

It was just after four when he got off the phone, too early to start getting ready just yet, so he sat in front of the television and tried to concentrate on a series he’d recently started. (It wasn’t going well. He was on about one episode a week out of a nine season TV show.) It was no use though, the nerves were rearing their ugly head again. 

He decided to choose his outfit. Seokjin wasn’t much of a thinker when it came to fashion, he just grabbed whatever he saw first that morning, but tonight he wanted to at least put some effort in. After much deliberation he decided on a navy two piece paired with a white dress shirt. It wasn’t over the top, he thought, but nice enough to make that impression that was so very important to him. He kept his hair simple. He’d managed to squeeze in a haircut yesterday so it made things easier, but upon closer inspection in the mirror he noticed those pesky grey hairs of his glittering in the sunlight. He grimaced, worried now. He didn’t know your exact age yet, but it was obvious he was a few years older than you. He was no spring chicken, especially with those wrinkles around his eyes. He had been called handsome all his life, no stranger to it, but right now he was dubious. 

He pushed his trivial concerns away and concentrated on the next decision. What car he would take. He didn’t want to go too flash – again with the showing off thing – so the Aston Martin was definitely off the cards. He hadn’t actually driven that one much, going through some sort of so-called midlife crisis when he’d bought it straight after his divorce, so he made a mental note to take it out next weekend. He decided on the Mercedes convertible (roof on, of course). It seemed like a suitable choice, not too flashy at all really. He didn’t want to run the risk of putting you off him or overwhelming you with showy displays. He was well aware of the differences between your lifestyles, not that he cared at all, but it didn’t stop him from understanding. The things that seemed slight to him could very well be enormous for you. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape or form. 

Shit, on second thoughts maybe his restaurant was a bad idea… 

.

.

Seokjin was always punctual, he prided himself on it, but tonight it made him nervous. He’d said 7 but it had only just gone quarter to. He couldn’t very well stay in the car for fifteen minutes, you’d spot him out the window, so ever so slowly he opened his car door and stepped out, his heart thudding against his ribcage. He was sure he noticed his hand shaking as he closed it behind him. He was such a mess it was embarrassing. 

You lived in a nice little neighbourhood, it seemed quiet, and he admired your pots of flowers in the patch of garden you had as he made his way up the path that led to your front door. He took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, adjusting his suit jacket as he waited for you to open up. It’s fine, Seokjin, he told himself. It’s just dinner. You’ve done much scarier things in your life. Pull yourself together, man. 

A few seconds later the door opened in front of him and you came into view, looking as beautiful as ever. I’m fucked, he thought immediately. 

“Hi,“ he forced himself to say as he smiled. He was probably staring but he couldn’t help himself. You looked stunning, your dress deep red in colour and incredibly flattering. His throat felt dry and he swallowed quickly. 

“Hey,” you greeted back. 

“You look beautiful,“ he couldn’t help but awe, hoping he wasn’t stepping out of line with his compliment. 

"Thank you,” you smiled almost shyly. It was adorable. “You look…really good.“ 

He couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, aware the sound was probably highly unfaltering, but he couldn’t help it. "I’ll take it. Thanks.” He tilted his head to the right then, composing himself. “Are you ready to go? I’m a bit early, I know. Sorry about that." 

He really couldn’t tear himself away from your beauty, but luckily you didn’t seem to notice, busy nodding as you clutched your purse to your side. "I, uh… I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing.” Your voice raised as you continued, your head turning slightly down the hallway. 

He raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but he guessed said best friend was in the house somewhere? He smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine.” 

As you stepped forward, a breath of a chuckle slipping from your throat, he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to let you lead the way. You accepted with a brief nod of your head, your gazes catching for a split second. God, you were gorgeous. 

His nerves might have eased a tad, but his heart was still beating just as fast – if not more.  

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[all-my-love-for-harry]

A dad, but make it official.

summary: All Harry has to do is sign the papers. 

word count: 3.8k

a/n: sooo, a lot of you have been asking me about harry adopting artemis and them moving in with harry, and i’m sorry for not answering!! but here it is, sorry to keep you waiting! btw, i’ll start putting the dates in each blurb so none of you get confused with the timeline!!

you can find more of my shy little boy here

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

August, 2019.

To many people in the outside, it seemed like Harry and Y/N haven’t been together for much, but to anyone who actually knows the couple and gets to see how they are with each other, it seemed like they’ve been dating for years.

Harry knew Y/N was the love of his life, and he also knew there were two things that he wanted more than anything in this world: put a ring on her finger and give his last name to her son.

There wasn’t a protocol on what to do first when it comes to take big decisions with your partner, and they weren’t a normal couple either. But what Harry was sure of, was his endless, unconditional love for the both of them.

The actual conversation of Harry becoming Artemis father legally didn’t come up for a long time between the couple. Harry’s heart ached to know what Y/N thought about them being an official family, but by any means he wanted to make her uncomfortable.

So he kept the thoughts to himself for some time, focusing on being happy with what they had right now and knowing they were in for the long run and it would be just matter of time until his wishes would finally come true.

It was a rainy day in London, a storm was supposed to happen at any time now. Y/N’s car was at the shop and Harry promised her to pick her up at UCL so they could go for Artemis afterwards.

They were hoping to get there before the rain started but still had umbrellas and a raincoat for Artemis, just in case. The sky was gray and the wind was extremely strong, so Harry drove carefully.

“Will the two of us get down?” Harry asked once he parked the car, looking through the window how different parents would get out of their own vehicles and ran to the doors of the school.

“Yeah, but let’s hurry”

The couple went out of the car and held hands while hurrying inside. Artemis’ classroom was just down the hall, and by the time they reached it, it was almost empty.

Artemis was sitting on one of the chairs coloring a book, but as soon as he looked up and saw Harry and his mum enter the room, he put the book away and ran towards them.

“You’re here!” He exclaimed, happily hugging Y/N’s legs and then Harry’s.

“Was everything okay today?” Y/N asked while Harry took Artemis to grab his things.

“He was a total sweetheart, as always” The teacher smiled. “If the storm gets worse, class might be cancelled. We’ll be sending an email”

They thanked the teacher and walked out of the classroom. Harry scooped the little boy in his arms and Y/N carried his backpack. It was already starting to rain so they hurried inside of the car.

“Where are we going now?”

“Harry’s house, honey. Is that okay?” Artemis nodded excitedly, kicking his legs back and forth.

“Harry, can you put your song?” Harry chuckled, knowing exactly which song Artemis was requesting.

“I can’t believe he likes this song” The curly haired man sitting on the driver’s seat laughed as the first notes of the song from his old band started playing in the car.

“They say that we’re not good together, and it’s never gonna work out!” Artemis screamed the lyrics of the song he had listened to so many times Y/N has already lost the count.

“I mean, who even showed this to him?” Harry was dying from embarrassment but was also enjoying himself.

“Perhaps I might be responsible for that” Y/N said, smiling innocently.

They had no choice but to join him and sing along too. These were the kind of moment where Harry felt at his happiest, two of his favorite people with him, doing something so mundane like riding a car but at the same time it felt so special and dear to him.

Harry’s house was a little further away from Artemis’ school, so the ride was longer. But they had fun during it.

“So, what do you want for lunch?”

“Nuggets!” Artemis threw his little arms over his head, actually thinking Y/N would allow chicken nuggets.

“What?! We need real food in our tummies!” Harry exclaimed while laughing.

They ended up eating pasta and Harry might have or might have not slipped some chicken nuggets under the table while Artemis was helping Harry cook.

After eating all three together, Artemis asked for permission to play with the toys he kept in Harry’s house, so Y/N and Harry were left alone in the living room.

“Hope you’re in the mood for red wine” Harry sat down beside his girlfriend, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Think he’ll be there for long?”

“He does like the toys you bought him, so he might be there for a while”

Harry leaned towards her, capturing her lips in a kiss. He put his opened palm on the side of her head, deepening the kiss. Y/N pulled away to breath, but she planted little pecks all the way through Harry’s jawline until she reached his lips again.

“I love you so much, baby” Harry whispered, inches away from her face.

“Mhm, I love you more” She cooed, smiling at him. Y/N gave him one more peck before pulling away and sighing.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, putting one piece of hair behind her ear. “What’s on your mind, uh?”

“It’s… I don’t know, we don’t have to talk about that”

“Talk about what, darling?”

They adjusted on their seats so they could be facing each other.

“Just… don’t freak out” she told him. “I’ve been thinking a lot, and… well, you make me, us, very happy. And I really do want this to be… you know, a permanent thing” she started rambling, Harry’s face started to form a goofy smile. “How would you feel about adopting?” She asked abruptly.

“Well, it depends. Adopting a new baby or… my little fella over there?” He pointed down the hall. “Because I’m pretty fine with either, love”

“How are you so calm about this?” She frowned.

“Because I want this too, Y/N. You two make me very happy and I do see us as a permanent thing. I’m glad we’re both on that page, you know?” He took her hand. “I’m also glad we’re talking about this. There’s nothing more I want than give Artemis the Styles last name, legally. But adoption can take a little while so I’m happy we’re discussing this now”

Y/N smiled big at him, looking directly at his gorgeous green eyes. “So, you only want to give my son your last name?”

“I mean, I guess we can sort something out for you” Harry rolled his eyes playfully. Y/N opened her mouth, pretending to be offended, making him let out a big belly laugh.  

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

For the next few weeks Y/N and Harry met with an adoption attorney to start looking for the process. They were told it shouldn’t take longer than six months, and that the fact that Artemis’ other parent was absent and did not have any paternal rights, it would be easier to get through the process.

“There’s something else” the attorney said. “You must live with the child for at least six months before we can make any moves, it’s the law”

Harry nodded, sinking in the information the man in front of them was giving. “If there’s more questions, feel free to give me a call”

They shook hands and Harry walked him out of the house. “Well, that went good, innit?”

“Yeah... I mean, at least we know how the process works now” Y/N sighed, whipping the sweat from the palms of her hands. She kind of had an idea of that the process was, and somehow she wasn’t scared of the adoption part but the whole living together wasn’t something they’ve really discussed.

“At least now we have the perspective for the future” Harry gave her a big smile. His mind started to imagine their future together, as a family, and he couldn’t be more excited for it.

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

October, 2019.

Harry’s been really nervous lately. The trial against the man who’s been stalking him had him on his nerves. He’s been asking Y/N to stay in his house because he was scared the man would go there while Harry wasn’t with them.

It was safe to say he was scared. And so was Y/N. She knows exactly who’s he talking about as she herself has had an encounter with the homeless guy. Recently.

Three days ago she was out in a morning run before going to work, she had a late class to give and Artemis was already at school so she wanted to take advantage of the free time.

When she was running back to her house to get a shower and drive to work, she noticed someone standing in front of the house. Y/N slowed down, trying to get a better look of the person who was there.

He was just looking at the house, staring. She gasped when the man turned, giving her a clear look to his face. It was the same man who’s been tormenting Harry for quite some time.

She knew Harry was taking that man to court, but she didn’t understand why he was in her house and how did he get her address.

Was he following her?

Too scared to come any closer, Y/N got her phone out of her pocket and called Harry.

“Are you sure it’s him?” he asked in the other end of the line. It sounded like he was looking for something around his house.

“Yeah, he turned and I saw his face” She mumbled, her gaze still focused on that man.

“I’ll be there in five”

He hung up and Y/N waited for him to get there. It didn’t take Harry long to get there, as he was driving real fast. He was mad, furious even. But he was also terrified.

One thing was tormenting him, but his family? The people he loves and cares about?

When he saw Y/N standing a few houses away from her own, Harry almost jumped out of his car. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He scanned her body up and down, trying to make sure she was in one piece. “Where is Artemis?”

“He’s at school, I went for a run. Can… can we go?” Y/N was practically shaking and Harry almost had to carry her inside of his car. They drove off and Y/N was finally able to breathe. “What did he want?”

“I don’t know, love. Was he there when you left for your run?”

“No, I didn’t see him”

“I’m gonna handle this, okay?” He put a hand on her knee. “He’s not gonna hurt you or Artemis” He promised. There was something about his voice and his hand on her knee that soothed her.

She only felt safe again when they were back inside Harry’s house, all the doors locked. Y/N had to call the school and say she was sick, and to be honest she kind of felt like she was.

“I can’t believe it, Harry. Did he follow me? Or you?”

“Probably me” He sighed. “God, I just want it to be over. I don’t understand why he would do that two weeks before the trial”

“Well, it was fucking terrifying. What a bloody creep” Y/N wrapped her arms around herself.

“I’ll take care of it, okay?” He leaned to kiss her forehead. “Everything’s gonna be fine”

She nodded and watched how he disappeared from the living room, probably to call his lawyer. Y/N started thinking about the next steps she should take. Perhaps it was time to look for another house, one with more security or in a gated community. But, could she afford that? Yeah, her salary was nice and she was able to provide for her and Artemis just fine, but she wondered how buying a house would affect her economy right now.

Harry returned to the living room with a glass of water for his girlfriend, sitting next to her on the couch. To Harry, she seemed a lot more relaxed than when he left. It was hard for him too, his mind was going places and thinking things he’d rather not to.

“I know it might be a dumb question, but how are you?”

“I’m a little bit freaked out, but I’m fine” She gave him a half smile.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You don’t deserve this”

“Hey, don’t be sorry. It is not your fault someone thought they had the right to harass you, or that it was okay to stalk you” She took his hands in hers, looking directly at her eyes.

“Move in with me, both of you” He said, tightening the grip in her hands.

“Harry…” she whispered.

“Just, hear me out. I’ve been thinking about it since we had that meeting with the attorney, and… I’m ready whenever you are, okay?” he paused. “But I have to admit it would give me a lot of peace if you two were here full time. I hate to think something could happen to any of you while I’m not there” Harry sighed. “Please, just think about it. Promise me you’ll at least consider it”

Harry was looking at her with big puppy eyes. It was already impossible to say no to him on a daily basis but when he pulled out that look… He could get whatever he desired and he knew it.

“I’d think about it. It’d be a big change and I’d be more comfortable if I talked with Artemis first. His opinion is important too”

“Absolutely. Thank you, baby” Harry pulled her in a hug, kissing the top of her head.

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

Turns out, Artemis was more than okay with the idea of living full time with Harry. When Y/N talked to him, he started jumping around his room, saying how he couldn’t wait to see Harry again.

She must admit it took a huge weight out of her shoulders knowing Artemis agreed. The man never came back to their house, but Harry insisted on them moving as soon as possible.

“Jesus, mate. How many toys do you have?” Harry asked, playfully groaning while carrying one of the boxes that were filled with Artemis’ toys.

“Harry, will there be enough space for my toys at your house?” Artemis was watching Harry carry the boxes, he was sitting on top of other box.

“Of course, monkey. I know you already have a room there, but if you want to choose another one, we can decorate it as you please”

“Can it have a cool wallpaper?”

“What would you like?” Harry chuckled.

“Clouds!” Artemis has been obsessed with Toy Story lately, and he wanted his room to be exactly like Andy’s.

“If clouds is what you want, clouds is what you’ll get”

Y/N decided to not take any furniture with them, as Harry’s was plenty enough. She had decided to rent the house to one of her friends that was looking to move.

Harry of course didn’t let Y/N carry anything relatively heavy, so he did all the lifting. The moving truck that they rented along with the people they hired were out of the house, putting everything inside of the car.

“These are the last boxes. We left Artemis’ room for last”

“God, I never noticed how much stuff he had until I started packing it” Y/N laughed.

It only took them another hour to get everything out of Y/N house. She felt nostalgic after the last box was out of the house. She knew she made the right choice, and couldn’t be more excited for this new chapter, but this house held so many memories.

Y/N’s moms bought this house for her and for Artemis. He was only one when they walked through the door for the first time, back when it was only the two of them and no one else.

But now it wasn’t just Artemis and Y/N anymore. And that was more than okay.

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

January 30th, 2020.

It was Harry’s birthday week. He was supposed to play this concert in Miami and Y/N had the biggest surprise planned for him.

Y/N made sure they were there to see him play, and to bring onstage his birthday cake. There was something else she wanted to give him, but that surprise was something she’d keep to herself until they were alone.

“The weather doesn’t seem to get better” Harry said, looking through the window of the hotel room they were staying at.

“Do you think the weather will get better before the concert?” Y/N was knelt down in front of Artemis, tying up his sneakers.

“I hope so” He sighed.

“You still joining Lizzo for her number tonight?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fun. Will you two watch me?” Harry walked towards the bed and sat next to Artemis.

“Who’s Lizzo, daddy?”

“A very nice person. Would you like to meet her, bud?”

Artemis nodded shyly. They headed downstairs to eat lunch at the hotel’s restaurant. Harry was in the middle of helping Artemis clean his face with a napkin when some girls approached them.

Y/N sent a kind smile their way as they asked for a picture. Harry being Harry, agreed.

“Is that Artemis?” One of them asked. “Hi, Y/N” They both smiled.

“Hi, girls” She smiled back.

“This is Artemis. Say hi, baby”

The little boy mumbled a little ‘hi’, looking down his plate. Harry got up from his chair and Y/N took the pictures for the girls. They were actually very nice and Harry was very pleased with the way they treated his loves.

Ever since he started dating Y/N, Harry took special attention to the way fans treated her and Artemis. Most of them were polite as they’d never really do anything to upset Harry, but there were still the ones that would get a little pushy. Especially with Artemis.

Usually he tried to understand. Artemis was an extremely adorable child, and people liked to compliment cute children, right? But his baby didn’t like to be touched by strangers. Harry was pretty sure Artemis would riot if someone tried to pinch his cheek.

“They were nice, weren’t there?” Y/N asked once the two girls walked away and they went back to their lunches.

“Yeah, they were very kind”

Rest of the lunch went smoothly and then Harry had sound check at the venue. Artemis wanted to go to the pool so Y/N and he stayed behind. Some other fans approached them when they went by the pool and talked for a little.

After a little while they had to back to their room to get ready to go to Lizzo’s concert at 9pm. It was a little past Artemis’ bedtime, but this was a special occasion.

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

January 31th, 2020.

The weather wasn’t getting any better, and Harry was nervous the concert would get cancelled. He really wanted to start his birthday celebration on stage, singing in a room full of lovely people.

But it really did seem like the universe didn’t want that.

Later that afternoon they got a call from the fire department saying that under any circumstances they show would be played tonight as it wasn’t safe with the storm coming in the way.

Harry felt really bad about it. He didn’t want to disappoint anyone but even if he’d want to (and he really wanted to), there was no way he could play the concert.

“I know it’s not what you wanted, but it was not safe, honey” Y/N sat behind Harry, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Artemis was with Mitch and Sarah at their dressing room. They were waiting for their car to pick them up from the venue. “You’ll still have a great birthday, H. I promise”

“I just don’t want to make them upset” He mumbled.

“They’re not. You can’t control the weather, Harry. This is not your fault” She moved to look at him. He looked very sad, he was really looking forward to this show.

The car arrived shortly after and they were back at the hotel safely. Harry still looked upset so he didn’t talk much in the ride back. Artemis was already sleepy, so as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out.

After brushing their teeth and doing their nightly routine, they were ready for bed. Harry was sighing and pouting like a baby, and Y/N felt really bad for him.

“Okay, I was going to wait until tomorrow for your actual birthday but you clearly need a cheer up” Y/N got out of bed and walked to her suitcase.

Harry looked at her confusedly but got out of bed as well. “What are you talking about?”

“So, I know we haven’t talked about this in a while, but I received a call from the attorney the other day”

“And…?”

“He told me he had the papers ready if we still wanted them” She had the papers hid behind her back so she slowly put them in front of him. “He said all you had to do was sign and you’ll be officially a dad” She flashed him a little smile. “It’s okay if you’re not… ready yet or have changed your mind. You can sign them whenever you want… or not. Your choice”

Harry looked up at him, his emerald eyes were full of tears ready to come out. He was truly speechless. It had slipped through his mind, being honest. It truly did catch him by surprise but he couldn’t stop the butterflies on his tummy.

It hit him. All he had to do was sign. And his boy, would be his. Officially, Legally his.

He nodded furiously, breathing a smile. “Do you have a pen?”

☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁

taglist!!

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[maeve-writes]

Beautiful Hell

Inspired by:  Beautiful Hell by ADNA 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (tfatws) x Reader (experiment/mutant!Reader) Rating: 18+, Minors DNI Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk. Summary: Your past shows up in an unexpected way thanks to Bucky Barnes. You just wanted to be... normal, not caught up in the life of a hero or worse, and yet you’re drawn to him, addicted to him even. You thought that part of your life was over, but your relationship opens up a whole new chapter that you’re not sure you’re ready for. a/n: Unbeta’d, any mistakes are my own and please forgive me. I have not written anything that wasn’t work related in about three years, so I’m a little rusty. This is just a dip of my toe back into the water. I’d like to continue this if there is any interest! Thanks for reading!

There’s very little that makes you upset these days. You have a great job, a cozy apartment, and wonderful friends. It’s taken a long time for you to find stability and even longer for you to accept that it was okay to have it. Most of that struggle was on your own, but you eventually found others like you that were dealing with the same inner turmoil and you’ve grown.

The group still meets twice a month, but now you run it. You see the same pain and anger in the eyes of strangers that you once held, you’ve been in their shoes and you want to help start their journey of healing and self discovery. You would never turn someone away who wanted help, who sought out the chance to better themselves, but six feet of muscle and adamantium shuffles into the recreation room of the local Boy’s and Girl’s Club, and you bend the already folded aluminum chair in half. 

The squeak of the metal catches his attention and his brow knits together. His eyes dance between your face, the chair, and back again. “Cheap material,” you say weakly with a lift of your shoulders. You watch as he puckers his lips in thought and his hands are shoved into his jacket. 

One of your regulars, Sarah, takes the chair from you and tries to right it once more, but finds it more difficult than you played it up to be. “Set up the rest, I’ve got this,” you tell her, happy to tear your attention away from the man. You reset the bars of the chair and unfold it, placing it on the floor to see if it will act as it should. It’s a little wonky, the bend leans it too far back, but it will hold you - it’s a chair.

You sit among the circle and begin. People sip their coffee and share their stories for the week. The new people introduce themselves, including him, but everyone already knows his name. He didn’t share this time, but you could tell he wanted to from the way his jaw clenched and the uncomfortable shifts in his sheet. You were like that once, you know just how he feels.

Two hours pass and the crowd slowly trickles out. You start the clean up, the putting away of the chairs. You move around the room and do your best to ignore his eyes burning into you - into your soul. “You could at least help clean,” you tell him without looking up from the sink against the far wall where you now stand. “Chairs still need to be put away.”

It takes a few beats, but you hear his heavy footsteps fall behind you and the eventual scrap of metal as the chairs are being folded. There’s a steady rhythm to his method, a clink of his metal arm against the chair, the screech as the chair is closed and his footfalls to the corner to put it away.

You finish your last coffee pot, drying your hands and turn to see the wonky chair in his hold. “Cheap material,” he repeats, looking down at it before he bends it back and forth. You see him trying to mold it back into better shape than you had earlier as your face grows hotter by the second. When he deems it “good enough,” he brings it over to join the others. “Who are you?”

“No one,” you reply instantly. 

His head snaps around, blue eyes burning, “You’re a horrible liar.”

“Not true,” you counter, “I’ve lied to myself for years.”

He turns to you fully and crosses his arms over his broad chest. He doesn’t find your attempt at what he thinks is a joke funny. “Who are you,” he asks again, his voice becoming clipped and impatient. 

You tell him your name, your full name but it does not ring any bells to him. It wouldn’t, not in a way he would realize. “You saved someone years ago, not as… you, but as,” you pause and wave the towel you used to dry your hands, “you know.” You try your best to ignore how his body tenses up and you continue, “You killed his wife and his unborn son. You changed him. Changed everything, really. Somehow, I got caught up in it all.”

His hardened stare quickly shifts into curiosity and you force yourself to look away before you crash into the stormy blue. “They pumped us full of all sorts of stuff. A lot of us didn’t make it. I can still hear the screams if I try.” You grind your teeth to make yourself stop falling into that abyss. “But my dad raised me by himself, he taught me how to survive, how to be strong. He always told me: Girl, if you’re gonna go down, go down swingin’. And I forced myself to keep going, no matter what they did, I wasn’t going to let those assholes get the best of me.”

The towel was back in both of your hands now, pulled and stretched as you tried not to think about the pain and the loneliness that followed. “But eventually I was freed, just like you freed that other guy. I got a chance to be him now… but I didn’t take it.” The terry cloth ripped in half and your arms fell by your sides. 

You dared to look up at the man and you inwardly swore. His face was so painfully beautiful, full lips were in a pout and his eyes twinkled blue in their sadness, in their empathy. “They wanted us to be something and I wasn’t going to let someone else define me. I ran for years, scared and alone. I had to change my life over and over because I didn’t want them to find me, then I realized I was actually doing what they wanted… I was being someone I’m not.”

You crossed the room to the trash can nearby and not too far behind he followed. The two of you began to toss half-eaten pastries and empty disposable coffee cups. “So, I settled down here, started to go by my real name and took any threat that came my way.” You watched him sniff at an uneaten danish, “Cherry, I think.” His shoulder lifts in a ‘what-the-hell’ kind of way and he takes a bite. “It took about two decades for them to stop,” you finish, “and I was able to finally start to live my life.”

He silently offers half of the danish to you, which you decline. “And when the world went to hell in a hand-basket, you what, sat here and lived your life?” The blow was meant to sting and it did. He didn’t know if you were gone in The Blip but from your recoil, he got his answer. “I don’t know what they did to you, but you obviously have the ability to help people, you should use it.”

“I do,” you reply, offended. “This,” you wave your hands around for the second that evening, “helps people. Just because I don’t strap on leather and beat up bad guys doesn’t mean I don’t make a difference.”

Bucky stills completely, even his breathing, and he looks down into the trash can he has been pushing around for you. It looks as though he wants to toss himself in it. “You’re right,” he says with a heavy exhale, “that wasn’t fair of me. It’s just… the world is running low on heroes, they’re now relying on a guy in a bird suit.”

“I thought that guy was your friend,” you ask with a tilt of your head.

When the corner of his mouth tips up into a boyish smile, you mirror it with a toothy grin because of how infectious it is. “Yeah,” he nods, “I guess he is. But I just hate being the only muscle.”

“You’re plenty enough for this hemisphere,” you laugh and reach out to pat his shoulder, when you feel the muscle packed there, you whistle through your teeth, “and maybe the other one, too.”

He laughs and rolls the shoulder you tapped, tossing off your hand playfully. “Yeah, well it wouldn’t hurt to have more because getting hurt hurts.” You two exchange smiles and finish trash detail. He ties up the full bag and prepares to bring it out while you work on putting a new one in the can. 

You lead him out back to the dumpsters and he tosses the bag in after you open the heavy metal lid. When it falls closed again with a loud, ringing bang, you pull out a pack of sanitizing wipes and offer him one which he gladly accepts. “This might not be the right time,” he begins, eyes drawn to the large, smelly trash bin next to the pair of you, “but would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”

“Who knew you were so romantic, Sergeant Barnes,” you tease to hide your fluttering heartbeat that he can undoubtedly hear. Under the pale yellow beam of the streetlights you can see the flush forming on his face that mirrors your own. “I’m free tomorrow around seven.”

Bucky straightens to his full height and his eyes sparkle brightly when that boyish curl makes its way back to his lips. “Then it’s a date,” he nods as you both pull out your phones to exchange numbers and you give him your address.

“Don’t be late,” you warn him, tone playfully serious, “I get angry if I don’t eat before eight. Bad things happen if I don’t eat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods with a low rumbling chuckle, “I don’t plan to disappoint you.”

Your face splits into a smile and you lead your way back in, “See you tomorrow, Sergeant.”

