#honestly just schedule me thirty minutes early

[perfectlyoongi]

BOYFRIEND!JIN who gives you a new stuffed animal on every special date. it was already a tradition that came from when you were friends, but Jin simply couldn't get rid of that habit — not when there were so many different stuffed animals to give, not when he saw you always happy and returning to childhood times that left you feeling safe. “our family is growing! we are great parents. i am so proud of us.”

BOYFRIEND!JIN who insists on dressing up for halloween with you. from choosing your costume, to browsing stores, to trying on and laughing at each other, all the magic of halloween was precious to Jin, just because long days of laughter and planning and going out filled your schedule — it was like a constant cascade of good mood that he liked to see in you. “this year you choose the costumes! but can we please match? just so people can see that we’re together, you know?”

BOYFRIEND!JIN who wakes you up with chaste kisses half an hour before the alarm goes off, just so he can spend those thirty minutes loving you. hugging your body, hiding his face in your neck, Jin's lips released small kisses that covered your skin with infinite promises of eternal love. “good morning. it's still early, don't worry. let's just stay like this a little longer. together. please.”

BOYFRIEND!JIN who sends you selfies whenever he has the opportunity. when he is most beautiful or when he is most tired, when he wants to make you laugh or when he wants to remind you that he loves you, the choices were endless; your cell phone was full of exclusive photos of Jin that, on more complicated days, made you realize that the love between you was too intimate to be fake. “honestly, whenever i remember you and you're not with me, i feel the need to send you a photo. sorry about the amount by the way.”

BOYFRIEND!JIN who turns the music up to the maximum and sings duets with you while the two of you take care of the house. Jin made everything a party, because he knew it was good for your spirit; as such, Jin decided to turn the boring chores at home into something good, something to celebrate, something that would make you forget the tiredness they caused and make you focus only on the joy of the songs and screams. “next week, we’re going to make a set list as if it were a concert! oh! we can wear our matching pajamas! it’s going to be so fun.”

BOYFRIEND!JIN who likes to try new restaurants with you. it was almost like a mission for the two of you to find new restaurants in the cities you visited and lived, gastronomic curiosity being just an addition to moments well spent and memories created. “i think a new restaurant opened down the street. want to try it? if you don’t like it, i promise i’ll buy you a pizza.”

BOYFRIEND!JIN who said he loved you on your birthday before the day even started. the sun still painted your room melancholically when Jin gently woke you up; Jin's hand caressed your face, his lips formed into a smile as he saw you slowly waking up to a breakfast in bed and a confession that had been weighing on Jin's heart for a long time. “happy birthday, nugget. thank you for being in my life. i love you.”

[baby-yongbok]

Poetry

Chapter Three - Plan B

Hyunjin × Fem!Reader

Chapter Three - Plan B

Genre: Fluff, the cute slow burn type

Summary: Hyunjin had some amazing things lined up for your first date but the universe had other plans for you two.

Word Count: 5,953

A/N: I wrote this and queued it then I changed 50% of it last minute 🙃. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Honestly I don't know how mini this series is gonna be lol I have a lot of plans. See you next Thursday at 6 💕

Part Two

✧Poetry Series Masterlist✧

✧Main Masterlist✧

Hyunjin’s Pov - 6:28pm

I’m sure that this photographer is fed up with me, I would be too if my model kept looking at the clock and not the camera. In my defense, this shoot was supposed to be over thirty minutes ago. I took the earliest schedule to make sure that I would have enough time to get ready for me and y/n’s date today. I planned to get there early like I usually do so that I can see the moment that she walks into the restaurant. I don’t think that she’s noticed the way that I look at her yet, the way that I watch her. Actually, now that I think about it that sounds a bit creepy but I don’t mean it that way. It’s like photography for me, I just love seeing her from a different lens, strangers point of view. I love admiring her beauty and pretending that she has no idea that I exist. That might sound silly since she does in fact know that I exist and seems to enjoy my existence enough to go on a date with me but I can’t seem to help it.

All of the times that I showed up early to our Thursday bookstore date at Adore was solely because I wanted to see the moment that she walked through the door. I wanted to see her before she painted a smile on and fixed her hair in a way that she thought that I’d find appealing, I wanted to see her for her. So, I make sure to arrive at least thirty minutes early just so I can enjoy the minute or two right before she sees me, just so I can capture that moment. Unfortunately, I don’t think that I'm going to be able to do that today. 

“I think we got it.” The photographer's tone is drenched in annoyance but I’m in too much of a hurry to care. I thank him quickly, not even bothering to take a look at the photo proofs, right now I have one mission and that’s to change and get to the restaurant. I rush to the front of the room where my stuff and my stylist are, luckily my stylist for this shoot is my roommate and one of my best friends. Han was one of the first friends that I ever made in this industry. We met at my first Versace shoot where he was a junior style consultant but now he’s calling the shots. 

I rummage through my bag, looking for my phone to check for any messages from y/n but what I see instead makes my heart drop. Apparently the clock that I’ve been watching this entire time is an hour fast and there’s only twenty minutes until our reservation, well, there was twenty minutes until our reservation. The second thing that catches my eye is a cancellation text from the restaurant, it says that they’re canceling due to the weather but last time I checked there was only a bit of rain.

“Fuck.” I whisper to myself, running my fingers through my styled hair. I clearly didn’t whisper well enough because when I looked up I noticed a very confused Han staring at me. 

“Did your date cancel?” 

“Not my date but my reservation, apparently there’s a weather advisory.” I sigh, placing my phone down on the table and then picking it up again. I should call her, I have to let her know what happened but what do I tell her? I need a plan B.

“Weather advisory?” Han looks up the stairs towards the door that leads outside, still wearing an expression of confusion. “Ah, we’re in the basement. There’s no windows.” 

How did I not notice that sooner? I look back down at my phone, opening y/n’s contact and staring at it. I don’t have a plan, I don’t know what to do next. How many other restaurants are closed because of the weather? I bet it’s not even that bad outside. 

“Uh, Hyunjin.” I got so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice Han go up the stairs to the door and open it. The roaring of heavy winds echoed throughout the large room and from where I was standing outside looked like one huge blur. I made my way over to him quickly, standing and staring in disbelief when I got close enough to take in the god awful storm. “You might want to call your date.” 

Han looks over at me but I keep my eyes fixed on the pouring rain. There’s no way that anyone is open right now, hell, I’m surprised that this basement isn’t flooded right now. 

“What do I tell her?” 

“Maybe you guys should reschedule.” That’s honestly the last thing that I want to do right now but I can’t think of a better plan. Maybe she has one? I’d have to call her to find out but I can’t bring myself to dial her number, maybe it’s because we’ve never spoken on the phone before? 

“Maybe I’ll text her.” I unlock my phone and start typing but the feeling of Han’s gaze on me stops me before I can send the message. I side eye him for a second before turning my head completely, he has his arms crossed and eyebrows raised and I mimic him prompting him to speak. “What?”

“Are you afraid to call her?” I scoff at him, shaking my head and looking back down at my phone. “No fucking way, Hwang Hyunjin is nervous.” 

“I’m not nervous, I just don’t want to bother her.” He chuckles and I roll my eyes, I might be nervous to call her but the last thing that I need is for him to get a hold of that information. I’d never hear the end of it.

“You don’t want to bother the girl who’s going on a date with you and is probably already waiting for your call?” I clear my throat as I smooth out the suit jacket that I wore for the shoot. He has a point but I’ll never let him know that. 

“That’s not it I just -” I look down at my phone as it starts to vibrate in my hand and my heart stops. “Oh?” 

“What?” Han asks, leaning over a bit to get a look at my phone screen. 

“She’s calling me.” I stare wide eyed at the screen, I can’t help it, this is the very first time she’s called me. This would be the first time that we talk with our actual voices outside of the cafe. “What do I do?”

“Uh, answer it?”

“Right...right.” I took a deep breath before swiping the button and putting the phone to my ear but what I heard on the other line made my eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

Is she talking to me?

Y/n’s Pov - 6:16 pm

“Are you sure that you’re going on a date today?” My roommate Changbin asks as he stares out of our living room window. 

“Uh, yeah, he hasn’t said anything otherwise.” I call back from my bedroom as I look in the mirror to put my earrings on. “Why?”

“Have you not looked outside? It’s insane. I literally just watched our neighbors trash can get blown over the 7/11 across the street.” I sigh as I make my way into the living room.

“He would’ve called me if the plans changed right?” I look over with Changbin, hoping that maybe he can help calm my mind. I’ve been confiding in him when it comes to seeing Hyunjin, asking him what I should wear and how my hair looks before I go out to meet Hyunjin. I even asked him for advice regarding this date so he knows just how anxious I am. Changbin and I are bonded like blood, he’s my best friend and he knows just what to say to calm me down, well, he usually does. 

“He should yeah, but maybe you should call him.” I freeze as I take in his suggestion, Hyunjin and I have never spoken on the phone. We’ve been texting nonstop, day and night, but we’ve never called each other. My silence seemed to have grabbed Changbin’s attention, he looks back at me with curious eyes until suddenly it clicked for him.

“No way.” He turns, walking over to me and standing with his arms crossed over his broad chest. I avoid eye contact because I already know that he’s going to make fun of me. “You two haven’t spoken on the phone yet?”

His words are loud and covered in disbelief, I glance over at his amused expression before looking down at my feet. I shrug, trying to play it off before answering in a bit of a whisper.

“It’s complicated.”

“All you have to do is press his contact and put the phone to your ear, how complicated is that?” He bites back sarcastically and I roll my eyes. I know that he’s right, it’s really not that hard but I can’t help that I’m anxious. Talking to Hyunjin is easy and relaxing but at the same time it makes me feel like I’m about to jump out of a plane for the first time. I turn on my heels, stalking back over to my room and picking my phone up from my Vanity. Changbin follows close behind me and watches as I unlock my phone and open my contacts, I scroll down to Hyunjin's name and press it. The call button is right there, all I have to do is press it, it’s simple.

“This is the part where you call him.” Changbin whispers over my shoulder and I groan, throwing a mini tantrum. 

“Maybe I’ll just text him.”

“For fucksake, there’s no way that you’re that nervous to talk on the phone.” I turn to him and I’m more than sure that he can see the distress written on my features. 

“I’ve never called him before, Bin.” I whine as I stare down at Hyunjin's contact.

“Well, there’s no time like the present.” Before I can process what’s going on Changbin snatches my phone from my hand and presses the call button before handing it back to me. My eyes go wide once I hear the first ring, my finger hovers the end button but I don’t press it. It would be embarrassing to hang up and have to explain what happened. I groan again before putting the phone up to my ear. My eyes land on Changbin’s smiling face and I instantly flip him off.

“I fucking hate you.” Before Changbin can reply I hear a confused voice on the other line and my heart drops. Shit, he thought I was talking to him.

“Did I do something wrong?” Hyunjin asks, confusion laced in his tone. 

“Oh, no I’m sorry I was uh, talking to my roommate… anyway, uh hi.” I turn away from Changbin and move to sit at my vanity.

“Hey, I uh, I assume that you’re calling me about this god awful storm.” 

“Yeah, it picked up pretty fast.” Hyunjin sighs on the other line and I take a deep breath to try and steady myself. He did a lot of setting up for today’s date and now it’s all ruined by the weather, I can’t imagine how he feels right now. “ Are we still, ya know.”

“Um, well, the restaurant actually canceled the reservation and I’m sure that just about every other place is doing the same.” 

“Wow, okay, so uh..I guess we can do this another day.” I tried my best not to let my disappointment bleed into my tone but I’m positive that I failed when I hear yet another sigh come from Hyunjin.

“Yeah I guess so.” I shake my head even though he can’t see me but I can’t bring myself to say anything in response. I’ve been waiting for this day since the last time I saw him and it all got ruined by some fucking rain, that’s just great. I open my mouth to reply but stop when I hear some whispering on the other line, it’s not Hyunjin's voice but it sounds like it’s coming from right next to him. I try to make out what they’re saying but the sound of Hyunjin whispering back interrupts the process. After a couple seconds of him whispering to whoever he’s with I clear my throat to grab his attention. 

“Sorry about that, uh, I um… I think that I have an idea but it’s totally fine if you don’t want to do it.” There’s a nervous shake to his voice that comforts me a bit, at least I’m not the only one that’s anxious.

“Oh? What’s the idea?” 

“Maybe I could… come over to your place? We could have a home date, order some food and watch a movie. I mean, only if you’re comfortable with it, I don’t want to cross any boundaries.” 

My gaze shifts over to where Changbin has been impatiently waiting in the hallway. He looks over at me with furrowed brows and now it’s our turn to whisper.

“What?” Changbin asks, leaning closer to me.

“He wants to come over.” I whisper as quietly as I can and Changbin’s eyebrows fly up in surprise.

“He gets ten points for being bold. Do it.” 

“But the apartment is a mess.” I motion towards the living room and Changbin looks behind him, scanning the room carefully. 

“We literally just cleaned yesterday.” Anxiety climbs up my spine as I realize that there’s no way to get out of this. It’s not that I don’t want to have this date, I want it more than anything, the problem is I have never in my entire life had a man over to my shared apartment but there’s no time like the present, right?

“Fine.” I whisper back at him, rolling my eyes in defeat.

“Everything alright?” Hyunjin asks from the other line and I sit up straighter in my seat at the sound of his voice. 

“Yeah, uh let’s do it. A home date sounds good.” He’s quiet for a second, most likely trying to calm down his hammering heart because I am definitely trying to do the same thing.

“Great so, uh do you want to keep the same time?” 

“Yeah seven still works, I’ll uh, send you my address.” Changbin gives me a thumbs up, trying his best to encourage me through my anxiety.

“Okay well uh, see you soon.”

“Yeah, see you soon.” I slowly lower the phone from my ear before hanging up and practically throwing it onto my vanity. He’s going to be in my house, in my room, oh my gosh. 

“See that wasn’t so bad.” My mind is racing, now I have to prepare for an entirely new date. I need to clean my room, I’m way too overdressed for a home date, I need to redo my makeup. Do I even have enough time? What movie do we watch?  “Y/n?”

The sound of Changbin calling my name snapped me out of my thoughts, I don’t have time to sit here, I need to get moving. Oh my god, he’s going to be in my house.

“Out. I need to get ready… again.”

“I don’t think that there’s much for you to do.” I glare over at my roommate and he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m going, I'm going.”

He backs out of my room, closing the door with him. How in the hell do I prepare for this date now?

Third Person Pov - 6:57pm

 You spent forty minutes rushing around your room and moving things around. Your room wasn’t even messy but it wasn’t exactly the most romantic setting either. You organized and decorated your bookshelf, lighting some candles and turning on your fairy lights. You vacuumed and changed your sheets so that everything was fresh. After spending way too much time revamping your space you turned your attention to your appearance. You got dressed, again, trying your best to pick something comfortable but not too casual, this is a date after all. The more you think about it, the more comfortable you are with the change of plans. Instead of some expensive wine and some fancy restaurant you get to indulge in cheap wine and fast food on your bedroom floor. It’s more your speed, more intimate, romantic. The idea of it makes you blush, you and Hyunjin always settle into your own bubble when you’re together but tonight it really will be just the two of you. The thought of it is scary yet exciting.

You haven’t heard from Changbin since you sent him away earlier, you were thankful that he gave you your space to prepare instead of hovering but you knew that he’d be back to check on you before your date started. That’s why you’re not surprised when you hear the small knock on your bedroom door. 

“Come in.” You call out just as you complete your look, pulling on your forest green sweater. Changbin opens your door and leans against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks you over and shakes his head in approval. 

“You look comfortable, it’s very you.” You chuckle lightly, turning towards your mirror to study your look. Your curly hair is pulled up into a messy bun and your green sweater is paired with a pair of high waisted black leggings and a pair of fuzzy green socks to match your sweater. 

“You think that it’s okay?” You ask, your eyes meeting his in the reflection of the mirror. He moves from his spot at your door frame and comes up behind you, he places his hands on your shoulders and gives a reassuring squeeze. 

“You look wonderful as always, and from what you’ve told me this guy is already head over heels in love with you.” You scoff, turning around to be face to face with your roommate.

“I never said that, that’s just what you think.” You move from in front of him and take a seat at your vanity. You decide that your look could use a subtle touch of lip gloss and maybe a necklace. Changbin goes back over to your door frame leaning against the wood as he watches you.

“I promise you that everything that this guy has done up until this point is just screaming ‘I’m in love’. I even bet that he’s going to kiss you tonight.” Your breath hitches in your throat as you take in Changbin’s words. Is Hyunjin going to try and kiss you tonight? What if he does? It’s been nearly a year since you’ve kissed a man, are you even still good at it? Were you ever good at it? “Hey, get out of your head.”

You’re brought back to reality by Changbin poking your shoulder lightly. 

“You think he’s going to kiss me?” Just as Changbin opens his mouth to reply, a deep rumble of thunder rips through the apartment.  

“First let's see if he’ll even show up.” You groan before picking up your phone and checking for any new messages from Hyunjin. Maybe you should cancel, having him travel in this storm is dangerous and the last thing that you’d want is for him to get hurt. Just as you're about to reply you’re interrupted by another sound but instead of thunder it’s the sound of knocking at your front door. Your heart rate quickens as you look at the time. 

“Fuck, that’s him, oh my gosh.” You rush to stand from your vanity chair, looking in the mirror one more time. “I can do this.”

You start to walk out of your room but just as you pass Changbin he grabs your wrist lightly and flashes you a big smile. “You deserve this, ya know?” 

“What do you mean?”

“You deserve to live the life that you read about and you deserve to have your fairytale ending. I know that you’re nervous but you got this, okay?” You smile back at him nodding your head in acknowledgement. Changbin has always been there for you through your ups and downs, especially when the two of you were in university together. You were the classic hopeless romantic looking for her prince charming in all the wrong places. Changbin was your shoulder to cry on whenever you ended up with a broken heart which happened more times than you’d like to admit. “And if you need me to kick him out just text me.”

He lets go of your wrist and you can’t help but to laugh at his previous statement. 

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” You hear a knock at the door again and you rush over to answer it. You take a deep breath before turning your lock followed by the knob and opening your front door with a smile. That smile quickly drops into a look of confusion once you take in the sight in front of you. Before you stands your date holding orange roses while in a soaking wet black suit that looks expensive enough to pay your rent for two months. His long black hair is slicked down and dripping and you’re almost positive that everything in the bag that he carries is ruined.

“Oh my gosh.” You gasp out, a faint chuckle passes Hyunjin’s lips as you stare at him in shock.

“May I uh, come in?” You nod quickly, moving to the side to let him in. Once he’s inside and you’ve closed the door behind him the two of you stand in a bit of an awkward silence.

“It’s raining just a tiny bit.” Hyunjin whispers towards you and the two of you can’t help but to break out into a fit of laughter.

“Hyunjin, you’re soaked.” You watch as he slips off his shoes and places them neatly by the entrance. He may not have realized it but he placed them right next to yours. The sight of his large shoes next to your smaller ones brings a small smile to your face. 

“Yeah, well, my roommate ended up needing to use my car for an emergency. I tried to order an uber but they kept canceling on me. I even tried to catch the bus but the next one didn’t come at a decent time. I figured that if I wanted to be on time my best bet was to walk.”

“You could’ve been a bit late, I would have understood.” Hyunjin shakes his head, a slight grin on his face.

“I never want to be late getting to you.” You can’t help the blush that creeps across your cheeks as his words sink in. “Oh, um, these are for you.” 

He takes a step towards you, handing the wet roses over to you and you accept them with a wide smile. “They’re beautiful.”

“They are, but I must admit that they have some very serious competition.” You tear your gaze away from the flowers and look up at Hyunjin with furrowed brows. He reaches forward and takes your hand in his. The small touch makes your body feel electric as always. “You look stunning tonight.”

He leaves a small kiss on the back of your hand and you swear that the butterflies in your stomach have multiplied.

“As do you.. Even though you’re soaked.” You laugh again as you take in his appearance. Keeping your hand in his you decide to lead him away from the main entrance and over to your bedroom. You can hear music coming from Changbin's room and you can’t help but to feel thankful for his attempt at giving you some privacy. You lead Hyunjin through your living room and past the kitchenette until you reach your room. 

“You have a very nice apartment.” Hyunjin comments as he takes a quick look around. 

“You don’t have to lie.” You chuckle as you lead him into your bedroom, closing the door behind the two of you. 

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” You smile at his response, That sure does sound familiar.

“Well then, thank you.” You turn to your closet and start to rummage through it. “I should have some clothes that you can change into here.” 

“You have mens clothing in your closet?” You can hear the slight confusion in his voice and it makes you a bit nervous. Does he think that that’s odd? 

“Well, my roommate gives me the clothes that he doesn’t wear anymore so I have some mens clothing, yeah.” You try your best to sound nonchalant but you’re sure that the shakiness in your voice gave way to how you really felt. Hyunjin flashes you a soft smile as he nods.

“Your roommate is a guy? Are the two of you close?” He asks while his eyes scan your room slowly, taking in all of the personal details. 

“He’s like a brother to me.” You grab a set of clothing from the top shelf and turn back around to him. “We met in college and have been best friends ever since.”

“Well, I hope to meet him soon.” You hand Hyunjin the clothes and he smiles. “Beer Pizza?” 

You look down at the white t-shirt with maroon lettering and you can’t help the embarrassed blush that covers your cheeks. You have a man wearing the most expensive suit you’ve ever seen in your bedroom and you gave him a silly graphic t-shirt to wear?

“I can find something different.” You mumble as you start to turn back towards your closet but Hyunjin's gentle grip on your wrist stops you. You turn around to his smiling face and your heart calms down a bit at the sight. 

“It’s fine. I just thought that the design was kind of… fun, ya know? It’s not what I’d usually wear but I like it.” You nod and he lets go of your wrist. “ Where should I uh..” 

“Oh, right um you can change in here. I’ll go put the roses in some water, you can use the towel on the back of the door.” You grab the roses off of your vanity and rush out of the room, once you hear the click of your door closing all the way you take a deep breath and try to calm yourself. You can’t help but to feel a bit embarrassed by your reaction to the clothes you gave him but who could blame you? That man looks expensive, I mean you would too if you did what he did for work… Wait, what does he do for work?

You think to yourself as you fix your roses in the pretty blue vase that you got from some thrift shop years ago. How have you been seeing this man once a week for five weeks and you still have no clue what he does for work? He’s in your apartment and you don’t even know that small detail? You sigh at yourself as you place the flowers in the middle of your kitchen island and head back to your room. 

“I should really ask him.” You whisper to yourself as you grip your bedroom door knob. You knock twice and Hyunjin calls out a soft ‘come in’ before you turn the knob. You start to walk in but stop dead in your tracks as you catch a glimpse of Hyunjin's back as he pulls the t-shirt over his frame. Your cheeks heat up instantly and you feel a blush creep over you for the millionth time tonight and the date only just started. 

“May I use some hangers? I need to let this dry properly or else I’m in big trouble.” Hyunjin laughs nervously and you nod. 

“Why would you be in trouble?” You ask in an attempt to get your brain to focus on something other than the very appealing back muscles of the man in your room. 

“It’s not my suit. I begged my stylist to let me keep it on so that I could rush over to you.” He replies with a slight chuckle. 

“Stylist?” You ask yourself in a whisper as you try to figure out what job he could have that would require such a thing. Hyunjin smiles as he steps closer to you, taking the hangers that you’ve fished from your closet. 

“I never told you what I do for work, did I?” You shake your head and now it was his turn to blush. “I suppose that I always try to avoid that conversation when I first meet people. It gets hard to tell who wants to be your friend for the money and who is actually interested in you.”

“Money? What money?” You joke and Hyunjin chuckles. 

“I know that I can trust you. For some reason, I’ve felt that since I met you…” Hyunjin’s sentence trails off into a whisper. He seems to be in deep thought for a second but he snaps out of it before you can ask what he means by that. “Anyway, I’m uh, I’m a model for some luxury brands. Hence all of the Versace that I wear and the YSL suit that I got soaked in.”

“Oh?” You can’t help but look Hyunjin over slowly, taking in his features and his frame. Of course he’s a model, He’s the personification of perfection in the fashion world's eyes.

“Is.. that alright?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck nervously. You perk up at the sound of his uneasy tone and grin. 

“Yeah, I just can’t believe I didn’t figure that out. You’re so beautiful, of course you’re a model.” You freeze as you realize the words that just left your mouth. You look down at your rug quickly as your face flushes. 

“I’m beautiful?” Hyunjin asks, clearly amused by your confession. “ I believe that I’m in the same position as the roses I gifted you, I definitely have some very serious competition.” 

He steps forward so that he’s right in front of you and gently places a finger under your chin so that your flustered gaze meets his soft one. He’s smirking down at you softly, taking in the beautiful rose red that’s sweeping across your features. You stare back at him but you can’t help but to glance down at his blushed lips. The smirk pulling at them makes your heart beat faster than the embarrassment that's melting away.

“Thank you for the compliment.” Hyunjin whispers and now it was his turn to look at your lips. Beautiful and shining with the coat of lip gloss you put on minutes before he arrived. You both have the same thought, the same desire. 

“You’re welcome.” You whisper back, blinking up at him with doe eyes that he swears carries the galaxies. You lean into the gentle touch he has on your chin just a bit, drawing yourself closer to him. Hyunjin can feel his heart beating a mile a minute, he can hear his brain telling him what to do but he can also hear the doubt whispering to him and for some reason the whispers always win. With a small sigh Hyunjin retracts his hand and you instantly feel yourself missing his electric touch. He takes a step back and picks up one of the hangers you gave him from your full size mattress.

“Are you hungry? We should figure out what we’d like to eat.” He asks, avoiding eye contact with you. You do the same, as you try to slow down the fast beating of your heart. 

“Yeah, I’ll see what’s open.” You reply quietly before stalking over to your vanity and grabbing your phone to browse through a delivery app. “What are you in the mood for?

“Just about anything, you pick what you want and I’ll follow.” 

He puts his suit on the hangers and then moves to place the wet items on the back of your door. He watches you as you mindlessly scroll through the restaurants, rocking back and forth lightly. He can’t help but smile but unfortunately there’s only a small trace of happiness in this gesture. His thoughts are racing and he can’t help but to feel like he’s drowning in them. What is he doing here with someone as beautiful as you? Someone so smart and stunning and open to love. What could his damaged heart possibly provide you? Hyunjin can’t help but to bite his tongue as his doubts start to attack him, flashbacks to all the things that have tainted him, all of the things that he wants so desperately to tell you even though the two of you have only just met. He wants to hear you say that none of it matters, that even with his heart being ripped out of his chest before he met you you’ll still love him, that you’ll teach him how to do the only thing that he’s desired to do for years. There’s a hint of hope in his thoughts and it only grows bigger when you look up at him. Your curious eyes ground him immediately and he can’t help but to smile again, that hint of hope budding into a small flower in his heart. Maybe he can do this?

“See anything good?” He asks as he walks over to you, he stands behind you and places a hand on the small of your back gently. You relax into the touch and you both grin a bit. 

“I’m buying so go crazy.” He chuckles and you roll your eyes. 

“We can go half.” Hyunjin clicks his tongue in disapproval as he sits on the edge of your bed. 

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you pay on the first date?” You sigh, turning to face him.

“I just like for things to be fair.” He offers his hand to you and you take it without a second thought. He leads you forward a bit, opening his legs to allow you to get closer to him.

“If I am to be fair then I must treat you the way that my heart so desires. I must gift you all of the world's greatest wonders before I can call you one of my own.” A shy smile adorned Hyunjin's lips full lips before he licked them, pulling them into a thin line right after.

“Who was that by? It was beautiful.” He reaches his free hand up to scratch the back of his neck lightly, a mere chuckle leaving his lips.

“Uh, that was actually an original.” Your eyes widen slightly as a blush sneaks up on you. “That bad?”

Hyunjin chuckles again, this time avoiding your gaze

“No.. I just, I guess I’m surprised? I wasn’t aware that you wrote poetry and that was…that was beautiful, Hyunjin, really.” His eyes meet yours quickly and he can feel his nerves melt away. 

“Thank you.” He whispers shyly before clearing his throat a bit. “I only just started writing again. I guess I found my muse.” You watch him as he grins a bit, he sits up straighter trying his best to compose himself. A shiver runs over you and you smile a bit, he can’t be talking about you right? There’s no way that you’re his muse…right? The two of you seem to snap out of your thoughts at the same time, smiling at each other with shy yet soft gazes. The air feels electric again, is this how the entire night is gonna feel?

“So, what are we thinking for dinner? I’m starving.”

← Previous Chapter ♡ Next Chapter →

[strangeshoepatrolbandit]

Sunshine follows with Sunfall Pt. 7

Warnings: None really.

This is mostly just a filler chapter(just like the last one)

Honestly, I'm so sorry that I keep disappearing and returning with chapters that have no action. It's Judith + Jason content, though.

Series Masterlist

~☆~

"What time is Judith's award ceremony?"

1:06 AM

"8:30."

1:08 AM

"I'll be there."

1:08 AM

×××

That morning had been normal. You woke up Judith for school and fed her breakfast before she went to go brush her teeth. You then helped her put on her clothes, brush her hair, and put on her shoes.

She arrived at school normally, sitting in the cafeteria before going off to her class so that she could do her morning work before the entire first grade sat in the cafeteria together and had their awards ceremony.

You showed up at the school thirty minutes early, sitting yourself down in one of the chairs set up in the back for the parents. You gazed at the stage, smiling softly to yourself as you think about how far your girl has come.

Once a small girl who couldn't even hold her head up, now an elementary student who's going to smile brightly on the stage as she holds up her awards paper-

"Hey." A slightly hoarse voice spoke from beside you as someone sat down.

You looked next to you and noticed Jason. "Hello." You sat up slightly straighter.

Jason tugged on the front of his jacket as he adjusted it. "Hope you don't mind me sitting here. Is this seat taken?"

Another slight smile tugs on the corner of your lips. "Bruce and Tim are at work, Dick is in Blüdhaven, and Damian is at his own school. It's not taken."

"I would've thought B and Butt brains would take time out of work for this." Jason tilts his head slightly.

"They're at a meeting." You inform him.

"Ahhh...."

An awkward pause fell over the two of you.

"You look nice today...."

Your eyes go over to Jason again, your gaze soft. You catch yourself and clear your throat, looking at the stage again. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He nods to himself. "Well, not that you don't look nice everyday..."

You take in a deep breath and let out a sigh. "Thank you, Jason." You say again.

"You're welcome." He smiles slightly. "So, who's class is she in?"

"Mrs. Thompson's."

"Is she a good teacher?" Jason asks you.

"Judith likes her." You nod. "I'd say she's good."

Jason was going to say something else, but the cafeteria doors opened and students started walking in. The two of you watched as the first graders all filled the seats, sitting in rows assigned to their teachers.

"There's Jude!" You grin and point at one of the classes walking. Sure enough, your daughter was walking in the middle of the line.

Judith didn't notice Jason or you as she walked by, too focused on going to her seat. She sat down and a boy sat down next to her. The two of them started talking, smiling to each other as Judith waved her hands around.

"Who's that?" Jason asks you, speaking again.

"Her friend Alex." You glance at him as you tell him that. "Relax, she's literally six."

"I know, I know." He sighs. "Almost seven though."

"Oh!" You actually look at him now, instead of just glancing. "Will you be seeing her on her birthday?"

Jason smiles. "You think I wouldn't?"

A chuckle escapes your lips. "We have a tight schedule that day. We'll be at the Manor so that she can have a small little party, but we'll be back home that night."

Jason nods. "I'll be there. Text me when you get home."

"I will." You lean back in your seat and smile down at your lap.

The awards ceremony started just seconds later. Teachers took their turn going up to the stage and calling up members of their classes to hold up the awards they've earned.

Mrs. Thomson soon got on the stage and introduced herself, smiling as she called her class up by their names, starting with the Accelerated Reader award.

She went down the list of names and eventually called, "Judith Todd."

Judith excitedly got up from her seat and went up to the stage, taking her paper award. Judith went to go stand in the line of her classmates.

"Just like her father." You smile as you lean over and whisper to Jason. "You were such a nerd back in school."

Jason glances at you and tries to hide his own smile. You were right. He was a 'nerd' back in school.

Judith grinned as her name was called for a few more awards.

At the end of the ceremony, all students were allowed to stand and go visit their parents.

Jason and you stood and smiled as Judith came running up to the two of you. "Mommy! Daddy!"

Her arms reached up for the two of you and Jason lifted her up into his arms. "Hey, Sunshine."

"Hi, Daddy." She rests her head on his shoulder, handing you the three awards she got.

"Good job, Judy!" You match her enthusiasm, causing her to giggle.

"Thank you, mommy." She replies.

"Of course, baby." You smooth down her hair and lean closer to her and Jason.

Jason looks down at the paper awards Judith handed you. "AR. Good job." He smiles at her.

"Daddy's coming over for your birthday!" You tell the young girl.

"Really?!" She squeals.

"Of course!" Jason returns her enthusiasm.

Judith holds her father tightly as she kicks her feet, her smile widening as she wriggles around happily.

The teachers started rounding up their students again, making Jason have to let Judith go. "Love ya, Sunshine."

"I love you too, Mommy and Daddy!" Judith hugged your hips then ran off, leaving Jason and you alone again.

"Text me when you get home that day."

~☆~

Taglist: @keira324 @dakotali @22nranjan @skepvids @harpy-space @godknows-shetried @mirrorball-6 @macncheese69420666 @parkjammys @yyxy27 @burningkidanchor @elleclairez @amecchii @chickennugghon @marvelworldlover @oakexists @p0tterhead934 @makhaia @cassini-among-the-stars @tsukishimarawr @flowestallen @attackonnat @90s-belladonna @sucker4seresin @riahpickle-blog

[shirohige-pirates]

Birds of a Feather

CisFem Reader x Marco

CW: Violence, blood, language, adult themes and scenes. 18+ only

Summary: Life has not been kind to you. After a string of bad relationships, you're a little jaded and a little depressed in all honestly. The worst day of your life seems to be the turning point, but the roller coaster ride that follows could either throw you soaring free, or have you caged forever?

Chapter 15: Dinner

“The tea good?” You question, finishing up your prep as you work to make dinner for you and Marco.

The drive into work had gone smoothly. Marco had arrived a little early, and in your nervous state you’d been ready for a good thirty minutes before he even arrived. You’d used the extra minutes to grab coffees on the way into the office, four for you, and six for him. Mondays at Phoenix Rising Animal Hospital tended to be an all hands on deck kind of day, and Marco wanted to make sure no one was left out.

The quick kiss he’d landed on your cheek had flustered you enough that even by the time you’d gotten to your cubicle Bon-chan had asked if you were running a fever. Thankfully no one else had been in by that point, so you didn’t have to deal with Buggy or Ivankov.