“Tomorrow,” he says, his eyes trained on your every move. “And it can’t come soon enough,” he adds under his breath.

x

Your day goes by in a blur. Work is stressful but rewarding. Even though you love your job, your mind was not completely on it. Just past noon you received a text: Just seeing if this works. I’m looking forward to tonight. Have a good day. BB

It is unclear if he does not really know how texts work or if it is his excuse to send you one, but either way it makes you giddier than a schoolgirl. You reread it several times, answer a few work related calls and emails before you finally answer back: It works! I’m also looking forward to tonight. My day was good, but your text made it better. Hope yours is fantastic! xx

You are hesitant to hit send, but if you are going to shoot your shot, then you might as well go all in. Your phone doesn’t even go to sleep before you get another text in return: I’m about to see the prettiest gal in town, my day will be more than fantastic. How do you feel about sushi and bowling? BB

Of all of the things to do, especially together, you would not think of Bucky Barnes to pick that as your first night out together, but you had a weakness for sushi and your competitive side could never say no to a game or two: I haven’t been bowling in years, but I’m sure I can teach you a few things. xx

Oh, sweetheart, you’ll be learning a thing or two before the night is over. BB

You aren’t sure if you guys are talking about bowling anymore and that thought lights a fire in your belly. With a shaky breath you send your last reply: I’ll be happy to learn anything as long as I get to call you Professor Barnes and I can stay after class for extra credit. ;) xx 

It isn’t until two hours after your lunch that you get your last reply from him: Looking up that reference sent me to the part of the internet that I’m still not used to, but I’m glad I did. You don’t happen to have a skirt and some of those socks that go up to your knees, do you? Don’t answer that, I won’t be able to make it through dinner. See you at 7. BB

You did happen to have just what he asked for and it was tempting to wear it, but you tucked the idea into your pocket for another time. Instead, you picked something more appropriate for bowling, a pair of navy skinny fit cotton dress pants with enough stretch to not rip when you bent over to toss a ball, a curve hugging camisole that was draped by a soft, cream colored cashmere sweater. 

After messing with your hair for an hour, you settled for a messy bun and just finished your makeup when your doorbell rang. You call out to him to “hold on” as you shuffle through your apartment, trying to wriggle into your loafers on the way to open the door. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry,” you apologize as you pull open the door.

He’s standing in the doorway dressed in a canvas jacket over a plain black shirt, dark jeans over his long, thick legs and his normal boots top it off. “You look gorgeous,” he says, forcing you away from your lingering gaze as it continues to travel up and down his body like he’s the one for dinner. “These are for you,” he presents a bouquet of flowers with an unsure smile. “They’re beautiful,” you say wistfully, taking the flowers and stepping aside to let him in. “Thank you.” He nods and stands near the door as you finish putting on your shoes. “Let me put these in water and we can go.” “Take your time,” he says and trains his eyes on you. They follow you through the apartment, to the kitchen as you look through your cabinets for a vase. When you bend over, his head tilts ever so slightly which you can see out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn to try and catch him, he just smiles innocently. “Need any help?”

“I’ll manage,” you laugh and eventually find a vase. The flowers are arranged not so elegantly into the glass, but you add water and place them in the center of your kitchen island. “Now, I’m starving and getting hangry.”

“Hangry,” he repeats. “That doesn’t sound good. I guess I should feed you before that happens.” He holds out an arm and like a magnet you are drawn to him and latch to it, maybe it’s because of the metal. Nevertheless, you walk arm and arm to the sushi hole-in-the-wall two blocks away, eating in a small booth in the corner to hide away from prying eyes.

You learn about Bucky Barnes for the first time. Like everyone else, you hear things from the news, from the internet, you try to shift through the lies and mess. But here you’re learning what he likes, what he’s learned, what he wants to learn. He doesn’t give his past up as freely as you did, it’s obvious he’s still coming to terms with it, but everyone travels at their own pace.

He learns about you, too. He asks you about things none of your past dates have asked. Hell, even your past boyfriends and girlfriends weren’t interested in half of the stuff Bucky manages to squeeze out of you. And you find it so easy to talk to him, so natural. You’ve only known him for two days, but it feels like decades.

Your hand slips into his when you leave the restaurant and head to the bowling alley. He laces your fingers together two blocks into your walk and you once again wrap your free hand around his arm. It pains you to move away when you have to go in and put on the bowling shoes.

“Before we begin,” he says to you as he watches you put your names into the computer, “let’s make a bet.” You finish entering the ‘y’ of his name and lift an inquisitive brow his way. “If you win, you can have one thing you would want from me.”

You twist in your seat and narrow your eyes, “And if you win?”

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, you watch it disappear with a pout, “I get a kiss.”

“You could just ask for one,” you laugh and slowly lean towards him.

Bucky, too, leans in and bumps noses with you, “Yeah, but it’s more fun if I work for it.” He sits back and winks, trying not to laugh at your deflated and deepening pout. “C’mon, sweetheart, you’re up first.”

You sigh heavily and pick up the bright green ball that you picked from the line waiting to be thrown. “Okay, if I win, then I get to wear that skirt and socks for you,” you say over your shoulder before you toss the ball down the lane. It rolls down the center and knocks down all ten pins as STRIKE flashes on the screen above you.

When you flop down in the chair next to him, he’s still staring at the spot where you stood moments before, gears still churning. “Hey,” you laugh, snapping your fingers in front of his face to knock him out of his daze, “are you okay?”

“Would it be wrong of me to lose on purpose,” he asks sheepishly. You roll your eyes and cross your arms and he lifts his own in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it, that’s no fun. Just know, darlin’, I don’t go down without a fight.” He steps up and takes the same ball you used and chucks it halfway down the lane before it, too, knocks down all ten pins. He turns to you, a smirk plastered on his face.

As much as you loved to have fun, you loved to win more. “Is that how it’s going to be,” you asked, getting up to pass him on the way to take your turn.

He laughs, pressing close as you both slow when you come into each other’s orbit. “That’s how it’s going to be,” he nods and rakes over his lip with his teeth. A challenge is set and you don’t back down. Strikes and spares are thrown by the both of you in between lingering touches and whispered sweet nothings. 

In the hour you two have rented the lane, you managed two games and with one point over you, Bucky wins. He doesn’t claim his prize right there, it’s too public and there’s far too many people around. Instead, he offers to walk you home and you happily accept as long as you can wrap yourself around him once again, which you do.

You two try to take your time on the way back, enjoying the crisp evening air, but more so each other's company. The conversation from dinner continues as a flow of likes and dislikes between more sweet nothings. You’re lovedrunk by the time you’re at your front door and you don’t want the night to come to an end.

Reluctantly, you release him from your hold and he looks as disappointed as you feel. “Tonight has been wonder-” “I had such a great-” you both begin simultaneously and trail off together, ending in nervous laughter. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, leaning up to kiss his cheek, “for such an amazing night.”

“I should be thanking you,” he says, a hand timidly reaching out to rest on your hip. “I’ve been a little rusty at this kind of thing, but you made it easy.” His thumb traces the arc of your hip bone and you step closer to him. “But, you know, I might need some more practice.” You resisted to roll your eyes, but the laughter bubbles between the both of you. The distance closes by one of you, and you don’t care who, but you find your hands splayed across his chest, “I think I can help you out there.”

“That would be my second win of the night,” he grins down at you, his eyes trained on your lips.

“Speaking of my win,” he trails off. His flesh hand raises to your cheek and you instinctively lean into it. Your nose wrinkles at his chuckle but it doesn’t stop you from raising on your toes to close what little space there was between you.

You could sense his hesitation, the silent question of what was enough and what was too much. A small hum bubbled in your throat as you pushed your hands up his chest, nails scraping up his neck and into his hair. You could feel the shiver ripple throughout his body and his teeth came out to bite down on your bottom lip.

It was your turn to laugh now and he licked into your mouth in return, turning it into a whimpering moan. You could feel his triumphant smirk against your lips and you reward it with a tug of his hair. His hips instantly buck against you which throws you off balance, but he catches you with his metal arm winding around your back and pins you against him. 

Your tongues slip and slide against one another, the taste of his sushi and beer choice mixes with your own. Your nails once again claw along his scalp and cause him to growl into your mouth. He surges forward with you in his grip and crowds you against your door, reluctantly breaking away for air, “We should say goodnight,” Bucky whispered against your kiss swollen lips.

“You can tell me good morning when you wake up next to me tomorrow,” you shoot back and roll your hips against his, causing both of you to react with a strained moan.

“Are you sure,” he asks, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“I’ve got a spare toothbrush with your name on it,” you nod. You watch him debate the issue with himself before placing one last chaste kiss on your lips before losing his grip just enough to let you open the door.

You two stumble in, Bucky pulling you back to him, his mouth kissing along your jaw as you try to lock up for the night. You barely got the deadbolt turned when his teeth sank into your sink causing you to cry out. He instantly licks at apologetically and turns his attention to getting you undressed instead.

When your sweater is pulled over your head, you push off Bucky’s jacket, both falling to the floor near the door. Shoes are next to go, sloppily kicked off near each other and once again you two are drawn back together, tongues dancing. Your fingers twist into the short brown locks and his hands snaked down to your ass. He lightly cups each cheek, using them to bring you as close as possible, and even though your bodies leave very little room for air to pass through you still try to move closer.

“Bed,” he breathes into your mouth. You give him a quick nod. With a happy groan, he squeezes you by your bottom, picking you up to carry you to your room, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist. 

Your small one bedroom apartment isn't anything special, but it is yours and it has the biggest, comfiest bed that you are in love with. Bucky easily guides you both there, not once breaking your kiss aside from grunting or growling from your teasing hair pulls or the rolls of your hips. 

He climbs onto the mattress with you still wrapped around his upper half, crawling up to the pile of pillows near the headboard where he eventually lays you down. His weight settles above you, and normally, you would welcome it’s warmth and comfort, but at that moment, you want it to be rough and needy. “Bucky,” you whine, this time the one to break the kiss.

Flushed cheeks and blown pupils, he looks down at you, boxing you in with his arms on either side of your head. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“You’re wearing too much,” you tell him as you try to pull off his shirt, it makes it up to his shoulders before it stops. His laugh shakes his entire body and yours, which makes you pout in return. 

“You’re wearing the same amount, doll,” he reminds you, looking down to see your breasts sway in your camisole. “Far, far too much, in my opinion.”

You roll your eyes and playfully slap at his chest, “Then do something about it.” He mutters something about impatience and sits on his knees between your parted thighs as he pulls his shirt over his head to toss it aside.

“Your turn,” he nods to your shirt while he works on the buckle of his belt. You hastily pull the top over your head and work on your slacks, wriggling out of them just as does his own. He sits back on his hunches and looks you over, laying spread out in a matching white lace bra and underwear set. Now at he’s down to his boxer briefs, you can see how big he his, how hard he is, and when his wandering eyes rest on your covered sex, you can see it twitch with anticipation. “Holy shit, you’re beautiful.”

You didn’t think your entire body could blush from embarrassment, but Bucky just proved you could. “That’s my line,” you return, taking in every inch of his exposed skin over hard muscle. Super serum or not, Bucky Barnes was a gorgeous specimen. When you two finally lock eyes once more, you both shiver. “Are you going to touch me?”

He lets out a shaky breath and reaches out to run a hand lightly over your damp panties, slick from your want for him. “I’m afraid I’ll never stop,” he replies honestly, instantly addicted to the needy whimpers you are giving him.

“I don’t think I would want you to,” you groan. “Please?” You feel his fingertips dance over the lace, tracing over the pattern and causing you to throb with need. “Bucky!”

“You need me, don’t you,” he asks, voice dropping to a low rumble that hits you right at your core and makes your toes curl. “You need my touch. Need me to satisfy that ache?” You nod desperately trying to sit up to pull him down on top of you, but he pins you down before you could rise. “Tell me,” he purrs.

“I need you,” you respond instantly. You’re rewarded with his fingers pushing the panties aside and begin to dance along the slick folds.

“You need what,” he goads. He finds your clit and rubs it once to draw a happy mew from you but stops much to your disappointment.

“I need you, Bucky. I need you to touch me, to kiss me,” you whine with a rock of your hips, trying to get him to move again, but he doesn’t. “I need you to taste me, to lick me, to fuck me.”

Smile on his kiss bruised lips, his thumb swirls around your bud and he sinks his middle finger into you with a groan. “You’re tight,” he hisses as he sinks knuckle-deep, “and dripping. Shit, you’re going to feel like heaven.”

You can’t focus on what he’s saying too much. The feel of his fingers pumping in and out of you feels good, feels right, but it’s not enough, even when he adds two or three. He works you open, your slick starting to run down his fingers, and he palms himself over his briefs.  “Bucky, please,” your voice cracks, “I need more.”

He nods, he has time to take you apart with just his fingers later, but it’s been so long since he’s been with someone like this, someone he’s felt like this with, he needs it as much as you do. When he removes his fingers from you, you whine at the loss but it cuts off into a gasp as you watch him lap and suck off your slick from his hand. Bucky freezes, eyes narrowing, and for a moment you’re wondering if you did something wrong. “What? What is it?”

“Trying to stop myself from eating you alive,” he says through clenched teeth, jaw visibly flexing with the effort. You blink up at him, confused, but he shakes his head and forces himself to remove his boxer briefs. “I’m having you for breakfast,” he decides.

“Uh huh,” you reply absently, your mouth watering as his cock bounces against his stomach when it’s free. It’s long, thick, and leaking, trying to hypnotize you and very much succeeding. 

“I’ll let you return the favor, sweetheart,” he laughs. His flesh hand spreads his pre-cum down his shaft and he pumps slowly while his metal hand pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Still with me?”

Blinking free of your daze, you stare at his lustful gaze and nod. He moves closer, hooks your legs over the bends of his elbows and runs the head of his cock along your folds. Your hole twitches desperately for him, “Such a pretty little pussy, so needy.” Your hands wrap around his wrists and grip at him tightly, hard enough to make him hiss. “You’ve been a good girl, I guess I can give you what you want.”

He pushes in agonizingly slow, the head of his cock sinking in what felt like centimeter by centimeter. You clench around him, trying to draw more of him in, but Bucky takes his time to bottom out. When he is finally fully seated in you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and apparently so did he. “Fuck,” you say simultaneously. 

Your legs are positioned around his waist and he once again frames your head with his forearms, which, in turn, pushes him further inside of you. “You feel so good, doll,” he whispers against the ‘o’ of your lips. “So warm, so tight, taking me so good.” Your hands find their way up his arms and into his hair. All it takes is one tug that has him growling, “And I’m going to ruin this pretty pussy so good that it’s going to feel me all week.” He rolls his hips back as slowly as he originally pushed in, “And I wanna hear you tell everyone who it belongs to while I do it.”

He snaps his hips forward driving you up the bed and further into the pillows, a cry getting caught in your throat from it. His pace is brutal, skin slaps against skin, and his mouth seeks out yours. The kiss is sloppy, but hungry, just as primal as his pistoning hips. You hold on to him the best you can as the bed rocks, headboard slamming against the wall. Your nails trail against his skin, egging him on and drawing sinful noises from love-swollen lips. 

His hips shift angles and eventually find that spot that makes you see stars. “Bucky,” you cry out breathlessly, uncurling your toes and removing your nails from his shoulder blades. He buries his face in your neck and marks you with his teeth and tongue as he relentlessly fucks towards your brink. “So… f-fuck- so close.”

“Cum for me then, sweetheart,” Bucky growls against your skin, snaking a hand between your bodies to work at your clit. “Show me how good I make you feel. Cum for me.” His thumb rubs over your bud once, twice and a white hot punch in your gut blossoms throughout your body as you let out a strangled cry of his name. 

You can feel yourself clamp around him, working him impossibly deeper, begging him to fall down into the abyss with you. And he does, hard. He chases his bliss with you, your name a mantra spilling from his lips as he spills inside of you. He doesn’t stop until you’ve both become too sensitive to handle anymore. He pulls out of you with a heavy sigh and falls next to you on the bed onto his stomach. 

“Holy shit,” you finally break the silence, “that was…”

“Yeah,” he agrees, his head turned to look at you with tired, blissful eyes. “Goddamn, yeah it was.”

You weakly reach around to search for his hand and eventually find it, he lances his fingers with yours. You don’t break eye contact when he leans over to share a few chaste kisses before collapsing again. “You’re fantastic, Bucky, and I want you to know that was the hottest sex I have had to date.”

His post orgasm bliss is shattered and replaced with a furrowed brow, “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“...but as hot as it is feeling you drip out of me, I need to shower,” you finish. You can see the relief wash over him and he nods in understanding. 

“I’ve got a good memory,” he yawns and taps at his head, “that image is stored right here.” You fight a blush and slide off of your bed to head to the bathroom when seconds later you hear him do the same. He shrugs at your questioning look, “No need to waste water, right?”

You laugh as you turn on the faucets only to be crowded against the wall and your mouth is covered with his once more. The water splashing against your bodies and the echoing sounds of your moans drown out the repeated calls to Bucky’s phone. Mission. Suit up. SW

Answer your damn phone. SW

It’s the green button. SW

Green button and slide right. SW

Dammit, if you blocked me again, I stg. SW

Man, what are you doing in Soho? Yes, I’m tracking you. OMW. SW

a/n: To be continued? 

[lareinenoir]

The Knots (Chris Evans Fanfic)

Warning: swearing

Summary: You receive an email from your boss that says your hairstyle is not professional to be on TV. When Chris finds out, he isn’t to happy.

_________

“Hey baby.” Said Chris walking into the house, hugging you from behind as you stood over the stove, continuing to make stir fry. “How was your day?” He asks, leaning on your shoulder and laying a small kiss on your neck. 

“Fine.” You sighed and you toss some of the pork to Dodger who was laying on the ground right next to you. 

“Fine?” He questions with a head tilt and a small frown. “What happened?” He asks as you move the pan and walk over to the rice cooker to the other side of the island to the rice cooker. 

“Nothing, it was just a long day.” You smiled giving him a tiny spoonful of rice to try. “Good?” You asked quickly changing the subject and smiling at him as he nodded. “How was the shoot?” 

“It went really well” He chews, stealing another bite and nods up at the towel on your head. “ I didn’t see you on the news today? That was today, right?” He asks remembering your shared calendar and the fact that you had circled it in a red marker, A red PERMANENT marker. 

“No, I read the date wrong.” You said as he looked up

“What happened? Didn’t you do your hair last night?” he asks recalling the long night you had with wash day being yesterday and the style you decided to put your hair in. “Why’d you take it out, I liked it.” 

“I found a different style. You ready to eat?” You asked grabbing some plates and started plating the rice and and the pork veggie stir fry on top. “You want some plantains?” You ask him as you continue to dodge his question of, ‘whats wrong.’ “We can eat outside or at the table?” 

“Baby, whats wrong?” He asks once again as you stuff your mouth with rice. “Come on, you hardly said anything to me about your day.” 

“Chris, I really just don’t wanna talk about it.” You say with a mouthful, accidentally on purpose slamming your fork down and walk away from the island. “Honestly!” You shout going into your shared room and slamming the bathroom door shut. 

Ever since your big chop two years ago, you had always just left it out in it’s natural fro and put some products in it and if you were feeling fancy a few decorative hair pins and in the past year now more than ever. Chris loved your new found love for hair pins and little hair jewelry and bought you some. You always wanted to try Bantu knots and trying them out was a big step. Your husband was super excited and helped you out yesterday when it came to the washing, condition and moisturizing. You both were off that day and took advantage of it. You and Chris watched movies and ate some food with Dodger of course, laying at your feet as you sat on the bed and he helped you section the back of your hair.

“You wanna unlock the door?” He asks in a low voice, you could tell he had his lips to the doorknob and you sighed. “Did I say something wrong?” 

“No, you didn’t say anything” rolling your eyes and you open the door after hearing how concerned he sounded. “I’m not mad at you, OK. I just really had a shitty day and I really liked my hair and I have to redo it and find a different style-” you wiped the little tear that escaped from your eyelid. 

“Wait, why?” he asks as you stand in the door frame and he stood in front of you with his hands on your arms, rubbing them up and down trying to comfort you. “Why are you changing your hair?” 

“I have to.” You sort of explain taking the towel off your head and grabbing the Shea moisture that stood on the end of the sink. “Go eat, never mind. Forget I said anything.” 

Chris shook his head at you as you began to part little sections adding some moisturizer. He narrowed his brow and let out a little laugh. “No, stop. Tell me what happened.” You knew how much your husband hated when you beated around the bush. Personally you just didn’t want to bother him with it, but you knew how caring he was and how would jump to help at every opportunity.

Good afternoon, 

Ms, Evans, you have been a  proud and responsible worker here on on Channel12. Your years of dedication and hard work have showed us nothing that we don’t know. As you may know when you started working for the Channel, you signed a contract that explained the dress code, which included the following, Males must wear a tie and a collared shirt with dress pants. Females must wear a skirt that goes no higher that the knee and a shirt that shows no cleavage. Pantsuits and suits for men and woman are permitted. No untamed hair is allowed while on the air. a warming will be permitted the first offence, the second is a write up, the third is suspension. Any other offences against the dress-code is automatic termination. With that being said, you will receive a write up for the untamed hairstyle that was chosen. Effective immediately it will need to be changed by tomorrow, noon, in order to be on the air. If the hairstyle is failed to be corrected, we will proceed with termination

please enjoy your day, 

Carter Rockman

“Chris, stop.” You said reaching for your phone. You saw the look in his eyes and he was livid. “Give it back, before you do something stupid.” You tell him as he holds your phone behind his back. His lips were tucked in as he stared at the ground. “Chris-” 

“What the hell is this?” he asks, finally looking up at you. Letting out a sigh, you shake your head. “I’m calling him, matter fact, I’m going up there right now. Grab your purse, we’re going right now-” 

“Chris stop.” You shake your head grabbing onto his arm as he went to grab the car keys from the counter. “This is exactly why I didn’t wanna tell you.” You said getting a bit frustrated and then laughing it off. “Don’t go up there-” 

“why not!” he said with a frown. “This is unacceptable.” He holds up your phone for emphasis. “You’ve been there for years. They can’t do this! On your ass because of your hair?” He scoffed.

“That’s just the way things are, babe.” You say, holding his face in your hands. The little beard he had going, made you smile down at his lips as you gave them a quick kiss. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll change my hair and get on with it. It’s not that big of a deal.” You said trying to reassure him. 

“Absolutely not! I come home to my wife who is upset and crying.” He retorts back shaking his head with a scoff. “You think I’m about to let this fly? Who is this man to tell MY wife that her hair is unprofessional and threatened termination because of it. Fuck that! They wouldn’t tell Viola Davis or Beyoncé or Tyra Banks or-“

“You don’t think I’m pissed too! I am beyond pissed, hell I’m more upset that I allowed it to happen anyway! People who look like me are judged all the time, especially with hair in the work industry. You of all people should know. There is nothing I can do about that. They aren’t going to change their minds because my husband says so. And even if they do, I don’t want them thinking just because my husband is Chris Evans-“

“I wouldn’t hold that against you and they sure as hell- they better not hold that against you.” He says still going off. “Why don’t you wanna fight this? It isn’t fair,babe...” he shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“ This isn’t Americas next top model. I’m not a model or an actresses or singer.” You shook your head. “I have to abide by the rules of my industry. If I act out or say ‘No’ or try and go against that, then I becomes the stereotype ‘Angry Black woman’.”

“Be angry! Baby, I don’t care.” Said Chris. “I’ll be there. We’ll be angry together-“

“That’s not the way it works.” You admitted holding onto his hands, giving him a pouty look. “I know theres a way to handle this, but I can’t risk my job.”

“Then quit.” He replied. “I provide way more than enough for us and Dodger.”He nodded over at the dog and you both laugh a little. Then he looks back at you and caresses your face. “You don’t need a job. I want you to be happy. That’s all.”

You brought him for a tight embrace as his arms wrapped around you tightly. You squeezed him and kissed his chest. “I love you.” You whisper as you both rocked back and forth. Pulling away you grin at him. “So, it’s five o’clock. I say we can finish some poetic justice braids in three hours if we start now.” 

“I’ll get the comb.” He replied as you head for your room. “And one more thing,” He tells you as you and your turn to look at him. “Your hair is beautiful. No matter what style it’s in.” He grinned

......

The End!

Hope you all enjoyed. Let me know if I should do a part II. Anyway, stay safe and healthy.

Xo- Fridai @allthingzhiddleston

@queenshikongo3 @thatoneperson5000 

@iam-laiya @victoriastefanie04 @arabescapr @pm-my-hubbies @honeymarvel @yanniebunny5151

@hookedinto-fictionalworlds @heartislubbingdubbing @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @nayr9e @kybaeza @multifacetedscorpio @naega-ooooooolf @schizonephilim @thatweirdwalangpake @grahoundart@kybaeza @nayrael @multifacetedscorpio@naega-ooooooolf @nirvanaslovechild @hisparadox @naughtybaroness30 @deansblackbeauty-deactivated202 @empressoftheundergroundsun @inlovewith3 @smartiedork @gerli49 @spookytyphoonbouquetsblog @angelicvixenn @wtfcantfindus @megapeacelovemusic-blog

[chicgeekgirl89]

In Between the Highs and Lows, There’s You and Me

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes

Rating: T

Summary: A series of missing moments between T.K. and Carlos from episode 2x10 "With a Little Help From My Friends." Featuring: T.K. and his innuendos, Carlos as the most understanding person ever, and both of them being ridiculous and sweet.

A/N: Our boys have moved in together and I am very happy! Huge thanks to @bluenet13 who told me to just write a post-ep and not think about it too much. And who also checks my Spanish because she's a wonderful human being! Enjoy!

AO3/ff.net

                                       XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“I’m very handy?” Carlos said as soon as Owen walked out the door. “T.K. seriously?”

“Well you are,” T.K. said, a smirk all over his face as he hooked the waistline of Carlos’ pants with one finger and pulled him close.

“Yeah but in front of your dad? You might as well as have said, ‘Hey dad, my boyfriend and I had sex on that couch two days ago.’”

T.K. rolled his eyes. “He could not care less. He probably didn’t even notice.”

“Yeah well I did,” Carlos protested, though not very strongly considering the way T.K. was pressing up against him right now.

“Apologies officer, it won’t happen again.”

One look at T.K.’s face told Carlos that it absolutely would. “Tu si eres tonto,” Carlos muttered.

“But you love me anyway,” T.K. said with a grin, leaning forward and capturing Carlos’ mouth in a kiss. 

Things quickly got out of hand. Things with T.K. usually did. The kiss deepened, T.K.’s hands coming up to run through Carlos’ curls, while Carlos’ skated up and down his sides. 

When T.K. pulled away and moved to kiss Carlos’ neck, Carlos felt himself sag a little bit into his boyfriend’s embrace even as reason tried to take over. “T.K.,” he said weakly and then swallowed hard as T.K. nipped at his earlobe. “T.K. we have a lot to unpack.”

T.K. paused for a moment to look up at him, lips swollen, chest heaving, eyes full of mischief and desire. “I live here now right?”

“Yes.”

“Then it will still be here to unpack later.” T.K. said, attacking Carlos’ mouth once more, reaching for the bottom of his shirt and stripping it off over his head in between kisses. 

And Carlos gave in. Because he always gave in to T.K. Because he loved this crazy, slightly reckless, sexy man he’d chosen to share his life with.

T.K. moved Carlos backward toward the stairs and then had to catch him because Carlos stumbled over a box of what was probably more of T.K.’s shoes. The man had so. many. shoes. “See, this is why we should unpack first,” Carlos said breathlessly. “This place is a fire hazard.”

“Mmm…pretty sure I’m the former firefighter in this relationship and I think it’s fine,” T.K. said before he leaned in and whispered something so dirty in Carlos’ ear that he forgot how to breathe for a moment. 

“Well I guess the bed is unpacked,” Carlos managed as T.K. grinned, proud of how much sway he had over his boyfriend.

“See, now you’re thinking.” T.K. grabbed his hand and tugged him up the stairs. Carlos smiled that stupid, besotted smile that only T.K. could cause and let himself be pulled along. If this was what living together was going to be like, he could get used to it.

                                                XXXXXXXXXXXXX

T.K. stormed through the front door, letting it slam shut behind him as he hurled his backpack to the floor. “Whoa,” Carlos said, looking up from where he was sitting on the couch. “What’s wrong?”

T.K. bit his lip and put his hands on his hips. “My dad cancelled his fucking surgery.”

Carlos set his book down and sat forward. “What? Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know!” T.K. threw up his hands in exasperation. “I only found out because Mateo told me. Apparently the night after I moved out, the two of them got all liquored up and my dad just…confessed all these things to him. Including that he is no longer scheduled for surgery.”

T.K. paced back and forth, so agitated he could hardly see straight. “He lied to me. Again.”

“Hey,” Carlos got up and gently put his hands on T.K.’s shoulder to stop his frantic movements. “It’s going to be okay.”

T.K. looked up into his eyes, tears pricking at his own. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” he said desperately. “Carlos I—”

“It’s all right.” Carlos wrapped his arms around him and pressed his lips to his hair. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.”

They stood there for several long moments as T.K. breathed through the whirlwind of thoughts assaulting his mind. When he finally pulled back he felt calmer, but something like grief still sat heavily in his stomach. “God I swear, sometimes I wonder if he’s ever told me the truth a day in his life,” he said with a sniff, wiping at his eyes. 

“Sometimes parents aren’t very good at being parents; even when they love us,” Carlos murmured, cupping T.K.’s face gently and running a thumb over his cheek. 