You’d both opted to skip meeting for lunch - your schedules weren’t aligning well, and also you needed to stop at the grocer’s before heading home. You wanted to cook dinner for Marco to show your gratitude for the rides to and from work, but to do that you’d need some actual food in your house. Ever since your car had broken down you’d been mostly ordering in.

“It is,” Marco answers. He’s sitting at the breakfast bar watching you cook, after making sure you’d be comfortable with him doing so. He’s still in his scrubs, but honestly he looks good whatever he wears, so you’re not complaining. “You make good coffee too.” He muses.

“The good coffee was a necessity, the good tea’s a passion.” You reply, continuing your work. “Admittedly, my cooking follows after the coffee more than the tea, so I hope it’ll be palatable. If it’s bad we can just order in.” You offer.

“What’re we having? You bought so much I wasn’t sure what was for tonight.”

“Poached white fish and dirty rice.” You reply, grinning.

“Dirty rice?”

Your grin splits into a wide smile. “I knew you were going to focus on that. Wild grain rice with finely diced vegetables. It looks dirty.” You shrug. “I’m sure it has some reasonable name, but that’s what I call it.”

“Anything planned for dessert?” He prompts. You can feel your skin warming up. It’s the way he said it, more than anything else. The effect of trying to sound nonchalant in a tone that carries a little too much weight to be truly innocuous.

You swallow, pressing your lips together and doing your best to focus on cooking. “Sadly, I didn’t get the chance to buy anything for dessert.” There’s a moment’s silence between the two of you before you reach a safe break in your cooking and turn to face him. “Besides, something like that, I think I’d rather surprise you.”

“Oh?”

Smiling you nod, walking out of the kitchen and around to his side of the breakfast bar. He turns toward you, letting you step between his legs. Large warm hands slip around your waist, holding onto your without pulling you close just yet.

“I just think the presentation is as important as the actual dessert, and if you know beforehand it takes something away from it.” You reply, not really clarifying much of anything.

“And if I want something sweet right now, yoi?” He pulls a little, bringing you closer.

“I’m hardly made of sugar.” You muse, letting yourself be pulled in. The height of the breakfast bar stool puts him pretty level with you, just a little lower. The effect of him looking up at you with those hooded and relaxed eyes of his is making your blood rush.

How he manages to look so calm despite it all would be frustrating if it wasn’t so hot.

“You taste plenty sweet to me, pretty bird.” He assures you, hands pulling you in closer, pressing your chest against his as he nuzzles into your neck a little. You put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself a little, gasping as greedy lips kiss against your neck.

“Sound sweet too,” he muses, words hot against your skin.

“Please,” you gasp, fingers flexing against his shoulders as kisses track down all the spots that make you moan.

Teeth graze your earlobe, tongue against your neck briefly before he kisses your neck again. “Please what, pretty bird?”

“Haaa, I want you to stay.” You huff in frustration, turning toward him and losing all sense of your next words as his lips met yours. A firm hand lost in your hair tilts your head and you part your lips for him, letting him deepen the kiss.

“I want to stay, yoi.” He admits, gaze finding yours for a moment.

“I know.” You lean forward, closing the small distance between you both and letting your kisses drift away from his lips and down the line of his jaw. You could hear and feel the heavy breaths escaping him as you kissed and nipped against his neck.

“I wanna mark you.” You whisper, staying by his neck. You can feel him tense a little.

“Sure.” He says softly. “As you wish, pretty bird.”

The desire overtakes any sense to ask if he’s sure, and you lean in, licking and kissing his neck until you feel him relax a little. Sucking on the tender skin harshly you feel his hands tense against you as hissed moan escapes him. After a couple seconds you let up, licking the bright red, sure to bruise, mark and leaving a few soft kisses around it.

“You… didn’t hold back.” He husks, voice heavy and face flushed.

Sorry,” you say the word, but it’s hard to actually mean it as your eyes linger, watching with a little surprised as the mark fades before your eyes. “Automatic.” You murmur, and he sighs.

“It just means you can do so to your heart’s content.” He offers in a voice that is practically begging for you to continue.

Marco nuzzles you softly, and you step back. “Let me check on dinner.” Your voice is airy, needy, you don’t want to stop, from the way his eyes follow you it’s obvious he doesn’t want to stop either.

There’s a few minutes of silence between the two of you as you work on dinner and he watches you. You pay a bit more attention to the details than you actually need to, worried that if you look back over at him you’re going to forgo any concern for dinner entirely.

“Dinner tomorrow night as well, right?” He asks after you start to plate your meals.

“Y-yeah.” You answer, wondering idly how you’re going to manage another night of this. Maybe you can get same-night delivery on a chastity belt or something.

“Will we be picking up your car before or after?”

“Neither. It might be in the garage already, honestly.” You admit. “The opener was in the car, so Kid’s plan was to just drop it off when it’s done.”

“It might be in there already?” He questions. “Do you want to go see?”

“Mm… no, I don’t think so.” You admit with a small smile. “It’s Schroedinger’s garage right now, and as long as I don’t look there is no car, and if there’s no car, then I’ll see you in the morning.”

You nod your head toward the dinning table, carrying two plates out of the kitchen as Marco gets up. There’s a pleased smile on his face at your words, and once you set the plates down he pulls one of the chairs out for you.

“Allow me.”

“Such a gentleman.” You muse. “You’re going to spoil me, getting me used to treatment like this.”

“If the world was at all fair,” he says, sliding your chair in easily. “You would’ve been spoiled long before I came along, yoi.”

You can feel your face heating up, and you clear your throat. “I mean, I wasn’t exactly mistreated… or um…” Looking down at the food you’re certain you’re lit up like a Christmas tree. “I’m beginning to think what I was doing before now wasn’t, um, dating, really. So much as, I think the kids call it, hooking up.”

“The kids.” He repeats, chuckling as he sits down. “You are one of the kids.”

You stick out your tongue. “Look here, Eldest Brother of Thirty-Seven, you were probably calling people whipper snappers before you were old enough to legally drink.”

Marco laughs happily. “You’re probably not wrong, yoi.”

Your amusement fades a little. “Did you… I mean, did you get a childhood?” As soon as the question leaves your lips you put your hand up. “No, wait, that’s - that’s a little rude on my part, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s alright.” He reassures you, grabbing a bit of fish. His brow raise a little and your focus turns to your plate and you grab a quick bite, unsure if his reaction is distaste or not. Between your haste and concern you can’t really seem to actually taste it, and for a second you’re worried you messed something up while you had been flirting with him.

“That’s,” he swallows, tongue running over his lips briefly. “Really good.” He admits, taking another bite.

Relief washed over you and your brain resumed working again. It was good, probably the best the dish had turned out for you. Not that it was bad after you’d effectively mastered it, but it was just a little bit tastier this time.

Or maybe it was the company.

[noodyl-blasstal]

Time Maths

It's day 23 of @taznovembercelebration and I got "5 things". Read below or on Ao3. Missed yesterday? Catch up here.

-

"Taako! We have to leave!"

"No we don't."

"We're going to be late, love."

"Nuh uh! That's a lie Mr Reaper Man and you know it." Taako glares.

Kravitz wishes he didn't look so hot doing it... Maybe they did have time for a quick change to the schedule...

"We've got 40 minutes before the first possible check and, frankly, the hotel is not ready for us.”

“I definitely booked the room. Would you like me to check the reservation?”

“Woooooaaaaaah, slow down. Taako means that they’re not ready for this.” Taako wraps an arm around Kravitz’s waist, pushes their hips together, and indicates dramatically. “They’re not ready for us! Also, there’s no requirement to be there for check in as soon as it opens, that’s just the earliest possible arrival time."

"But what if there's..." Kravitz doesn't get to finish.

"... Traffic?" Interrupts Taako. "Traffic in your personal rift in space which instantaneously takes you literally anywhere?"

"I..." Kravitz isn’t entirely sure how to dispute that. It’s not a thing, but also, what if this time is the first time it ever ever happens and they’re just unlucky and they don’t get to the hotel until 15:05 instead of 15:00. His sentence lies, barely started, definitely unfinished and Kravitz can tell Taako smells blood in the water.

“... So why, Kravitz, beloved, handsome husband, why are you trying to bully poor, sweet, innocent Taako into leaving so early?” Taako makes a big show of pretending to be distressed, worrying his hands, checking his watch.

It’s a fair question, is the problem. Taako’s right to ask it, but now Kravitz has to answer, and Taako’s going to pull the face where it means he’s loving Kravitz even harder because he’s just done something particularly stupid and honestly that’s not a bad outcome, but Taako might also choose to tease Kravitz about it at a later date and that is a bad outcome because Kravitz’ll get flustered and Taako’s going to have even more ammunition to love him harder and tease him harder. Maybe Taako’ll understand his logic though.

“We have to put our coats on and get our bags, and that doesn’t even account for our shoes, the shoes are a whole thing.” Taako’s shoes are a whole thing because Kravitz just summons his, but there’s no need to lay blame at anyone’s door.

“Uh huh. How long’re we adding for that, bones?”

“20 minutes.” Says Kravitz quickly, because he’s done the maths, he knows.

Taako looks pointedly at the suitcase and coat piled neatly together in the corner of the room.

“... and then it takes time to summon my scythe. So that’s another five minutes down.”

Taako arches an eyebrow. “Five minutes?”

“Maybe three, but I’m rounding up.” Kravitz says, like this is completely logical, because it is. He’s checked, it’s science and no one can tell him any different.

“That’s 25 minutes. Quick maths. So where’s the rest coming from?”

“We have to say goodbye to the house.” Kravitz nods emphatically.

Taako nods too, he does it with Kravitz every time.

“And that’s coming in at…?”

“Five minutes.” Says Kravitz, because even though it’s probably a bit less it’s better to have some built in time, you know, just in case.

“Thirty minutes.” Says Taako.

“Then there’s the thinking of the destination bit…” Taako opens his mouth to ask, but Kravitz has hit his stride now. “...which is three minutes.”

Taako’s mouth is a very thin line which means he’s trying not to laugh, but it doesn’t matter because Kravitz has started and therefore he will finish. Taako asked, it’s fine.

“Two minutes for holding your arm, because I like it when we get to walk together.”

Taako’s face softens, eyes crinkling at the corners, mouth relaxing from the laughter that was trying to bubble up. “I like that too, handsome.”

“Then five for travel. Just because you don’t know what’ll happen. I know you think it’s instantaneous, but what if there’s a time delay and we just don’t realise? Have you ever thought of that?”

“Cha’boy has a feeling you have, often and regularly and all of the time.”

“Travel maths is important.”

“It sure is.” Taako replies. “You’ll be glad to hear I’ve finished shoving everything I could possibly need into my suitcase.”

Taako holds up an empty bag.

Kravitz snorts, loudly. “Is that just an interdimensional rift which links to our closet?”

“It’s just an interdimensional rift which links to our closet.” Taako confirms, looking not even a little bit embarrassed. “Seemed more practical.”

Kravitz takes his turn at the fond smile.

“But it means cha’boy’s ready to go and boy does this arm need holding, if only there were someone here who might be able to help?” Taako sticks his arm out and looks sadly at it, lamenting the lack of man attached to it.

Kravitz steps forward, grinning. “We’re doing it out of order, I haven’t got my bag or the scythe yet.”

“Does that mean an extra hmmmm, thirty three minutes of hand holding time?” “Oh…” Says Kravitz quietly. “Oh! Yes! Yes it does!”

He escorts Taako to his suitcase, summons his scythe, and says “Goodbye house!” in time with Taako.

“So that was a solid 30 seconds.” There’s no heat in it.

“Just you wait!” Kravitz says, and thinks hard of their destination, really takes his time to focus on the hotel, on the entry way he’s seen videos of, and tears a hole in space.

They walk arm in arm into bright sunlight Kravitz’s case rolling neatly beside him, Taako’s bag hanging off his spare arm.

“So here we are.”

“Here we are, and only 36 minutes early for check in.”

--

Hey, hey you? Yeah! You! Wanna read tomorrow's prompt? You can find it here.

[goldeneyedgirl]

day 125 asking for home again please i'm begging u i don't mind if you have a new chapter an idea or just rambling randomly about this fic i'm only asking for crumbs i hope it will touch your heart

Anon, you moved me. I'm so sorry I forgot your request. I have a memory like swiss cheese.

The rewrite has temporarily stalled, only because I have four chapter fics going, three one-shots needing to be finished, and I'm plotting out Whumptober, Nanowrimo, and Ficmas. Plus I have uni work which involves planning and writing a manuscript in 2025. Soo rewrites have escaped me for the time being.

But I do have plans to add a couple of fics to that series. The next fic I was going to publish was second chronologically - Cynthia's wedding. So this takes place maybe eight weeks after Home Again, so everything is kind of new and Jasper gets to experience Alice's family nonsense and how the insanely rich live.

Other fics I was messing with in this universe (the file for these has disappeared, so I have to do a deep dive on my harddrive to see where it was filed but it's totally gone at the moment) includes Alice's father showing up in Mexico for a surprise visit at a very inopportune time; the Brandons deciding to have a pre-Christmas gathering at Alice's house so that Alice's mom can get a bunch of photos for social media; Alice and Jasper in Seattle (I mean, we need to have Maria show up at some point - I love writing Maria); plus drama around the rest of the family - Edward and Bella having a baby, Peter and Charlotte getting married, and just other wholesome nonsense.

I might also drag the OG drafts for celebrity Alice out of the archives for Ficmas because, listen, the original Vision was very different. I think there were three different versions in 24 hours, lol.

Anyway, here is some of the draft of Cynthia's Wedding/the Spectacle.

jasper.

Flowers.

That was Jasper’s first thought.

He’d never seen so many flowers in one place before.

Or ribbons.

Or people.

“Breathe.” Alice was standing beside him, looking much more at ease than he felt. She looked beautiful but almost foreign on his arm; she’d had hair and make-up people in their suite early, and had emerged with an artfully messy updo and an almost porcelain-doll appearance.

She didn’t seem entirely real, honestly.

None of this did.

They’d arrived in New York City the afternoon before and this had been the most eye-opening twenty-four hours of his life.

First of all, the chauffeur that had picked them up from the airport had swept them to one of the most expensive hotels in the city - he knew Alice had vetoed the Plaza, where Cynthia was getting married, citing a complete lack of privacy - and they had been quickly and efficiently swept up to a suite that was, frankly, nicer than his Seattle apartment. A perfectly tailored suit and Alice’s dress for the wedding had been waiting for them, along with a handwritten schedule and half a dozen floral arrangements - as well as a bottle of champagne and a ‘good luck’ note from Carmen, which made Alice snort.

There had been a dinner reservation made at the hotel restaurant with Alice’s godmother - a pinched woman who downed three martinis and left citing a need for a cigarette before they’d even received their entrees. Alice had laughed at his total bewilderment - “I’ve known her my whole life, Jas, and I’ve never seen her eat anything more substantial than a martini olive - or stay at an event longer than thirty minutes.”

The next morning, Alice had disappeared to spa treatments, hair, and makeup after breakfast, and returned to the room looking rather blank and popped two pain pills on a relatively empty stomach but had reassured him that she was fine. He’d even gone out to get her something to eat, but she’d only picked at it and blamed nerves about being in front of the camera.

And now they were at the wedding.

Alice’s dress was beautiful - dark plum lace tailored close to her body with a high neck and buttons running down her spine. The hem brushed the floor, concealing the fact that she had insisted on nearly four inch heels despite the pain they caused her. A small fortune of diamonds hung from her ears and around her wrist that Alice claimed belonged to the family trust, from a long-dead family member. The suit Carmen had arranged for him was tailored so perfectly that it was one of the most comfortable things he’d ever worn - and one of the nicest, far and away nicer than what he'd worn at his own wedding.

That made him a little nervous - first class flights to New York, the hotel room, the suit… Alice had convinced him that as her date, she was going to cover everything. He was doing her a favour, after all - Cynthia wouldn’t have allowed her to attend without a plus-one. But this whole weekend was costing more than his entire life, and that made him somewhat uncomfortable.

“This is…”

“A lot, I know.” Alice’s smile is pasted on her face, and doesn’t look quite right. “Just look like you’re happy to be here and no one will notice.”

“I’m happy to be here with you, this is just terrifying,” he murmured in her ear and for a moment, Alice’s mask dropped and she gave him a genuine, albeit bashful, smile.

The entrance had an actual red - well, gold - carpet at the entrance, against a wall of white roses. Various photographers were lined up, snapping away. It took him several moments to place a few of the other guests dotted along the carpet - models, celebrities, singers… It was surreal.

Ignoring people calling out to her, Alice carefully guided him inside the hotel.

—

The ceremony room was all gold and white, adored in hundreds of white candles, and masses of flowers in whites, pinks, and lemons. It was dizzying and oddly hypnotic, like standing in a secret garden but knowing that something wasn't quite right about it.

Gold chairs draped in silky fabric were arranged for the guests - rows and rows of them, negating Alice’s assumption that this was planned to be an intimate wedding. A white and gold bar was set up at the back of the room, where numerous people were clustered around - people Jasper had only ever seen on TV.

“You’ll be seated in the front row,” the perky attendant said, escorting them down the aisle, gesturing to two seats.

//

Securing a glass of champagne for Alice and a gin-and-tonic for himself, Jasper immediately returned to where Alice was seated - where a man was looming over her. He wearing a well-worn, rumpled suit, clutching a drink like it was a lifeline, and looked like he needed a shave and a good night's sleep. He wasn't anyone that Jasper recognised, but the way he was scrutinizing Alice made Jasper feel oddly protective of her.