T.K. closed his eyes and let his head fall against Carlos’ shoulder, Carlos’ arms tightening around him in another hug. “I just don’t get it,” T.K. said. “Any of it. Why he didn’t just schedule it in the first place. Why he didn’t tell me that he cancelled it. God, it’s like he thinks I’m always about three seconds from a bender. No matter how many times I tell him I’m good he hides things from me. First the cancer, then the baby, now this.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s about you,” Carlos said. “I think he can’t handle his own feelings about it. So instead he hides the truth. From himself as much as you.”

The words soothed his raging spirit in the way that only Carlos could. T.K. looked up, frowning slightly. “How do you always know the right thing to say?”

“Lots of practice talking down angry suspects,” Carlos said, cupping the back of his neck and pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “Come on. I made bolognese. You’ll feel better after you eat.”

Carlos started to walk away but T.K. caught his hand and pulled him back, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” he said.

Carlos smiled and brushed a hand over his cheek. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

                                     XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

T.K. leaned his head back in the passenger seat a sigh escaping him. Carlos looked at him tentatively from the driver’s seat. “Are you sure you want to leave like this?” he asked.

T.K. blew out a breath. “No. What I want is for him to see what a freaking idiot he’s being and how much the whole team cares about him so that he reschedules the stupid fucking surgery and we can be done with this.” He shook his head. “But he’s too god damn stubborn for that so we may as well go home.”

Carlos turned the car on and they drove home in near silence. He could practically feel the anger and confusion and sadness pouring off of T.K., but the best he could offer was a hand to hold at red lights.

“I think I need some time by myself,” T.K. said when they got home, defeat in every line of his face, the heavy sag of his shoulders.

“Okay,” Carlos said. “I’m here if you want to talk.”

“Thanks.”

When Carlos had first met the Strands he’d been envious; they seemed so close. Weird for sure, but a tight knit unit, the way a family should be. Nothing like the awkwardness he’d felt for so long around his own parents; constantly worrying that he would slip up and say something that would cause them to push him out of their lives putting a strain on their relationship.

But the more he saw of Owen Strand and the more T.K. revealed about his past, the more Carlos saw the cracks. T.K.’s constant need to please, his tendency to shut others out, all brought on by the emotional loss of his dad at such a young age. And the way Owen tried not to bother T.K., not to involve him in any of the more sordid details of his own life, to pretend that everything was a-okay at all time, probably as a result of his own regrets and guilt over T.K.’s choice of coping mechanisms in pills and booze. 

They loved hard, but it was a broken love.

He heard the shower turn on as he checked his email and then busied himself with tidying up the kitchen and living room. They still hadn’t found a home for everything of T.K.’s so he did a little sorting and rearranging, but it was mostly him just trying to keep his hands busy so that he could pretend to ignore the gnawing worry in his gut about his boyfriend.

When an hour and a half passed and T.K. still hadn’t reappeared Carlos started to get concerned. He didn’t want to cross any boundaries, but he was also conscious of how T.K. tended to shut down when upset.

“T.K.?” he called as he walked up the stairs.

There was no response and it caused Carlos’ heart to beat faster as he reached the top and walked down the short hallway to their bedroom.

T.K. was sitting on the floor next to the bed, knees drawn up to his chest, hands covering his face. “Hey,” Carlos dropped beside him so they were shoulder to shoulder, wrapping an arm around T.K.’s shoulders, his other hand coming to rest on T.K.’s knee. “Talk to me.”

T.K. took a shaky breath and leaned heavily into Carlos’ side. “I shouldn’t have left him. This was a mistake. I should have seen it. All the signs were there and I missed them. It took Mateo one night to figure it out.”

“T.K. he didn’t tell you. Did he give you any indication when you suggested moving out that he was upset about it?”

“No. No he was supportive and happy for me. But I should have known that he couldn’t handle it on his own. Heck the last time he got bad news he moved us across the country. My mom leaving…it’s tearing him up. And then I left him too, all alone in that house without anybody but a dog for company.”

Carlos sat with him quietly for a moment. “T.K. what do you want?”

T.K. looked up at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“Do you want to go back and live with him? Because if you do, that won’t change anything for us.”

“No. God, no I…” he swallowed. “I want to be here with you.”

“Your dad is a grown man, T.K. His feelings are not your responsibility or your fault. If he’s struggling, he needs to be strong enough to get some help. Just like you did.”

T.K. blew out a breath. “It’s crazy how he thinks that telling me things will make me fall off the wagon when really it’s him not telling me stuff that drives me to the edge.”

“Do you need me to take your wallet and keys tonight?” Carlos asked quietly.

T.K. shook his head. “No. No I’m okay. I…being here with you is enough.”

“He’s going to get through this,” Carlos told him. “Your dad is a good person. And smart. He’s going to figure it out. And I’m with you every step of the way, whatever that looks like.”

T.K. looked up at him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He nudged T.K.’s shoulder. “You know what would help distract you right now?”

“What?”

“Dealing with all these boxes we never unpacked because someone insisted on having move-in sex.”

“Or,” T.K. countered. “We could have ‘my dad is making stupid life choices and I’m upset about it sex’ instead.”

Carlos wrinkled his nose and laughed. “Yeah. As much as I love having sex with you, I don’t think either of us should be interested in that kind. Come on.”  He pulled T.K. to his feet. “Someone has to figure out where to put Marlon Blendo.”

                                 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N: I swear it did occur to me until many hours after I wrote this that talking about things being a fire hazard in the condo is...very foreboding considering what's coming in a couple weeks. Ah well! Also I have a personal head canon that Carlos is a big reader, so that will likely be making appearances in future fics.

[chubbyreaderwriter]

Just In Time

Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier x Plus Size/Chubby Reader

Imagine: Certain that Bucky doesn't return your feelings, you’re about to take a one way flight to London when you’re stopped by a familiar face. 

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: none I don’t think 

Masterlist

You bit your lip to suppress your glee as you read over the email for the tenth time that minute. You did it. You had been accepted for your dream job as a head journalist for a very important magazine. The only problem was that there was no vacancies in their New York department so you would have to move to London. While you could pretend that your friends and family would be your reason to stay, you knew that the only reason you hadn’t started to pack your bags was because of Bucky. 

Everyone around you knew about your feelings for him, except him it seems. All the little hints here and there prompted nothing out of him and at times, you had been ready to give up on your seemingly hopeless crush but there was just a small feeling that maybe he felt the same way. Nevertheless, you wanted to finally see once and for all if Bucky felt the same way as you and the only way you were going to get through to him was if you asked him straight out and didn’t beat around the bush. 

With that in mind, you got up and got dressed, putting a little more effort into your appearance today than you normally would, you wanted to try to impress him after all. You were a little nervous but on the plus side, if he rejected you, at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of seeing him again, or seeing him with other women after confessing your love to him. The thought of Bucky drooling over another woman made your heart hurt.You tried not to think about it too much but you knew that you didn’t even think that you would have much of a chance with Bucky. You couldn’t compete with the many model-type women he saw on a daily basis. 

Shaking your head, you focused on getting dressed, you weren’t going to defeat yourself before you had even gotten your answer. You decided to keep your outfit simple with a pair of black leggings and a black bandeau top with a white cropped hoodie. You put your hair how you liked it and decided to put some makeup on, going for a sort of natural look. Happy with how you looked, cause girl, you look fine as hell, you headed out of your apartment and headed over to the Avengers tower where you knew you’d find Bucky. 

You used to be Tony’s secretary but you quit a few months ago to try to pursue your journalism career, which Tony surprisingly supported. Because of this, you still had your ID card which let you into the building so you could see all of the gang that you had gotten close to. You had made friends with the Avengers but you had only really spent a lot of time with Bucky and Steve. 

While you were in the elevator up to the communal floor, which was where JARVIS said they were, you took a deep breath to try and calm your nerves. This was either going to be the best day of your life or leave you heartbroken for a good few months. The elevator stopped and the doors pinged open for you to warily step out. Your legs felt like jelly as you walked closer to the living room where you could hear voices. You stopped right outside the door to try to calm down your nerves before you went inside when you heard Bucky talking, “She’s just so different, I never thought I’d meet someone like her, she really makes me feel like a better man when I’m around her.” You froze and everything felt like it was going in slow motion, Bucky liked someone else. 

As quietly as you could, you turned around and walked out of the building, keeping your head held high as you tried your hardest to keep your tears in, you weren’t going to let all these people see you vulnerable. You managed to keep yourself together on the whole ride home but as soon as you closed your apartment door, you fell to the floor and cried. You weren’t sure why it affected you this much, maybe because you had spent the last three years of your life hanging onto every word he said for nothing. 

You had stayed on the floor for a hour before you realised that you were better than that, you had other things to focus on rather than a guy who you knew was never going to like you back. Sighing, you got up from the ground and walked into your bathroom to wash your face to get rid of your smudged makeup. You looked at yourself in the mirror, “You can do this, just keep yourself together. You’re gonna start a new life and be happy.” You rolled your eyes at yourself, why were you talking to yourself? 

You walked into your bedroom and pulled out your suitcases as you packed most of your stuff. All you really needed was your clothes and some keepsakes that you had collected over the years, everything else you could buy again when you were in London. Your recruiters had paid for your flight for you and you were lucky that it was in the morning, you didn’t want to sleep on a plane, it was always so uncomfortable. 

...

The next morning was a perfectly laid out routine, you woke up, showered, got dressed and put your bags in the taxi that you had booked the night before. Everything was fine and going as planned until you got a notification which was a text from Tony, 

Hey kiddo, where were you yesterday? JARVIS said you were here but you never visited me? I miss my favourite coffee maker. 

You scoffed at his message but it made you smile nonetheless. You paused for a moment, figuring out what you were going to say before you started typing to reply to him. 

Hey Tony, yeah I was going to tell you guys that I’m moving to London but I guess my nerves got the best of me. Oh and tell Bucky I’m happy he finally found a girl ;)

You had debated back and forth on sending that last part but thought, fuck it, so you sent it anyway. It wasn’t long before your phone started to blow up with messages from all of the group but you didn’t want to feel guilty about your decision so you decided to turn off your phone. 

Back at the Avengers tower, Steve rubbed his face with his hand, “I can’t believe she’s leaving, without even saying goodbye.” Natasha nodded slightly, “I can, Bucky over here took too long to man up and now she thinks there’s nothing here for her anymore.” Tony looked between Natasha and Bucky, secretly hoping he would get to see a battle of the assassins. Bucky was too busy pacing back and forth in the room to listen to what the others were saying, he was only thinking about you. 

Why were you leaving everything? Leaving him? Bucky admittedly was not the best person for acting on his feelings but in his mind, you were the perfect woman for him. Right now, he was unsure of what to do, what could he do? Run after you and force you to be with him? Yes! No? Could he? “Just go after her already! You need me to come with you?” Natasha and Tony were a little surprised at Steve’s outburst. Steve rolled his eyes at his oldest friend, “Stop pacing and tell her how you feel, I’m not dealing with a moping mess for months because you had your chance and didn’t take it.” 

Tony snickered behind his coffee mug and cleared his throat when Bucky glared at him, “I agree with Captain Spandex, Happy can take you if you want, less publicity that way.” Before Tony could finish his sentence, Bucky was already running out of the room and sprinting down the stairs, the elevator always took too long. Happy had gotten the call from Tony asking him to take Bucky to the airport and while he was wary of having such a deadly man in the car with him, he compiled with Tony’s orders. 

Bucky’s leg bounced with nerves throughout the whole journey, he was reciting what he wanted to say over and over but as soon as he started to form some kind of speech, he started over again, nothing sounded right. Bucky didn’t even wait for the car to fully stop before he was opening the door and running into the airport. He was not used to being around so many people in such a busy and crowded area but he was too focused on searching for you to let himself worry about any unwanted attention on himself. 

He cursed under his breath as he stood searching for you but was yet to find you until he saw you walking away from the check in desk, ticket in hand. Bucky pushed through a lot of people to hurry towards you, he at least had to be grateful for long lines. “(Y/N)!” You swore you heard your name and when you lifted your head up to look around the noisy area, you saw a very familiar face heading towards you, awkwardly pushing people out of the way. What was he doing here?

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to think of something to say but you were just confused as to why he was even here right now. Bucky cleared his throat as he looked at you and for a moment he was lost in your eyes, his mind going completely blank. You glanced at your watch, “Bucky, I have no idea what you’re doing here, but my flight-” “Don’t leave.” “What?” You froze and watched Bucky as he took your hands into his own. “I said, don’t leave. Please.” You stumbled over your words, “B-But why, you, you said you found someone else, you don’t need me anymore.” Bucky shook his head, “No i didn’t, when did I say that?” 

You swallowed and looked down at your joined hands, “Yesterday, I came to the tower and I wanted to tell you how I felt before I deciding on taking this job and I overheard you talking about her, you said that she makes you feel like a better man.” 

Bucky couldn’t help the little smirk forming on his face as he realised what you were talking about. His silence worried you and you saw him grinning at you, “You think that’s funny? Letting me hear you talk about another woman when you know I have feelings for you.” You pulled on your hands to try and take them away from Bucky so you could storm off but his grip tightened enough to make you stay. He smiled, “Yes, I think it’s funny, because there is no other woman.” You frowned, “What do you mean?” “I mean, I was talking about you, doll.” You blushed and looked down at your feet, “Oh.” Bucky lifted your head and pressed his forehead against yours, “So please don’t leave me, I need you more than you know. I love you.” You let out a shaky sigh, “I love you too.” You were content in just standing there for a moment before you realised that you were in the way of a lot of people and so you grabbed your suitcases and headed out of the airport and into Happy’s car. Bucky wrapped his arm around your shoulder on the drive back. He spent the whole time looking at you and wondering what he did to deserve you in his life. 

[narukoibito]

St. Mungos, since feeling is first who pays attention and Muggle FWB for the WIP Game?

Thank you for the interest, Anon! This took a while because things in my personal life are in chaos, but thank you for the request.

St. Mungos

This is my Healer!Ginny story that has been lurking in the back of my brain since last year. I’ve written a good amount of words, but then an entirely different plot appeared and now I may have to rewrite most of it, hence it’s lack of progress. But I still really want to finish this one day.

Ginny is a Healer on the 4th floor of St. Mungos. Her first patient is someone named Harry Evans. (This is a Harry never to Hogwarts story.)

The first thing Ginny notices is his eyes. They’re the most vivid, bright green that she’s ever seen. It’s unnerving how unseeing they are. A pressure builds up in her chest, an aching pain and nostalgia she can’t place.

The morning light from the window washes over his face, dancing off these round wire-rimmed glasses. His dark hair (black like a blackboard) appears to be on some ineffable scale of entropy — tousled and pointed in every which way, yet somehow it’s charming and works well with his sharp, unconventional features. Some of that hair spills over a bandage wrapped around his forehead. 

But it’s also the pleasant, vacancy in those eyes that strikes her, like she’s looking at the embers of a once bright flame. He looks like an innocent, half-lost child, his lips curled in a ghost of a smile.

Her clipboard and supervisor tell her his name is Harry Evans. The name creates an itch at the back of her head, something she wants to scratch at, but the odd sense of nostalgia must be misplaced significance. He’s her first real patient. 

He must matter to someone important to have his own room on the fourth floor of St. Mungo’s Ward 49. Usually they lumped all the long-term spell damaged patients in one place, let them wander under the supervision of one Healer. But this room is spacious and private, protected by complicated wards and concealing charms. Someone really cares about Harry Evans, and for some reason it causes a subtle burning behind her eyes. Maybe it’s because he looks like a newborn fawn. 

Who wouldn’t want to protect him?

“You’re new, but he’s not difficult. It’s mostly maintenance,” her supervisor says. “He makes it easy, don’t you, Harry?”

Harry’s gaze drifts toward the window.

Ginny scans his file. It’s actually surprisingly thick, but a lot of it has been redacted. The summary page sums it up though: he’s twenty-one; he has been here for three years; the diagnosis is vague (severe curse damage); there’s a long slew of attempted cures, none of which were successful obviously; now it’s about making sure he’s comfortable whatever that means.

“All right, let me know if run into any trouble.” Her supervisor is already starting for the door.

“Um — what about — I know his treatment is maintenance, but can I…?” Ginny’s not sure what she’s trying to say exactly. Harry Evans has seen a lot of Healers if the list of attempted cures is any indication, but she gave up Quidditch to become a Healer in the long-term spell damage ward specifically because she wanted to do something.

Her supervisor gives her a rueful smile. 

“Stick to maintenance. Harry Evans is a special case.”

Ginny turns back to Harry, who is facing her again, looking painfully innocent.

Somehow she doesn’t need convincing that he’s special.

since feeling is first who pays attention

This was a gift for the Harry/Ginny Discord Incognito Elf exchange. I managed to finish in time to gift it, but I want to take some additional time to rework it before posting. It is missed moments over the years as Ginny and her feelings for Harry evolve.

Ginny presses her face against the wall, peeking between the stair spindles. Her bright brown eye lands on the two boys hunched over a chessboard. Her brother Ron and Harry Potter, who, despite appearing to be losing, doesn’t look the least upset.

Harry Potter. 

The Harry Potter is in her house. Looking comfortable on their couch despite the faded, mended cushions. His face crinkles in laughter at something Ron says, his green eyes bright with contentment. Ginny doesn’t miss the occasional look of awe at the things she’s always taken for granted. It’s almost as if he can’t believe he is really here.

He isn’t what she expected – isn’t what she imagined he would look like after all those years listening to Mum recite her favorite bedside story, about the heroic Savior of the Wizarding World. She had pictured neat hair, a dashing smile, someone who would recognize a comrade in her and take her on all sorts of adventures. He would be different, he wouldn’t discount her dreams of flying and doing everything her brothers could and more.

Instead, Harry Potter has the messiest hair ever, a sheepish smile, and clothes that he nearly swims in. Oh, and he has somehow missed the memo and found the comrade in her brother Ron instead. 

Her fingers curl around the spindle. Not for the first time, a spike of envy shoots through her. If only she were a little older or a boy. Then maybe she would be the one playing chess with Harry. Maybe she would be the one to hide under his invisibility cloak and battle trolls and face You-Know-Who with him.

Ginny presses her face a little closer and lets out a sigh.

But Harry Potter is kind. He ignores all the times she has made a fool of herself. And he has the greenest eyes she’s ever seen. They are as green as those glowing jars of pickled toads at the Potion ingredients store Mum had taken her to. Pretty and kind and not dismissive of her patched clothes or her glowing red face.

Harry Potter. If he likes Ron, if he looks like he actually likes the Burrow, if his face grimaces at the attention at Flourish and Blotts, could it be possible that one day he could like her too?

Muggle FWB

Hah, so this was the first idea that I rambled off to my beta, which ended up with long, long emails back and forth on this idea that I never wrote! Here’s a snippet of that exchange:

Harry thinks he only see Ginny as a little sister, so when she suddenly proposes that they become friends with benefits in uni, he’s floored and says they’re practically family. Blinded by her anger over the rejection, she kisses him so that he knows what he’ll be missing. Of course, he then realizes his attraction to her. As their physical relationship progresses, they develop feeeeeeelings (gasp!). But Ginny thinks she only wants a physical relationship and once they have sex, it'll get out of her system. Harry has to work to convince her that she actually wants more.

But the backdrop is that Ginny doesn't think she wants more than sex is that when she was 11, she was kidnapped by Tom Riddle for as a kid (they met at the park a lot, and none of her brothers/Harry/anyone realized he'd been "befriending" her). Kid Harry figures out where Riddle took her and saves her.

Ginny wasn’t molested but she/Harry/everyone else is deeply affected by this event even though they don't realize it. Ginny thinks she's overcome it, and she's still a BAMF some the books but she's not fully over it as shown by her fear of being emotionally involved with Harry. It's why Harry refuses for a long time to think of her anything else outside of a brotherly way. 

Ginny has a really bad sexual experience (though it doesn't go all the way), and as a result she's disgusted by men (not scared), but doesn't feel any revulsion with Harry. After not being able to get close to any boy for a long time, she decides to proposition Harry. Harry, being noble, absolutely refuses at first, but she kisses him, he's very attracted to her, and is convinced by her that he's helping her get over this tick. So it's FWB but it fits their personalities, and still stays true to the Ginny is subconsciously afraid of a real relationship/intimacy with Harry, who realizes he wants more but doesn't know if just getting to be physical is more than he'll ever deserve and he wants what he can get if not real love from her - until, of course, he realizes he can't do it anymore and she has to decide if she's brave enough to actually let herself feel.

HAHA omg I’m reading over my emails and I talk about getting into The Changeling and only sleeping 4/5 hrs a night and then the exchange ends with my coming up with my alternate dimension idea of Harry getting thrown into the BWL!Neville universe. So you guys can see why this story never went anywhere despite several thousands words between me and my beta.

–

Whew, long post. Hope that satisfied your curiosity! 

I’m honestly not sure there are any left, but let me know if you have any other wip asks! Though note that I will be rather absent in the near-future because of life.

[blissfulparker]

In between the lines→Professor!Tom

Parings→professor!tom x reader

Summary→Your toms favorite student and wants to make you his TA. But what if the both of you also want a little more?

Warnings→CONTAINS SMUT!! so if you don't feel comfortable do not read. Teacher/student relationship, all characters are over 18!

A/n→ hi! so this is my first professor!tom fic, let me know how you guys like it! this is also one of my first fics where I go into detail with smut but not too much so like I said if you don't feel comfortable don't read! Let me know how you like it! also im extremely close to 8k thank you guys so much!!!!!

(Not my gif!!)

The desk creaked under you. You shifted for what felt like the millionth time in your seat as you listened to your professor speak. You typed the notes on the board as you listened to the british accent that faded in and out with your day dreams. Mr. Holland wasn't like other professors you had, he was young, probably the youngest professor you've ever seen.

You remember on the first day of school how he asked the class to ask him questions to get to know him. A few girls who thought they were cute for asking, asked about his age and if he had a girlfriend. He only laughed along-but was most likely uncomfortable-and told the class how he didn't have a girlfriend but his age was a secret. How he could be 25 or could be 56. Everyone knew though knew he was extremely young, some even thought that he had to have some sort of affair with a teacher to get a job here at such a young age.

“(Y/n) are you still with us?” His fingers snapped and you came out of your daydream. About forty kids between the age of 18-23 were staring at you. Some girls in the back snickered as he referred to you as your first name, something he rarely did.

“Yes.” You choke out feeling too embarrassed.

“Good, started to worry I was boring you too death.” He jokes pacing back and forth. The students chuckle and you hide deeper in your chair. “I’d like at least one of my students to excel.” He comments with a playful smirk. Some still laugh the others stare at you in envy knowing your intelligence.

He continued with the lesson until the end of the class. Looking at the clock as if he too needed somewhere to be.

“Do we have any questions?” he asked the class, his hands clasped together as he looks around the room and even locks eyes with you at one point. His eyes were soft, gentle but slightly sexy. “No? I guess i'll see everyone on thursday then.” he smiled and everyone was quick to pack their bags and either go home, work, or to their next class. “Essays will be in by friday, if you have questions my inbox for emails is open!” although no one cared enough to listen to his words, even though it was important, everyone was far too focused on their weekend plans.

“Mrs.(y/l/n) if I can see you for a second please?” He pushed himself away from his desk and walked around it. Waiting until all the students left to speak to you. He watches as the door slammed shut from the last student.

“I-I’m sorry for zoning out.” If he was going to call you out for your little daydream then why hadn’t he called out anyone else? You could name the people who had zoned out during his lesson. You could name all the times too. 

He chuckles before picking up his pen and flicking through his papers to find yours. Your essay you submitted two weeks ago. A day early because you always feared something would glitch. It was emailed twice which Tom thought was cute. You had carried an extra copy in your bag Incase he’d lost the one you’d given him. You always came prepared.

The one that caught his eye, you were gorgeous of course. To him at least. You were beautiful. But you also had a Artistic way of writing that spoke to him. Yeah he’s had students here and there where he’s looked at their work and thought how incredible they’ll be in the future but he knew you were already going to be something else.

“That’s not why you’re here.” He licks his fingers as he grabs your paper from the stack. “But thank you for calling yourself out.” His eyes flick to yours and then back to the paper.

“Then why am I here?” You adjusted your strap. It was the first day of spring, the weather was blissful and so you wore a pencil skirt and a cardigan, one only half buttoned up and didn’t leave much to the imagination. He couldn’t—he didn’t want to imagine all the boys who’ve touched you. Promised to love you and failed. Kissed you like they were starving but nothing more.

“This essay is the hardest essay for me to assign besides the spring final.” He explains and you fiddle with your fingers out of nerves. “I hardly ever have anyone get a B. I’ll be honest I feel terrible for assigning it but I have to do it. I always tell my students that all of them tried hard and the grade they got isn’t a reflection on how good or bad they write. And I grade honestly, I do, I don’t cheat students out or anything. Three years ago I got a boy who got a 82%.” He taps on your essay and you’re still confused as to why he’s having you stand here. “You got a 94%.” He places your paper in front of you. You’re proud of yourself, yes, but you’re still confused as to what he wants, a celebration? You to thank him? What did he want?

“You had a spelling error that marked you two points, you had a few sentences that repeated themselves, and capitalization got messy at the end.” He watches you as you look over your paper. Looking at the notes he’s left and the marks. There wasn’t a lot, not a lot at all. Just eight pages filled with tiny notes in sloppy red pen and a few marks at the end.

“Thank you?” You told him. Proud of yourself on the inside, you didn’t know how to express it on the out.

“How did you do it?” He asked to get up and come around the front. Taking the paper back from you he looked for answers.

“What do you mean-“ you started and he cut you off.

“How did you get the A? How did you write your paper? You’re smart, extremely smart. So what is such a smart girl doing in my class?” He asked and you felt yourself heat up.

“Just wanted something easy I guess.” You swallow hard as he comes over to the front again and stands in front of you.

“Easy?” He chuckles. “My class is easy for you?” He takes it as a joke but you don’t see much of what’s funny.

“I guess.” You shrug. You signed up for his class fearing it would be the hardest and it was, you just worked really hard to get the grade you desired.

“Do you know what grade you have in this class?” he asked you and you balance yourself on his desk, his scent was strong. Ocean breeze mixed with something else. Maybe you just now understood why girls fell so hard for him. You now had the front row view of him and could see the pool of honey that made up his eyes, the freckles that danced across his face, how his bottom lip pouted out more when he spoke. How when he gripped the desk a vein popped out of his arm.

“A-a 89%.” you swallow hard and he hums. He was all too intimidating. He was all too much.

“You're my best student you know,” he spoke in a lower voice. “I wanna offer you to be my TA next semester. You'll need practice on your writing more and brush up your analyzing skills but nothing I can't teach you, nothing you don't already know.” his hand too close to yours on the desk. He almost caresses it, almost lets your fingers touch yours. but that makes him creepy, if you didn't want it like he did then that makes him disgusting.

“A TA position?” you asked shocked and he presses his lips together and nods. He has your knees weak, you're melting and he knows it. He knows what he's doing and you can't tell if he wants you as much as you want him.

“Yes,” he moves his hand away slowly from yours as he drags himself back to his chair. He looks up at you and you can see deep behind his soft honey eyes there is something more he wants than you to be his TA. “think about it. Let me know your thoughts and if you have any questions feel free to ask. My office and email are opened all the time so let me know.” he looks at the essay in your hand that you stole back from him and you drop it knowing you cannot keep it.

“Thank you.” you swallow hard once again and hopes he doesn't notice your shaking hands and nervous body. You know you're going to take it, spending more time with the hottest professor and making yourself look good for your future was an obvious yes. You just didn't want to say it immediately in front of him, you wanted to tease him like he did you.

-

It was 7pm. Mr. Holland had no class right now and his words of his office being open at any time ran through your head. You wore the same outfit as you did earlier in his class, you didn't know how much it drove him crazy but it did. Finding his office was easy, but having to knock on the door and speak to him was the hardest part. You press your ear against the door to hear typing. He was in there so that was promising, you could see a faint light through the glass and a blurry outline of his face as he wore his glasses and looked up at his computer.

Two knocks was all it took, your fist hitting the door twice was all it took to hear the gentle sound of his voice telling you to come in. your fingers wrapped around the golden door knob and let yourself in. the sound of his quick typing stopped as he looked up to see you. So shy and innocent looking at the frame of his door.

“(Y/N), its lovely to see you again.” he sat up more and you cleared your throat as you shut the door behind you.

“I wanna take your offer. A-About the TA position.”you told him strongly but that confidence faded at the end. he has a little smirk forming on his face as he lowers his laptop to give yoy his full attention.