"Mary, Mary," the man said in a rough voice that sounded almost mocking to Jasper's ears as he handed Alice her champagne.

“Alistair,” the fake smile is back but Alice doesn’t rise, merely nods at him. “How are you?”

Alistair, the former fiancé - a long-time associate of Alice’s father and not someone Alice has spoken of fondly. He didn’t know the details of the break up - or even the engagement - and he couldn’t bring himself to google search his own ... what? Girlfriend? Either way, it felt very disloyal to google things Alice didn't really want to talk about.

“You look better than I expected,” Alistair is frank, and is inspecting Alice like a piece of meat. “The way your family has carried on, I expected...”

"To be at death's door?" Alice offers sweetly.

"You not to be here," Alistair chuckles, before looking Jasper up and down.

//

Mr Platt is exactly what Jasper expected; an imposing man with salt and pepper hair and generic movie star looks. He doesn’t acknowledge anyone around him, firmly focused on his phone. There’s a haughty looking woman next to him in a shimmering dark blue dress and smooth red hair that Jasper suspects is his wife, even if she isn’t old enough to be Alice’s mother.

“Fourth wife, former assistant,” Alice murmurs to him from behind her champagne glass. “Mother of two daughters, and she’s very upset that neither of them were boys.”

[breaniebree]

Hi.

I am so fucking sorry if this is weird.

But I stumbled across ASC in one of my old SD cards and couldn’t resist seeing if you’d actually managed to finish that giant story - and apparently you did. Kudos to you.

When I first read ASC I was in a seriously (Siriusly, because that joke is obligatory at this point) bad place. COVID was still in its early stages, I was newly thirteen and had no idea who I was, my anxiety had reached a new high and my OCD ruled my life. I was literally scared to get out of bed and half the time I wouldn’t. I sanitized everything on sight and then some, and it still wasn’t enough to get rid of the crawling feeling inside me. I can now admit that I was depressed. And on top of that I was going through an identity/gender crisis and questioning my sexuality for the first time in my life, hating myself while at it - being an ally is one thing, but being an actual member of the LGBTQ+ community is quite another, especially when you live in an country where being gay isn’t even an option and your mother is homophobic af. Basically I was majorly fucked up.

ASC wasn’t some huge life-changing thing. It was just a random fanfic I found while scrolling through HP tags. I was intrigued, mostly, at this monster of a fic that was over two hundred chapters long, and since I was looking for free books at the time, I gave it a try. Finished the first thirty or so chapters in one sitting. And, once I got over my shock at the sex scenes (I’d never even been on a date and honestly my sexual awakening was partially triggered by this - I was like, ‘If the fact that these people shagged for hours straight, and my only concern is how possible it is to manage that position for any length of time, then I’m probably going to have to sit myself down for a soul-search’) and violent scenes (your mind is a terrifying place and I am sincerely thankful you aren’t planning world domination just yet) I was hooked.

I did comment every now and then, under varying pseudonyms - SavvySpirit was one, obviously. WarrioroftheWolves was another (thirteen-year-old me was obsessed with large predators, mainly since they were everything I wasn’t) and Raindrops & Flowers is quite possibly my least original name ever. There were a few other one-time names I can’t recall. But it was a brief respite in the craziness of ’20 and most of all it was something that was mine - to hold close to my heart, to hate when plot lines threw me for a loop, to cry over and giggle over and laugh over. I printed out the entire thing using my pocket money, in minuscule script and fitting eight pages per sheet, both sides. I think I reread that story at least twice a month - entire thing, back to back as I waited for the next time my parents would let me use the computer for longer than three minutes. I got attached to characters I barely gave second glances to. Viktor. Pansy. Dean. Padma. Mandy. Theo. Him especially, since I relate so much to him it almost hurts to see him hurt.

I stuck with ASC until around the time when Finn died and Ginny was put under bloodlust. I don’t remember exactly why I stopped checking for updates - maybe it was just a lack of time, maybe it was my refilling schedule coupled with my fear of humans. Maybe it was something deeper, who knows. But I stopped at one point and just reread (imo) the best bits every now and then.

I guess, story-wise, things got a little too real too fast for me. I’d known Cedric and Sirius was going to die, and Viktor’s death wasn’t as much of a shock as Finn’s was - because it was so unexpected and so out of the blue (I cried and screamed and cursed your name for thirty minutes straight after that last mo grá. Seriously, Breanie? You just had to go and ruin things just when they were getting good? I was looking forward to seeing Finn’s POV, and seeing them mature and fight over everything from Finn’s overprotectiveness coupled with Theo’s independence to shopping problems and flavours of ice cream, to see them go through troubles and overcome them both individually and as a couple. I was so freaking excited to see more of Tara and your take on a fairy realm, to see how Finn’s pseudo-immortality and Theo’s past demons would come into play. I wanted so much more development on Finn’s character, his flaws and quirks, his skeletons in the closet since we’d never really had his POV. I even had hopes of a storyline where Voldemort tries to get into Tara(because of the so-called immortality, duh) and gets horribly burned in the process. I wanted a Feo love child, dammit(Ciara would be such a cool aunt! And with the Weasleys and Blaise/Draco on one side of the family and Tiernan and the royal court on the other than kid would be the best protected, most spoilt kid in existence). I had hopes, Breanie. Dreams. And you destroyed them all with that single scene.) and so. Fucking. Tragic. And like ten chapters later you put Ginny under bloodlust where she hates Harry and wants to kill him (this was a seriously fucked up idea and I applaud your imagination. And sincerely hope you never become a investigator, because that would be scary.) and I read this bit with my heart in my throat because even if I don’t really like book or movie Hinny(Ginny seems too much of a side character and has so little personality, as I’m sure you know) but I adore fandom Hinny and YOU ARE NOT GOING TO RUIN YET ANOTHER OF MY FAVOURITE SHIPS IN THIS FIC DAMMIT but I chickened out and never read past that to see if she got cured. She did, right? She’s not dying slowly from poison in her bloodstream or anything? Right? Don’t correct me if I’m wrong though, I prefer to remain oblivious and happy in a world where nobody dies and everybody gets therapy.

But anyway, the point of me spilling my life story to you here was to thank you. You may not have intentionally made this fic for me, but it was a lot more effective than most of my therapy sessions since I could get my thoughts and feelings out in a roundabout way. ASC may not be a major part of my life currently, but it’s still a large part of who I am, and I am indebted to you for making this safe space. I turned fifteen and came out as panromantic/asexual. I turned sixteen and came out as a demigirl. I have career aspirations and I’m actually working on them. I’m working on long-term plans, which I never could’ve imagined having three years ago. And though I lost hearing in one ear last month, I didn’t consider ending things, not even once. Still haven’t. I have midterms but I’m not stressing myself to the max over them, and I actually have a social life now. And it’s not all completely thanks to you, but there is still a large part of my sanity that owes itself entirely to the fanfiction writers of 2020. And a slice of that pie is yours. So - thank you. For everything. You’re a truly gifted writer.

And before I forget - does Theo like, ever get closure? Hypothetically the fae have realm glasses. Which might come into use. Can fae get reborn? Just asking.

And does Zee ever date again? Like - I know Sirius was her person, but when the kids get older and she grows older…

One more question: how does someone like Delta turn out to be evil?! She was so freaking supportive when Hermione was researching human rights. Another question: Blaise survives, right? Because that guy is a riot. And another: I reread chapters 200-272 for this and realized that Finn just randomly carries around a pair of golden handcuffs? Like what was the story behind that. Did he get cornered one day and decide that ‘henceforth, I shall carry handcuffs’? And Crouch’s ‘wives’…do Millie and Hestia ever escape? My last random question: whatever happened to Arnold the Pygmy Puff?

Also is there any way I can send you a virtual fruit basket?

Hi, @savvyspirit

Wow! Thank you very much for sharing so much for me. I'm honoured my story had such a profound impact on you personally. Good for you for being honest and open with yourself about who you are. Nothing is more important. Thank you so much for sharing that my story helped you in a roundabout way. That's very cool to hear.

I understand that the story took a darker turn and did get too real too fast, but I do hope you go back to it now that it's complete and now that I'm finishing up the trilogy. Harry and Ginny are definitely getting their happy ending, that I can promise.

Finn was an important part of Theo's life and an important part of the story, but unfortunately he wasn't who Theo was meant to spend his life with. That's someone else and if you keep reading, I promise you'll see him much happier than he ever was with Finn. Yes, he does get closure. As to Zee, well... yes, she does find love (you have to keep reading to find out). Delta aka Belladonna was a lot of fun to have be evil the whole time and you learn more about her how and why as the story goes on. Blaise does survive and we get to know more about him too. Finn carried around handcuffs because he was part of the Royal Guard of Tara. Millie and Hestia do survive. Arnold is still around, promise.

Ha, as to a virtual fruit basket -- I'll take those in story reviews on Ao3 or ff.net please and thanks.

Thank you very much for sharing this with me and I sincerely hope you delve back into the world of ASC because I really do think it's worth it. Thank you!

[pbandjesse]

We just left five guys after seeing two houses. And it was fun! My voice continues to be gone but despite that annoyance, today ended up being great. I really couldn't have asked for a better day, all things considered.

And!! It is my husband's birthday! Congratulations James for joining me in being in our early thirties! I woke up a little early so I could sit with them and open one of the three packages I made for them.

We started with the card I made them. It's a victorian purse card and I don't have space to include it in this post but I will make a post if it's own. James said they could tell how long it took and really appreciated how I tried to emulate notes being passed as a child.

The opened the first gift and it was sock and a new hat but also the shirt I design for them. "Lucky to have the best wife" with a bunch of pictures of my face. They laughed so hard. I wish I got it on video it was such a sweet reaction. They wore it for the rest of the day and looked so cute. I'm glad they liked it.

I had to leave soon for work though. After a few extra hugs I headed to camp.

I got stuck in some traffic but it was okay. I got to camp and drove around making sure the last things were set and ready. Celia was waiting at the office and I would let us in so I could get some things printed. She was not sure if the eyrie was unlocked and so she wanrd to wait. Despite me saying we haven't been locking it. But it's fine.

Elizabeth was a great support today. I was nervous about my voice but I was also hopeful. I went to the hacienda to wait for parents around 9. And they slowly made their way in. I kept apologizing for my voice. I was trying my best to be clear even if I wasn't able to be loud. I know everyone was struggling to hear me though. We realized pretty quickly that while in person they couldn't hear me, on the walkie I was more intelligible. So I got the idea to use two walkies as a mic. Elizabeth was not sure because of feedback but I was sure I could figure it out.

After walking the parents around and getting them settled I went to get the last parent who was at the pool house still. I walked her up and went to deliver popcorn that was dropped off to the Pueblo. And then I went back to the office to ask Elizabeth to print more maps and schedules for me. Because my laptop was plugged into the screen at the hacienda so I didn't have time to go back and forth. She helped me out and I was off.

And then the bus was there! Except they went to the wrong place. Ah well. Once they got to me they all came in and sat down and were so sweet.

I told them I could not get louder and I had a plan. And we tired the walkie and it worked!! Elizabeth was standing at the door trying not to laugh because I was also just being funny with an the PowerPoint. I was pretending to be a stand up comedian with my timing.

And it honestly gave me to much power after not being able to talk for almost a week. And so I talked for a half hour and honestly had the best time.

Even though the school came 15 minutes late I was able to get us back on time and we were able to do the fibers program. But at this point my voice was dead dead. I couldn't even really whisper, you can't hear me if there is any other noise. So instead I wrote down some instructions on paper and held it up like a ring girl. Just walking through the space and stopping so the 2nd graders could point and finger read. And then they would go "got it.". Thumbs up. And they were just great.

I would have to give some announcements over the walkie but I was very squeaky and struggling. I tried my best.

During the first program I cleaned the room so that the other school that was there today could have a horse hair free lunch. Then I was dropping off the check and getting my book. I posted up on a log in between where my programs were happening and it was just beautiful and I was feeling good.

Mostly. I am still coughing. But once I'm out in the nice air I feel a lot better. Plus it was just a beautiful day.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. Everyone was doing great. I had to type out what I needed to say on my phone because I was so quiet. And that's when the main teacher apologized for being a little scatter brained. And she let me know that the raven group has no chaperone. Which means 8 second graders had been following the map and schedule by themselves all day. I was just like. Oh. Well they did a great job. But inside I was face palming and just being like. How did that happen and how did it take us 2 hours to notice. They did a great job though and honestly I would have this group every day. Excellent kids.

At the end of the day I went to the hacienda to start moving chairs and while I quietly did that while the kids were packing up and finding their things some of the parents, and then the kids too, started helping carry the chairs outside!! I hate asking groups to help but man does it make it faster. And the chairs weigh nothing because they are aluminum. So even the kids carrying two got to feel big and strong but no one needs to be worried about them getting hurt.

Nick, Sarah, Celia, and Dachelle came and helped clean all the tables and swept while I got all my materials packed up and out outside. They would go do a trash run while I started driving around and collecting my stuff.

Celia would join me and helped me pack my car before she went to go feed the animals.

I went back to arts and crafts to unpack and start repairing things. That's the big plan tomorrow. Some stuff needs to be replaced but mostly it's maintenance. As this was my last feildtrip of the semester.

I was a little upset to find one of my space heaters for some deer fur on the prongs of the cord and was burning a little. So dangerous. So I got that handled but it was a little scary!

Once everything was inside I started repairing some fire sticks. But at 330 I decided that was enough for the day.

I went back to the office and Alexi let me know there was a child abuse training I needed to do. But it wasn't loading on my old laptop so I promised to do that when I went home

And that I was leaving a few minutes early so I could go and get a pumpkin pie for my husband.

I went to the grocery store so I could go to their bakery, which is always very nice. Camp goes there for everyone's birthday. I first found a pumpkin pie dip?? Apparently they are known for it, and I got the recommended swedish ginger snaps to go with it. Then at the bakery counter I apologized for my whispers and ordered a pie. Which looked great. The boy at the counter whispered back which I thought was delightful. I love that that is what people keep doing. Just "oh we are whispering!!" It just seems very kind even if it's not necessary.

I went home after that. Got stuck in some traffic. Had to drive directly into the sun. But it was okay. I got home a little after 430.

And I was so happy to see my birthday bean husband. I gave them the treats, they opened the other presents. They loved the rocket notebook and the fidget and keychain tools I gave them. They also really liked the sterling frisbee charm I got for their necklace. Which I think looks so cute.

I would have to go jump into that training course. Which was just an hour. I did it very quickly while I also was cutting my cuticles. And when I was done it was basically time to go.

We went to see two houses tonight. One I liked a lot, though it was small, and one that was horrible.

The first one I not only liked the house, I liked the block. It has a community association building two doors down with a really cool mosaic mural outside. And no broken buildings at all. The inside though was very funny to me. It was yellow! Almost every room has the walls and ceiling painted yellow. It needs work, but only a little. It does need appliances but that isn't unusual for the ones were seeing. Will just have to factor that all in. But I really did like it. It has the landing space like the first one. It didn't have a finished basement but it did have a little backyard and backs up to a green space. The floor upstairs had a slope and it only has a shower in a really small bathroom, but I could see us being really happy there.

The second house though. This was not good. While the bedrooms and bathrooms were bigger, it has so much water damage. On the ceilings of both floors. It was kind of a mess. Like it seems poorly flipped but then just not taken care of while they waited for it to see. Not good. I also didn't like the block as much. It was honestly to dark outside. Ah well. Was still fun. We're seeing another place on Friday!

James and me decided to go to five guys for dinner. Which was fun but also they put to much seasoning on the fries. Still good. And I enjoyed James's company even if I had to text them every time I had something to say because I couldn't be heard.

It is frustrating. I feel like I'm straining so hard to get my voice out. And while it was better today then yesterday I for sure did not help it by using it so much. I need to have a voice by Friday. It's going on the right direction, I hope.

We are home now. When we parked James ripped down the broke branch on the tree outside that kept scraping the roof of the car. Then we flipped it off and were very dramatic. Now we are eating pumpkin pie and James is playing a video game. I am ready to go wash my face and go to sleep. My cheeks are flush and I am a bit exhausted.

Tomorrow I have no groups. And I am hoping to work on my program materials and putting them in storage until the spring. And then working on some of the projects Heather asked us to do. I hope it is a chill day where I don't have to talk much. And then I have my ceramics class! I am looking forward to tomorrow. I think it will be a good day.

Sleep well everyone. Be careful out there. And send happy birthday wishes to my husband. Goodnight! I love you!

[a-flux-uchiha]

Unexpected Siblings

Gen, has Lullaby, Sheik(although she's asleep) and Impa. Lullaby receives news that her father has unexpectedly died while driving drunk, which means she has full custody of her 4 year old sister.

Lullaby had known, albeit somewhat distantly, that she had a sister. Sibling. Something. That did not at all prepare her to be given full custody of said sibling when their father died abruptly, reportedly in a car crash, although he had apparently been drunk at the time, implying it was fully his fault. 

Regardless, Lullaby was not prepared to take on a probably distraught young child. She was just barely out of college, she wasn’t even thirty yet, had no partner, and was very very unprepared to handle any sort of toddler. Was four even counted as a toddler? Did Lullaby need to babyproof her house? 

The kid was arriving in a couple of minutes, and Lullaby was not ready. She didn’t even remember the kids name! Why couldn’t someone have sent her a file on the kid or something? Who were they coming with? Did children decide on genders that early? She was pretty sure the kid had been declared female at birth, but that didn’t mean that was the ultimate decision! 

Her degree was in sociology, but that didn’t mean she knew what was up with kids! 

The doorbell to her apartment rang, and Lullaby breathed in, breathed out, and went to open it. 

A very tall and strong woman was at the door, who Lullaby assumed was her sibling in her arms sleeping. “You are Zelda?” 

“Lullaby,” Lullaby corrected. “Too many Zeldas in my family, so I just go by Lullaby.” 

“Lullaby then. It is well past her bedtime, so she is already asleep.” 

Lullaby abruptly realized it was, in fact, ten at night, and just because her sleep schedule was still atrocious after college, didn’t mean a small child didn’t have a sleep schedule. “Right, that makes sense I guess. Uh, I’m sorry, I’m not sure who you are.” 

The woman just smiled, obviously amused. “I am Impa, your father hired me to care for Sheik while he was busy. My last paycheck will handle through this month, if you would like the assistance with her.” 

“Uh, yeah, that’d be great, thanks. I’m not really prepared to take on a kid so suddenly.” 

“I had guessed,” Impa replied, and her visible amusement had Lullaby probably starting to turn red. Wait weren’t people supposed to invite others into their houses. Yeah, she really should do that. 

“Do you want to come in?” Lullaby asked awkwardly, moving out of the way. 

“It would be appreciated, yes. Sheik is not the lightest.” Impa came in, settling onto Lullaby’s couch and leaving Sheik sleeping on her chest. Lullaby closed the door, then awkwardly settled on the beanbag across from the couch that she usually left to her cousins. It wasn’t all that comfortable, particularly since it set her well below Impa, but it was better than trying to sit on the couch as well. “If you don’t mind me commenting on it, you seem rather anxious at the moment.”

Lullaby fiddled with her fingers, not meeting Impa’s eyes. “Uh, well this is a bit sudden. Last time I saw Sheik, she was just born. It’s not like I’ve been involved in her life at all. I didn’t even really remember her name, what can I even do?” 

“Frankly, you can’t do a worse job than your father as long as you spend a few minutes with her each day.” 

Lullaby’s ears pinned back. She had been born when her parents were 15, so she was primarily raised by her grandparents alongside her aunts. She hadn’t really been raised by her parents, who were mostly fairly distant with her. Even as she got older and her parents did as well, they didn’t really get closer, which was mostly why she hadn’t been around Sheik except for the birth. And she was only at the birth because her grandmother insisted. Honestly, sometimes she thought it was a miracle her parents were even still together and managed to have a second kid. 

So that combined, she wasn’t overly surprised that her father neglected Sheik. Especially after their mother died soon after the birth. 

“A lot of my work is done from home, I’ll probably have plenty of time. But I’ve never interacted with young children, closest I got was seeing my cousins sometimes.” 

“Just treat her with respect and you’ll do fine,” Impa replied calmly. “Children aren’t quite as complicated as you think. They’re simply people who don’t know what’s going on.” 

“No one knows whats going on.” 

“That’s the spirit. I’m sure you’ll do fine.” 

Lullaby stood up, nervous energy forcing her out of her seat to pace. “I have the income to handle myself, to pay rent and for food and stuff, but adding a second person, I’m barely out of college, I don’t have the experience to get a higher level job.” 

“You are the eldest in the family, yes?” Impa asked, sounding very amused. Lullaby must be missing something. But what? “The house and inheritance is yours by birthright.” 

Ooh that’s what she was missing. Right, she would have the house now, with both parents dead, it was her inheritance. She had gotten an email about the will, right? She’d need to actually check that, not just bypass it on her way to worry about Sheik. 

“I’ll have to start packing then, so I can just move into there, that’ll probably be easiest, and keeping Sheik in her original home will probably be less stressful. I mostly work from home anyway, it won’t be hard to move, I’m not particularly attached to this apartment anyway.” 

“Perhaps in the morning?” Impa suggested, smiling calmly. “It’s too late to fret about things you cannot do anything about until morning. Sleep, then start making arrangements in the morning.” 

Lullaby did a few more laps, twisting her hands around each other anxiously. “Right, right, okay, right. Sleep, then handle matters.” She could do that. This was fine, just put it off until later. She was really bad at doing that. Part of what made her equally successful and not successful in college. Successful because she finished things and didn’t procrastinate, less successful because she stressed herself out a lot and regularly almost burned out. Her roommate through college had not appreciated her habits. 

“Okay. Uh, you can take my bed I guess, I can have the couch, it’s pretty comfortable, I’ve slept on it before, although mostly for naps.” 

“If you’re sure,” Impa agreed, standing up. “I should retire, as Sheik will be getting me up in the morning whether I like it or not. I would suggest you also sleep.” 

“Yeah, probably a good idea,” Lullaby mostly mumbled. She probably wouldn’t be getting a whole lot of sleep, but she would try. 

[jeannefostergoriot]

The Retired Hero

Prompt. (Important to watch cause I really went in medias res)

“And so? You retired, you were what, twenty-three? If I may ask the question everyone thinks about… Why?”

“I was twenty-five. I don’t think you imagine how it feels, wearing these old clothes again, almost too tight for my thirty-two years old body, but still mine. The way they’re mine is written down in my skin. That’s why I stopped. I was thirteen when I started. Thirteen. No training, nothing, just new powers in my hands to stop the big bad guy. I thought “oh good, gonna be fun!”. It’s never fun. Never. Cause there is not one big bad guy, there are countless angers, hates, grievances, pains, and a hero has to see them everyday and stop them. Well, not stop them, heal them. Even outside of the fight, you have to be the hero. You have to see who would potentially need destruction or steal or harshness to diminish the pain. You have to talk them out of it. It does not always work, sadly, and then you have to fight. With guilt, with sadness, you saw that guy before he became a monster, you were friendly, you were smiling, maybe he offered you a cup of tea, some biscuits. But then, he became a monster, he built machines, or stole other’s machines, or he found power, he is manipulating elements, or he is traveling through time, and you have to stop him cause he does it for destruction. You have to stop them, even when you don’t want to. And it’s a lot, and you grow with it, you can’t tell anyone what’s weighing you down of course -if someone knows, they’re in danger.”

At this point, the retired hero sat back on her chair, closing her eyes for a minute. Yeah, being a hero had been traumatic, was still waking her up in the middle of the night. She took a deep breath before pursuing. The next part, the deepest reason why her introverted self had retired seven years earlier, wouldn’t please the interviewer. Nor the fans watching. Nor the countless journalists she had seen throughout the years.

But she needed to say it.

“There was another reason, too. I never wanted fame, but it was there. I have a mask, and as the years passed, it became more and more covering. Cause the people… you save them. They love you. But they’re clingy. And you can’t walk anywhere without having cameras flashes shoved down your throat, when you’re not fighting, not convincing wannabe villains not to act, you’re doing interviews, your life is under scrutiny. With the mask of course. At least it saves you a bit of personal life. But I couldn’t walk out of my home with the mask, or even with a red outfit, without immediately being surrounded by paparazzi. I never wanted this. Taking a walk on the rooftops to relax and watch the city from a different point of view? Yeah no, there are shimmering lights everywhere. Being happy to have your weekend at calm in your house, chilling with a book? In your dreams, you defeated such a big vilain this week, there are interviews scheduled for all the medias chains ever.”

The memories were coming back, now. Flashing lights. Crowds gathering to wait for her patrol to end. Journalists asking for more and more information and details, doing weird innuendos about her occasional partners, being weird. The worse memories too.

“For most of it, I was just a teen, and growing up like this was hard. It was hard to find a personality, to discover hobbies. And the worst… There were stalkers, there were groupies, there were people sexualizing me so early, maybe not at the very beginning but so fast… I may have been fifteen when I first read a very inappropriate comment. I tried to shove it down, but they doubled down. More time passed, more I started to get tired of it. All the attention, all the time I didn’t have to myself, the objectification and sexualisation… it only got worse, and worse, and worse. At twenty-five, I finalized my diploma in civil life. So I retired, decided to be myself. And it’s been great, honestly. I accepted this one last interview cause I knew this question would come up, and I wanted to say it. I wanted to own the reasons why I disappeared. Thanks for listening.”

A deep breath. It was said. The memories, good and bad, were dancing in her head, but it was done. She would never have to wear this costume ever again.

[nifaswriting]

Hey there u cutie :3 I came across your blog and I totally fell for your writing 💞 Can I request something for Smoker? Modern AU Headcanons or the "Love with XX is..." would be awesome! Please choose what you are more comfy with. Have a wonderful day 💕

Hello there, beloved ! Your request made my day, I'm very happy to know you enjoy my writing ! I hope you'll like this as well ♥

I chose the modern au because I got inspired, but you'll probably see the "love with" serie with Smoker at some point 'cause this man has me on chockhold, it's not even healthy...

Anyway, enjoy the little headcanons and have an amazing day as well ! ♥

P.S. : I made this waaaaay longer than expected haha ! Also, slight TW for mention of injuries, nothing bad don't worry, just thought I would put it, just in case ♥

Smoker modern AU headcanons :

To start somewhere, I strongly believe Smoker used to be in the army when he was younger, probably around his early/mid-twenties or something

His long life dream since he was a little kid was to serve his country and bring some kind of justice to this world he thought was way too unfair sometimes

But my thoughts is that he got involved into some traumatic near-death experience (more than likely the day he got that big scar on his face) at the beginning of his thirties

The recovering process was painful, yet his not-so-infamous will made it a little eaiser for him to endure

It also helped that he met you at that time : you quickly became his anchor when he felt like his determination was slipping through his fingers during hardest times

After everything got better for him, Smoker decided to quit the army to be able to start a long life with you by his side ♥

Back to the present we go !

Smoker now works for some kind of big lawyer company, either as a lawyer himself or as one of the big heads

He found in this new job a way to accomplish his dream while also trying to balance work and private life

Emphasize on trying...

This man works A LOT and he works so hard all the time it's giving him grey hair

Haha, get it ? Because his hair's white and stuff...

Most of the time, he comes home later than he first intended to

"I'll be back around eight tonight." is what he texts you, but you know he won't be there until 10pm or even later sometimes

And when he gets home, you're almost always already asleep because, as much as you love him, you too need your daily rest

Honestly, he can't blame you, and deep inside, he feels horrible that he's not spending enough quality time with you at home

Same goes for mornings : he gets up very early and usually you're still sleeping, so he just gets ready in silent, kisses you softly and leaves without a noise

Luckily for you, there are times when he's not so busy and you bet he's going to spend every single free minutes he's got with you, either at home or by taking you out

Nothing is too much when it comes to you, and somehow he loves spoiling you just a little bit when he has the chance

You want to try that new restaurant you saw on your way to work ? He's already booking a table for you both. You need new shoes or new clothes ? He's taking you on a shopping session. You want to stay home and cuddle him all day ? Watch a cheesy movie while eating take-out ? Fine by him, for your sake, he'll accept anything.

It's his way of showing you how much he cares despite not being there a lot

Such a sweet man ♥

Please though, if he's in one of his busy periods and you get the chance, visit him at work, he'll be the happiest man in the world

He doesn't look like it, his face remaining neutral the all time if not for the slightest of smiles curling the corner of his lips, but the moment he sees you walking past his office's door, his frown softens

It immediately lightens his mood and makes his day 100 times better

Bonus if you brings him something he enjoys like his favorite food/snacks or flowers (yes, he loves flowers, who would have thought ?)

On rare occasions, when both your schedules allow it, he offers you to eat lunch together, either at one of your workplaces or at a restaurant

Sometimes, your coworkers or Tashigi join you two intentionally and Smoker gets all grumpy because they're interrupting his precious alone time with you

Please, when it's just you two afterwards, give him a big kiss to get rid of his bad mood before returning to work, it'll help him feel better ♥

He's in fact just a big busy baby man, but you love him and he loves you dearly

[donkey-hyuck]

[00:00 a.m.] for our mark who works too much ♡ gn!reader :)

~ “‘m just tired, love,” sighs out Mark as he takes his place on his side of the bed. You know he’s been working a little too much. And by a little, you mean a lot. You just want to help him and be there for him when he clearly needs it. However, if he doesn’t want to tell you at that moment, that is also okay. You just hoped he would tell you whenever he’s ready. Eventually, he does. But it may take a while.

After you finished your night routine while looking at him through the vanity mirror, you walked to his side of the bed and sat next to him. You observed every pore, every scar, and every amount of sleeplessness that covered his angelic face. You knew he was more than just tired.

Swiftly bringing your hand to touch his cheek, that was slowly starting to burn up, you sigh out, “I know. And you should rest, my love. Don’t wait up for me.”

Mark came home early that night, to your dismay. But your work gave you a job at hand and you had to finish it tonight. It didn’t help that they requested it to be done by tomorrow when they emailed it to you last minute about two hours ago. Your face and your body were already numb from sitting at your desk all day, and when you had to finish your projects, you decided to take a little break to lessen the tension in your body. Only, Mark came home somewhere during this time and you felt bad for neglecting him when all he deserved was a good loving time.

“It’s okay. I want to stay up,” he responded, resting his hand on top of yours that was still on his cheek. Mark’s eyes were so close to closing, and you couldn’t do that to him. Why did the universe have to do this right now?

“No, baby. You need to sleep. You’ve been working yourself waaayyy too much and you need the rest…. You deserve the rest,” you retaliated and rubbed your thumb back and forth, still against his cheek.

“You’re falling asleep, for crying out loud!” You slightly laughed, “Please go to sleep, angel.”

“No!” He whined. “Lemme talk to youuuu.” Could you resist him? No. And you didn’t fully regret keeping him up because he ended up falling asleep as the minutes ticked by.

You continued to do your work as you sat on the desk that was placed in your room. You were, thankfully, almost done with the current project you were working on and it was almost time to call it a night. But the quiet tapping of your fingers against the keyboard and the soft ambiance of the room slowly made the love of your life drift off into his peaceful dreams. His only getaway from the real world.

It had been about twenty to thirty minutes of you typing away and you were finally done with the project in a way that you were happy with. You carefully shut off your computer and laid next to Mark before completely cutting out the light from the lamp on your nightstand.

Just as you had gotten into bed, Mark immediately started to magnet toward your figure. Whether he was conscious or not, it was the cutest thing he could do.

But as he fit his head between your head and shoulder, you could feel that his breathing was no longer evened out. Rather, it felt as though he was already awake.

“Mornin’, love,” he said, muffled between you.

You laughed and scraped your fingers through his hair, “It’s not mornin’, love.”

In reality, you wondered how much of Mark’s days were filled like this— sleeping for not even an hour and then waking up and calling it morning when the sun was still asleep. But if the sun wasn’t up, then why was he? It was a part of his schedule you’ll never fully understand and honestly a part of his schedule you don’t want to know. It physically pains you to see him like this. As if he was powered by a machine.

But he’s not. He’s a human being and his company can’t seem to take that into consideration for not only him, but his members as well. Especially Haechan.

“Why’re you up?” You continued. He shifted around in the bed and took his head out from your neck to rest on your chest instead.

“I don’t know. Maybe I just can’t sleep?” He softly said, wrapping his arms around your waist seemingly tighter than it was before.

“Can we just talk?” He suggested. Now was the time for him to open up.

“Of course. You can talk to your hearts desire if you please. I’ll be here to listen.”

He was quiet for a moment. Probably thinking of where to start and how to start. Although you probably knew what he was going to say before he even thought it.

“And don’t feel pressured to tell me everything all at once, okay, bub? I want you to take your time. Even if it takes months,” you reminded him after ten seconds of silence had passed.

Mark felt like breaking down in that moment. He was so overwhelmed with everything and everyone and all he wanted to do was disappear into your arms— his safe place, his home.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this disordered before. He still hasn’t answered.

“Hey, are you okay, Mark?” You stopped running your fingers through his hair. And although you can still feel him breathing, the pattern is a little more different than before.

Carefully, you sat the both of you up and rested against the headboard. He wouldn’t even look at you. But slowly, you started to hear the sniffling.

“Look at me, Mark,” you sternly said. Not ready to see his face but more than ready to take on your duty as his loved one.

He was even paler than he was before and the reds that now overpowered the whites of his eyes showed that he was ready to burst into tears. You could see them starting to form at the bottom.

“Hey, hey, hey,” you took him into your arms as he hid in your neck once more. “Cry it all out, my love. It’s okay, I’m here. If you don’t want to talk we don’t have to talk.”

And finally, he was ready to talk.

“I’ve just been so overwhelmed. I haven’t had a break and there are times where I feel like I’m not gonna make it. I’m so grateful for the support but so much has happened in the past year and I don’t know how much more I can handle, love. Of course I want to be there for my fans and for my family and for you but I feel like the only way all three groups of people are happy is if I continue making music. But, god, I don’t know how much longer I can last. I feel so lost…. I feel so empty.

I feel so unaccomplished and all I want to do is lock myself in my room and never come out. Everything is so different now, and it’s more stressful than ever but to me it’s so fucking important and I don’t want to lose what I love doing. But right now I feel like I can’t see the end. Right now, I feel like I’ll never be able to see the end. And I can’t help to think these things but I don’t want to disappoint the people I love the most. I don’t want to disappoint you and then you’ll end up leaving too. I’m not confident or inspired enough anymore and I’m really hurting. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

Wow. That was a lot to take in. Especially when those words came out of Mark Lee’s mouth. But everything he was saying and everything he was thinking is completely valid.

By the time he finished explaining his thoughts and his feelings, his angelic face is covered with salty tears and honestly, this was the first time you had ever seen Mark like this. It was taking such a huge toll on him. That was saying a lot since it takes so much to make Mark feel, in direct words, like shit. You didn’t know how much longer you can deal with his entertainment label treating him like a beat-up slots machine at a casino.