“That was quick.” he pushes his seat out and stands up. “But im glad.” he adjusted the watch on his wrist as he leaned against the front part of his desk. He crossed his feet and the two of you just stared at each other across the room, not knowing what to say or do next. You set your bag at his door assuming you'd be here a little while longer.

“Guess you can help me grade a few essays, get your practice in now.” he moves back over to the other side of his desk and pulls his chair out for you. You walk carefully over to it and take a seat, feeling the leather sink as you sit and the feeling of being in his chair is empowering, the feeling of him standing behind you makes you feel somethings stronger.

“I want you to pick up that pen and mark mistakes you see. Leave notes in the margin if you must but if you're not comfortable with that leave it to me.” he takes a deep breath in and you do as you are told. He still stands behind you as you read the essay. There were spelling mistakes, grammar mistakes here and there, poorly written but you only could assume that the poor kid who wrote it was doing it last minute at midnight. Probably didn’t even have time to edit. His breath hoever is so close to your neck as he hovers over you, you can almost taste the mint gum he chewed.

“He repeated a sentence twice.” you trip over your own words. You turn to look at him and he's staring hard at you. His eyes burn onto your shoulder as it's exposed.

“Then mark it.” he instructs and you blink a few times and he reaches over you to grab the pen but for some reason you grab his forearm to stop him. He’s a lot stronger than you think, alot. He snaps his eyes to you and stops chewing the gum he's been chewing on since the moment you got here.

His jaw clenches and your brain is screaming to let go of his arm, but you can't. You simply cannot let go of his arm and part of you thinks he doesn't want you to let go. He inches closer to your face, feeling the air of your breath as he moves closer to your lips.

“Let go.” he fixates on your lips, how dewy they are from the gloss you wore and how he wanted to press his against yours. You looked down at his arm and felt yourself burn in his chair.

‘Mr. Holland-'' you start but his lips crash into yours, he moves his hand to your waist and you let go finally. They're soft, he knows what he's doing as he moves against your lips. He goes to move both hands to your waist and gets you on the desk. Pushing the messy papers to the side he places you on the desk now holding your face as he kisses you harder, like he's trying to take in every moment of this, trying to remember all of this.

He pushes your legs apart which gives him easy access up your skirt. His hands rub up and down your thighs as he gets closer and closer to your core. Already feeling the heat that radiates off.

You however, you work on his tie. Trying to pull it undone and he chuckles as he feels you struggling. how smart yet clueless you can be about some things

“Like this darling.” just like that he pulls it off and leaves it on the floor going back to kiss you again. Your hands starts on his hair, tugging the perfect curls loose from its gel hold. Although he finds your sweet spot, kissing your neck just below your ear. Hearing your soft moans make him tighten in his pants even more. He wants to rub himself but you are the focus, he wants to watch you cum for him, you melt in front of him. He wants to ruin you for any other boy that tries to do the same.

He hikes up your skirt, having it bunch around at your waist and seeing what you wore underneath only turns him on more. Baby Blue lace underwear that hugged your body just perfectly. His eyes wide in shock as you didn't wear any shorts under, no spandex, nothing. You walked around all day wearing the lacy blue thong and could have exposed yourself at any moment but you didn't. He thought about all the times you wore a skirt to his class, all the different color underwear you could have worn and all the times you've sat there so innocently.

But right now he didn't want to stare, he wanted to take you all in and make you feel good.

“Mr. H-” you start to address but he shakes his head.

“Just Tom, darling.” he kissed the corner of your mouth and proceeded to undo his pants to feel you around him. He starts to pull himself out when he realizes he doesn't have a condom or anything on him. It truly wasn't like him to be like this at work anyways.

“I’m on the pill,” you breathe out, so desperate, so needy. your heavy breath against Tom's shoulder made him shudder. You were begging to have him inside you, begging for his touch. “Just, just try and pull out.” You moved back to look at him and he nodded.

He slid in slowly, throwing his head back as your nails dug into his back. Resting your head against his shoulder as he gently kissed your head.

When the two of you were comfortable enough he started going faster, making you only need him more, trying not to be too loud because you didn’t know who was around. Trying to not think of how wrong it was to be fucking your professor. Was this why he wanted you as a TA? Why he addressed you by your name in class? Made eye contact with you in lessons? All this for now? Built up tension and being so touched starved for one another. Maybe it had been awhile since someone good came around, someone who knew what they were doing. He was good, better than good, he made you want more, you’d almost be upset if there wasn’t going to be more.

His sweet, soft, yet so dirty words helped push you to your own orgasm. Calling you ‘baby’ and reminding you how right you are as he thrusted into you. Rough but sweet. Maybe he would be more sweet in the future, but you wanted him to tear you apart.

“Tell me you're close.” He grunted into your ear, lifting up your face to kiss you. Your eyes hooded in euphoria and you can barely find the words to respond.

“I-I’m close.” You cry. “I’m so close!”

He felt so good you almost had tears running down your cheeks. You hold onto his waist, knowing you’re going to leave scratch marks and maybe a bit of the blue nail polish you wore that chipped away against his skin.

His hand went to your clit, helping you to your orgasm making you moan loud, as you loudly as you could into him. Making sure you were still somewhat quiet though, he shut you up with his lips. Muffled your moan with his hungry kisses.

He pulled out after you, jerking himself onto your thigh, you wanted to help but your body was too weak to respond, something so simple completely destroyed you. Maybe it was only fifteen minutes but he made it feel like an eternity.

Grabbing a tissue from his desk he cleaned you up. Helped you get down and get back dressed, Moving some of the baby hairs from the thin layer of sweat your forehead had.

He dressed had dressed himself back up too, placing back on his tie and running his fingers through his hair to calm some of the curls you tugged on too hard.

He notices you’re still in a daze and comes over to kiss you softly on the corner of your mouth. He was caring, really caring and you could see it. You could see a lot more of him now.

“You alright?” His breathing is still hard as he asks you. His eyes go to the water bottle on his desk and offers it to you. You take it and drink as if you’ve been in the hot summer sun for too long. He chuckles as he adjusts his tie back up seeing how thirsty you were.

“I’m go-great.” You tell him nodding your head. He raises his eyebrows and nods as well, moving papers back into their order reminding himself to clean the desk tomorrow.

“Good.” He gives a lazy smirk as he stops his fiddling and comes over to fix the sleeve on your shirt. “So you’ll be in class tomorrow, we’ll do a simple review and then start taking a look on the final exam-“ he was cut off by your kiss, so egear and soft he tries so hard not to smile into it.

“Easy there, Princess.” He pets your cheek before dropping his hand.

“Don’t talk to me about class when we just fucked on your desk.” You told him and he smirked and kissed again. But he knew it was getting late and a student being in a teachers office for too long would make people suspicious already. He wanted to keep what he had with you, only if you wanted that too.

“Didn’t want to make things awkward.” He told you and you scoffed.

“If I wanted things awkward I would’ve stopped you after our first kiss, not our first orgasm.” You told him and he grew a smirk.

“Oh so it was real.” He’s cocky and you hit his shoulder. He looks over at the clock and sees it’s nearly 8. “You should get going, it’s a little strange when a student is walking out of a teacher’s office late.” He warns you and you nod knowing it’s best. You could only imagine what would happen if you two got caught.

“Right.” You flatten out your skirt and walk over to the front to pick up your bag. He watches your every move, watches as you bend to pick up the bag, watches as you adjust the necklace on your neck. He watches every movement.

“Hey,” he stops you and you turn around. Part of you wants to stay and another part wants to go home and think about what the fuck just happened. “Don’t say anything about this. Not to anyone. Not to your roommates, best friends, no one. If we want to continue your position as a TA we’ll have to keep this quiet.” He told you with almost worry in his eyes and you bite down on your lip and nod.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow?” You asked and he tapped his fingers on the desk. Nodding as he once again went to try and fix the hair that was messy.

“Of course.” He winks and you heat up again. “If you would like to meet in my office earlier to discuss the position for real then my doors are open.” He reminds you and you almost laugh in his face. That’s what you were supposed to do now but clearly things had a different path.

“I will keep that in mind, Tom.” You use his real name instead of professor. He’s the one that’s blushing under your words.

You open the door very small. Not giving much room to leave but once you’re out you quickly shut the door. Hearing it click and lock automatically as you left. The black paint of professor Holland stared back at you as once again you could see the faint light inside and him sitting at his desk. You turn on your heels, seeing how no one else is in the hall you make your way out. Making your way out was the easy part. But you didn’t know if seeing him again would be all as easy as you hoped.

☆Tagging some people!!! Lemme know if you wanna be tagged!!:

@thollandss @spectacularlyspidey @angelic-holland @tomsrebeleyebrow @joshuaparkers @quitetommy @quackeroos @amsterdam-parker @stealthspideys @honeymoonparker @screamholland

[hlupdate]

In a never-before-published 2012 interview, Harry Styles and Niall Horan talk about their childhoods, the future of One Direction, and much more

In the spring of 2012, I spent a few entertaining days hanging out with the five young members of a British boy band who were just breaking big in the United States. The guys from One Direction were unjaded, unguarded, totally charming, and a puppy pile of optimism and energy. On April 8th, in a New York City hotel room, an 18-year-old Harry Styles and 16-year-old Niall Horan sat down with me for a joint interview, published here for the first time. (The reporting was intended for a Rolling Stone cover story that never ran.)

It was late morning, and they had both just rolled out of bed. Styles wore a hotel bathrobe; Horan, with braces still on his teeth, was in sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a Dallas Mavericks hat a fan had given him during a recent trip to Texas. The conversation was casual, full of laughs, and focused on their formative years.

What did you do at the gym last night? Harry: One of our security guys, his friend’s over, he’s a personal trainer, so I was working with him, and he ripped me to shreds.

In 12 hours, you have to do Saturday Night Live. Are you ready? Harry: Yeah, I think so. I think it’s going to be a fun day. It’s just really exciting, obviously. The show is so huge. For us to get the opportunity to be on it at all was just amazing, and to us, to be performing and just be involved with the show is amazing.

Have you seen whole episodes of it? Harry: I’ve watched a lot of clips on YouTube. They don’t show it in the U.K.

Growing up, when did you realize you could sing or that you wanted to sing? Harry: I sang in primary school, like the school productions, plays and stuff.

What was your first one? Harry: The first one was…I was five, and there was a story about a mouse who lived in a church, and I was Barney, the mouse. I had to wear my sister’s tights, and a headband with ears on it, and I had to sing a song all by myself. I remember it was just like, whatever…in the second, I was Buzz Lightyear in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, so you know when they run and hide in the toy shop? Buzz Lightyear was in the toy shop, so they just created my character. The last one, I was in…you know Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat? I was the pharaoh, but I was an Elvis pharaoh.

Did you have a sense that this is what you wanted to do in your life? Harry: I think in school, I was OK, I wasn’t a bad student. I think I just knew I wanted to entertain people and stuff. I was a bit of an attention-seeker at school.

Niall: Me, too. I just talked too much, sang too much.

You were onstage as a kid and were like, “This is what I like”? Harry: I knew it was fun, I had a lot of fun doing it, and I stopped when I started high school, and then I didn’t really do anything, I just sang at home, in the shower, in your bedroom, that type of thing. I guess it started again when my friends were in a band and they wanted to do this battle of the bands competition that was at school, and they needed a singer, and one of my friends asked me.

What did you sing? Harry: We sang “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” by Jet, and “Summer of ’69.” We did it more towards the Bowling For Soup version.

How about you, Niall? Niall: I always knew I wanted to sing. I was academic…I was one of those people that if I’m not interested in something, I don’t really care. If I’m not interested in school, I would have never trained or done my homework or anything, I’d have just gone outside and played football or whatever.

Harry: [helpfully translating] Soccer.

Niall: So I always wanted to sing. I was singing here and there, not gigs or anything, but I always sang around the house or whatever, and I played Oliver in a school play. And then I just did that, and people told me I should do something…I was only 10, what could I do at 10? I just did a couple of gigs, and when I got to high school, they told me that I should just try out for The X-Factor.

Who told you? Niall: My French teacher. We used to do talent shows and stuff at school, she was like, “You should do it,” so I did it.

What did that entail? What were the steps from being a kid in high school to getting on the show? Niall: It was the final of The X-Factor the year before, and at the end credits of the final, it says, “If you want to apply for 2010, go online,” so a couple of weeks later, I said, “Right, I’m going to do it,” and I filled in the form online, we were sending emails back and forth, going to this place at this time. The first one is at a big stadium, then if you get through that, you come back the next day. Is that the way they did it with you?

Harry: I had to wait a little bit, I think.

Niall: I was there at five a.m., I got seen at 12, and I was out of there by quarter past 12, and the next day I came back at 10 in the morning. You get through the first round, then they do a round where they don’t tell you if you got through after that.

Harry: They film it.

Niall: The producer and someone from the label. They film it and show it to whoever. Then if you got through that, it takes about two or three weeks until you find out. I was in Spain. Then you just go through the audition.

Harry, how did you wind up on X-Factor? Harry: I basically said, the same as Niall, I was watching the year before, and I remember looking at the young guys on there, and I was kind of like, “I’d love to have a go at it just to see what happens,” and that was kind of it. My mum actually did the application, and then three weeks later, I walked upstairs and she said, “Oh, you’ve got your X-Factor audition Sunday,” and I was like, “OK.”

Niall: In England, it’s the biggest thing ever. It took a while to build.

Harry: The two or three years were steady, and third or fourth, it just blew up.

Niall: It works that one in three people in the UK watch it. There’s 60 million people in the UK, and 21 million people watched the final the year we were in it.

Harry, your band also played at least one wedding right? Harry: Yeah. We actually said that we’d do the wedding gig, and…

Niall: You get paid for it?

Harry: Yeah. 160 quid, between all four of us. 40 quid each…we said we’d do it, and then we found out it was the weekend coming up, and we hadn’t done anything for it, so we asked the bride what kind of stuff she wanted, and she said she didn’t mind, but she wanted some Bob Marley songs. Literally in three days, not even three, probably two days, we learned like 25 songs. We might have known like three of them before. I was 16, maybe 15, singing these Bob Marley songs. There was a girl a couple of years below us, and it was her mum, she said she wanted us to play.

Niall: Can you imagine you’re at a wedding and you have 16-year-old kids up on the stage?

Maybe you were really good! Harry: Yeah, the drummer is one of my best friends from school, he’s a sick drummer, he’s so good.

Did you think the band could be something? Harry: A bit. My friend’s mum was a radio presenter, and she did a radio show  for a bit, so she was trying to sort us out a little bit of studio time, we were going to go in and record.

What do your parents do? Harry: My mum is a PA.  My dad is a financial adviser.

How about you? Niall: My dad works at a supermarket, he’s the head manager, general manager of an area, not just one, and my mum is unemployed now, so I try to help them out whenever I can.

You probably can. That must be nice. Niall: Yeah, it’s nice, it’s good.

Plus, now you can tell them what to do. Harry: [laughs]  “Now you go to bed.”

Were you happy as kids? Did you have adolescent angst and stuff? Did you go through depressed periods? Harry: Not really. I think at one point, I started acting like I was…I had a phase of listening to really heavy music.

Niall: I never went through that.

Harry: Not stupid heavy, but a bit… just because I thought it was cool.

Like what? Harry: Like Nirvana T-shirts, wore black all the time, pretty much.

Were you pretty happy go-lucky? Niall: Yeah, I was always happy. I think me and Harry were lucky. Our parents got divorced quite early, didn’t they, when we were really young. I was four, I didn’t know much, so I was always a happy kid, always up for a laugh, very carefree, and I’m a bit like that now.

Did you both grow up in your moms’ houses? Harry: Yeah.

Niall: I went between both, my mum moved to the country and I didn’t have any interest in it. I always felt like the country is for when you’re older. I was with my mom for a while but got bored, all my friends were in town, I went to school in town and all that stuff. It was more like that.

Harry: I lived with both parents, and then moved with my mum, and we owned a pub for like five years. I remember the first night, it was like a night where a band was playing, and I just thought, “How am I going to get to sleep?” I was three stories up, I was like, “How am I going to get to sleep with this noise?” I was next to a road in Sussex in the middle of nowhere, and by the end, I could fall asleep next to the band, I was so used to the noise.

Was it imprinting your brain? Harry: Maybe. One of the guys who used to play every so often, he used to be in Deep Purple or something… He started teaching me guitar when I was like 10, I think 10, maybe nine.  I loved it. I was 10, 11, all of the regulars, I got on with them. I’d walk behind the bar and my head would barely go over the bar. It’s still going now. We sold it to my best friend, we go in all the time still.

People say you come off as more mature than your age, you come off wiser. Did hanging around all those people as a kid help you mature?

Harry: I don’t know, maybe.  I moved when I was seven or eight from Cheshire, and it was still Cheshire, but half an hour away, but in terms of not driving and stuff, all my friends lived near my school, so that was a bit further out. One of my friends there was my sister’s age, he was 16 when I was 10. It was so tiny, they were the only teenage boys…we’d ride our bikes and go to the driving range and stuff. It was good, it was fun.

You both wanted to entertain – if it hadn’t worked out, would you have been really unhappy? Harry: Yeah, I think it would be kind of like…one of the reasons you go for X-Factor in the first place is that you want to do this, and it kind of helps you get out of the life that you were doing before. I worked in a bakery for two years. Obviously, I didn’t want to do that for ages!

If you’d asked people at school, would they have said, “Yeah, they’re probably going to be famous,” or would they never have guessed that? Niall: My aunt, I was in the back of her car. We used to go across Ireland to go to the beach for a couple of weeks, and I remember we were in the car, I was singing, and she thought I was the radio, and she told me, I never forgot it, that she thought I was going to be famous since I was six, seven. She was the only person who told me that, so I always remembered that.

Harry: My dad said it. I used to listen to a lot of the music he was playing, he’d play Elvis Presley to death, the Stones, I’d sing along to that and he’d say, “You’re going to be famous,” or whatever. He came on tour with us for a few days out here, he came to the Radio City show. He just said, for him, it was so educational. Obviously, he hears about what happens when I call him, but to see it and see it actually happen and how everything works was so good for him, he really enjoyed it. So that was nice.

So you grew up on Elvis and the Stones? Harry: Yeah, pretty much. My dad was a massive Stones fan, so it was pretty much Beatles and Stones in terms of what my dad played.

People say you kind of look like Mick.

Niall: He gets that a lot.

Harry: I get it more here, probably, than I do at home. It’s because of the British thing.

What have you learned about life from the last few years, what didn’t you know? What advice would you give yourself? Niall: How much more independent we actually are – me, anyway. Your mum attends to your every need and does your food and washing and gives you somewhere to live. Then you go into the real world, as you’re told as a kid…

Harry: We’re living on our own now.

Niall: We just started living on our own in the last six months, really.

Harry: I’m moving when I get back.

Niall: We do our own washing, we make our own food, we rent places, we’re out on our own now. You mature so quick, you’re dealing with big businessmen every day, you’re not dealing with school, people your own age. It’s a bit different.

Harry: You seem to learn so many life lessons, but in such a short space of time. If I speak to my friends and they’re having problems with girls, whatever it is, now I seem to just have the answer. I don’t know, it’s just different. Or I think I have the answer. In terms of…one of my friends was trying to decide what to do with school, stuff like that, and I would have had no idea what to say to him before.

The last two years must feel like 10. Harry: Yeah, but at the same time, it feels like six months, it’s weird. X-Factor was two years ago, but it seems like five years ago, but at the same time, it’s gone so quick. It’s a really strange dynamic of how it feels.

Do you have a sense of how this is going to go? Does it matter if it’s two years, five years or forever? Harry: I think how much we all enjoy it, because we love what we do – if you have to call it a job, it’s an incredible job to have, and we love it. We’ll all want to do it for as long as possible. If we have the opportunity to have a Take That kind of career, I don’t see any reason why we wouldn’t want to do that. If we don’t, I don’t know…we’ve done some amazing things already, but we don’t want to stop there, we want to keep going. I guess if we didn’t, I think we’d probably want to still be involved in…I’d just write, I guess.

Do you want to act? It feels like you could have your own TV show. Harry: I think it would be more of a documentary, because obviously, we’re not actors.

People must want you to try. Niall: Watch tonight, tell us what you think. Watch SNL.

Will you all make solo albums? Is that inevitable? Harry: No, I don’t think so.

Niall: Let’s do a swing album!

Harry: [laughs] We’ll all do swing albums. We’re just so focused on this, we all feel so lucky just to be part of this opportunity that we’ve all been given, it’s incredible, we’re just loving it. It’s sick.

People make a lot of assumptions about people in your position. They think you’re puppets and do what you’re told. What do you do when people make those assumptions? Harry: When you look from the outside, especially if you’re a skeptic of groups made through TV shows, which is fair enough, people don’t see what we do on a daily basis, people don’t see…I think from the outside, it looks so glamorous, they see us do TV performances every now and again, see us doing an interview every now and again, but they don’t know that we work seven days a week.

Niall: If there was eight days, we’d fit it in.

Harry: It’s not as completely glamorous all the time, of course it’s not, it would be stupid to think that it would be, but it’s hard work.

Niall: You’ve got to remember that you’ve got people on your team that have been doing this for many years and have been through the mill. You have all that experience around you, even from our tour manager, who’s been doing this for 20 years, they know what’s right, but at the same time, we want to have creative control, because at the end of the day, it’s us stepping out onto the stage of SNL tonight and have to sing these songs. We want to be singing what we enjoy, as we said last night. The music we all listen to is what we try and blend together to make this One Direction sound.

Harry: We obviously want to make it authentic and have our say without going, “People say we don’t control it, so we need to take control.” We’re not…we haven’t been writing songs for 20 years, we’re not producers. We’ve got an incredible team around us. Luckily, we’ve been given a lot of freedom, so we don’t go, “OK, we just need more and more control,” because we have a lot of control already. I think we find a really good balance in the way we work with our record label and our management, and it’s just how we work together, I think.

In any case, it’s probably better than the bakery. Harry: Yeah. But I don’t get a nice bun on my break anymore, that’s the thing.

Did you wear an apron? Harry: Oh yeah, I wore a white polo shirt and a maroon apron with white stripes. “What would you like? 78 pence, thank you very much.”

Were you behind the counter? Harry: Yeah, I was behind the counter. It was good. It was Saturday morning, I started at five and finished at four in the afternoon and got like 30 quid, it was a joke.

Niall, did you have a job? Niall: No, never.

So this is your first job. Niall: Yeah, not bad at all. I was chilling, I was being a kid.

Harry: I had a paper route before that. It gave me a bad back, bad posture. It was a heavy bag.

I interviewed some fans downstairs, and asked if they knew who you were six months ago, and they all said yes, and a year ago…They were all early adopters, heard you from the Internet, watched X Factor on YouTube… Harry: It’s the internet. People have friends over here that might tell their friends and look on YouTube and show their friends. It’s insane how it’s blown up. We’ve had the opportunity to come over to America and do shows, and release our music over here, which is amazing. Through the power of social media, we already had a bit of a following before we’d ever been over here, we hadn’t done any shows. We had some fans out here, which was amazing, but weird, really strange. I don’t know, it’s gone crazy. We don’t really see loads of it. We do the shows, then we’re in hotels, then we fly somewhere else. We don’t see massive amounts of it, we just go with it. This whole thing has gone on, and it’s sick.

Do you ever feel anxious through all this? Harry: Yeah, I think, obviously, just naturally, you think about what’s going to happen in the future. We’re 18, 19, 20 years old, we’re young. I wouldn’t say anxious, we’re just excited most of the time, and having so much fun, that if stuff were to finish and you were to look back on your time and all you did the whole time throughout this amazing stuff was shitting yourself about what’s going to happen next, then it would just be…I think you have to enjoy it while it’s going on. I think you should be wary about the future, but not worrying about it all the time. We still enjoy it and have fun, but obviously, you do think, “What am I going to be doing in 20 years, 30 year?” I’ll have kids by then.

Harry, I saw a tabloid with pictures of everyone smiling, and you were looking thoughtful. Do you get down sometimes? While everyone else is having fun, do you start drifting off? Harry: No, I think I’m naturally…not everyone is happy all of the time. I think you always have times when…like when you’ve just landed off a really long flight or miss home or something. They got a picture of me where I wasn’t smiling. I usually smile, but they got one where I wasn’t smiling and used that, and then said I wasn’t happy. They did that for a few days, that’s when we were in L.A. last time. It goes with the morbid voice.

Ringo would say, “It’s just me face.” Niall: “Who’s that little old man?” [quoting Hard Day’s Night]

Harry: “That’s Paul’s grandfather. He’s very clean.”

Sometimes you can drift off, that’s just your thing. Harry: [laughs] I’m just soulful, man, I try.

Harry, do you mind when you’re singled out for attention? Harry: I don’t know. I don’t really…I don’t know. We’re a band. Everything we do is together. I don’t take much notice of it.

So you’re not the Justin. Harry: No.

Niall: J.C. was popular, too, wasn’t he?

It’s not like that for you guys. Harry: Not at all.

There was an imbalance in that group. Harry: I think we find it important that people get to know all of our individual personalities, because…

Niall: I think that’s what’s good about it, people see us as individuals as well as a band, we all have our own personality, and we all give something to a band. Previous bands, they go around and can never explain themselves, they can explain the band, but as individuals, what we bring to the band and stuff…

Harry: We all know that we all have our roles, and we all know that without one of us, it wouldn’t work.

[honeymoonjin]

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 namjoon x reader x hoseok x taehyung || 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 20.5k || 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 smut, surprisingly enough this is literally pwp

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 in an effort to tame their increasingly bratty girlfriend, namjoon and hoseok take their sexual exploits to a new level and hire a professional dom to run a session with them in a bdsm dungeon

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 HELLA smut, dom Namjoon, dom Hoseok, dom Taehyung, sub + bratty reader, roleplay, BDSM, mxm, overstimulation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, unprotected sex, protected sex, foursome, oral (m receiving), spanking, BDSM furniture, degradation (name calling), gagging, electrical play, orgasm delay and denial, use of sex toys, possessiveness, use of safewords, BDSM machines, fingering, masturbation, multiple orgasms, choking, squirting, sensory deprivation, fucking machine, vaginal sex, anal sex, creampie, double penetration, triple penetration?, nipple play, i guess tae is technically a sex worker, pet names, sexual hierarchy, fully consensual slave-owner dynamic (not between the main characters)

a/n: this is a sequel to Hot Fuzz (namseok x reader) but can be read on its own. also, this contains other members wink wonk but i’m keeping them a secret to save the suspense. a million thanks to @hobiandcoffee​ , @jhspetitegf​ and @honey-boyyoongi​ for their help. couldn’t have done it without your help! also happy early birthday @jamaisjoons​ i hope this ruins you xxx

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“Alright, he’s coming over. Remember our rules, princess?” Namjoon’s fingers wrap around your chin, digging in just enough to press your bottom lip into a pout. You do your best to nod, but his grip doesn’t waver. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Yes, Daddy,” you murmur, feeling your heart warm when he smiles proudly at you. It’s relatively cool in the large space, and the contrast of the air with Hoseok’s warm body pressed against you makes you shiver.

The three of you had been waiting at the bar for the past ten or so minutes. Both you and Hoseok are practically vibrating with nervous excitement. The latter is on the bar stool next to you, looking very on-brand in black pants, combat boots, and a thin white tank. As always, his fingers are laden with rings, but it seems this time there’s a theme of silver bands, some with engravings or textures, others plain. You can’t help but wonder what pattern they’d welt on your ass if he spanked you. Perhaps today was a day for testing their limits as well as yours.

Namjoon, however, is the epitome of calm. Although both of your boyfriends had always been the ones in control, it was Namjoon who took charge earlier tonight when you were all getting ready. It was him that bought you the black lace bralette and matching miniskirt you were currently wearing; it was him who picked out what panties you were allowed to wear, before deciding nothing was better. It was him who booked you an appointment for waxing a few days prior so that you would be bare for him, able to feel everything. And now, as he kept your eyes fixed on him, he retained that composure. Going for a more subtle getup to Hoseok and you, he almost looked like he could walk into a high-profile business dinner and fit right in. Deep grey pants cinched at the waist with a belt were paired with a simple dress shirt, complete with expensive gold cufflinks.

The room is loud enough that you don’t hear the third man approaching until you hear his voice. You turn to look, but flush when Namjoon only lets your chin go after a moment, patting you condescendingly on the cheek. The newcomer, as he stands beside Namjoon and looks over the three of you, is decked out in leather, latex and buckles. A shot of anxious energy runs through your body as you look over how professional he looks. Leather pants, lace-up boots, and a latex top that is unzipped all the way to the middle of his chest, exposing a deep triangle of golden flesh. When he reaches out to shake Hoseok and Namjoon’s hands, a buckled strap around his bicep flexes slightly. You clench your thighs together, wishing Namjoon would’ve let you wear panties, anything to stop you from leaking onto the vinyl of the upholstered barstool.