“Mark,” you finally found the words to speak up and tell him your feelings and hopefully give him good enough advice to keep fighting. Because that’s all he’s been doing since he was thirteen years old and only now is it really getting to him to the point where he’s considering in giving up. It breaks your heart in trillions of pieces. You had never seen Mark so broken like this before.

“Thank you for telling me. I know it’s hard for you and I know it’s hard for your members. But your feelings are so fucking valid and I want you to know that, okay? Your thoughts are so valid and I don’t even know what to say. I want to try to cheer you up because that’s my duty but I want you to know that I am always here for you. Nctzens are always here for you. Your family, your fans, and I are so incredibly proud of everything that you do and everything that you say. And it’s okay to feel lost or like you lost your mojo. I know your company is so shitty but you’ll get through with it, I promise.

As much as I want you to take a long break, I genuinely think that you won’t get it any time soon considering the hell-hole amount of schedules you’ve had this past year plus the ones you have coming up. And I’m so so so so sorry that you feel empty or uninspired but do you know how proud of you I am? You’ve made it this far with barely shedding a tear and I can’t tell you how relieved you made me when you finally decided to tell me. And if you can’t see the end, picture me as the end because you come home to me every day. And every day I become more and more proud that you choose to rely on me. Mark, I don’t even have words for the way I feel about you. You impact me, you impact your members, and you impact your fans in ways that are so unimaginable and we’ll forever be so immensely thankful for you. We love you so so so much.”

His face is still covered in tears by the time the conversation is over. And he’s so full with emotions right now that he can’t find the words to reply to you. He doesn’t think he ever will. He is just happy he has you. It’s such a simple word but it has so much meaning to him that he would always find a way back.

“And if your company still won’t give you a break, I will give them a piece of my mind because them making you feel like this is so fucking selfish. Your company doing this to you just for profit is absolutely staggering and I will be the first one to protest against them. You all deserve it, with the back-to-back concerts and albums and releases. Tell me anything that is wrong and I will personally come to SM and cuss out anyone and everyone who’s made you feel like shit.”

He laughs, sniffling some more. But all, in all, your Mark is back and he deserves the entire world. The sparkle in his eyes are slowly coming back, despite the puffiness of his doe eyed glory.

“I love you so much, Y/N. You don’t even understand,” he said, getting up from his position of leaning on you to sit up and cup the back of your head and give you a kiss on the forehead.

“No, you don’t understand how much I love you. It seems utterly impossible to try to explain the way you make me feel,” you cupped both of your hands on his cheeks as you wiped away the staggering, half-dried tears from his cheeks.

He laughed again, loving the amount of affection your eyes hold for only him.

“You mean so much to me.”

“No, you mean so much to me.”

“Scratch that, you mean so much to me, your family, your members, and your fans. I really hope you know that.”

—

they’ve been overworking my poor baby too much and they’re really gonna get a piece of my mind.

[whoreshijima]

So me and @m-mortimer did a lil collab :) all we do is thirst at eachother so here enjoy our one braincelled thinking and horniness 🤍

Thank you Izzy for allowing me to post this ilyvm and Your smart brain :))

WC- 2.9k

CW// daddy kink, reader has a vagina, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, slight mention of breeding, FaceTime masturbation, choking, mentions of fem receiving oral, basically no prep fucking

Every time Ushijima goes away, he promises to call you everyday, even if it’s for two minutes before bed or as he’s eating his lunch on the small breaks he gets. You appreciate it so much, the way he thinks about you constantly. But sometimes it gets to be way too much, way too long. He’s been away for three days now, three days too long. Ushijima called you as often as he could, simply missing the sweet tone you’d greet him with, the smile on your face as you answered the call. He loved every part of you, from how you dance whilst making dinner as he watched through the screen. Or how, like right now, you’re trying to hide your whimpers from the microphone and how you’re trying to keep your face straight, keeping the casual chatter about what you’re going to do that day.

It started as a simple FaceTime call from his cheap hotel bed, like any other day he’s away. But the grumbling deep voice on the other end of the phone, mixed with three days without his touch, made you shivery and needy. You didn’t know Ushijima was thinking the same thing. The slight mess of your bed hair and bare skin around your shoulders and chest from the small cami you were wearing made his breath catch in his chest, blood rushing south instantly.

“I dunno I might go grocery s-shoppping” you mumble out, cursing yourself for stumbling over your words as your fingers ghost over your clit, the slickness from your arousal easing your movements between your legs. Ushi can hear the sheets shuffling, the way your legs spread to give you more space to slide your fingers deep inside yourself, the wet sounds not breezing past your boyfriend's ears without notice. “Get us some f-food for when you come home?” You can’t hide the way your breath catches in your throat as you catch the spot deep inside you, the spot that Ushijima knows makes you scream and gush around him. “W-what would you like to eat?”

If Ushijima could answer honestly, he’d want to eat you. Spend hours between your legs as he swirls his warm tongue around and over your clit, strong hands pinning your legs to the bed as he spits and devours your cunt. There’s nothing better than the idea of you cumming over his mouth, writhing and wriggling under his firm grip, as two fingers curl and scissor inside you, knowing that he’s prepped you enough for his cock. Prepped you enough so that the stretch around him doesn’t hurt you as much as it should.

Just the thought of him being between your legs, cunt stretched so beautifully around him as he pushes inside you, your soft, plush thighs wrapped around his waist as he bucks his hips up into your swollen cunt. Imagining the way your warm walls surround him as he pins you to the mattress, a large hand wrapped around your tiny throat, completely at his mercy, has him pushing his hips into the mattress.

“Erm, chicken of some type?” Lower. His voice was definitely lower, almost a snarl as he talks to you, the pressure of his cock against the mattress making his eyes roll to the back of his head briefly.

“S-stir fry?” You turn your head to meet his gaze through the screen, your eyes are glazed over. Your glossy ones meet his lust filled stare, his lips are parted in small gasps and grunts. You know exactly how his other hand is gripping the sheets, knuckles turning whiter and whiter everytime the head of his cock catches against the bumps of the sheets and mattress. Neither of you bothering to hide from eachother, you let out a whine, letting your mouth hang open as you speed your fingers up against your clit.

How you wish you could see his swollen, leaking cock right now. The way it twitches with every grind forward, how the pre cum beads at the head of his cock before dripping down the shaft. But the way his face is scrunched up as he closes his eyes, the few beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and how the hand holding the phone is shaking ever so slightly drives you insane. You can hear the squeak of his hotel mattress everytime he moves against it, the steady sound obvious to anyone near his room. The gentle banging of the headboard against the wall would make anyone think he’s Railing someone hard, but it’s just him, desperately rutting against the bed.

Ushi growls out a “Fuck baby” and that’s all it takes for you to arch your back and cry out for him, fingers rubbing speedily at your swollen clit and leaking pussy. The lewd sounds of your sweet slick dripping out of you mixed with the sweet Mewls you let out, driving ushi over the edge. His hips roll one, two times before he grunts out, body shaking as he cums, spilling all over his boxers and the sheets underneath him. His cock is throbbing over the thought of cumming inside you, marking you as his. Breeding you and filling you up with his cum. He lets out a shaky breath, staring into your eyes as he watches your arm moving fast in the view of the camera.

“Cum for me” he growls, voice low and gruff as he commands you to cum. And you’re not one to disobey him, your fingers move faster as you grind up into your touch. A high whimper leaves your mouth as you reach the point of orgasm, swiftly followed by a loud and needy moan, directing it at your boyfriend. Your body shakes and twitches as you ride it out, a layer of sweat adorning your skin.

“Fuck...” you whisper, finally going limp against the sheets and pillows “I miss you... so much” his gaze has softened as he smiles gently at you. He so desperately wants to reach through the screen to stroke your cheek with his thumb, hooking his fingers under your chin and pull you in for a deep kiss. To feel how your spit mixes together, and how it drips over your chin after he’s fucked you dumb on his cock.

He chuckles deeply, it rumbling through his chest “Oh just you wait till I’m home baby”

He was late. Which was a first, because there was no skirting around anything with him, either five minutes early or exactly on time. Maybe it was the nerves making you work double speed, looking at the clock every other second, turning on your phone and forgetting to actually look at the time and having to turn it on again, revisiting the last message he’d sent you - a blunt text telling you he was just getting a taxi from the airport and that he should be back in about thirty minutes.

Forty minutes ago. The skin around your thumb was raw with how you’d been nibbling at it, but not from nerves, if the dampness of your underwear and the tension in your core was anything to go by. No, you were ridiculously turned on, from what? From everything, from nothing, from him and that goddamn look he gave you two nights ago, paired with a few choice words that sparked lightning up your spine just remembering them.

“Baby.”

In that blunt, dark voice of his, croaky from sleep and strained from moaning your name, lips swollen from how hard he’d been biting it to stop himself grunting and snarling as loud as he usually did. God - that was what you were waiting for, the sounds of him, the smell of him, the taste of him, of his mouth, of his fingers, of his cock.

You shivered, a wave of lust clouding your mind for a split second, daring to slide a hand between your thighs, trembling and tensing already, and all you’d done was think about him. 3 days, 3 fucking days and you were reduced to this quivering mess on the couch at the thought of Ushijima coming through that door and finally - finally giving you what he’d promised during that call.

A muffled vibration and ding sprung you from your thoughts, from your quick spiralling down into a puddle on the floor, ripping your fingers from your underwear to pick up your phone, heart stopping and breath catching at the singular word on the screen.

Here

It was a fucking word and yet, a fresh wave of arousal flushed through your body and you struggled to stand, shaking with adrenaline and panting heavily, the implications of the word taking a toll on your body and if you were in your right mind - you’d probably slapped yourself and remarked on how desperately pathetic you were acting. But it had been 3 days, 3 agonising days of waiting and texting and barely being able to talk to him outside his strict schedule and your shifts at work.

And now? He was here, he was here and you could hear the elevator ding at the end of the corridor and the back of your neck heated, and all you could see was the front door and your hand gripping the handle, and something thumped to the ground and -

He was here. Ushijima - he was stood right there, at arm’s length, neck pillow tucked under one arm and duffle bag slumped at his feet. That must have been the thing that fell to the floor, but you don’t really care because he’s staring at you with the dark, dangerous look on his face and it should have struck playful fear into you but all you could do was whimper,

“Toshi,”

You sounded so much better saying his name in real life, fresh and feeble and sending blood draining from his head so fast, one hand shot out to grab the door frame. Ushijima strained, against everything, knuckles turning white and he probably could have cracked the woodwork, cock unbearably hard and aching within seconds of seeing you. It would have been a lie to say that he hadn’t been half hard the entire time after your call, unable to get the vision of you with your head tossed back and your eyes scrunching in pleasure, cumming deliciously from the frantic movements of your fingers beneath your pyjamas.

“Again,”

You squeak, he’s never sounded like that before, never been so low and so gruff, on the verge of snapping, avoiding your eye because if he could see the wrecked gaze you fixed on him -

“Toshi - please,”

His shirt ripped from the force with which he tore it over his head, one arm getting caught in his desperate attempt to strip and he very nearly tripped when his foot caught in the strap of his duffle bag, dragging it over the threshold before untangling himself,

“Again, say it again baby,”

He’s on you before you know what’s going on, kicking the door shut but neither of you hear it click, too consumed in each other to really worry about the fact his bag is preventing you two from having complete privacy. But you can’t think, you can’t form a single thought apart from,

“Toshi - Toshi more please!” Ushijima’s mouth swallowing your words almost instantly, one of his hands cupping the entirety of the back of your head, tilting you just so and allowing him to lick into you, feasting on your lips and tongue like a man starved and for a second, you realise he probably is. And so are you, god - you’re hungry for everything he has to offer, wrapping your hands around his waist and trying desperately to shove his sweat pants down, hissing when he accidentally bit your lip too hard but he’s dipping to your neck and delivering an even harsher bite -

“Fuck,”

Your legs give out, like they usually do under his rough assaults of your neck but you often have a bed or a couch behind you, nothing cushioning you from the hard wood floors of the hallway except for the fat of your ass and his arms encircling your head and shoulders.

“Here - I’m fucking you here, I can’t wait,” Ushijima follows you down, mouth barely leaving yours, form engulfing yours, hands trapping yours. He spreads you out on the cold floor, snarling when he gets a face of your chest from how violently you arch at the temperature and the painful nips left over the skin of your collar bone.

Ushijima isn’t much of a talker when he’s got you trembling underneath him, but the comments that are spat unfiltered from his mouth do absolutely nothing to curb the bright hot lust making you loose all semblance of control,

“Fuck - you’re soaking, did you wait for me? Did you make yourself cum again after I ended the call? No? I didn’t - I’ve been waiting for two days to do this, to touch you like this, put my hands on your body like this - fuck baby you’re so needy - no, here, look at me,”

You hadn’t even realised you had closed your eyes and thrown your head back, feeling thick fingers digging into your jaw and forcing you to look at him, dark eyes tracing every inch of your face while he dragged the other hand down your torso, short nails catching the loose fabric of your dress. It was a short moment of clarity; him looking at you, you looking at him, eyes softening so something akin to affectionate love before it was overwhelmed with predatory intent, that soft touch of his hand shoving your thighs apart and sinking into your underwear,

“M’not - I can’t wait, I can’t - let me,”

“Yes! Yes! Toshi please!”

You two sound ridiculous, desperate and clawing at each other, your smaller fingers shoving his trousers down over his ass and your entire body jolts when his cock dropped heavily on to your cunt, hot and angry and hard as fucking steel, throbbing against your clit and you clench around nothing, the anticipation too much to contain.

Ushijima is in no better state than you, fumbling with his footing with snaps of his jaw and he’s entirely too rough with the way he pumps himself, grinding against the silk of your cunt in a feeble attempt to try and prep you, to make the breach less painful, less of a stretch but you need that, you do and it’s driving you crazy, and it’s probably driving him crazy too,

“Go - Toshi, please, I can’t - fuck me please!”

The strength that emerges from the man astounds you every time, hoisting your thighs high up his waist and then apparently changing his mind, throwing your ankles over his shoulders and looming over you, sinking into you with once, debilitating thrust of his hips. And the noise that left him, oh god - it was borderline animalistic, debauched and wrecked, and one of the hottest things you think you’ve ever heard.

He’s got his hands either side of your head, clawing against the floor for purchase, immediately starting a brutal pace, the slap of his skin on yours echoing throughout the apartment, drowned out only by the high pitched squeals coming from your mouth and the filthy way he was talking down at you,

“Taking me so well baby, so fucking well - m’so proud of you, didn’t need any prep - fuck! So tight, so goddamn tight f’me -,” he doesn’t soften, not when the sounds of your pussy creaming around his cock grows louder with every sharp snap of his hips, shoving your legs into your chest and forcing harsh shouts from your throat,

“Yes! Daddy - missed you so, so much - harder, please! I’ll be s’good for you, so good just - hah - harder!”

Neither of you realise that every sound your bodies produce, every squelch and click of your cunt, every growl and deep snarl from his chest, every needy squeal and plea from your lips can be heard all the way down the corridor. The front door was still open, propped from where the duffle bag had prevented it from closing, the light from the corridor providing a perfect spotlight for the unsuspecting neighbour who dared venture out to see what all the noises were.

The vision of Ushijima’s back rippling and rolling with his bringing his hand to close around your throat, prompting a garbled hiccup and tears to spring in your eyes, and your little feet dangling uselessly over his shoulders probably should have rendered them silent, shocked and rooted to the spot.

But the quiet gasp was caught by the hulking creature on top of you, quirking his head and making eye contact with them for a split second before simply resuming his quick, paralysing thrusts, harder even than before - drawing a high pitched wail from your throat and there was no mistaking the fluid splashing on the floor, mingling with white and smearing over his balls, slapping against your ass.

A leg struck out, kicking the door shut and locking the duffle outside, looking as sorry for itself and your neighbour, cheeks flushed and eyes slightly glassy, still reflecting the vision of you cumming harshly on Ushijima’s cock, and him simply continuing to fuck you through it, the sounds of you two muffled but no less poignant against the calm stupor of the corridor.

And so what if it carried on, moving through the apartment and quiet possibly earning a complaint from the complex security but neither of you could hear the phone ringing over the bed creaking and slamming against the wall, too consumed in each other, too wound up in the sounds you could pull and the reactions you could bring forward. Damn - if him only being gone for three days turned you both into needy desperate animals, then how the hell would you cope with his next match that required over a week away in a completely different country?

Please follow Izzy she’s a genius and the reason for me being horny @m-mortimer

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Eivor x Fem!Reader - Ink Me Up

Oh, what to do when the Norwegian woman tattooing your thigh is insanely attractive, clearly gay, with a criminally good bedside manner?

Warning: about tattooing and obviously needles.

Word count: 4363

Can be found on AO3 here.

Heavily inspired by this post here. The tattoo itself is purely self-indulgent. Eivor is stupidly attractive and it's not fair. (Y/N) replacer safe.

After months of saving and deliberation, the time had come. For the longest time you had dreamed of getting something big, bold and beautiful permanently inked into your skin. Something meaningful. And you wanted someone talented to tattoo it.

Thus, you found yourself scouring the web for reputable tattoo shops, hours upon hours poured into searching artists’ portfolios, hoping that someone was skilled enough at black-and-grey realism within a relatively close radius. If you were going to pay a hefty sum for a tattoo, you wanted it to be perfect. Your desktop was flooded with reference images of sword lilies – the subject of your desired ink – and about a dozen different parlours, tabs whittling down one by one during your search.