“RM, Jay,” the man greets cordially, a surprisingly smooth-toned voice accompanying his fine-boned face. “My name is V, the sub will call me Master. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, my name is Y/N,” you supply helpfully, but V turns to glare at you with narrowed eyebrows. Your smile drops.

“I was under the impression you read the email, sub,” he says steadily, words just sharp enough to provide a threat. “The scene was to begin the moment I arrived, which means you shouldn’t be speaking out of turn.”

You blink, turning to Hoseok for back-up, but he shoots you a salacious wink and looks back over to V. “She did read the email, yes. We’ve been having problems with her not following our rules, actually, so it’s great that you could fit us in for a session.”

You pout and jab Hoseok playfully in the side. On a normal night, your boyfriend would teasingly warn you, or perhaps you’d get a light spanking, but now he goes tense, eyes past you. You frown, and twist around, only for your blood to run cold.

“Did you just hit Sir?” V asks coldly.

“I just poked him,” you defend.

His eyes flare. “You aren’t making this very easy for yourself, little sub. I wouldn’t be testing my patience so early on in the evening if I were you.”

You pout and hunch over in your seat. “I’m sorry, um, Master, but I didn’t hit him. I just poked him,” you repeat petulantly.

His lips stretch into a disbelieving smile, sharp at the edges. “You’re right,” he affirms, “there is a difference between hitting and poking. Tell me, little sub; if I bend you over that bartop right now and flip up your skirt, which one do you think you’ll be getting?”

Namjoon intervenes, placing a hand on your knee and squeezing it gently. “Just apologise to Hoseok, baby girl. That was your first strike, but we know you must be nervous.”

His touch calms you, and you turn to your other boyfriend with what you hope is a cute pout. “Sorry, Sir,” you mumble, “I won’t do it again.”

“Good girl,” Hoseok replies warmly. “Now, we have some things we’d like to discuss, so just sit nice and pretty for us, hm?”

“And remember our rules,” Namjoon reminds you firmly. You nod dutifully and wriggle around on the stool a bit, getting comfortable as the three of them begin discussion.

For a while it’s admin stuff - payment, prior experience, limits - and you let yourself zone out, eyes curiously roaming the room that’s laid out in front of you.

Never having been to a BDSM dungeon before, you had sort of expected some sort of medieval, dimly-lit basement, but it’s comfortingly clean, tidy, and in fact to one side of the room there seems to be a social area where a pleasant hum of chatter fills the air. Some are dressed like V, others more incognito like Namjoon. There are women with fluffy tails between their legs, men wearing nothing but a jockstrap. On the far side of the room, a lady old enough to be your grandmother rests her feet on the bare back of a middle-aged man, whose arm muscles tremble violently.

But of course, this isn’t just a social gathering, and the majority of the room is taken up by what almost seems like an open-space office. It’s a large room, with two hallways at the far end that lead into what you know are the private rooms, available by booking. You had tried an interrogation room with your two boyfriends as a way of branching further out into BDSM, and only now are you realising how much of a baby step that was. The sights in front of you are far more intense and varied, and you shift in your seat, feeling Namjoon’s hand still resting on your knee, as you wonder which of the toys you’ll be using tonight.

Although the room is fairly loud with pleasured cries and sounds of impact, vibration, and electricity, it’s not terribly packed or crowded. The larger pieces of equipment are spread out around the room, and there are plenty of free spots. Men and women in plain black clothing rush around cleaning stations between uses, and even more keep watch over the crowd, stationed throughout the room. Each one has a little neon badge on their breast, and white lettering stamped on the back of their shirts that say DM. From the induction pamphlet you three had received when signing up, you knew this meant Dungeon Monitor, and they were the staff there to take care and keep an eye on the scenes. It reassured you to see just how many of them there were.

Occupying yourself with watching floggings and fucking machines and elaborate bondage only entertains you for so long, however, and you tune back in to the conversation, kicking your feet lazily back and forth. One rule of the dungeon was that all subs had to remove their shoes, since they’d be the ones getting up on the equipment and it was easier to avoid property damage that way, but you feel strangely vulnerable feeling the cold metal of the bar stool’s legs against your skin.

“Oh, wow, that long, huh?”

“Well, she was trained and had experience with suspension before that. Besides, there were two different spotters at the event to…”

You huff, feeling boredom make you restless. You only had the guy for one evening and here Hoseok and Namjoon were having a chat with V like they had all the time in the world. You glance up; nobody heard your noise of frustration, so you subtly inch your foot out to where Namjoon stands across from you, running it up and down, hitching his pant leg a little. As V continues to describe some encounters he had, Namjoon turns his head to you slightly and gives you a questioning stare. You pout at him, enough that he’ll notice but not so much that you’d draw unwanted attention from V.

His face clears out into an encouraging smile, and you perk up, expecting him to play with you a little or at the very least suggest to V that you properly begin the session. But, to your horror, he simply clears his throat, interrupting V mid-sentence. “What is it, baby girl?”

You shrink back, feeling three sets of eyes heavy on you. “I’m bored, Daddy.”

“You’re bored,” he repeats with a gentle tone that you would hear an adult use on a small child. “And what do you want me to do about that, hm? I was in the middle of a conversation, baby.”

“It’s rude to interrupt,” Hoseok pitches in.

Your mouth drops open. “I didn’t interrupt, Namjoon did!” The man in question tenses his jaw at your lack of a title. You swallow nervously, turning back to Hoseok. “I just don’t get why we’re still just sitting around at the bar, Sir. Isn’t chatting a waste of time?”

“Do you always speak to your doms that way, sub?”

You huff and stare at V. Needy for attention, boredom has always made you reckless, and so far he hadn’t done anything except empty threats. You shrug.

With his dark hair swept back off his forehead, you see the disapproving lines as he narrows his eyebrows at you. “That’s not an answer.”

You shrug again, with more emphasis. You do your best to stop from flat-out rolling your eyes, simply casting them upwards in frustration. “No, Master, I don’t. Because normally by now we’d actually be doing something.”

Namjoon sucks in a breath, and Hoseok tenses. You know you’ve fucked up by the way V’s back naturally straightens and his shoulders drop, slowly shaking his head.

“I warned you,” the master chides, “but little brats like you don’t listen. It’s clear that whatever I do will be a ‘waste of time’ as long as you have that attitude. Get off that stool and bend over it.”

Your stomach swirls anxiously, though it’s not entirely negative. You swallow, mutely shaking your head.

Undeterred, V turns to your boyfriends on either side. “Jay, bend her over and push up her skirt. RM, hold her torso down.” You squeak out in surprise as Hoseok doesn’t hesitate, picking you up and dragging the stool out further into the room before pressing you down onto it. V follows you with a languid pace, and you hear him cracking his knuckles. “It’s no wonder you called me, boys. Your sub is completely out of control. You have to teach her discipline if you expect to get anything out of this.”

You wriggle under the palm that pins you against the upholstery of the bar stool, Namjoon crouching so that his face is in your eyesight. His mouth is hard but his eyes are muted with sympathy. “You’re making us look bad, baby girl. Maybe if you take your punishment well, we can give you a reward, hm?”

The cool air on your ass as Hoseok lifts your skirt to rest on your back has you hissing in a breath, and with dawning horror, you realise the area around you has gone quieter. You make a noise of discomfort in your throat, and Hoseok gives one of your cheeks a light teasing pat.

“Everyone’s watching you, kitten,” he reveals with an edge of humor to his voice. “They wanna see your pretty little ass get lit up.” When he speaks again, it’s further away and in such a low murmur that you can’t make out what he’s saying. He confers quietly with V for a few moments, and you curl your toes into the carpet, unsure how you feel about your body being on display to so many strangers like this.

After a few moments, it goes silent, and you hold your breath, getting a fright when a stinging hand comes down upon your right cheek. “Ah, Sir,” you cry out in surprise.

“Wrong,” a voice says flatly, an unfamiliar hand brushing over the mark. You gasp and try to wiggle away, rising on your tiptoes to escape the touch. Namjoon gently shushes you, brushing your hair back from your face as V chuckles, his voice low with satisfaction. “Where’s that foolish confidence gone now, hm?”

When his hand comes down again, it’s on the other cheek and twice as hard. You whine at the sting, expecting another soothing rub or snarky comment, but he doesn’t give you the chance, instead raining down hit after hit, palm cupped slightly to increase the noise. Namjoon and Hoseok hold you down as you desperately shift away, trying in vain to tuck your ass away or twist out of their grip, but he doesn’t stop. You lose count sometime past eight, and your flesh heats up with each one, but still he continues. You feel the warmth spread; hits on your ass are spread evenly around but you also feel smacks that land on the tops of your thighs and, when you part your legs slightly to adjust your position, one lands right on your bare pussy. Though you can’t hear what he’s saying through your whimpers and cries, you can hear him laugh every now and again, kneading your tender flesh or giving you a pinch. He’s showing off.

When the air stills, you’re trembling. Your cheeks are on fire, not only your ass but also your face as you blush violently, tears running in hot tracks down your face. Vaguely, you hear your boyfriends praising you, hands lifting you up off the stool. Your vision swims with being raised so suddenly but Namjoon lets you lean on him, wrapping his arms around you and burying his chin in your hair.

“You did so well, baby,” he promises. “So well. Do you understand why he had to do that?”

You sniff and nod weakly.

“Good girl,” he croons, and your heart swells.

After a few moments, you feel another pair of hands on you. You turn, standing on shaky legs, and see Hoseok squeezing your shoulder. “We’re ready to play now, kitten. You still want us to play with you?”

Nervously, your eyes slide behind him to V, but instead of the disapproving hard stare you were expecting, you’re faced with sparkling eyes. Pride. The look of a teacher when their student finally grasps a difficult concept. It’s a look that you hope to see again. You turn back to Hoseok, blink away the last of your tears, and nod. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s my girl,” Namjoon praises warmly, and pats your extremely sore ass to get you moving.

You jump at the contact, but quickly hurry forward to follow the two men in front of you as they wind their way deeper into the room. You realise zoning out during their conversation perhaps wasn’t the best idea, since you now have no idea what they’re going to do and, being in the scene, have no way of asking.

The smell of arousal is heavy in the air, along with faint wisps of various scented lubes and wax play candles. You bite your lip as the modest crowd of people that had stopped to watch your punishment slowly return to what they’re doing, not after eyeing up your ass, which no doubt is bright red if the stinging heat is anything to go by. Your fingers itch to pull your skirt back down, but you’re unsure if you’re allowed to, and while you wish to continue poking and prodding your doms throughout the evening, you want to wait until your flesh isn’t so tender. Besides, a little reward for being a good girl sure sounds nice right about now. You keep your eyes low, conveniently resting them on the sight of Hoseok’s ass in those tight black pants, and try to ignore the slickness of your inner thighs as you walk.

You’re stopped suddenly when that ass halts in front of you, and you stumble to prevent yourself from smacking right into him. You look up as Namjoon comes around to stand beside them, a hand resting gently but possessively on your shoulder.

“I’m excited for this, baby girl. I know it’s something you wanted to try, and I can’t wait to see you up there.”

Up? You swivel in the direction he’s looking, where a massive contraption is bolted to the wall, two long, skinny blocks crossed over in a narrow X. Heat floods to your core as you recognise the equipment.

“A Saint Andrew's cross,” V explains easily, like he’s given the spiel a thousand times. “Named after Saint Andrew, who got crucified like this rather than the traditional way. Although I’m sure you’ll be having a lot more fun than he did.”

While you had done all this research before in anticipation of this evening, there was something far more electric about hearing it while the cross itself stood before you, especially since you knew you were about to be on it. Your mouth opens to breathe out a curse, but you snap it shut quickly.

V notices this and his lip twitches at your obedience. “Alright, little sub. Undress now.”

You blink. Somehow this hadn’t occurred to you. Taking a surreptitious glance around the room, it seems nobody is paying much attention to you; everyone around you is either a DM or actively engaging in their own scene. Still, you hesitate, before reluctantly slipping down your skirt and unhooking your bra. You cross your arms over your breasts and press your thighs as close together as possible, avoiding the eyes of the three men around you.

“For someone that was so concerned about wasting time, you sure did take a while to obey me, sub. Next time I expect you to do as I or your other doms say the moment we say it, understand?”

You stare at the way your toes curl between the fibres of the charcoal carpet. “Yes, Master.” You say it quickly, forcing the words out, and he sighs in displeasure.

You can feel rather than see his dark gaze on you. The tip of one of his boots taps impatiently in the corner of your vision. “Your two options are obedience and the use of your safeword. Anything else and you will receive due punishment. It’s clear to me your doms are soft on you; I can assure you, I am not. I won’t hesitate to discipline you without mercy.”

As much as your mind screams not to, you can’t help the grin that twitches at your lip at the thought. You duck your head down further, hoping he missed it.

Of course, no such luck. “Oh, it seems the sub likes the sound of that,” he muses in a humored tone. “Maybe you gentlemen picked a good one after all.”

Hoseok hums, reaching forward to squeeze one of your ass cheeks. You gasp, biting your lip at the heat that flares up under his calloused fingers. “Our pretty little painslut,” he confirms. “Get up on the cross, kitten.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, embarrassment curling in the pit of your stomach at how throaty your voice is already. You feel wetness smearing all the way down to the bottom of your thighs now, and if your core doesn’t get some attention, you might just go crazy.

With shaky legs, you step up, the bottom of each plank having a narrow platform just wide enough for a foot. The distance isn’t too far, with your feet spread apart a bit wider than your hips, but the waft of cool air causes you to clench. Like always, when approaching something new, you feel your heart seize up in equal parts arousal and anxiety.

With your back to the cross, you’re faced out onto the crowd, and you feel yourself go weak, all too aware of just how many people in the room there are. It’s filled up a bit over the past half hour or so, and while nobody actively ogles you, there’s nothing to stop them glancing up to catch you, naked and with thighs glossy. You buckle at the knees slightly, crouching to close the gap between your legs slightly.

Hoseok tuts. “Don’t go shy on us now, kitten. Arms up.”

Instinctively your hands lift in the air, but you pause. “Sir?”

“Yes, kitten?” He steps forward, close enough that you can just about feel the heat radiating off his body, giving the feeling of confidentiality - even as your two other doms watch you like a hawk behind him.

You swallow hard, lowering your voice to a whisper. “What are you going to do me?” Even asking the question sends a delicious shudder up your spine.

He grins, eyes bright. “That all depends on if you behave for us. Are you gonna be a good slut?” You nod quickly, though a part of you is already planning how you can rile them up while tied down. “Say it, kitten.”

“I’m gonna be a good slut for Sir.”

His grin sharpens into a sneer as he steps back, joining the two others. “I’m not the only one here, remember? Say it to them, too.”

Your hands find each other, wringing them to vent your embarrassment. Namjoon has slipped his hands casually into his pants pockets, and he tips his head to the side with a slight smile, expectant. V maintains his stoic posture as usual and just cocks an eyebrow, arms crossed. You clear your throat, eyes darting once more around the other patrons of the dungeon. “I-I’m gonna be a good slut for Daddy…. And I’m gonna be a good slut for,” your gaze lands on V, too far away for you to be sure, but you think you see his eyes dilate. “Master,” you finish. He gives you the most miniscule nod, you would’ve missed it had you not already been watching him.

“That’s right,” Hoseok affirms, and steps forward again. “Now I won’t ask again. Arms up.”

This time you don’t waste a moment, holding them up in the air over your head, feeling the cold metal of the buckles lightly brush the tops of your hands. You look up with a frown, only to see the fastening points too high up. You look back down with a disappointed pout.

Hoseok is staring at you in bemusement and Namjoon has delicately covered his mouth to laugh, but V just pushes past the two, crouching down suddenly to crank a lever on the cross beside your left foot. You squeak as that platform begins to lift, and to save yourself from tipping over, your hand flies down and steadies yourself on his shoulder. You manage to catch your balance and quickly go to lift off your hand, wary that he might’ve considered it breaking the rules, but his hand darts up the second your fingertips slip away from the leather, wrapping tightly around your wrist.

You freeze in uncertainty, but he simply switches planks and adjusts the other platform so that the two are even, with you higher up than before. Once he’s done, he tips his head up to look at you, and you feel yourself shrink back at the heat of his gaze. Somehow, even though you’re above him, he has a way of exerting his power over you with that one look.

Suddenly, your awareness is brought to the heat between your thighs, and how close he is to it. As if he can read your thoughts, his eyes slip down to stare openly at your exposed pussy. A hot strike of shame makes your toes curl on the wooden platforms as his nostrils flare, and he looks back up at you again with a slow grin.

You take a shuddering breath, bracing yourself for a scathing comment, but he just stands up in one smooth movement, silently taking your wrist up to hold it against the corresponding post, nodding to himself when your wrist slips nicely into the leather cuff. He buckles it efficiently, and you feel your heart pick up when the natural weight of your arm pulls on the tight circlet of leather, reminding you of your vulnerability. Your other arm is hoisted up and attached before you even realise it, rendering you spread-eagled on the cross. Your ankles remain free, but the wrist attachments are still high enough for you that your body is completely stretched out, heels barely brushing the platforms.

He steps back, bends over to murmur something in Namjoon and Hoseok’s ears one at a time, then promptly leaves. You feel an odd stab of disappointment as you watch his receding figure snake through couples and small groups at different stations, until he goes out of sight. “Where’d he go?” you murmur unhappily.

Hoseok frowns and surges forward, raining a sharp swat down on your breast. Your eyes squeeze shut and your hands instinctively jerk, but you’re unable to cover yourself. You startle when he gives the same treatment to the other breast. “What an ungrateful little slut,” you hear him say. “So desperate for another man’s cock. Filthy.”

Another voice from slightly further away, softer. “Are we not enough for you anymore, baby girl?’

You open your eyes and shake your head adamantly. “No, Daddy,” you plead, “I was just curious.”

Namjoon has on an expression he rarely gets. Normally the softer of the two, he now presses his mouth into a tight line and furrows his brow. “And now you’re lying to Daddy,” he comments flatly. “If that greedy pussy of yours isn’t satisfied with two cocks, you should just tell us.”

Your pout deepens. “It isn’t that, Daddy! I was just having fun with three.”

After a moment, the tension in his face clears. “Ah, baby’s just having fun, hm? Special occasion?” You nod sulkily. “Oh, well there’s nothing wrong with that, baby girl. Daddy wants you to have fun. But if you wanna have fun you need to learn to follow the rules. And you didn’t even ask nicely.”

Your chest eases, the crisis averted. “Thank you, Daddy, I’m sorry. Please can you tell me why Master V left?”

Hoseok barks out a quick laugh. “He didn’t leave, kitten, he’s gone out back to get some toys for us to play with.”

You mouth opens and closes, unsure whether you’re allowed to talk back. You take the chance, curiosity getting the better of you. “But Sir, there are so many spare trolleys with toys on them here already.”

“I thought you deserved my personal collection,” a third voice says from your right. You glance over quickly, sticking your face out to see past your forearm, as V returns with what looks like a massive toolbox, metal painted black, and sets it down beside you. “Employee perks,” he explains shortly. “Some of our equipment isn’t safe to be used with untrained individuals for safety reasons. Others I just have a personal preference for.” He’s not speaking to you anymore, rather your two boyfriends. “Has the sub behaved while I’ve been gone?”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow but Namjoon beats him to it. “She most certainly has. Waiting patiently for her reward.” You blink at Namjoon, surprised, but the dark glimmer in his eyes just tells you that you’ll pay for his generosity later.

“Well, then,” V begins, flipping open the catches on the top of the chest, flipping the lid up, “let’s begin.”

You watch in anticipation, muscles in your upper arms twitching as he digs around. You can’t see anything from the way the lid blocks your view, but after a moment he pulls out a bottle of...lube?

“What’s that?” you ask curiously before you can think better of it.

V lets out a bitter scoff, passing the bottle - unlabeled except for a faded E written in Sharpie- to Namjoon, before turning back to his toolbox. “That mouth,” he remarks harshly, “will get you in trouble, little sub.” He lets out a low growl as he rummages around more hastily, and the sound rushes straight to your core, heat flaring. “I don’t even have a gag for you, normally my subs know not to run their mouths around me. Guess I’ll have to make do.”

He straights up, pulling out a long trail of thin rope, soft red nylon looking positively sinful as it runs over his tanned fingers. He loops it a few times, before collecting the bunch, one thick cylinder of rope, about two fingers wide. His lids are low when they focus on you, that proud glimmer long gone. “Open up.” You obey him without thinking, scrunching your nose as he fastens the rope around your head, strands of hair getting pinched between the individual lengths. The girth is enough that your jaw hangs a little open, and you curl your lips and bite down on the rope in an effort to prevent drooling.

“Now, I won’t give you another strike because you were asking a question. But that better be the last time I hear you speaking out of turn. This isn’t fucking Sunday School, I don’t need you asking questions. Look at where you are right now, princess. Tied and gagged, naked with your dripping pussy on full display. We could do whatever the fuck we wanted with you right now. Your pretty little boyfriends could leave right now to get an early night and leave you in my hands. Maybe I’d get sick of your attitude and walk away myself, leaving you available to anyone who wanted to play with you. How long do you think it would take a DM to notice the sub that was getting fucked by everyone in the room, hm?” You shudder, core clenching, as you remember the pure arousal that hit you when you felt V’s unfamiliar hands on your ass back at the bar. Your eyes slip shut at the thought, and you hear a chuckle. “You continue to surprise me, little sub. It seems that no matter what I say or do as punishment you go weak at the knees. I’ll have to think on how I’ll discipline you properly. In the meantime,” he breaks away from you to walk back to your boyfriends, patting Namjoon on the shoulder. “Like we discussed?”

You tilt your head at this comment, though Namjoon and Hoseok both nod, the latter biting his lip with a dark look in his eyes. As the two approach you, V falls behind, using the toolbox as a stool, legs splayed across the carpet lazily. You turn your attention back to your boyfriends, who have stopped at the foot of the cross, one to either side.

Namjoon lazily thumbs the cap open and closed; with every plastic click, you feel your core clench. He smiles at you, eyes glittering. “Most patrons of the dungeon don’t get to play with the toys we’re gonna play with, baby girl. We had to come here last week for a safety briefing.” You lower your brows in confusion and your boyfriend stays in character, tipping his head to the side innocently even as his eyes glitter with amusement. “What, did we not tell you that? Jay, did you tell our girl what we were preparing for?”

Hoseok’s eyes are nearly black. He doesn’t turn to Namjoon when he’s addressed, eyes heavy on you. “I guess I must’ve forgot,” he replies flatly, not even attempting to convincingly lie. “Wanna guess where we’re gonna put it?” His lip curls in amusement as you stare it him, hands tied and mouth gagged. He laughs darkly. “Oh, that’s right. You can’t. I suppose you’ll just have to sit back and take it, hm?” He takes the lube back off Namjoon and steps even closer, until you can see the shimmer of sweat on his temples and some strands on his hairline sticking to it.

You groan around the rope, steadily growing soaked with your spit. Tentatively, you push your hips forward as much as you can off the wood of the cross, whimpering in question. Hoseok, head ducked as he cracks open the bottle and squeezes some lube onto his fingers, misses it but your other boyfriend just chuckles.

“Not that greedy pussy of yours, baby girl,” he teases, “it’s so sloppy we wouldn’t need any lube at all. No, this is for those pretty little nipples of yours.”

You shudder, ass falling back to smack against the planks again. You moan out a word around the gag, though, as Hoseok’s slicked-up hands latch around your stiff buds, you know they all understand you. Why?

Namjoon’s eyes light up. “Do you know what the E on the bottle stands for, baby girl?” When he says the next word, he enunciates every syllable, the harsh sounds of the consonants cracking in his mouth, sending shivers down your spine. “Electric.”

As if rehearsed, V stands up off the chest, swinging his leg aside to open it back up, digging in deep and pulling out what looks like an electrical cord; the flat, black ribbon splitting off into two and ending on either end in delicate peg-like contraptions. Nipple clamps. You take a deep breath, chest soaring. Nipple clamps were one of your favorite toys to use in the bedroom. Many a time, even in your more vanilla forays, you’d bat your eyelashes and press out your chest and ask one of your boyfriends to pretty please put on the clamps, even just for a little bit, but you were used to bright silver, not this sleek black. You watch in curiosity as V ducks down again, pulling out what appears to be a remote - a rounded, roughly egg-shaped device that fits comfortably in his hand. Electric. Your jaw goes slack around the spit-slick ropes in your mouth. Your eyes are heavy on those two black pegs as they sway loosely in the air, and you feel yourself tremble, the muscles in your thighs weaker than they were before.

Hoseok’s fingers, still slightly cold from the air in the room, feel even more stimulating as they tweak your buds, coaxing them into stiff peaks as the lube makes it difficult for him to get a grasp. You suck in a harsh breath through your nose as he slips and scratches a fingernail across the top of one, your eyes finally breaking from the nipple clamps and onto him as he apologetically pats your breast with a rakish grin.

Without looking, he accepts the proffered toy, wrapping ring-laden fingers around the remote as he jokingly snaps one of the clamps in his other hand, opening and closing it like a tiny set of jaws. Slipping the black device into his pocket, he stands directly in front of you, slightly taller than you even as you’re raised on the platform of the cross, and licks his lips teasingly.

“This is how it’s going to go, kitten,” he instructs in a sultry tone, “we’re going to put these on, have a little fun. But you’re not allowed to cum, okay? A good girl always asks first.” You narrow your eyebrows at him, huffing around your makeshift gag, and his eyes light up, tip of his tongue remaining just past his teeth as he chuckles. “Mm, you can’t exactly ask if you’ve got that thing in your mouth, now can you?” You shake your head obediently, hoping he can read the pleading look in your eyes. “Maybe I’ll take it off later.”

Your shoulders droop. You let out a disappointed whine, but your boyfriend just laughs at you, shifting his focus down to your breasts as he palms one roughly, a thumb stroking over the nipple before he’s bringing the toy up to it without ceremony.

You crane your neck down, moaning as the sight of him affixing the black clamp to your glistening nipple is paired with the delicious pressure it brings. Your head tips back again, eyes falling shut in bliss as, for the first time in the evening, you receive some decent stimulation. You let out a groan, hands balling uselessly into fists high above your head as your other nipple receives the same treatment. You can’t help but whimper, back arching to follow him as he deftly tugs on the electrical ribbon between the two, ensuring they’re fastened correctly, but no doubt also doing it just to watch you squirm.

“That feel good, kitten?”

You garble affirmation and nod, moaning again as he continues to play with the cord, a dozen teasing flicks of his wrist to keep the warmth of pressure on your nipples rising. All is still for a moment, and you crack your eyes open to see Hoseok falling back to stand beside V, letting your other boyfriend take his place.

Your attention is immediately caught by the object he’s lazily tossing back and forth between his hands. A slender, curved vibrator. Your eyes light up, and it’s clear he sees the apparent joy on your face as he approaches.

“I did say this was a reward, baby girl,” Namjoon reminds you, looking sharp as ever in his dress shirt. His straining erection is clear to see even through the black pants, and a quick glance to Hoseok shows you he’s faring the same. You had hoped their desperation would have led to their cocks being inside you already, but you would happily settle for a vibrator, as long as something was filling you. Surreptitiously, you sneak a look over to V’s crotch as well, a dark glee lighting up inside you when you see the outline of a bulge running halfway down his thigh. Holy shit.

You swear your heart stops for a second when you look away, only to be faced with V himself as he stares you down, clearly having seen you ogle him. You sigh, muffled through the wet rope, as you feel smooth silicone slip between your soaked folds, but you can’t break your gaze from the man sitting atop his box of toys.

Languidly, like he has all the time in the world, the dark-haired man rests a hand on his thigh, and lets a single finger lay right where his head sits underneath the fabric, and swirls it, gently outlining his own erection, a promise of what could be to come. Your mouth waters even more, and the only thing that pulls you back is a sudden onslaught of sensation; somehow, as though they were timing it while you were distracted, Namjoon plunges the vibrator to the hilt inside of you just as an odd yet intense tingle in your nipples makes your very nerve endings shiver.

You let out a surprised yelp, smothered by the gag in your mouth, and flinch as the cord between your breasts is yanked roughly, very nearly dislodging the clamps with how vigorous the motion is. Your gaze shoots in front of you to Namjoon, the normally reserved demeanor alight with something deeper, something more possessive.