The final tab was the website for a slightly pricier shop, but one of the artist’s Instagrams utterly captivated you. Their artwork was extraordinary, the details in their pieces stunning and intricate; you decided investing a little extra cash would be worth it. Eivor Varinsdóttir, handle @wolfkissed_ink. Grinning, you emailed the artist, requesting a consultation.

You explained to the artist during that consultation that you wanted a composition of black-and-grey realistic gladioli on your left thigh. Sword lilies represented strength, after all, and you wanted to commemorate overcoming a difficult part of your life with something gorgeous and symbolic. That and, well, flowers were pretty. Within the week they had responded with a sketch that was beyond what you could have possibly thought up yourself: two stunning, bloomed sprigs of the flower with petals floating either side, lifelike as a monochrome photograph. Smiling ear-to-ear, you booked up your first appointment.

Unbridled excitement led to the time before your appointment soaring by, with you opening up the file of the sketch almost every day. Bringing us to the present: you stood anxiously outside the parlour door, 12:50pm, ten minutes before your scheduled appointment. Sucking in a shaky breath, nerves both good and bad, you stepped inside.

The tattoo shop was sleek, modern and decked wall-to-wall with flash sheets, the small designs varying in style, colour and detail. Everything was spotless, as one would expect, with shining awards dotted about. Just seeing the various trophies did well to quell some of your anxieties, knowing you were in good hands, that you’d end up with a lovely piece on your thigh. A stout man covered neck to foot in swirling Japanese designs manned the front desk, smiling warmly at you, obliterating any stigmas you had heard from older relatives about tattoo culture.

Biting your lip, you made your way to the desk, mustering a nervous smile. As thrilled as you were about getting the tattoo, the whole pain aspect was still rather daunting. “Hey, one o’clock appointment for (Y/N) (L/N)?” You fidgeted with the hem of your shorts while the gentleman checked his desktop.

“With Eivor, right?” he verified. You nodded.

“Sorry I’m a little early—”

“No, not at all! Rather you be early than late,” he chuckled, clearly sensing your worries. His eyes flickered across a clipboard. “She’s not with a client at the moment, so I’ll send you through now, if that’s alright.”

“Sounds good, thank you,” you bade, pulse quickening. Come on, you’ve wanted this for so long, you can’t pussy out now.

The guy asked you to wait by the desk as he ventured down a long corridor, the black paint giving off an ominous vibe that did nothing for your nerves. A few seconds later, he returned, cocking his head for you to follow. Your knuckles were white from gripping the strap of your purse so tightly.

He led you to the room at the end of the hall, holding the glossy black door open for you. “Go easy on her, Eivor, it’s clearly her first,” he called out, flashing you a wink, before letting the door close behind you.

Holy shit.

She was hot.

Eivor was nothing short of a modern day viking. Tall, rippling with muscle, late twenties to early thirties, blond hair strewn into an unruly braid with a strip on the right shaved clean to the flesh, revealing a fucking skull tattoo of a bird…a raven? Her face was stupidly handsome, eyes blue and icy but warm with greeting, a long and gnarly scar cutting into the flesh of her left cheek with a smaller nick protruding from her upper lip. Hell, the nape of her neck was marred with an even more vicious looking scar. She wore a tight black t-shirt that strained around her deliciously grizzled arms, which were adorned with Norse-looking runes and text curving into circles, ink that carried on to her hands and neck. The smile she offered you made you weak in the knees.

“(Y/N), right? I’m Eivor, a pleasure to meet you,” she greeted, voice deep and gravelly, decorated with a rasp that to you sounded like butter. Fuck me, she’s a tall, tall glass of water.

You shook her hand when she extended it to you, marvelling at the patterns and blacked-out bands on her long, thick fingers. Her nails were cut extremely short, confirming the strong lesbian vibe she gave off. “Likewise,” you squeaked, cursing yourself for acting like some bloody schoolgirl.

She sauntered over to her setup, weight carried in her shoulders, consolidating her already intimidatingly attractive butch energy, sanitised her hands and pulled on a clean pair of gloves. “Come on over,” she said, grabbing a disposable razor from a box. “I’ll just need to make sure the area is shaven, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” you replied, joining her by the leather chair, covered by a sheet of cellophane. It was a relief to see all the hygiene precautions taken in the shop. Eivor picked up a disinfectant wipe.

“Left thigh, if I remember correctly?”

“Mhm, yeah.”

She dropped to one knee – wasn’t that a fucking sight – and wiped down the expanse of your thigh before gliding the razor over the flesh.

Hesitantly, you asked her what the general procedure was, desperately trying to divert your thoughts from the sapphic spiral they were travelling down.

“Alright, after I’ve finished here I’ll apply the stencil. You’ll get to check if you like the placement, and if you don’t I’ll keep going until you’re happy with it. It’s a big piece, so we’ll have to split this up into two sessions, as we discussed alongside payment.” She brushed away the loose hairs and peach fuzz. “I’ll do the linework this session, and the shading next time.” With one final pass of the razor she pulled back, tossing it into a bin.

Eivor then picked up a sheet of thin paper with the sketch printed on it. She plucked a purple pen from her table. “Give me a few minutes to trace the stencil, then we’ll apply it and see how you like it.” You nodded, trying to focus on your breathing.

While she traced over each line of the sketch, she kindly attempted to soothe your fears with small talk. “I’ll admit, I’ve never heard of a ‘gladiolus’ before our consultation. Any reason why you chose it?”

You smiled. “They represent strength. I finally got through a rough spell and wanted something to celebrate with,” you explained, heart skipping a beat at the soft expression on the artist’s face.

“All the more reason to get this perfect then,” she said with a grin. The way the scar on her upper lip quirked was positively adorable. A couple minutes passed and she re-capped the pen. “Stand up straight for me, darling.” Oh.

Cheeks burning with bashfulness, you complied. Eivor took a second to angle the stencil before smoothing it over your thigh, leaving a purple outline once she removed the paper. “Just have a look in that mirror over there and tell me if you’re happy, okay?”

You walked over to the mirror and stared at your thigh. The tattoo was large – which you expected, with the amount of detail in it – and perfectly central, the loose petals appearing to float down the length of your thigh. “Perfect,” you breathed out, giving the woman a thumbs-up.

Eivor switched over her gloves and gestured for you to take a seat on the chair. “Get comfy, then. Do you have water?” Nodding, you took out your water bottle from your handbag. “Brilliant. Still want to do this?”

“Hell yeah.” Weirdly, the nerves about the pain (not about the sexy artist) had almost wholly subsided, leaving you brimming with anticipation.

She poured some jet black ink into small caps, no larger than the tip of your thumb. “Remember to breathe through it and hold still, yeah? You picked a smart place for your first tattoo, not too close to the bone.”

“I’ll try.” Eivor opened a sealed packet containing a new, sterilised needle, inserting it into her tattoo machine. She switched it on, the buzz of the machine’s piston filling the room with a gentle hum. Looking up at you, she cocked her brow – if only your gay thoughts could bugger off for two minutes – as if to ask, ready? Affirmatively, you beamed at her.

Dipping the needle into the ink, she pulled the skin of your thigh taut. Immediately, you noted the warmth of her hand on your leg, fighting off a shudder. Then came a mildly painful scratching sensation as she brought the machine to your thigh.

Honestly? It wasn’t bad. Irritating, like an itchy eye, but not drastically unpleasant. You followed Eivor’s advice, keeping your breathing steady, averting your attention to the artwork on the walls, some of which you had seen on her Instagram portfolio. Portraits, flowers, animals, realistic-looking jewellery…the woman had mastered black-and-grey. You knew you picked the right artist. The frown of concentration on her face spoke volumes about her dedication to the art, steeled and intently focused on the lines she was pulling.

When she wiped the area and reached for more ink, she glanced up at your face. “All good?” she asked.

“Yeah, no issues here.”

“Wonderful.” She set back to work, positioning her needle over the flower’s curved stem, dragging it downwards in a slow arc. “Your skin takes ink like butter, by the way.”

“Oh, that’s good,” you breathed out. Her hand suddenly felt a little warmer. Tell me this woman does audiobooks, you thought.

After a few more lines, you tried to pepper in some small talk without breaking her concentration. Fortunately, her bedside manner was immaculate, and she entertained your questions without any grudges.

“Your voice is really soothing. Where abouts are you from?”

“Oh, thank you. I’m from Norway, moved here a few years back.” She grinned at the compliment. “It’s funny, people usually say the opposite about my voice.” You wondered if they were deaf.

“It’s a nice rasp,” you chuckled. Buzzing stopped, more ink.

“I was bitten by a wolf when I was nine,” she explained. Buzzing recommenced, scratching returned. “My larynx never properly healed from it, so I’ve sounded like some chain-smoker since before I hit double-digits, despite never touching a cigarette in my life.”

“You don’t sound like a chain-smoker, though. I mean it.”

Her grin widened. “That actually means a lot.”

An hour passed by, most of it spent in comfortable silence, with Eivor checking in on you occasionally to see how you were coping. Certain patches of nerves stung a little more than others, but none of it was unbearable. That was until her machine passed over a particularly rough area. It fucking killed, the burn of the needle seemingly deeper than anywhere else, the sting infinitely more intense than before. You hissed, gritting your teeth together.

“Ow,” you winced, clutching onto your water bottle in an attempt to relieve the pain, to no avail.

Eivor continued pulling her line, her rasp coming out in a low mantra. “Just breathe through it, nice and slow…” You tried to follow, attempting in vain to relax your shoulders. “Keep holding still for me…” Your breaths came shallow but steadily so, the stinging slowly becoming more endurable. The machine reached the end of the line. “Good girl,” she muttered, blissfully of absent mind.

Good girl.

Oh fuck.

Just when your clearly gay tattoo artist couldn’t get any hotter, she comes out with some hot-girl bullshit like that. And fuck, you didn’t think you had a praise kink before, but now this certainly awakened something. Why, why did it have to sound so good in her husky voice? No, you were absolutely not going to fantasise about your artist, not when her hands were on your skin, on your thigh of all fucking places. God, this stupidly attractive Norwegian butch was making you uncomfortably hot.

When she finally pulled away, sweet bloody reprieve, you took a sip of your water. “That wasn’t fun,” you remarked.

“Took it like a champion, though,” she beamed proudly, clearly unaware of the affect her words had just had on you. “Need a break?”

“Just a minute or two, thank you,” you sighed with relief. Eivor wiped you down and analysed her work.

“We’re just over halfway there,” she commented. Only halfway? Fuck. You allowed your eyes to wander over the black lines, all perfectly smooth from practiced precision. Yeah, this woman was talented.

“I mean, that killed, and that was my thigh…” you trailed off, making her laugh. “What was the most painful tattoo you’ve gotten?”

Eivor answered without hesitation. “My head, without a doubt. Packing solid black into that thing was agony. My fingers killed, too, but all completely worth it.” You couldn’t help but agree with that last part. Her hands looked extremely good, both with and without those gloves.

“I’m guessing places with more nerve endings and by the bone are the worst, then?”

“Definitely. The palm of the hand is the most sensitive, and it’s tough to get right. Ink bleeds, skin bleeds…and if you don’t do it well it’ll just fade. All that pain for nought.”

You gulped down some more water. Ouch. “Duly noted.”

After ninety odd more minutes, Eivor switched off her machine for good, the linework finished and utterly flawless. “All done for this session,” she announced, changing gloves once more to clean and wrap the area. There was minimal irritation around each line, and the wipe felt wonderfully cool against the reddening flesh.

Once she finished placing various equipment in a tub labelled ‘autoclave’, she escorted you to the front desk. You paid half the decided fee of the tattoo and booked your second session for three weeks’ time. Eivor gave you an aftercare kit, explaining in detail how to keep the tattoo clean, how to prevent infection, and to avoid direct exposure to sunlight as much as you could. Eagerly, you listened, trying to drink in as much of her voice as possible before departing.

“I’ll see you in three weeks, then. Take care, (Y/N),” she grinned. From the moment you stepped out of the shop, you knew that grin would be engraved into your mind for the weeks to come.

  The second appointment couldn’t have come quickly enough.

You spent an embarrassing quantity of time thinking about your dreamy tattoo artist, right up until the day you walked back into the shop, this time free of any concerns pertaining to the tattoo. The gentleman from before recognised you and asked how the tattoo was holding up, if you’d had any issues keeping it clean, to which you replied all was good. Only this time, Eivor came to greet you by the front desk.

“How’s it going?” she asked, welcoming as before.

“Really good. I just hope I’ve been doing everything right,” you chuckled, anxiously glancing down at your thigh. The redness had completely disappeared a few days after your first appointment, the black ink proudly meandering over your skin.

Eivor smiled reassuringly. “Trust me, you’d know if you haven’t. From here it looks like you’ve done a fantastic job of keeping it clean, anyway.” You followed her to her studio, mentally noting how she was wearing an even tighter black t-shirt than last time, the fabric clinging to the defined contours of her muscled back, biceps, abs… Needless to say, the gay thoughts had returned at full-force.

As before, she shaved and disinfected your thigh, but instead of a stencil she had the full greyscale reference images for the design printed and taped to a metal beam above her table. She took careful time in diluting various caps of black ink into a plethora of greys, experience shining through as she added precise amounts of diluter to each cap. There was something addictive about watching the woman work, with how methodical she was, how delicately she handled the bottles of ink.

When she unpacked a needle, you noted the shape was different to before. “Now, some parts are gonna be only a little rougher than before. Others will suck, I’ll warn you now,” she mentioned as you positioned yourself on the chair.

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” you joked. Eivor laughed.

“You handled it like a trooper before. I have zero doubts you’ll do the same today.”

And so she began, making multiple passes with the machine unlike before, packing in the different shades of grey in front of her, scratching into the already broken skin. It wasn’t massively painful, but Eivor was right – last time was a breeze in comparison. You rested your eyes and bore the pain, focusing on the faint music playing from the shop’s reception.

As previously, she was ever considerate, checking up on you as she worked – albeit not as frequently, now that you were accustomed to the needles – and encouraging you through the nastier patches. You tried your hardest to not look at your thigh, wanting the final result to be a surprise, but over time it grew increasingly difficult not to sneak a glance at her hands. Merely the thought of them flustered you (pathetic, you knew) and nothing would be more embarrassing than drifting off into a less than appropriate fantasy about the woman when she was simply being professional.

Time blurred together amongst your inner dilemma – to look or not to look – until Eivor’s signature rasp caught your attention. “Time for your least favourite part,” she said, giving you a knowing look, positioning her needle in one of the petals over the area that hurt like a bitch previously.

“Oh god, I forgot about that area.”

“Just own the pain and keep still, alright?”

“I’ll try.”

Eivor smirked: a wicked thing that could have killed every sapphic in a mile radius. “Squirm and I’ll pin you down. I’ve had to do it before, and I’ll do it again.”

That, under different circumstances, would be an appealing notion.

Closing your eyes once more, you tried to decipher the song lyrics resonating through the shop’s hall, grimacing when the needle penetrated the skin. Just focus on Rihanna, focus on Rihanna…

“That’s…not so bad, actually,” you mutter, not entirely self-assured of the words leaving your lips, hoping some placebo affect would take place.

Eivor chuckled, dipping into another shade. “You sound convincing,” she drawled.

“I’m – ow – serious… Okay fuck, that’s way worse.”

“Shh, it’ll be over soon. Find something to focus on.”

So you did, on what happened to be the first thing in your immediate line of sight when you re-opened your eyes: Eivor’s bicep. God, her shirt strained around the muscle, black fabric against tanned skin and the deep green runes littering her arm. Perhaps the ink had something to do with her ancestry, given that the woman said she was Norwegian – that or she was just a mythology nerd. Your eyes trailed over the spirals of script, the perfectly concentric circles. Mind wandering, the idea that she may have tattoos on her back and front piqued your interest. Then came the delightful image of Eivor without a shirt. Pinning you down. Fuck.

Before long the pain subsided, leaving a dull ache where the needle had worked at your skin. “All done, darling,” Eivor murmured, wiping the patch. Darling. You knew it was simply her bedside manner, trying to keep you as relaxed as possible, but damn was it having the polar opposite effect. Cheeks feeling impossibly hot, you unscrewed the cap of your bottle and took a sizeable gulp of water. She gave you a moment to breathe, now that the most difficult part was out of the way. Still flustered, you drained half your bottle.

Concern plastered on her face, Eivor leaned closer, inspecting your face intently. “Are you feeling faint?” she asked, evidently worried. “It’s important you tell me if you are—”

“No, no, I’m fine, really.” You were stuttering, annoyed with yourself that you made her worry. “Just being weird. I promise.”

“You do?” Her eyebrows were still upturned, not entirely believing you.

You nodded frantically. “Yeah, really. Please don’t worry.”

Taking a slow breath, she restarted the machine, relief flashing across her features. She gestured for permission to continue tattooing, which you granted, and set back to work.

Cursing internally, you let your eyes flutter shut, thoughts full of nothing but ‘good girls’ and ‘darlings’ in a husky Norwegian accent. Numbing yourself to the needles, you drifted off into slumber.

  “Hey, (Y/N)?”

A gentle pressure squeezed at your hand, slowly stirring you, bringing you back to the world of the living. Yawning, you opened your eyes, gaze brought to a gloved hand atop your own.

“Good evening,” Eivor said, retracting her hand and watching as you gasped and scanned the studio for a clock in a panic. Evening?

“Kidding,” she laughed. “I finished up ten minutes ago.” You shot her a half-hearted glare through sleepy eyelids.