“Do we need to take him away?” Namjoon asks in a sharp tone. Without looking, without changing his stern expression at all, he flattens his palm against the base of the vibrator and presses, twisting it inside you, as deep as it can get. You whine lowly, attempting to rise on the tips of your toes to escape the sudden stretch, but he simply reaches out and grips your chin tightly. “Yes or no,” he spits out, “do we need to take him away or will you start behaving for us?”

You sniff as the base of his palm barely misses your clit, but articulate a vaguely disyllabic answer, asking for the latter.

“You promise to behave?” he confirms, and you hum your agreement. “Well then, I’m sick of your eyes being on him when you should be focussing on me. On us. Understood?” He releases your jaw so that you can nod in response. “Good. Now, before we continue, I want this gag off. I’m sick of you blabbering like a baby when I ask you a question.”

Simultaneous rage and humiliation flare in you at the statement, but you stay silent, all too relieved to finally be freeing your mouth. The ropes have been getting heavier as your spit is absorbed, and when he finally undoes the knots, accidentally ripping out a few hair strands with them, your jaw aches as you close it again, muscles sore from being held wide for some time. You lick your lips to soothe them and swallow the saliva that’s been pooling in your mouth, but your relief is only enjoyed for a few moments before Namjoon continues.

This time, instead of grinding the vibrator inside you - sadly still turned off - he begins thrusting it, gently tugging at the nipple clamps one at a time, or flicking them with his finger to get you to whimper. Your sounds are so much louder without the muffling, and you find yourself trying to keep your mouth shut, moans bubbling in the back of your throat as he strikes your g-spot with each thrust, the gentle curve in the silicon rubbing against that spongy tissue.

“Good?” he asks simply, picking up the pace as your abs clench with the urge to grind against the intrusion.

“Y-good,” you make out between pleasured whimpers, whole body shuddering when the sparks of electricity return, a lower intensity level but in regular thrumming instead of a single pulse. The stimulation merges with the vibrator inside you, warming your whole body with pleasure, but something is missing. “Turn it on,” you breathe out desperately, before adding a belated, “please, Daddy.”

Namjoon’s lip quirks in satisfaction. “My baby girl is so needy. Can you promise not to cum for me?”

You pout in disappointment. “Daddy…” But he doesn’t back down. “Yes, okay, I won’t cum, Daddy. Can Hoseokie come over too?”

“Ask him, princess.” While Namjoon waits, he takes out the vibrator with a wet noise and you hum unhappily at the emptiness in your core.

You bite your lip, turning to the man behind Namjoon with a glint in your eye. “Sir, please come touch me. I need you.”

Hoseok, always the one to be a little more susceptible to begging, makes his way forward, absentmindedly tapping the bulge in his pocket where the remote is. He smiles softly at the puppy dog eyes you send him, as you arch your chest enticingly.

You return it, though your smile quickly turns mischievous. The cool varnished wood of the cross has calmed down the sting in your ass, and you’re feeling like you could do with some more punishment. Besides, your arms are starting to ache from being held up so long. “Good boy.”

The warmth in his expression drops in an instant, and his lip curls. Like lightning, his hand dives into his pocket and you yelp as a sharp bite of electricity runs through your nipples and through your whole chest, making you tremble violently as your muscles contract.

“Okay,” you hear V say quickly, standing up off the chest and rushing over to you. As your shivers continue, you feel him firmly grab a hold of the black electrical ribbon between your breasts and tugs roughly, yanking the clamps right off your overstimulated nipples. You howl and instinctively try to curl in on yourself, the leather cuffs digging painfully into your wrists. You can see the hard lines of anger in his face, and duck your head, turning your face slightly to the side as you await punishment, but it seems the leather-clad man isn’t annoyed at you.

He stalks over to Hoseok, who has stepped back a little in confusion, and shoves his hand without ceremony into the other’s pants, drawing out the remote and chucking the two items back into his chest, kicking it shut with a metallic slam. Whirling back around, he draws his chest up, looking unbelievably intimidating even over your boyfriend. “Never,” he spits, “ever take your anger out on a sub,  no matter how bratty she may be. Yes, she deserves punishment for acting out and we’ll give it to her but that doesn’t mean you can use her as a punching bag.” With a jaw clenched bitterly, V shakes his head. “This is why I don’t let non-professionals use my equipment. Lesson fucking learned, I suppose.”

You watch with wide eyes as he approaches you slowly, hands on his hips. “Colour,” he requests quietly.

You swallow, eyes darting to your boyfriend, whose eyes are on you, rueful. Namjoon stands beside him, hand on his shoulder, and leans in to whisper quietly. “Green,” you say after a moment. “Yellow then, but green now.”

V nods after a moment, gaze running over every inch of your body thoroughly, paying close attention to the angry red of your nipples. “Alright. We continue, without any electric play.” Taking the slick vibrator off Namjoon, he chucks it into a plastic bag inside the chest that you can just make out a label on that reads ‘to be cleaned’. He stands over the box of toys for a moment, considering, before turning back around, glaring at you. You gasp, feeling that the scene is back in full swing now. “And the sub. It’s clear to me no matter what equipment I use on her, she drips for it.” You push your lips into a scowl when you realise, though his eyes are heavy on you, he’s addressing your boyfriends instead. “Maybe the problem here is that she enjoys the punishment she gets from you so much that she acts out constantly to receive it. Of course punishment can be fun, but when she’s as out of line as she is now, you need to teach her a lesson. So, if toys won’t work, we’ll try something else. Someone else.”

Your back straightens and your gaze trains on him warily. You have to bite your tongue to hold back a retort, and his eyes dance gleefully at the way you clench your jaw.

“Jay, RM, it seems to me that your sub likes being punished so much because you’re the ones who will give it to her. So, with your permission, we’re going to be changing it up.”

Your mouth drops open in indignation as the two nod calmly. “What about my permission?”

With a dark glare, V reaches out and grabs tightly onto one of your abused nipples, making you wince at the pinching sensation. “This far into the evening and you still can’t stop running your mouth. If you recall, sub, involving other individuals in play was something you ticked off on your application.”

You can’t help yourself. “Not for punishment, though,” you counter in a low whine.

His eyebrows lower. “I’ll keep the play safe, but beyond that I have no sympathy for you, you little brat. Use your safeword, otherwise it’s in your best interests to start following the rules.”

You smother your pout with another scowl and turn your head to the side, biting hard on the inside of your cheek when he releases your nipple with a final tweak and the blood rushes back in achingly.

He waits for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh when you remain silent. “Fine, then. We’re going to go find someone who wants to play, and you can just wait right here.”

In shock, your head snaps back and you look out onto the room, at all the people playing and watching. If your doms left, you wouldn’t be able to fend them off. Your heart rate increases, and you send your boyfriends a concerned look.

V catches it, and grins. “Don’t worry,” he remarks smugly as he reaches into his back pocket, “we won’t leave you up here alone. My friend Jimin over there is a DM, he’s been supervising us all night in case you hadn’t noticed. He’ll come stand by you while we’re gone.”

You look off in the direction the dom nods in and see a blonde-haired young man in the black shirt and neon badge, strolling over from the corner of the room closest to your station. He sees you staring and throws you a rakish grin, lifting an arm to run a hand through his hair cockily. God, you think, he better not want to make conversation while I’m stuck up here.

A plastic click draws your attention back in front of you, where V has what looks like a felt pen. “Washable ink,” he explains, “just to be safe.” You go completely still as he brings it forward to draw it in swoops across your chest, over the tops of your breasts. The tip of the pen tickles, and the ink is cool, a bright purple. Once he draws back and caps the pen, you draw your chin into your chest to try and make sense of the large block letters. It takes you a moment to reverse them in your mind, but you suck in a breath through your teeth when you work it out. TAKEN.

As you try and read, he speaks once more. “Wiggle your fingers,” he instructs calmly, and you look up, doing as he asks with a tinge of confusion. “And make a fist.” You do that two, feeling the very tips of your fingers are a little numb, otherwise the rest of you is fine. You realise he’s checking in to make sure the blood hasn’t completely left your extremities from being held above your head. As always, he manages to uphold safety without impairing the scene. Without further comment, he turns from you, converses quietly with the DM, and leaves, your two boyfriends in tow.

Left alone with the stranger, you watch warily as he sighs out and takes a seat on the carpet in front of you, kicking out his legs. “Ah,” he hums happily, stretching his arms in front of his chest. “This is the first time I’ve sat down all night. Standing sure gets tiring.” With a cheeky smile, he glances up at you. “Although I don’t need to tell you that.”

You simply stare at him quietly, unsure if you’re still on the ‘don’t speak unless you’re spoken to’ mode. Though, to be fair, you haven’t exactly been following that much tonight. “So, your name’s Jimin?” you ask after a moment.

He lets out a surprised laugh at your attempt at small-talk. “You know, normally the subs Tae gets me to supervise- ah fuck, V - normally the subs V gets me to supervise are way more timid than you. You a sucker for pain or something?”

Looking out onto the multiple stations in front of you, you shrug as much as you can within the restraints. “When in Rome.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth, eyes roaming over you. “God, the one day I’m DM-ing...” He looks out and perks up. “Fuck, that was fast. I guess they had no problem finding someone interested.”

Your eyes dart out into the crowd, craning your neck to glance around a few people watching a nearby scene, searching for your boyfriends or V. In front of you, Jimin is standing up hastily and brushing the seat of his pants, and you curse the fact that you can’t get up on tippy-toes to look over him.

“Nice to meet you,” he farewells cordially. He holds his arm out for a handshake and then realizes his mistake, shaking his head in embarrassment and turning away, quickly rushing back over to his corner. Your eyes widen as he leaves prematurely, glancing around to make sure no strangers approach, when you see the familiar broad frame of your boyfriend returning to you, his grin big even as his eyes are lidded with lust.

You smile at him warmly. Even five minutes without Namjoon makes your heart swell when you see him again, and you wiggle your hands in a grabby motion, making his dimple pop out when he smiles. There’s something else though, a sly quirk to his lips, and it makes you pause.

Behind him is Hoseok, wearing a look of satisfaction and contained excitement, and you can’t quite see past the two to see who might be following them.

As they get closer, you see V, but he’s a decent few paces back, and you don’t understand the distance, until you see a glimpse of bleached hair just past Hoseok’s shoulder. Your two boyfriends split up once they break through the lingering people, and step inside the station, one on either side of you, but further away than you’d like.

The owner of the pale hair is revealed as he walks through the two of you and you gasp in shock. Not at him, but at the man behind him. You have to lower your gaze quite a bit, because he’s crawling on his hands and knees, neck craned up to look at the light-haired man in adoration.

The two of them make quite the pair; the dom is wearing slick clothes, tight pants, a black turtleneck and leather jacket, and his hair is brushed back to reveal darker brows, undyed. Though he’s much smaller than any of the men around him, including the one that follows him like a dog, he has an undeniable presence, with the borderline apathetic yet critical gaze he adopts as he looks over you, head tilting to the side. He comes to a stop in front of you, and his sub remains slightly behind him and to the left. With thickly corded muscles in his arms and shoulders, he looks physically like he could pick any one of you up one-handed, yet he waits patiently on his hands and knees, looking unexpectedly soft with a baby face and a delicate garter set for underwear that accentuates his delicate waist.

“Position,” the standing man says in a barked command. Like clockwork, the sub sits back up to kneel, hands resting gently on his thick thighs and head bent down respectfully. As he waits, you can see a band of leather around his throat, studded with what almost looks like diamonds. “Good boy,” he praises, even though he doesn’t lift his gaze off of you. Still, the sub visibly trembles at the praise, toes wiggling happily on the carpet behind him.

V arrives last, and rests a hand warmly on the stranger’s shoulder. “Sub, pay attention.” The young man kneeling glances up, and a fond boxy smile rises on V’s face, one you only saw once after you took your spanking. A strange unfurling of jealousy opens in your chest. “Not you, slave. Eyes on the floor.” The slave quickly drops his head, trembling again when the dom reaches out to pat his cheek, like a sign that he’s not in trouble.

Master V keeps his gaze on you as he squeezes the shoulder of the man beside him. “Sub, this is Master Min, and his slave Koo.” Turning to your boyfriends to include them as well, he addresses the doms. “As discussed, I think the sub could benefit from a positive example of a good sub. Of course, she doesn’t have to do all the things Koo does, every dynamic is different, but she could learn a lot from his behaviour. More than that, Koo is much like her in what he likes, but he and Min have incorporated it into play so that it doesn’t require punishment to get what he needs. Perhaps your girl is such a brat because she’s feeling unfulfilled. RM, Jay, you can get her down.”

“Down?” you mumble without realising, luckily quiet enough that the others don’t overhear. With a confused frown on your face, you let your boyfriends unbuckle you from the cross, wrists first. Your shoulder muscles ache when you lower your arms, and thick red bands line the skin of your wrists, which you thumb at with a smile while they bend down to undo your ankles.

“Lean on me, kitten,” Hoseok instructs softly, and you wrap your arms around him tightly, letting him grip your ass and pick you up off the cross gently so you don’t fall. He lowers his torso so that your dangling feet drag on the carpet, but you whine and lift them, linking your ankles around his back so that you’re latched on like a koala. He laughs softly at your whine. “You don’t wanna walk, hm?” You shake your head, thriving at the physical contact even as your bared pussy soaks the bottom of his white tank top. He pats your hair, and your heart warms. Especially after he was so angry at you earlier, the intimacy feels more than comforting. “You might want to stretch your legs, though, before we move on…” He trails off teasingly, and you draw your face up, seeing the mischief in his eyes.

With a pout, you let your legs lower to the ground, supporting your weight steadily before you take your arms off of Hoseok’s shoulders. You look around at the others, awaiting further explanation.

Namjoon steps forward, sharing a glance with V and then Hoseok before cupping your face softly. “We’re gonna go watch Min and Koo play, okay? They’re gonna show you how to be a good sub for us.”

“Where do you want to do your scene?” V asks Min.

The dom glances down at his sub, who still has his neck bent, dark hair glossy from the lights overhead. “Koo,” Min calls softly but firmly, and the young man looks up immediately. “Do you want to pick which station we go to?”

With doe-like eyes, Koo shakes his head. “No, Master. Wan’ you to pick.”

“Uh-uh,” the dom chastises with a tut, “we talked about this. Big boys choose when they get offered. Don’t make me regret my generosity.”

“Sorry, Master,” he replies quickly, “Kookie would like the bed tonight.”

“Alright, then. Go check if it’s free for us first. You may walk.”

Almost reluctantly, the sub stands up, and you widen your eyes at just how tall he is, rising above his master to almost match Namjoon’s height. If it wasn’t for the way he clasps his hands together and ducks his head so submissively, and if it wasn’t for the collar around his neck and the garters on his thighs, you could easily mistake him for a dom. Physical appearance wasn’t everything, you supposed.

As you wait, V disappears too, mentioning something about more equipment he needed, and by the time a DM comes over and lets you know that Koo has found and reserved a bed on the second floor, he still hasn’t returned. Min offers to flick him a text, and after you’re allowed to put your skirt and bra back on, the four of you walk through the middle of the room to reach the set of stairs at the far corner beside the bar. All of upstairs is like a mezzanine floor around the edges of the room, with doors that go off into separate rooms. With Namjoon on your left and Hoseok on your right, you ascend the stairs, taking the left path to walk around the mezzanine. Each door is labelled: medical A, medical B, dungeon A, filming A, and so on, but you’re taken by what you can glimpse over the protective barriers, looking down onto the first floor.

You can see all the different stations from up here, all the people who occupy them. The bar reaches out in a semicircle, with curved rows of stations flowing out like petals or ripples, the smaller ones closer to that social area, and the biggest ones along the walls. There are more people than before, probably close to capacity, so it’s a wonder Koo managed to find exactly what he wanted without it already being taken.

As you walk, you can feel the obscene slick between your thighs, wetting all the way down to the sides of your knees. It feels uncomfortable, though nothing like the remaining fire of your nipples as they rub slightly against the fabric of your bra. More than anything, though, you still feel so needy, so wanting. Though there aren’t any clocks in the room downstairs, much like a casino, you managed to glance at Min’s watch as he strolled, and see that it had been over two and a half hours since the three of you first arrived, and you still hadn’t been even close to cumming. And now V was making you sit down and watch other people fuck instead of you. You were starting to realise just how clever he was with his punishments.

Distracted, you almost bump into Min as he halts in front of a door, which has a plaque at eye level reading ‘domestic’. He knocks, and instead of Koo answering the door like you expect, it’s V. You widen your eyes and follow the men inside the room in curiosity, wondering what equipment it was exactly that he had left to retrieve.

It’s immediately obvious. In the soft, romantic, bedroom-styled set, one thing stands out like a sore thumb. Past the foot of the bed, closer to the opposite wall, is a chair covered in undone leather straps. The black leather and silver buckles are totally at odds with the warm neutral shades of the room, and the soft, freshly washed linen and blankets on the large bed. More so than that, however, what really draws your attention is the hole cut out in the base, and the dildo that sticks through, attached to what can be described as nothing else but a machine, a motor which is plugged in to an electrical socket on the wall. The two back legs have wheels attached to them, so that should you tip the chair back, you can roll it around rather than having to lift it. All-in-all, it looks extremely expensive and extremely intimidating. You swallow down the saliva that collects in your mouth at the sight of it.

Other than the fucking machine, the other notable accessory is the sub kneeling beside the bed. He doesn’t look up when you all file in the room, even as his fingers curl into the lush carpet when he hears his master’s voice.

“Good boy, Koo,” Min praises warmly, “such a well-behaved slave tonight. Are you being extra good for our guests?” His eyes crinkle in satisfaction as the boy’s thick hair bobs with his enthusiastic nodding. Min approaches him, placing a hand on the sub’s cheek to lift his face up. He runs his fingers over Koo’s lips, who obediently opens his mouth, tongue flat. The dom places two fingers inside, slowly sliding them deeper in, up to his knuckles. “Are you gonna keep behaving for me?”

Koo’s eyes are wide, and you can see the way his nostrils flare as he breathes in through his nose, trying not to gag. Instead of nodding, he gargles out an affirmative hum, and Min’s lip curls proudly, drawing his fingers out and wiping the spit off on Koo’s cheek, the younger boy’s eyes fluttering shut even as his mouth still hangs slightly open.

“Kitten,” you hear Hoseok say, drawing your attention back to him. He has an evil glint in his eye as he grins. “Don’t you wanna rest those pretty little legs of yours? You must be feeling so weak. Why don’t you take a seat?” He gestures grandly to the elaborate contraption across from the bed, and although he’s stating it as a joke, you know it’s nothing less than a command.

With shaky legs, you walk over, hovering uncertainly. V steps forward, manually rotates the wheel so that the dildo lowers past the base of the chair, and lets you sit. Your skirt is so short that there’s no cover at all, and you can feel the very tip of the cold silicone brush over your folds. Once you put your back directly against the chair, and let your feet loosely rest on the carpet, you adjust your hips slightly so that it’s pressing against your entrance, and you glance up at your boyfriends for approval, feeling the budding excitement and nerves in your chest.

Namjoon comes over to help V do up the buckles, starting to bind your legs to the chair. “Now, baby girl,” he says conversationally, “Master Min and his slave are very kindly letting us watch them, so you better be a good girl and enjoy the show quietly. I’m sure you can learn something from Koo here.” He stands back up again, leaning over to fasten your left arm as V does the right, and soon enough you’re completely immobile for the second time in the evening. Namjoon grips your inner thigh, massaging the flesh with a humored smile. “And don’t forget, no cumming without permission.”

He reaches behind you, lifting something off the back of the chair, attached by a cord. You look over, to see something akin to a half-sized TV remote, with several settings and options. He winks at you, and presses one, watching between your legs carefully.

You gasp and tense up when the dildo begins to move, pressing up into you unbelievably slowly. Even though it penetrates you at a glacial pace, clearly just to make sure you’re at the right angle to take it safely, it’s an odd sensation having something push up into you so unforgivingly. No matter how hard you clench, it breaches your walls deeper and deeper, until just when it’s about to be too far, it begins to recede again. You let out a heaving sigh as it slowly pulls out of you, before coming to a stop.

“Good?” he questions, though you know by the way you’re already angling your hips better against it that he can see you are enjoying it. Nonetheless, you nod, and he hums happily. “Alright. Now we’re gonna sit quietly and nicely and watch these two gentlemen, okay?”

You go to nod again but let out a surprised yelp as he steps right behind you and tips the chair back. You feel your chest lurch as the legs slip out from under you, but they stop when you reach a 45-degree angle, and slowly you’re rolled a little closer, facing the two men directly. More chairs are pulled up; Namjoon and V on one side of you and Hoseok on the other.

Your hands grip the arms of the chair tightly, fighting the urge to reach out to your boyfriends, who barely give you a second glance, though Namjoon’s hand slips behind your hair to rest on the nape of your neck, the weight of it as both a comfort and a reminder of who was in control here. You tilt your head back and hum happily as his thumb lazily rubs back and forth, keeping you calm.

In front of you, Min takes one last look out to make sure you’re all seated, before turning back to look down at his slave. “Koo, why is that mouth of yours still open?” The younger shuts his mouth quickly with a barely-audible pop, and swallows, eyes as wide as ever. “Does it feel empty, hm? Want something between those pretty lips of yours?”

The sub nods, thighs clenching with visible excitement as Min sits on the edge of the bed beside him and spreads his legs. Though you notice the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips, he remains still kneeling patiently. All it takes is a nod from his master, however, for Koo to dart forward, hands fumbling eagerly at Min’s belt, tugging it through the belt loops of his pants so voraciously that Min’s hips almost get pulled off the mattress. You widen your eyes at just how spirited Koo is about sucking someone else off. As much as you didn’t mind giving your boyfriends blowjobs, you would always much rather their cocks somewhere else. But as you sit tied to the chair, the threat of the blunt tip of the dildo resting dormant between your outer folds, you feel a heat build in your stomach at the display of total devotion.

As Min lifts his hips to help Koo pull down his pants and underwear, not a moment is lost before the submissive wraps his lips around him and sucks him down as far as he can manage on the first go. Min’s chest heaves with a surprised huff, and a lazy grin tugs at his lips. “That’s it, good boy,” he breathes through a sigh of pleasure, and even though the comment is clearly not directed at you, you feel yourself dripping with need.

You turn your head to the side, towards Namjoon. As you do so, his hand comes around to brush fondly at your cheek. Rather than verbalising it, you wiggle your hips slightly against the chair and the dildo below and pout pleadingly at him. He flicks you a genial smile and takes his hand away from your face to fiddle with the controls.

Your mouth drops open silently when you feel the dildo push up into you, at least twice the speed of the tester run, though still slow enough that it makes no noise.

A violent shiver breaks goosebumps across your arms as you feel a warm breath waft against your opposite shoulder. “Don’t forget to keep quiet,” you hear Hoseok remind you. When you look over to face him, your noses bump, and even as your heart skips a beat at the proximity, you’re leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips.

Half-expecting him to pull away, you feel your insides go weak when he indulges you, slipping a hand around your neck where Namjoon’s was earlier to pull you closer, grounding you with deep swipes of his tongue even as the dildo fucks up into you on it’s slow yet insistent cycle. If you arch your back just right, you can get it to brush against your g-spot when it enters you, and your breath picks up, kisses growing sloppier as you begin to regularly grind against it, quiet moans smothered by Hoseok’s mouth.

When he finally pulls away, you blink open your eyes in just enough time to see a fat string of saliva between you, which stretches until it breaks, spattering on your chin. Hoseok gently shifts his hand to grip your jaw, guiding your attention back onto the two men in front of you.

You suck your slightly swollen bottom lip into your mouth to muffle a groan at what you’re greeted by. Min has a hand firmly bunched in Koo’s hair, holding him down onto his cock as the sub writhes and clutches at Min’s knees, whining. After a moment of struggling, Koo is pulled off him by the grip on his hair, and he sucks in heaved gasps of air, eyes watering. Through the involuntary tears, you can see the same hazy look in Koo’s eyes that you sometimes saw on yourself when you went to the bathroom to clean up after a scene with your boyfriends. It’s clear to you that even as he gurgles and trembles helplessly when he’s pushed back down, he’s loving it, and his gaze doesn’t leave Min for a second. Above him, though lidded with pleasure, you can see the adoration and fondness in Min’s eyes too. It’s undeniable just how much they love each other.

Your breath catches in your throat as the pace is suddenly picked up on the machine, a gentle metallic whir piercing the lull on your end of the room, and your gaze shoots over to Namjoon as the dildo rocks up into you fast enough for you to begin to shiver. When you do, you see it’s not Namjoon that has the remote, but V beside him. With one arched eyebrow, like he’s testing you, V holds a single finger up to his lips and mouths ‘shh’.

Your nails dig into the wood of the chair, and you bite down harshly on your tongue to prevent any moans escaping, nodding shakily. His eyes sparkle with mirth as he smiles, handing the remote back to Namjoon. Your eyes follow the transfer and look up at your boyfriend’s face, but he’s more focussed on what’s going on in front of you, a confused turn to his lips.

You stare forward, and see that the two have changed positions slightly. Barely coherent with the fucking machine driving up into you at an infuriatingly regular and unforgiving pace, you do your best to focus in to what’s going on.

Min is still on the edge of the bed, however he’s leaning down as Koo whispers something in his ear, ducking his head shyly once he’s done. Min sighs, but gives his sub a warm smile and gently pinches at his nose and pats his cheek, looking up at the four of you.

You let out an involuntary guttural whine when the dildo comes to a sudden stop, halfway inside you. Your walls clench around the couple of inches still inside, too shallow to get any real pleasure, but too deep to be able to rock your clit against it. It seems Namjoon has turned it off while V stands up and consults with Min.

You stare, thighs clenching and unclenching at the strange and unsatisfying sensation of the dildo. After a moment, V returns, walking leisurely over to the wall and unplugging the machine. Your mouth drops open in confusion.

“Sorry it’s such a quick show, folks, Kookie is apparently getting a bit shy.” Min tucks himself away and crouches down to press a soft peck to the younger man’s pink cheeks. “We don’t get to come here that often, I think he just wants all my attention on him, isn’t that right?”

Koo’s teeth come out to bite at his lip, failing to suppress a sheepish smile. Caught out, he nods cheekily.

Min weakly slaps his cheek, a playful scolding. “Well, you’ll get your wish, Kookie. The others are going to leave now. You wanna give them a kiss goodbye and say thank you?”

The sub is granted permission to stand up, and bounds over to press a quick kiss on V’s cheek, then Namjoon’s, before he reaches you. His eyes widen at your state, eyes hazed with pleasure and bare pussy leaking down the opening in the chair, and does a double take like he hadn’t noticed it before. Lightning fast, he ducks down and quickly presses his lips against the top of your cheekbone. You turn your head slightly to receive it, his lips unbelievably soft and still a little wet from saliva. He murmurs a quick, “thank you for watching” in your ear and moves on, doing the same to Hoseok before returning to his master, standing until he’s given the command to get on the bed beside him.

Koo quietly leans into Min’s clothed-chest and lets the older one wrap his arm around his shoulders, keeping him close. The two stay entwined like that, conversing under their breath, as your doms stand up and begin to unbuckle you from the chair, carefully lifting you off of the dildo.

You let out a grateful hum as Namjoon effortlessly lifts you into his arms, one hand under your ass, where your arousal has totally soaked the back of your short skirt. You feel more than hear him speak with the others, as his chest rumbles against your ear, and you let your eyes fall closed, wrapping your arms and legs around him tightly and snuggling in. Perhaps it was seeing the tenderness between the two men you had just watched, but you felt your bratty streak begin to settle down, just wanting to be close with your boyfriends.

You hear a door open, and suddenly you’re moving as Namjoon walks out. You let out a groan. “‘S it over?” you mumble into the warm skin of the crook of his neck, breathing in his natural musk paired with the simple cologne he had put on earlier in the night.

He chuckles. “No, baby girl. We’ll find somewhere else to go. Do you still want to keep playing? It is getting quite late.”

You sit up, blinking at your surroundings as they lurch around him, making your way back around the mezzanine towards the stairs. “I wanna keep playing, Daddy. Where’s Hoseokie?”

“That’s Sir to you,” you hear a voice from over your back call out. Hoseok must be leading the group. You clutch onto Namjoon tighter as you begin to descend the steps to the main playroom. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to find a station, kitten. It’s closing time soon so most of them are taken or blocked off for cleaning.”

“Let’s just fuck on the floor,” you quip back, reveling in the hearty laugh that shakes Namjoon’s shoulders.

“As much as I liked seeing you at our mercy, I have missed your snark, princess,” your boyfriend admits. “Bear with the no-speaking rule when V is around for tonight, and we can rework our rules tomorrow.”

You hum, wiggling your toes as the strength gradually returns to your limbs. “Where is V?”

Hoseok’s voice is thick with humour. “Weren’t you listening, little sub?” He laughs as you kick out weakly at the pet name your ‘Master’ had chosen to use. “He got called away. Something about helping out a sub that came alone or something.”

“Oh.” You can’t quite work out if what you’re feeling is dissatisfaction at still not having cum the entire night or disappointment that the other man left without saying goodbye. “Where are we gonna play, then?”

Namjoon grunts with exertion. “Okay, down you hop.” You do as he says, joints stiff as you slip in front of him to follow behind Hoseok. Namjoon’s voice continues from behind you. “We’re going to find that Jimin dude and ask if he knows of any free spots. Keep an eye out for him, baby girl.”

The use of ‘baby girl’ rather than just ‘baby’ gently reinforces you that the roles are still in place. Although having to move locations, your two boyfriends - as well as you - clearly want the scene to continue. “Yes, Daddy,” you affirm compliantly.

It takes a couple of times circling and winding between stations before you spot him. He’s not in that same corner from before, but instead you find him at the bar, nursing a glass bottle of coke. He looks up in mild interest as you approach, before widening his eyes once he recognises the three of you.

“V’s studious apprentices,” he greets warmly, eyes lingering on the wetness on your thighs visible past the hem of your skirt. “How may I be of assistance?”

Like it’s choreographed, Namjoon and Hoseok both reach out to touch you; Hoseok, slipping his fingers into yours, and Namjoon placing his hand possessively around your shoulders. You smother a smirk at the way Jimin’s eyes dart up and waver back and forth, sizing the two doms up before his shoulders lower in defeat.

“We just wanted to see if there were any free stations,” Hoseok explains. “I figured if your job is to supervise, you’d know.” Hoseok takes another glance at the languid curve of Jimin’s body as he leans against the bench, and the coke bottle dripping condensation over his fingers. The unspoken implication of Hoseok’s statement hangs in the air, as your two boyfriends share a look over your shoulder.. When he thinks your boyfriends aren’t looking, the DM flicks you a cheeky wink. The moment the two men turn back, his face falls frigid again.

“I’m on break,” Jimin explains petulantly, gesturing to the neon badge which has been unclipped from his shirt and is resting beside the cardboard coaster. “But no, sadly there aren’t. The last hour and a half before closing is our busiest time since everyone figures it’s their last chance to get in a scene. We do have five different stations in the process of being cleaned, though.” Using the neck of the half-empty bottle to point, the DM indicates a few different spots that are cordoned off with orange tape, the same neon as his badge. “That one just began a minute or so ago, so that’s out of commission for the night, that one has been being cleaned for a good twenty minutes but it was wax play which is quite difficult to get out of the furniture without damaging it, and those two on the far side have been reserved already. Your best bet is the sawhorse down past the restrooms, but you’re looking at a good fifteen, twenty minutes for them to finish up.” Spiel done, he lowers his eyebrows and quirks his lips smugly. “So yes, I suppose I was the right person to come to. And if I was on duty, I would’ve been able to go over and reserve it for you, but since I’m not, you’ll just have to fight to be the quickest to snatch it up. Pity.”

Hoseok’s grip tightens around your hand. “Thank you for your help. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” His nostrils flare, and you feel a tug on his wrist as he begins to pull you away.

Jimin holds his defiant stare for a moment longer before breaking out into a cheery grin, giggling at the matching looks of confusion. “I’m just messing with you! I’m not even on break, us DMs get one free drink a night to keep us going. Come on, while you wait I can grab you a spare trolley and you can use some of the toys at the bar if you want. We actually aren’t allowed to reserve stations, though; so sadly you will still have to snag the spot when it opens up. Come with me, I spotted a free trolley down here.”

As the four of you make your way through the gatherings of people, you remark at how quickly you’ve accustomed to the place. The smell of sweat and arousal has increased over the evening, but you barely notice it, and it’s easy enough to tune out pleasured cries and cracks of whips even as you walk right past them. As your two boyfriends mutter behind you, you hear Jimin murmur to you and jog to catch up and walk beside him.

“2 years,” he starts with a self-satisfied grin, “2 years I’ve worked here and I still marvel at the way I can one-up even the most hardcore dominants. I swear this job has increased my confidence like nothing else.”

You laugh. “You do that often, then?”

“God, yeah,” he admits easily. “Gotta make things fun when you can. As long as I’m serious whenever a scene is taking place, or there’s a situation, the owner kinda lets me take some liberties.”

“Who is the owner?” you question curiously. You can’t help but wonder what type of person would open a business like this.

Jimin smiles with mirth but doesn’t answer. “Well, here it is,” he states instead, reaching out and grabbing an unclaimed trolley that was previously sitting abandoned by a set of stocks. “Looks like there are some things missing, but it’s the best you’re gonna get this time of night. People aren’t meant to hog them for more than two hours but it’s kind of a courtesy thing, not a hard rule, so there’s not much we can do.” He looks up as your two boyfriends join you. “You folks need anything else?”

“That’s all,” Hoseok says shortly, still clearly not over the jig Jimin pulled. “Come on, kitten, let’s go find a table.”

Rather than the bar, which Jimin returns to to finish off his drink, you’re tugged unceremoniously down to the small socialising area, which is all but empty by now. They’ve even lowered the lights, and your eyes are happy to have a break from the brightness of the main play area.

In the far back, there are a couple of booths, all vacant, and Hoseok sits on the side in the corner, gesturing for you to sit across from him. You slide in, sighing at the plush upholstery that soothes your still slightly aching ass. Once the trolley is pushed up beside the outer edge of the table, Namjoon slides in beside you, moving over to the middle of the seat so that you’re pressed snugly between him and the wall. You gasp at the sudden warm of his body flush against yours, and feel need wash through you for the thousandth time this evening. Your mouth opens to plead for something, anything, but he beats you to the punch.

“Baby girl, we know you’re probably feeling pretty desperate, hm? You want our cocks?”

You let out a moan at his words. “Yes,” you croak, “please.” A violent shudder runs through you when you feel the tip of a shoe run up your shin, and pushes at the knee closest to the wall until you’re parting your legs. You glance over at Hoseok, who’s leaning back languidly in his seat, though his eyes are predatorial and his grin is sharp.

Namjoon’s eyes dart over to Hoseok, then at you, and finally down past the edge of the table, where your skirt is rising up dangerously high as Hoseok keeps you spread open. “We should get you ready to take us, then.” Your mouth drops open in a silent moan, incoherent as Namjoon reaches down in one smooth movement and cups your pussy, two fingers dipping in automatically with how sopping wet you are. “Fuck,” he hisses, but you just bite your lip and try and rock your hips forward, wanting him deeper.

Hoseok feels you shift and tuts, pinning your leg more firmly against the wall. “Careful, kitten,” he warns, “do you really want to risk punishment when we only have-” he breaks off to consult his watch, “twenty-three minutes before closing?”

You swallow and force yourself to stay still, but that doesn’t stop you from clenching tightly around the tips of Namjoon’s fingers, drawing another hiss from the man.

“Besides,” Namjoon drawls, massaging his palm against you slightly so that your clit got the slightest hint of friction, “if you want both of us we better prepare you first.” His eyes don’t leave yours, a caramel smile tugging at his lips as those fingers slip out, only to seek another entrance lower down. “Will you be good for us?”

You nod hurriedly, shakily, as a single finger teases at your rim. “I’ll be good, Daddy.” Your voice cracks on the last word, but it just makes him grin, flashing teeth wolfishly.

You exhale roughly when suddenly he pulls away from you, sliding to the outskirts of the booth. With glossily wet fingers, he slaps your bare thigh, pinching lightly at the flesh. “Face down, ass up,” he commands, “we can’t prepare you properly if you’re sitting down.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Hoseok’s foot leaves you too, and the dark impatience in his eyes as he cocks his head forces you into action. As you scramble to bring your knees up on the cushioning, you cringe at the audible wet noises and the slipperiness of your thighs. You groan at how empty you feel when you arch your back obscenely for them, cheek planted against the seat.

Your face is below the table, and it takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the darker setting, sighing in relief as you feel the calloused palms of your boyfriend roam over your ass, hips and thighs. About fucking time.

You let your gaze rest lazily on Hoseok’s ringed fingers as they rest on his thighs, framing the tent in his crotch that you can barely make out in the shadows, eyes falling to half mast as you feel Namjoon collecting your slick on a single finger, before beginning the first press into your puckered hole.

You take deep breaths, forcing your muscles to relax, and let out a high whine as it sinks suddenly to the base knuckle, crooking inside you exploratively.

“Good girl,” Namjoon passionately praises, placing his free hand on your lower back to keep you arched for him as he fucks you on his one finger until you’re relaxed enough to take a second.

Your jaw is unable to close and you feel drool gathering in the corner of your mouth, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the intense sensation after so much deprivation. It’s not until he works his way to three fingers, curling and scissoring them inside you, that you hear a masculine grunt and crack one back open. The sight that greets you makes you clench violently around Namjoon, and he has to lightly smack your ass for you to relax again.

Across from you, with legs splayed wide, Hoseok has reached into his pants, tucking his cock out so that just the head peeks out past the waistband of his underwear. Even in the dim lighting, you can see how flushed it is, a deep purple-red that glints with precum when the lazily thumbs at the slit, just enough to keep himself on edge but not nearly enough to get close to cumming.

Automatically, your hand slips off the seat and stretches out to reach for him, but you cry out when Namjoon’s hand snakes around your elbow and roughly tugs your arm away, pinning it to your back. You feel the muscles in your thighs shiver uncontrollably as he plunges his fingers repeatedly into your tight hole, almost too much at once.

After an uncountable amount of time, the three of you are made to pause when the electrical crackle of a loudspeaker resonantes through the room. You let out a frustrated groan as you hear it declare the club to be closing, instructing all patrons to make their way to the exits or the showers, Namjoon’s fingers slipping wetly out of you moments later. Bonelessly, your hips fall to the side and bang on the tabletop.

“Dammit,” you whine hopelessly. “Please, Namjoon, I’m gonna go crazy, just fuck me quickly now and we can finish at home, please.”

“All this time,” a familiar voice calls out in bemusement, “and the sub still hasn’t learnt to refer to her doms by their appropriate titles.”

You jump, hustling to push your knees back down and twist, sitting down normally again to look past Namjoon. Master V stands just past the booth, hair more tousled than when you had last seen him and dark red lines across the exposed skin of his sternum where someone had clearly scratched him. “What are you doing here?” you ask automatically, mind not even comprehending the fact that you’d broken protocol yet again.

V simply raises his eyebrows at you warningly before turning to your boyfriends. “If you wanna stay longer, you can. Employee perks,” he explains. “The one catch is that you can’t use the stations because they all need cleaning at this point.”

Hoseok purses his lips together in thought. “That’s fine,” he dismisses. “We can find someplace. Anyone thirsty?”

You blink, not understanding the statement, but clearly the others do. Namjoon wraps a strong arm around your torso, just under your breasts, and pulls you off the seat so that your back is pressed against his chest and the tips of your toes barely brush the carpet. “Hey-!” you squeak, feeling even more worked up now that the time restraint on the club had interrupted your fun yet again.

Without missing a beat, V and Hoseok reach out, latching tightly onto one ankle each and lifting you so that you’re swinging horizontally between the three, dipping at the waist.

You grumble as they carry you away from the tables, following the edge of the room to arrive at the bar. Jimin has left, as have everyone else, only the last few stragglers making their way to the exits. “Are you finally gonna fuck me then?” you complain in frustration. You swear to God if you don’t get at least one of them inside you in the next five minutes, you’ll go insane.

V, not even turning back to look at you, scoffs. “You haven’t learnt a fucking thing, have you?”

“What?” you fire back, too consumed by a lust-driven haze to care about consequences.

“Right now, little sub, your body is ours. We get to decide whether you get fucked or not, so this whole time you’ve been making trouble when you should’ve been sucking up. If you don’t get what you want, that’s nobody’s fault but yours.” His nails dig into the sensitive skin around your ankle, and you feel it raise, as you’re lifted higher in the air and unceremoniously dumped on a surface taller than a table, and narrow. You crane your neck up, eyes wide as you see where you are. As V temporarily lets go to walk around the edge and rejoin on the other side, you realise they’ve splayed you out on the bar, one man on either side to keep your legs wide open, and Namjoon’s hand rising up your chest to wrap lightly, warningly, around your throat, pushing your head back down so that you can only see him and the high ceiling above. V’s voice comes from below, a stern growl. “So far tonight you haven’t done a single thing to earn one of our cocks in that messy pussy of yours, understand? Now you have to lie back and take what you’re fucking given.”

“This isn’t fucking fair,” you cry out in frustration, tears pricking at your eyes. “I just need to cu-um.” Your core feels neglected, almost painful in its longing for sensation. As you attempt to kick your legs out, you realise something. Your hands are free.

As fast as you can, you shove both between your legs, one plunging three fingers deep into your pussy, the other rubbing frantically at your swollen clit. You let the tears fall, sobbing at the relief, but it’s short lived. With a disappointed shout, Namjoon grabs your hands together with his free one. You howl as he rips them away from you, keeping them captive pinned to the middle of your torso.

Hoseok slaps you sharply right on your folds, making you jump. “This is our pussy, kitten. Paws off.”

“Please,” you scream, “I’ll do anything, come on!”

Driven half-mad by need, you barely hear V as he mutters to the other two. ���Okay, she’s there. It’s time.”

You look up in confusion, as much as you can with the weight of Namjoon’s hand around your neck, and immediately your eyes roll back into your head with relief. A steady thrum of power reinforces what you saw. V holding a battery-run Hitachi vibrator.

The second he places it against your clit, you see a white-hot flash behind your eyelids as the powerful vibration sends you violently into your first orgasm after what must be over four hours of waiting.

“That’s it,” V coos, voice dripping with pure satisfaction, “take it all.”

You moan, a low garble in your throat, as the pleasure ripples through you, tingling in your fingertips and the skin of your calves where Hoseok and V hold on tightly, keeping you prone on the benchtop even as your muscles seize and tense as much as they can, feeling like you need to curl up into a ball around the epicenture of your orgasmic euphoria.

“Tha-ank you,” you sob out desperately, hands digging into the soft flesh of your stomach, the only part of your body you can really move as you’re pinned down by the strength of your three doms.

“Thank Master,” V commands shortly.

Tears pool in your temples as the pleasure begins to slowly settle, even as the vibrations continue. “Thank you, Master,” you praise mindlessly.

“Thank your other doms too,” he reminds, twisting his wrist so that the vibrator pushes your hood aside, resting against your bared clit, and you let out a weakened scream as the pleasure begins to prickle, overwhelming you.

“Thank you, Daddy, thank you, Sir,” you make out through shudders, your eyebrows knitting, unsure whether what you’re feeling is pleasure anymore or just pain. “N-no, too much,” you protest, swearing colorfully when V simply runs the Hitachi back and forth across your clit, sending sharp spikes of stimulation through you.

“No?” Hoseok questions rhetorically. “I thought you wanted to cum, you greedy slut.”

“Too much,” you repeat weakly.

“I don’t care,” he counters, “cum again.”

You let out a loud sustained moan as pain returns to pleasure in a hot flash, and you’re pitched over the edge again, tensing up and trying to grind your hips into the sensation as you gush over it, and all over V’s hand. You hear him laughing at you as you go fully limp, energy gone as your nerves run alight through your body.

“Not so brave now, are you?” he remarks dryly, chuckling again when you simply let out an incoherent moan.

You expect he’s made his point now that your body has given up the fight, but instead all you get is a warning click before he’s turning up the power of the vibrator to another level.

You hear yourself yell out, louder than you’ve been all night, unable to stop from screaming and shouting in stuttered moans as you’re wracked with blinding, overwhelming pleasure. “Not again,” you beg, “no more, I can’t-”

Your protests are cut off by a strong call coming from far away. The vibrator is clicked off immediately, and you go lax in relief, though your pussy continues to tremble uncontrollably as you pant on the sweat-soaked bar.

You don’t have any energy to look up properly, but you tiredly turn your head to the side to see an unfamiliar figure approach.

He’s dressed somewhat like Namjoon, with dress pants and an ironed shirt, but a deep navy suit jacket finishes up his outfit, hair carefully styled so that even as he stomps over, it stays in place swept to the side to reveal some of his forehead and brows. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, making a racket after closing?”

Master V pauses, his grip on your calf instinctively loosening. “You said we were allowed to, Jin.”

“I didn’t expect you’d be bringing so many friends,” Jin defends, “normally your subs are so quiet that it’s never been a problem.” His gaze falls on you and you hiccup as the last of the shivers run through you. “What are you doing to this poor girl?”

A tired smile plays at your lips in relief. Sure, it was a little embarrassing having what must be the owner of the place walk in on you, but at least Hoseok and Namjoon would have no choice but to leave with you. You’d have an Uber ride to recover, and then by the time you reached your apartment they’d be so desperate that they’d give in straight away and fuck you. You just about hum audibly at the thought.

“I thought I taught you better,” the stranger criticises with a disappointed look as he approaches to stand at the edge of the bench.

V bites his lip, placing the Hitachi on the counter in resignation, flicking your boyfriends an apologetic look. “Sorry, Jin, I-”

“If you’re gonna overstimulate a sub, you need to make sure she won’t wake the neighbors,” Jin interrupts, picking up the toy himself. “And for fuck’s sake, use one of the pulse settings so her clit doesn’t get used to it. You in the white shirt, tighten your grip around her throat.”

Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to protest, but Namjoon effectively cuts you off by pressing you more firmly to the bench, thumb and forefinger on either side of the column of your throat, intruding on your airways enough to make you groan gutturally.

You jump as you feel a sharp pinch on your inner thigh. “Alright, sub, your safeword is now making two fists and shaking your hands. Do it know so I know you can.”

The pressure on your throat eases slightly as you suck in a breath and follow the owner’s command, relaxing your hands again once he grunts in affirmation.

The pulsating whine of the vibrator fills the air after he clicks it back on. “Good, now lie there and shut up while I show these men how it’s done.”

The brief respite on your poor clit clearly isn’t enough as the second the toy is placed back on you, you let out a shriek that’s cut off midway as Namjoon tightens his grip around your throat again. You thrash as much as you can, but now that Hoseok and V both have two hands on you again, there’s no way you can overpower them.

“Bend her knees,” Jin commands, “open her up for me.”

You moan, drooling unwittingly as they obey, feeling your pelvis shift up so that you’re fully vulnerably to the attack on your abused clit.

“This way,” the boss instructs, “no matter how much she wriggles, she can’t escape it, and you’ve got free access to everything else too.”

Crying out as incomprehensible stimulation is forced on you by the flickering of the toy over your bud, you scratch and grab and bat at the flesh of your stomach, careful to make sure you don’t curl your fingers into fists.

When your third orgasm tears through you, all sensation cuts out for the briefest second, everything going black for one blissful moment before you’re taken over by the warm rush, feeling release like you never have before. Namjoon releases his grip on your throat, and the sudden return of oxygen pitches you into euphoria, too far gone to do anything more than whimpering.

Jin holds you there, in that totally mindless state for a few more trembling seconds before he flicks it off and dumps it on the bartop. “Got my fucking sleeve wet,” he mutters to himself, before reaching out and massaging your inner thigh reassuringly, relaxing the muscles. “Have you ever made your girl squirt before?”

Namjoon’s voice is reluctant. “Not yet.”

“Looks like you have some more learning to do yourself, then. Sub; are you still with us?”

You’re shaking like a leaf, but Hoseok helps prop you up, letting your leg flop weakly off the edge of the bench. You look down and see the wet shine of the table between your legs, and the dark splotches covering Jin’s suit. “Wh-why would you do that?” you question, your voice wobbling from sheer exhaustion. “Aren’t you meant to be professional?”

His eyes darken, a brow arching delicately. “You seem to forget what my profession is, young lady.” Lifting his gaze to include the three other men, he lets out a patient sigh. “The night cleaners will be arriving in a couple of minutes, and I will not be fronting a late fee if they have to wait around for you jokers to get your rocks off.”

Namjoon nods understandingly. “That’s alright, we can be out of your wa-”

“So if you’d like to fuck her,” the owner continues on, “you’re going to have to come do it in my office. It gets cleaned last, so you’ll have more time.”

Your mouth drops open.

Namjoon and Hoseok share a glance with each other, then at V. Finally, Namjoon reaches down and brushes back some of the hair back that had gotten stuck on your face. “It’s up to you, baby girl,” he says with a fond smile. “Either the two of us can take you home and fuck you there, or you can stay here and have all of us.”

Your mouth waters, eyes lingering on V, how sinful he looks with black locks low over his brow, tanned skin beaded with sweat. Your gaze lowers, taking in the way his erection strains under his pants. This whole time, he had been calmly in control, always composed, even when you had acted out more than you ever had before. You wanted to see him how he’d seen you; out of your mind with pleasure. You wanted to see him let go. “I wanna stay, Daddy.”

“Then we’ll stay.”

The way to Jin’s office is longer than expected, and your legs tremble so violently that the group of you move at a near-glacial pace up the stairs to the second floor, going to the right instead of the left like last time when you reach the mezzanine. There’s a side corridor that you hadn’t noticed earlier, the entrance partly concealed by a lube-and-condoms refill station. You take that, the five of you winding down single-file with the owner himself taking the lead, down to V at the rear.

Upon arriving and being let inside, you loiter uncertainly just inside the doorway beside your two boyfriends as Jin walks behind the desk and takes a seat. Even if it wasn’t for the fact that the evening’s protocol forbids you from speaking out of turn (as if you ever really followed it), you can’t bring yourself to form a single sentence.

Luckily, Hoseok can. “Aren’t you gonna leave?” he asks brusquely.

Jin smiles patiently, holding his palms out in a broad gesture. “This is my office. I said you could use it, and you can.” He lets the statement hang in the air as he loosens his tie with a shit eating grin. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You swallow hard and look over to the other men.  Even though you had been seen by an entire club of people downstairs in your most vulnerable moments, they were all occupied, and there were so many that it didn’t feel real. Now, with Jin’s eyes heavy on you, waiting, there’s something far more intimidating about it.

Hoseok has a glimmer of something in his eyes, and murmurs in Namjoon’s ear, grin stretching across his face as he whispers, until Namjoon shares that same look. Without speaking, your younger boyfriend makes his way over to one of the chairs and sits down in it. It looks expensive; deep maroon upholstery with a mahogany base. He spreads his legs wide, and silently pats his thigh, eyes locked onto you.

You bite your lip and walk over, feeling a strange pressure in your chest at the silence. All eyes are on you. You just wish someone would say something. You bump knees with Namjoon still standing, but pause.

“Have you gotten all shy on us now, kitten?”

You mentally sigh in relief, turning to Hoseok and nodding. He doesn’t smile but his eyes crinkle as he steps forward, flattening your hair with his palm and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I think I know what you need,” he answers, “to take the pressure off.”

You blink in confusion as he leaves your side, strolling around to desk to the owner, who’s seated at his desk chair, aimlessly swivelling back and forth. Jin stops when Hoseok plants himself between the man’s knees and reaches down. With wary eyes, Jin waits as Hoseok fully loosens the man’s tie, slipping it off completely and bringing it back to you.

“Turn around,” he commands firmly, and you obey without thought, feeling comforted in his guidance. The fabric falls down sideways over your eyes, and you gasp silently in realisation as he fastens the makeshift blindfold with a knot at the back of your head. “Better?” he questions, and you nod hastily, already calming down and not feeling so exposed. “Then go sit on Daddy’s cock.”

You shudder, feet stumbling as Hoseok’s hand on your back guides to to the chair, almost tripping over one of Namjoon’s shoes. The seated man reaches out and grips your hips and you let your knees buckle, straddling him in the armchair. The feeling of his hard crotch rubbing against your still-sensitive core is enough to make you let out an unconscious whimper, and he chuckles lowly in your ear as you let your head rest on his shoulder.

“Joonie,” you mumble. Immediately, a sharp swat  lands on your ass, and you jump. With no other context, you don’t even know who did it. It didn’t feel like Namjoon’s arms moved at all. “Daddy.”

“Right,” he states with a squeeze to your hip. “Sit up, Daddy’s waited for that pretty pussy long enough.”

You whine and comply, raising yourself up on your knees, tilting your chin as your ears desperately train in on the delicate sound of a zipper being lowered. You hiss in a breath when you feel his cockhead run through your folds, catching the overstimulated tip of your clit, before pushing it back to rest snugly at your entrance. Your thighs ache with the need to sit, but you force yourself to wait, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt over his shoulders tightly.

The guiding pressure of his hands on your upper hips are your only instruction before you begin to sink down onto him. Even if you weren’t blindfolded, you wouldn’t be able to see a thing anyway with the way your eyes squeeze tightly shut, eyebrows knitting together as your mouth drops open. He’s big, thicker than the dildo on the fucking machine but just about as hard, swearing profusely when your wet heat envelops him inch by glorious inch. You’re so wet from the previous teasing and orgasms, and so needy to be filled, that the moment he bottoms out in you, you’re steadying yourself on him for leverage and beginning to ride him, head tipping back in ecstasy.

“Good, baby girl?”

You bite your lip and nod, feeling him strike nerves deep inside of you with every bounce. “So good, Daddy, fuck.” He rewards your compliment by propping his feet on the floor and beginning to thrust up into you, grunting with the exertion. A warm curl of pleasure begins to build deep inside you at the satisfaction of finally being fucked properly, and you work your thighs, meeting him halfway on every thrust, deepening his reach.

Your body stiffens when he suddenly pushes down heavily on your hips, halting your thrusts and holding you pinned fully onto him. “No, Daddy, please, don’t do thi-”

“Sh, don’t worry,” Namjoon soothes quickly, palms gripping meaty handfuls of your ass and massaging them reassuringly, spreading you apart. “We aren’t going to tease you anymore, princess, but you don’t want Daddy cumming before anyone else has joined in, now do you? Who do you want next? Who’s gonna fill that tight little ass of yours?”

You shudder, but your answer is immediate. “I want Sir.”

“Ask nicely.”

You turn your head blindly around in the direction you vaguely remember Hoseok last standing in. “Sir, please, I need you inside me. I’ll be good.” You startle, clenching tightly around Namjoon when you feel a hot breath on the back of your neck, and Hoseok’s hands - cold where the rings touch you - run up your back to rest on your waist.

“Okay, kitten. Ass up for me.”

You whine and obey, tilting forward so that your back arches forward onto Namjoon’s solid frame and your hips are tilted back for better access. You can’t help but clench when you feel the blunt head of his cock pressing at the tight right of your ass, muscles fluttering around the attempted intrusion. Namjoon swears as his cock is milked by your walls, but Hoseok simply swats you on your ass, matching the sting of the strike from earlier.

“Take it,” he hisses, before you hear him spit, the fluid landing on you, some slipping in as you fight to relax your muscles. He pushes in again, and this time you accept it, crying out as he thrusts forward, fucking up into you in one smooth motion. As you adjust to both men inside you, you feel the lubed-up rubber of a condom around Hoseok. Almost delirious with the sensation of fullness, your mind cooks up the image of Hoseok fiddling with a condom packet, trying to be quiet as you bounced on Namjoon’s cock. A smile tugs at your lips, but it’s dropped when Hoseok suddenly draws away and snaps his hips, plunging in to the hilt at the same time that Namjoon bends forward and begins to bite at your nipples through the fabric.

“Is something funny to you?” Hoseok asks through a tensed jaw.

You wince at the feeling of teeth around your sore nipple even as deep pleasure makes your toes curl. “No,” you protest weakly, another moan being ripped from your throat as Hoseok begins a regular pace. With every thrust, you feel the wall between Namjoon and Hoseok, the two of them filling you in a way you had become addicted to over the years. “God, don’t stop.”

“I know something that’ll wipe that smirk off your fuckin’ face,” he huffs out, and your heart skips a beat until you hear a third voice.

“Open up, little sub,” you hear V mutter, and you moan when you feel his cock tapping teasingly on your cheek.

You open your jaw wide and stick your tongue out, turning your head to the side his cock was on, waiting for it. You hear him chuckle and pat your tongue with the head, salting it with his precum before sliding down. Your mouth closes around him and sucks, and he lets out a low groan, his hand on the back of your head as he guides you.

Even though it was a relief earlier, now you curse the blindfold. There’s nothing you want more than to watch V’s face as he finally comes apart on your tongue, and the image of it alone makes your mouth water, deepening your bobs as you strain to take him all in. While most cocks feel large when they’re spreading your jaw, you know he’s long, so long that even as you gag and splutter around him, your nose doesn’t once touch the skin of his stomach.

“God, look at you,” he praises, a thumb pressing at the corner of your lips to wipe away drool that had slid down, before jerking his hips so that you choked on him once again. “Do you finally feel satisfied, you greedy girl?”

You gargle around him in agreement, and he curses, fingers tightening on the crown of your head. Although they’d lain dormant while you were adjusting to a third cock, your boyfriends’ hands are all over your torso, lifting you up so that they can simultaneously fuck into you, and you let out an inhuman whine around V’s dick, one hand flying off Namjoon’s shoulder and behind you to push at Hoseok.

V tugs you off his cock with a handful of hair and you gasp in lungfuls of air, feeling the cold air on your wet chin and cheeks. You take the chance to use your already-battered vocal cords. “Too fast,” you complain, gripping Hoseok’s wrist as he grabs your ass, keeping you spread. With that, V’s cock is thrust unceremoniously back into your throat and you cough around it, but hollow your cheeks and flick your tongue on his underside, moaning when your boyfriend heeds your words and slows down, opting to grind into you, slow and deep.

“This better, kitten?” he questions, rutting himself against you.

You go to whine enthusiastically, but a new noise takes you by surprise. An unfamiliar groan. V pulls you off him again and as you gasp to catch your breath, light pierces your eyes. You wince, panting, as the blindfold is ripped off. After adjusting to the brightness, you let him guide your gaze across the desk, where on the other side Jin sits, legs spread, gaze heavy on you with his eyebrows furrowed in focus.

He’s breathing heavily, and a flash of movement attracts your eyes downwards, where an angry red cock lies up against his stomach, a fist firmly running up and down it in indulgent tugs. His knuckles are glossy with precum and his pupils are blown wide, and you feel your mouth water at the fact that the image of you alone was enough to make him this desperate.

That thought lights a fire within you, a need, and you bend down to take V in your mouth again, freeing a hand to reach out and jerk off what doesn’t fit in your mouth. He swears at your renewed efforts, gathering your hair into a ponytail so that it doesn’t cover your face. As you do this, you grind yourself between the two cocks you’re impaled on, moaning wantonly at the way they shift inside you, alternating.

Namjoon groans and slips his hands around your hips more firmly, keeping you steady so that he can begin to fuck you, frenzied and desperate. “I’m so close, baby girl, keep that pussy open for me.”

You moan around V’s dick and his hips stutter at the vibration, clearly near his end too by the way he begins to lose control. You blink up through teary eyes, taking him down your throat and breathing through your nose so that you can finally watch him. The crease in his brow and the slackness of his jaw as he’s overcome by pleasure sends hot pleasure straight to your cunt.

Every time Namjoon or Hoseok thrust up into you, that spark of pleasure is ignited further and further, until you can’t even suck off V properly anymore, taking him out of your mouth to suckle at the sensitive skin instead, reaching lower to massage his balls.

The moment Hoseok reaches around to thumb at your clit and Namjoon lowers his mouth to your neck to suck a violent hickey, you’re gone. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, and you collapse, forehead knocking on Namjoon’s shoulder as the two men continue to fuck you through it, moaning sinful nothings into your ear as you gush over them, shaking bonelessly.

Above you, you hear the slick sound of V jerking off and you force your head up with the last reserves of your energy, groaning as you feel Hoseok and Namjoon release inside you; Hoseok into the condom and Namjoon painting your walls. V looks like he isn’t too far off, and he reaches down to tug at your bra, pulling it down to expose your breasts.

“You better not fucking cum on her tits, kid,” Jin warns, “I just had this carpet deep cleaned. Sub’s mouth or the trash can.”

V twitches his eyebrows with a salacious grin, not stopping for a moment. “You heard him, little sub, open up.” You lick your swollen lips and stick your tongue out, humming around the rush of cum that fills your mouth, swallowing it down. After wringing the last few spurts out, he sighs in satisfaction and draws himself out, tucking his slowly softening cock away.

You tremble violently when Hoseok pulls out of you, leaving you empty, but nothing can prepare you for the void inside you when Namjoon follows suit, immediately cupping his hand over your soiled pussy.

“Keep it in, baby girl,” he commands, “you’ve been so good for us.”

You hum warmly at the praise. “Tired,” you mumble mindlessly, letting him bundle you up on his lap as Hoseok took off the condom, knotting the end and leaving to discard it.

Namjoon pats your hair down, smoothing out the mess. “Come on, princess,” he murmurs in your ear as he looks out across the desk. “This kind young man let us use his office. Are you gonna let him use your mouth?”

Your eyes darken with exhausted lust as Jin stands up, one hand holding his pants up and the other still jerking hurriedly at his length. You nod, opening your mouth in submission as you wait for him to come over.

“Good girl,” Namjoon mutters, “you’ll let anyone take you, won’t you?”

Jin stops in front of you, gripping your hair and tipping your neck back so that you’re at the right level. You whimper as Namjoon palms your breasts possessively, rolling your nipples between his fingers as you take Jin into your mouth as deep as you can with your aching jaw. You work to bring him to the edge, knowing your energy will be fully depleted any minute now, and the owner groans at the effort.

“But whose tits are these, princess?” You gargle out a response around Jin’s thick cock, tears pricking your eyes. “And whose mouth is this?” Namjoon moves a hand up to wrap his fingers around your jaw, holding it open so that Jin can thrust inside. You groan, your reply trapped in your throat by his dick. Namjoon’s other hand leaves your tits and slips down, swiping his fingers through the cum that seeps out of your abused core. “And whose pussy is this?” You scream your reply, choking and sputtering as a hot wave of cum runs down your throat, soothing the rawness. You swallow it down and collapse back against Namjoon, spent.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room is your collective panting. Finally, V speaks. “Well; that was fun. Did you enjoy yourself, little sub?”

You let an exhausted smile tug at your lips as your eyes flutter shut. “Yes,” you sigh. “Thank you, Master.”

He chuckles warmly. “Guess you learned your lesson tonight, after all.”

[ruewrites]

bestie can we get some solodeus angst

The Next Step

AO3

WBT

Ship: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 3081

Warnings: None

A/N: Hey Anon! So I struggled with this request for a bit. So I decided to write a little oneshot for WBT. I hope you like it and I hope this may be what you had in mind for some angst (with a happy ending)!

“So do you wanna do something this week? We could go check out that movie  we thought might be bad. Frankenzilla’s Aquatic Monstrocity Two?” he tried to make his voice sound as tempting as possible. The semester was coming to a close  and Asmo missed his boyfriend. It felt like he hadn’t seen him outside of the one class they had together and even then their only greeting was a quick kiss before running to the next place. 

Sure they had coffee trips still, but both of them were too exhausted to usually say much and then classes interrupted any other time they might have. 

Solomon sighed on the other end of the line. The soft tapping of his keyboard reached Asmo on the other end of the line. Was it another application or course work this time? Perhaps he was responding to another email from the staff at one of the schools he applied to. There were many options, and each one twisted a knot in his stomach.

“I can’t tonight. I’m overloaded right now. You know, assignments destined to kill me and all. If not the assignments, the applications.” Despite the chuckle tinting his voice, Asmo could hear how tired Solomon was.  He could practically picture the piles of empty or lukewarm coffee cups surrounding him. It was a familiar sight, and one that Asmo would often see when trying to coax him to bed to relax and get some sleep. That was another thing Asmo had been missing: cuddling. The way Solomon’s arms would wrap around his waist, or when Asmo would commandeer Solomon’s chest as his own personal pillow. 

Quality time was something Asmo desperately needed, especially before the next step came… And graduation was rapidly approaching.

“Well, we don’t have to see the movie!” Asmo’s voice was coming out quickly, and he hated it.

“Asmo-”

“We can go walk in the park-”

“I really ca-”

“Or we could go to our favorite cafe! The one off campus. Wouldn't it be-”

“Asmodeus.” 

Asmo’s words died on his tongue. Solomon snapped at him. Solomon never snapped at him. Not once in the entire year they’d been together as a couple. When they were younger maybe, but not in their more recent history. It made Asmo sick to his stomach.

 A small whimper left his throat and his fingers gripped his phone a little tighter. 

“Fuck,” Asmo swore he heard Solomon slump back onto the couch, “Asmo, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Asmodeus I-”

“It’s fine,” Asmo was fighting back tears, “It’s fine really-”

“No. No it’s not I shouldn’t talk to you like that, sleep deprived or not. I know you Asmodeus, I know it’s not just fine,” Solomon finally let exhaustion overtake him, his voice was dripping with it, “And I really am sorry, I can’t hang out right now. I want to, I really really do. Honest.”

“It’s fine,” the words came out softer this time before silence stretched over the line. 

Solomon was the first one to break it, “I love you and I miss you.”

“I love you too.” Asmo was just barely keeping himself together, and he had no doubt that Solomon knew this. Solomon knew him too well.

“I’ll make it up to you as soon as I can. I promise. I love you, so very much Asmodeus. Goodnight, I’ll see you in class tomorrow if I’m still alive.”

Asmo didn’t even crack a smile at Solomon’s attempt at a joke when he heard the familiar click signaling the end of their call.

They were seniors. They didn’t have much left. What was the next step?

At the news that Mammon could pull some strings to get Asmo some sort of job in the fashion world, he’d been elated. He’d talked about it days upon days on ends with Solomon, and Solomon had been so happy for him. Meanwhile Solomon had been pacing back and forth, waiting for some sort of response from a master’s program. He’d said he’d be happy getting into any school, lucky even, but Asmo knew him. Solomon had his favorite, his ambitious Solomon aimed for the stars and Asmo had no doubt in his mind that he’d end up right where he wanted to be.

But that scared him.

It made him feel terrible. He should be supportive of and happy for Solomon, yet something was holding him back. At this rate, they would only have the summer together, and that wasn’t enough time. The summer would fly by before Asmo knew it and then he’d maybe have to help Solomon move into some fancy dorm somewhere far away from him and his love. 

At one point he’d been excited about the next step in his life, but now graduation just seemed like a looming storm overhead.

His mind was wandering and he couldn’t stop it.

He’d had breakups over less. Expecting Solomon to stay with him after they graduated was selfish, and yet he dared to hope for it. The best he could hope for was that Solomon asked for a break. Was it any better? No. But at least Asmo would have the illusion of hope. People broke up with Asmo over him deciding to dress down or for being too clingy. Then again, he knew he’d dated shallow people in the past and Solomon wasn’t shallow.

But it was still selfish for him to want what he did.

But a part of him didn’t care.

Asmo wasn’t stupid. He knew Solomon was the best he’d ever had. He was attentive, remembered when Asmo said little things, made him feel good in more ways than one, and was nothing short of wonderful. There was no way Asmo was going to let himself lose him and yet-

“He’s going to break up with me.”

“You don’t know that.”

One of the cats of the cafe rubbed against his side. Perhaps she could feel his sorrow. Asmo had just finished sobbing in his room before texting Satan. His pillow had become completely damp with tears and his eyes were red and puffy and looked as if they were made out of glass. Satan could keep his thoughts level and talk Asmo out of whatever negativity currently plagued his thoughts.

“But he hasn’t been spending time with me! Our normal hang out times have been completely run over!” Asmo sniffled, half-heartedly bringing his tea closer to his lips, “This is how breaking up normally starts.”

Satan shook his head, “You really think he went to all that work to get with you only to break up with you? Didn’t he get a tattoo to represent your relationship or something like that when the two of you had barely been dating for a month?”

“Three months. He wanted to get it a month in, but it took me three months to the day of our anniversary to finish the sketch.” Asmo’s fingertips lightly traced the rim of the cup, eyes fixed on his reflection inside. He’d wanted that tattoo to be perfect. So many scrapped ideas had flown around in his head before he was finally happy with one, that and he’d been nervous about Solomon getting a tattoo dedicated to them. They’d gone to every appointment together. Asmo said he wanted to make sure the art was good, what he meant was that he wanted to make sure Solomon didn’t change his mind. 

Had it really all been for nothing?

Suddenly his phone buzzed.

💖Honey Dearest💖: Hey

💖Honey Dearest💖: Look I feel really bad

💖Honey Dearest💖: And I’m very sorry

💖Honey Dearest💖: Incredibly sorry

💖Honey Dearest💖: You deserve so much Asmo, and my time for you has been taken up by other things

💖Honey Dearest💖: But I’ll have free time this weekend and I can make reservations for us

💖Honey Dearest💖: I need to talk to you about something

💖Honey Dearest💖: Something that’s been on my mind

Asmo’s heart stopped. With shaking hands he shot up, startling the poor kitty next to him. He shoved his phone into Satan’s face, “See? See??? He wants to talk so he can let me down easy! Oh I’m going to lose him!”

“Asmo hush. You’re startling the cats,” Satan’s brow furrowed as he looked over the text messages, “He’s not saying anything about breaking up with you. It actually seems like he’s putting effort in to see you.”

“You don’t know that! I’ve been here before. I know this isn’t good I- I-”

Oh he was the definition of a mess right now.

“And you don’t know that he’s going to break up with you. You’re not the only one who’s  dated people Asmo,” Satan pushed the phone back into his hands and went to pick the forgotten, luckily unspilled, cup up. “Send him a text and at least hear him out. I think you're reading too much into this.” 

Asmo had drowned Satan out. He vaguely saw him go behind the counter to start remaking his drink again, but other than that Asmo didn’t process a thing. 

Keeping Solomon was his main goal. He needed to figure out how to convince him that they were good for each other, that they could make this work. If he did leave him, Asmo knew that was it. He knew Solomon was the best he could get, and he wasn’t about to lose his chance at a happy future.

After texting Solomon an agreement to the meetup and deciding on a place, the rest of Asmo’s days leading up to the weekend were consumed with worry. In the end he’d made a list of reasons as to why they should stay together and how they could make everything work. If he was being honest with himself, he knew this list was more for him. He wanted to remember his reasons for when the time came. The last thing he wanted was to be left blubbering in public.

He’d made himself up nice. If Solomon was planning to break up with him, he wanted to assure he looked fine as hell and make him second guess the decision. It’d been a while since he’d done himself up this well, maybe he should do it more often. He used to do this all the time with partners because he wanted to make sure they loved him. But Solomon had loved him so matter what. He loved looking at Asmo first thing in the morning before he did himself up and when he was still in one of Solomon’s shirts. 

Asmo had never felt this comfortable in a relationship before. He’d never felt so safe before.

…

He was going to miss that so much…

The feeling of being safe.

Being wanted.

Being adored.

Despite his worries, the whistle that left Solomon’s lips sent a blush to his cheeks. 

“You really look nice.”

Solomon’s hair was slicked back the way Asmo liked it. Why did he also have to put effort into his appearance? Asmo felt even more anxious now, looking at him in the doorway. Solomon was the only one who’d ever made his heart flip like this. It had been impossible to calm himself all the way over  to the restaurant.

Solomon had always been good at picking up when something was off, and Asmo had to wonder what he was thinking. Then again, even though Asmo was being uncharacteristically quiet, Solomon seemed uncharacteristically chatty. Asmo knew he could get that way about things he enjoyed, but this wasn’t one of those moments. Instead Solomon was tripping over his words as he discussed… nothing really. The sinking feeling in his stomach continued as they took their food and left once again to a little secluded place in the park. Solomon has suggested it, he mentioned that it might be best if they could be alone for a bit.

It didn’t make Asmo feel better.

Eating didn’t really seem possible. Instead, Asmo was pushing the food around inside his box. He’d take a bite eventually, as soon as he was sure it’d go down alright. 

“I heard back from the program I applied to,” Solomon started, “I got in.”

“Oh? I’m so happy for you! Solomon that’s wonderful!” Asmo hoped his cheeriness didn’t sound forced.

Are you going to leave? 

“Yeah! It’s a huge relief. One less thing I have to worry about.” Solomon went silent now. The inches between them felt like miles to Asmo. He should feel happier for him. His boyfriend’s dreams were coming true, he knew Solomon had wanted this program more than anything. Why couldn’t he be happy for him?

The soft shutting of Solomon’s to go box brought Asmo’s attention back. Their shoulders brushed and Solomon kept the contact.

“I’m happy I can have this with you,” he murmured, “I know I haven’t been around much this half of the semester, and I do mean it when I say I’m sorry about that. You deserve only good things Asmodeus. You do.”

Asmo stiffened.

“The past year has been nothing but amazing, you’ve been nothing but amazing.”

He was tripping over his words. He’d heard this phrasing before.

“I mean every moment I’ve known you has been a pleasure, but having you close like this, it’s been… wonderful.”

Now. He should say it now. Say how he’d give up an easy in to his dream and follow Solomon wherever he went if it meant they could stay together. The past year had been a dream and Asmo wasn’t ready to wake up and let go yet. He’d go to the ends of the world for Solomon, he’d give up his life for him. The future seemed so blank without Solomon, and Asmo was scared to enter it without him.

“So, what do you say Asmodeus Morningstar? Do you want to take the next step together?” 

Wait.

What?

“Will you marry me?”

Asmo hadn’t realized his eyes were closed. Kneeling in front of him, with the most gorgeous ring Asmo had ever seen, was Solomon. He looked so hopeful yet nervous. There was only one thing Asmo knew, and that was that he wasn’t a pretty crier.

Through blurry eyes he watched as panic overtook his boyfriend as he scrambled to stand up, “Hey hey hey. It’s okay.  We don’t have to-”

Asmo wanted to say something more, wanted to say something profound and loving to Solomon. Instead what came out was unintelligible blubbering for his boyfriend to decipher.

“What do I mean by that?” Solomon asked, “Well I don’t want to force you to marry me. I just thought it would be nice to ask before graduation, and I know I haven’t been able to see you and-”

As Asmo wiped the tears from his eyes, Solomon took in a breath and slowly let it out, “I love you, and even if I couldn’t see you I’ve had a lot of time to think about this.”

Asmo wrapped his arms around Solomon’s neck as he sniffled, and for the first time since their last talk on the phone he found himself smiling. This isn’t what he thought their proposal would look like at all. “I’d like to get married.”

“You would?”

“Yes,” looking into Solomon’s eyes and Asmo almost choked on his words again, “Yes.”

Kissing Solomon had always been a heavenly experience, but Asmo couldn’t help but laugh as his fiance left his lips to cover every inch of his skin in love. Asmo also didn’t miss the way his hands shook when he put that ring on his finger. 

After all of his anxieties, this was definitely a breath of fresh air.

Although, he wouldn’t be telling Satan about how right he’d been.

***

“You suuuuure we can’t get a house?”

“Asmo we won’t be living there forever, we can rent out an apartment and then go house shopping.”

“Mmh, I still like the idea of having a house.”

Asmo sat in between his fiance’s legs, Solomon’s chin resting on his shoulder as the two of them looked over their options. There were a few nice places between Solomon’s grad school and where Asmo would have to drive for his new employer. He’d made sure Mammon knew where the school was so he had a radius to look at. Luckily, Mammon seemed to know a guy. 

This whole situation had been lucky. Asmo wanted to follow Solomon so badly, talking on the phone or video chatting simply just wouldn’t be enough! Solomon’s only condition had been if Asmo could also pursue his dreams as well. No way was he going to let him  not take an opportunity if something was offered to him! 

But it worked out, it always did. It always would one way or another.

“One day we’ll get a nice house, make it all our own,” Solomon mouthed against his neck, “As soon as we get married.”

Giggles left Asmo’s mouth as Solomon’s mouthing turned into tiny butterfly kisses, “I’d like that. But now that you mention it, we never got to celebrate our engagement did we?” 

Solomon paused and looked up at Asmo with a quirked brow. “Celebrate?” his arms tightened around Asmo’s waist, “What did you have in mind?”

Oh Asmo loved that wicked smirk.

“I wanna ceeelebraaate,” he giggled, leaning further into Solomon’s chest.

“I heard you, but that doesn’t tell me what you want.”

Asmo was about to go further when Simeon cleared his throat. He stared at the couple from the archway leading to the kitchen, “Mindful. Someone will be arriving home soon. Don’t make me banish you from the living room.”

“Ah, sorry Simeon, don’t worry, we’ll be mindful.”

“You better, I already have to think about looking for a new roommate because of  you.”

The tone between them was playful, they’d become relatively good friends since Solomon started living there from what Asmo could see. 

“I’m sure I could help,” Asmo chirped, “Maybe one of my brothers or someone else we know might be interested.”

“Thank you Asmodeus, I appreciate that. Now behave, both of you.”

When Simeon disappeared, Solomon leaned close to Asmo’s ear, “We’ll celebrate as soon as we move into the new apartment.”

“Oooh I like that! I guess that means we should pick one out then yes?”

“Oh my smart fiance is very incredibly right.”

Solomon leaned in for a kiss and Asmo gladly obliged. 

While the future was still uncertain to a point, they had each other, and they’d be taking their next steps together.

[nasaty]

Forget me not

Aizawa-Sensei x Y/n-Sensei fic

TW: (eventually) violence, discussion of past death, just some bad feelings all around.

Part 5/??

You continued teaching Shinso privately for a few weeks, going between working on his quirk specifically, and some light training with the staff. One morning, you made your way over to the patch in the woods that you usually work at, but saw both Shinso and Aizawa there already.

“Umm, did I get the day wrong or something?” You asked.

“Oh shoot I forgot! I’m sorry. I had to move my time with Aizawa-Sensei because of a test and forgot when we usually work.”

“It’s okay. You continue with Aizawa and we can just reschedule.”

A deep gravelly voice spoke, “Y/n-Sensei, you can stay here I’ll just reschedule with Shinso.” ‘Is that what Aizawa sounds like in the morning?’ You thought.

“…couldn’t you guys both teach me…?”

“I guess, yeah.” You answered.

“We could…try and combine it?” Aizawa suggested.

“Like combine the staff and the cloth? That could be interesting….” You were intrigued. This could be a really good way of combating, and it’s so new that it would be hard for anyone, including villains, to evade. “Yeah let’s try it out.”

You gave Shinso his staff and he unwrapped his binding cloth. All three of you hypothesized different ways for it to be used. You could use the end of the staff to push the thick side of the cloth around with centripetal force or loop it around the end to toss it.

“Maybe we should improve on the staff…” you add. “We could put some sort of hook or edge on one side, and maybe a small rubber end for grip? I can talk to support about it if you guys are interested.” You walked closer to Aizawa and pointed out the places you could enhance.

“That’s….genius.” Aizawa was looking at you, mouth slightly open and smirking. He put his hands next to yours and you looked up at him shyly until you both realized why you were there.

You jumped at his hands grazing yours, “Uhm… yeah so I’ll go talk to support.”

“..ahh. Sounds good and I think we’re done for the day.” Aizawa said, much more lively than earlier that morning. He waited for you to make you way to the building so he didn’t have to awkwardly walk beside you.

—————-

A few weeks later and A day or so before you’re supposed to meet for lunch again, Aizawa emailed you.

“Y/n-Sensei,

I regretfully have to postpone our lunch for this week as I have a meeting that I am being forced to attend against my will, (god dammit, Hizashi)”

You chuckled. It’s ridiculous how much more respectable you’ve both been to each other lately. Toshinori was right. You texted Toshi that you’ve got to buy him a coffee later, and continued reading Aizawa’s email.

“I was hoping to offer you dinner in place of our usual visit. Please consider accompanying me on our regular lunch date of this coming Wednesday, at 7:00pm.

A.S.”

‘Good fucking god what is that supposed to be? Is he asking me out on a date?!’ You thought. Absolutely freaking out, you decided to find Toshinori and ask him what he thought about it. Maybe having a mans perspective would help? And it’s not like you could as Hizashi, he would blurt it to the whole school.

You walked to the teachers lounge in an attempt to find Toshinori as he usually spent most of his free time there rather than in his office. He probably liked having the company. You heard your heels click on the ground while you walk and you felt powerful, until you opened the lounge door and saw Aizawa sitting on the couch grading papers. You thought maybe he didn’t see you and you could sneak away, but he saw you. He hummed a bit signifying you being welcome to enter but you froze.

“Everything alright y/n?” Toshinori popped his head out of the book he was reading. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Ahh…umm..I’m uhh…” you stammered.

Aizawa looked at you with furrowed brows and a small smile on his face. It looked like he was trying to decipher whatever was happening with you.

“I’m alright!” You blurted and turned to walk out of the lounge. Toshinori looked back and forth between the door and Aizawa a few times.

“What was that about, do you think..?” He asked Aizawa.

Aizawa shrugged and went back to grading. Toshinori decided to follow you and ask what the trouble was. Aizawa was lucky you both left because he was desperately trying to not turn bright red. He was tapping his foot and chewing on his pen until Toshi left the room. Once he left, Aizawa sighed longingly and let himself blush.

Toshinori caught up to you in the hallway as you were walking back to your office.

“Y/n are you sure you’re alright?”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. “IgotanemailfromAizawaandIthinkheaskdmeoutonadateandIhavenoideawhattothinksoIwenttofindyouandhewasinthereandI’mfreakingout!”

“Y/n you’re going to have to slow down.”

You shoved your phone with the email still up in his face.

“Oh wow…. This is…formal…” Toshinori breathed.

You buried your face in your hands as you turned bright red.

“This situation has changed a lot since the last time I spoke to you about him….” Toshi observed.

“Do you think it’s a date? Or do you think this is just him moving our appointment? We’ve been getting lunch every week to discuss Shinso’s progress.”

“Um….if this isn’t a date I need to reevaluate my life.” Toshi clapped his hand over his wide smile. “A.S.?” He laughed so hard he coughed up blood.

“Oh my god stop it Toshi.” You playfully smack his arm as he’s laughing. “You have to keep this a secret!”

Someone steps up to both of you, “Hmm?”

Aizawa stood there intimidatingly drinking the last of his coffee with an unamused face. You froze and Toshi leaned down to you to hand your phone back slowly.

“Well I’d better get going, nice to see you y/n. Aizawa.” Toshi ditched as fast as humanly possible leaving you holding your phone with Aizawa’s email up on it like the email itself would kill you. He slowly moved in toward you to take your phone and you shuddered. At the last second you tossed your phone to your other hand and straight armed his chest to keep him from taking it. His intimidating facade disappeared as he smirked with a spark in his eye. You laughed and tried to hold him back but he got through your defenses.

He reached out for your phone and you spun and ran down the hallway to your office. As soon as he realized where you were going he followed you, almost wiping out turning the corner. You stood in the middle of your office and attempted a stance to hold him back. Once he reached your office he slowed down dramatically, he moved in with a devilish smirk on his face and you started biting your lip.

He faked you out so he could get past you without hurting you and you ended up being pressed chest to chest with your arm out as far as possible, still clutching your phone. He looked down at you hungrily and your eyes widened. Instead of reaching for your phone, he raised his hands to hold your face in between them, pulled you close to him and kissed you hard. You gasped and melted into the kiss and put your hands on his chest.

Suddenly he pulled away grabbed your phone and jumped to the other side of the room. You were in a daze. He opened your phone to see his email to you on the screen.

“So this is your secret with Yagi? Me asking you on a date?” He asked.

“So it is a date!” You exclaimed and pointed at him. He lightly took your finger in his hand and held it.

“Of course it is, moron, what the hell else?” He rolled his eyes, still smiling.

“…I mean we were doing this to help Shinso.”

“Originally yeah, but we haven’t hardly talked about Shinso in weeks.” He explained.

You racked your brain to remember past conversations involving Shinso at lunch. You couldn’t remember the last time. Before you could speak again. He took your hand, which was still holding your pointer finger out, turned it and gave you a soft kiss on the top of your knuckles.

His sensual expression faded. “If you don’t want it to be a date it doesn’t have to be. We can go back to what we were like before…”

“I..uh….I..” you said totally dumb founded.

He placed your hand at your side, handed you your phone and said “consider it.” He walked out of your office with his hands in his pockets looking at the ground.

————————

You paced in your office for a while thinking of what to do. Did UA have a fraternizing policy? Was this all a joke? There’s no way he actually like you…right? How could he. He was incredible. One of the youngest to ever become a UA faculty member, he made accomplishment after accomplishment and you never measured up. Is there any way this could be real?

Despite this, you decided to email him back.

“Aizawa-Sensei,

I accept your invitation to postpone our upcoming meeting until that evening. I would like to accompany you to dinner, if you’ll still have me.”

You didn’t know what else to say do you sent it, and got almost an immediate reply.

“Y/n-Sensei,

Of course I’ll still have you. Always will.

A.S.

PS: I heard from support course and they have finished prototypes of the staffs you were working on. They’d like us to try them out tomorrow, if you’re available.”

Your heart stopped for a second. How was he this sweet? You knew the formality of everything was just him being a dork and flirting, but it still was really cute. And how adorable was he when he was trying to grab your phone, his lips pouted trying to reach past you…

You returned to reality. Maybe this is just a fling, a one time thing. Just something two adults do when they’re bored and nothing else. ‘There’s no way he would want to date you’ you thought. That would be irrational.