“That was mean,” you pouted. She grinned.

“I do stab people for a living.”

Snorting, you swung your legs over the side of the chair, stretching them to regain a semblance of sensation. Chest pounding with excitement, you looked to the mirror at the side of the room, then at Eivor, silently asking permission to peak at the finished tattoo. She held out her hand in gesticulation.

Giddy with anticipation, you walked over and… Holy shit.

It was beautiful.

Each shade of grey blended into one another in a perfect harmony, so seamlessly that the black outline from before was barely visible. The shadows underneath each leaf, each petal looked real. Every speckle and wrinkle on the petals shone through, love and attention going into every marking. The falling petals were akin to a photograph, with the light grey background wash tying them to the main flowers, each little shadow appearing to give them different depths. It was beyond anything you imagined. All that pain, mental and physical, turned into a lifetime of beauty.

You didn’t realise you were crying until the salt of tears rolled into your awe-parted mouth.

“I’m, well… Wow.” Beaming, you turned to face your artist, who looked at her artwork with pride. “Thank you, Eivor. Thank you so much.”

She shook her head and offered you a box of tissues, from which you took one gladly. “I’m just honoured to have helped you lay that chapter of your life to rest. May the sword-lilies battle any shreds of it that remain.”

Stunned by her poetic inclination, you dried your eyes in silence, lips curved into a joyous smile. Meanwhile, she removed her gloves.

“You have tissues at the ready. I’m guessing people cry a lot here?” you asked, finally prying your eyes away from the masterpiece on your thigh.

“Mostly from the pain,” she remarked.

“You know, you could just lie to me so I don’t feel like such a fucking sap.”

The sound that left Eivor’s mouth in response was nothing if not angelic. She practically howled in hearty laughter, echoing through her studio, her eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t think it possible for your grin to widen further still, but her outburst was contagious in the best way.

“I’m glad you’re happy with it. Truly,” she breathed out, chest stilling from her fit.

“It’s beautiful. Happy is an understatement.”

Eivor made her way over to the desk in the corner of the studio, where a graphics tablet lay alongside a stylus. “Now, before I dress it, I’m legally required to ask you if I have permission to photograph the tattoo for advertisement purposes. I appreciate it’s a personal subject matter and completely understand if—”

“Go for it,” you shrugged.

“Are you certain?” You nodded.

“Of course. It’s a work of art.” The smile she gave you was genuine.

“This’ll only take a minute. Thank you, really.”

She knelt down and snapped a picture with the tablet, checking the quality. “All done.” Eivor then proceeded to sanitise her hands and slip on one last pair of gloves, grabbing the wipes and plastic wrap from her station. “The photo will be uploaded to the shop’s website and my professional Instagram, if that’s alright with you. Completely anonymous, of course.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Although, it’ll be weird seeing my leg on my feed.” She chuckled.

“Feel free to email or DM if you have any concerns with the healing.” Patting your leg, she stood up to her full height, placing her gloves in a biohazard ziplock. “Well, I’m honoured to have given you your first tattoo.”

“Honoured to be your…canvas?”

And just like that, your time with the artist was up. You watched wistfully as she put together an aftercare pack at the front desk, your previously overjoyed expression drifting into a sad one. After paying, you thanked her one final time.

“Take care, søta,” she said with a wink.

The very moment you arrived back home, you whipped out a Norwegian-to-English translator and immediately tried to replicate her pronunciation of the word she called you, blushing profusely when discovering it meant ‘cutie’. And upon opening your cleaning pack, you found an addition that wasn’t present in your previous bundle:

A small slip of paper. On one side, a mobile number. On the other, in beautifully neat cursive,

I’d love to take you to dinner. Text me if you’re interested?

Yours, Eivor

[leah-bobeea]

Magazine Girl; Steve Rogers

You ever start writing a fic about a journalist reader at two am who’s eventually gonna end up doing steeb, over his desk, biting down on his expensive leather belt?

❀ ❀ ❀

Warnings: CEO!Steve x Journalist!Reader, Angst, Steve’s a little mean, Bossy Steve, Shy/Anxious reader, Dom!steve, mentions spanking, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, coercion (a little teensy bit), Bad writing lol

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Terrible writing w/ a terribly rushed ending. Written on my phone, in my notes app, not beta read, and barely proofread.

❀ ❀ ❀

Yes, your hands were busy. Not busy typing out a rough draft of this stupid article on Steve Rogers, not busy calling his secretary to set up a meeting with the man, or the closest to him you could get, not busy doing their job at all. They were busy tapping your pen against the glass tabletop of your desk, successfully annoying Wanda, who sent you an aggravated look from across the room.

“Seriously, Y/n?” Wanda moved from where she was at her desk, clearly not making a breakthrough on her article for this month's issue either. You could only shake your head in reply. Throwing your head back to stare at the ceiling, you starting explaining. “Maria gave me this huge article, Wanda. Cover! And, trust me, I know she’s testing me and doesn’t think I’ll actually be able to do it so she can fire me, or belittle me, or- or something! I don’t know what to do, help me, bestie.” As you finished rambling you looked up at her with your best puppy dog eyes, hoping for some of that amazing advice she gives.

Wanda laughed and pulled a chair over from an empty desk, sitting down and haphazardly throwing her feet on top of your cluttered tabletop. “She wouldn’t give you an article you couldn’t handle, she loves you, Y/n. If it’s truly as difficult as you’re making it out as that means that she knows you’re ready for it, and you’ll do amazing. Who’s it on anyway?”

She was doing such a good job at easing your nerves until she brought up the topic. You whined high in your throat and threw your head to the side before uttering, “Steven Rogers,” you turned your body back to Wanda, “What more do I need to say?” Her eyes widened just a little. “Sheesh...I’d start making phone calls, and praying, maybe?”

❀ ❀ ❀

“Hello, Miss. Carter, um- this is Y/n L/n with Shield Mag-“ “Please hold, dear.”

You pulled the phone away from your head and let it rest on your naked thigh, quickly pressing the speaker button. It was times like this when you were grateful that you let your grandma convince you to buy a house phone. Peggy Carter was the fifth person you’d contacted trying to get an interview with this man and she was the second lady that humored you enough to at least pretend like she’d get back to you.

She’s his main assistant so you might have better luck this time...

Thirty minutes later you had your head inches off the ground and your toes wiggling in the air. Humming the annoying hold music to yourself, you braided, unbraided, and re-braided a single strand of your hair. At thirty-nine minutes you were ready to give up until you heard a click on the other line.

You scrambled to turn off the speaker and press the phone back to your ear.

“Miss. Carter I was hoping to set up an interview with Mr. Rogers, over the phone, in person, or through email, if that’s possible?” You asked, hopeful that she wouldn’t shoot you down immediately like everyone else.

“Well, Magazine Girl, I only do in person. But I am a very busy man, so I need to know right away, what’s in it for me?” Your breath hitched and you almost fell and cracked your head open from how startled hearing his voice made you. Then, you nearly gave yourself a head rush from how fast you sat up.

“Well, um, Sir, you would get a headlining article, and uh, a cover on the June issue of Shield Magazine. That’s um, that’s if you want a cover- you don’t have to be on the cover if you don’t want to, just the interview would be mentioned on the cover, but-“ His chuckle was gritty and vivid, effective in stopping your babble. “I’ll see you Friday around noon. Goodbye Magazine Girl.” He hung up on you before you could even comprehend anything but that captivating laugh.

You rubbed at your eyes and grabbed your planner and pen. “Friday at noon...”

❀ ❀ ❀

The next day you were back in the office, sitting in Wanda’s stiff chair with twin caramel lattes sitting in front of you. That was the thing about you, you’d come to work early bearing gifts just to tell your closest friend your good news. You’re sweet like that.

When Wanda arrived it was fifteen minutes later and your latte was halfway gone. Hearing her black stilettos click on the glossy linoleum made you perk up immediately. As she approached, you stood, handing her the latte and wrapping your arms around her lithe body.

“I got an interview!” You squealed, rocking your bodies side to side. She stilled you and smiled. “Gosh, that’s great, Y/n. How’d you get it?”

“Well, I called, like everyone, and he picked up, Wanda! he picked up! I’m scheduled for Friday, and my Lord, Wanda, his laugh, it's like honey...” You trailed off, sighing at the thought of him. Your head was rested on her shoulder, a faint smile on your face. “You’ve got a crush on him!” Wanda exclaimed, grabbing your shoulders and holding you an arm's length away to get a good look at your bashful face.

You gasped, “No I do not! That would be totally unprofessional!” The cackle that erupted from her made her sound like the wicked witch of the west. And honestly, under her stare, you felt like Dorothy stuck under that house.

When Wanda was finally done laughing maliciously she let you go, plopping down in her desk chair and sipping her latte. She pointed over and your desk and gave you a look. “Better start drafting those questions... we wouldn’t want you to blank on your crush.” “Wanda!”

❀ ❀ ❀

The days leading up to Friday were excruciatingly long, yet the hours until twelve flew past all too quickly.

It seemed as if your wardrobe was never ending, full of clothes that you deemed inappropriate for a meeting with the CEO of American Enterprises. You threw yourself back onto the bed, hair and makeup done but body still wrapped in a fluffy white towel. “Oh Milky, what am I gonna wear?” The soft white kitty glared at you from the pillow she was perched on, meowing at you aggressively.

Ten thirty blinked on the clock and you sat up, glancing at all of the clothes that were scattered on the floor. “I guess this will do.” You picked up the same emerald blazer you had chosen originally and layered it over some basic Levi’s, and gray low cut blouse flowing over your form. A belt was necessary, so you grazed over your options. Brown wouldn’t go, even though it was your only fancy belt. The only black one you had was old, the leather cracked and worn, but it had to do. You slipped on some pretty black heels, lucky that you painted your toes a similar color to your blouse. After accessorizing you sprayed your signature perfume, the one that got you your first college-aged boyfriend, and the same one that you were wearing when you got your first real job.

By the time you were on the Metro, it was eleven o’ six, and you were worried. If you were late you’d lose this chance, and probably your job. The car stopped around eleven fifteen, giving you fifteen minutes to make your way to the building, check-in, and try to not seem so nervous.

Finding the building wasn’t difficult at all, after all, it is the second biggest building in New York City, competing with Stark Tower. The “A” at the top wasn’t illuminated, but it still stood out against the other buildings, cowering over them.

You found that the doors were heavy and if you denied Wanda of going to those burn boot camps you would have extreme difficulty prying them open. The inside was classy, just as you expected. The lamps had blue shades and the front desk lit up with a design that resembled the American Flag, but with less curved stripes and only one large star.

The receptionist was one of the women who shot you down immediately when you called and was a little surprised when you checked in. “Hello, I’m here for Mr. Rogers, twelve o’clock?” She searched for something on her computer, clearly trying to see if the appointment was legitimate. When you were proven correct, she handed you a temporary security badge and a sharpie to write your name on it. “Have a seat over there when you’re finished. I’ll call for you when Mr. Rogers is ready for you.” She smiled, it was fake, but it helped you feel more comfortable.

The red couch was stiff and small, clearly not meant for long periods of sitting. The badge was clipped onto your blouse, not your blazer, and the weight of it was pulling at the already low cut neckline. You thought about moving it, but your attention was quickly turned to the coffee table, where your magazine sat, opened to an article you wrote. Your hands were a little shaky as you went to close the magazine, but you were interrupted before you could grasp the bent pages.

“Miss. Y/n? Mr. Rogers is ready for your interview. Head up to floor thirty six, the door on the right.” Miss receptionist sounded bored, her eyes never left the monitor in front of her. “Thanks.”

Some of the others in the waiting area looked up to you after hearing where you were going, causing you to blush.

You felt lucky to get the elevator to yourself. Thirty-six floors is a long way to go, yet you got there in under three. In the elevator you adjusted your outfit and flattened your hair, hoping it wasn’t frizzy.

The door on the right was clearly not just a meeting room but an office, which you thought was odd. You also found it odd that no one was in the room, you expected to at least be met with his assistant or secretary, if not Steve himself.

Your eyes scanned the room to make sure it was completely empty before taking a seat on the leather chair on the opposite side of the big desk. You opened your notebook and got out your lucky rooster pen before going over your questions once again, hoping he didn’t think they were stupid.

You waited fifteen minutes for him, growing increasingly irked as the minutes built up. When he walked through the door you felt like your heart stopped.

Six-four build covered in a black suit and tie, white undershirt pristine. Blonde hair disheveled and a perfectly manicured beard. The door slammed shut and you heard the clinking sound of a glass being set down. Steve lifted his head and you snapped yours to the front, hoping he didn’t catch you checking him out.

The room was silent besides a rustling coming from behind you. You busied yourself with your notebook, highlighting the questions you wanted to ask most.

“You’re a very patient girl.” He observed. Steve made you wait on purpose. He knew from the first person you called that you wanted an interview, he was friends with Maria Hill after all. But he wanted some entertainment, and after looking into you, he knew you were the right girl. So far he’s made you wait an hour and fourteen minutes for just a smidge of his attention.

“Yes, Sir.” You mumbled, accidentally stopping the highlighter too soon, pressing it down, and letting the pink ink bleed to the next page. He hummed in approval as he rounded the corner, drink in his hand, coat jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, first couple buttons loose. Finally, Steve sat in the big chair, keeping eye contact with you as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the mahogany table.

“Give me that.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his statement, “What?” You asked, putting your pen down on your lap. Steve motioned for your notebook, and you opened your mouth, starting to stumble over your words. “Oh? um- Okay?” You handed it over to him and he relaxed back into his chair. A question bubbled in your throat, but you didn’t let it escape. Instead, you watched as his eyes scanned the papers, blue cursive, and pink highlighter, little stars and flowers drawn in the corners. “Mr. Rogers, are you ready to start the interview?” You tapped your watch, twelve twenty four.

He nodded, “Yes, I’m ready.” You cleared your throat and went to ask for your notebook, but he beat you to it. “Miss. L/n, is there an achievement or something that you’ve contributed to me that you are most proud of?” Why was he asking you your own questions? “Sir, I-“ He cut you off once again. “Answer the question, doll.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I- um, no. I haven’t contributed anything to you that I should be proud of, Sir.”

“Is there a particular moment or memory of building this relationship that stands out to you?” He continued with the questions, tilting his head to the side. Why was he twisting the questions onto you? When you didn’t come up with an answer he chuckled, sounding sickly sweet like molasses dripping straight from the sugarcane. “Patience finally wearing thin, honey?” You nodded eyes staring at his chest, you couldn’t quite muster up the courage to look him in the eye.

He snapped your notebook closed and slid it towards your side of the grand desk. “You couldn’t answer my questions correctly, Y/n.” You nodded, eyes now downcast, admiring the pattern on the blue carpet. You felt like you were going to cry. This big scary man was mean and just wouldn’t let you conduct your interview and you didn’t know why. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I know you are, doll. But, if you can’t answer my questions how can I answer yours? You have nothing to offer me.” This was it, you were losing your chance. “Business wise, that is.” Your head shook, and your hands were clasped together, your left thumb rubbing your right nail back and forth. “I don’t understand, Sir.”

“I’m friends with Maria, Y/n. If you’re able to get this article done and get me on the cover you’re gonna get a promotion, you want that, right doll?” Your eyes went wide, “Yes, Sir.” Now, he stood, coming around to the front where you are and leaning against the desk. “She said to make it difficult, but I don’t care enough to do all that. So, doll, I’ll answer your questions. They’re quite good actually. And I’ll do a little photoshoot for the cover, but you’ll need to pay me back.” You gulped, hands suddenly sweaty, you felt like a little chihuahua, trembling under his gaze.

“How? Um, how do I pay you?” Gosh, even your voice was shaky. “Stand up. Lose the blazer.” Steve commanded, slowly unbuckling his belt. You could faintly tell from the buckle that it was Hermès. You stood and took off your blazer in a rush, folding it poorly and setting it on the arm of the chair. “Atta girl.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders and then ran them down to your hands, giving them a little squeeze before he hooked his index fingers into your belt loops, pulling you closer. So close that the tips of your shoes were touching. He leaned down to kiss your neck and you stiffened, but when he grazed his teeth over the bruised spot he just created you melted into him, your hands grasping at the pristine white button up, letting out a little whimper.

Steve pushed you back a little and took in your form, then he pulled the little security badge off, tossing it to the side. Like a little kid, he pulled at the neckline of your shirt. “Off.” You would’ve giggled at him if he didn’t look so scary right now. His blue eyes were piercing into yours, left hand so tight on your hip you thought he might leave bruises.

By the time your shirt hit the floor, he was pushing at your shoulders, hinting at you to go to your knees. “Sir, I don’t know-“

You started, knees hitting the carpet underneath you. He shushed you and guided your head to look up at him. “It's okay, baby, you don’t have to know how. I’ll do all the work, doll. Now, undo your bra.” As expected you did as he asked immediately, fumbling with the clasp until it fell down your arms. It ended up next to your thigh as you watched him pull his belt through the loops.

Steve walked around you and kneeled down, belt in his hands. “Put your hands behind your back.” You nodded immediately, so submissive, completely at his mercy. “Yes, Sir.” Steve loved how polite you were. He made quick work of restraining you, tying your hands to rest against your jean clad ass. The metal felt harsh against your skin and the soft, expensive leather snaked up your arms.

When he was back in front of you he sighed and shook his head. “I should’ve had you unzip me first.” Hearing Steve say that finally brought you to the reality of what was about to happen. You watched with big eyes as he undid the button and then the zipper, the sound making you tremble. His dress pants puddled on the floor and you were in awe as he massaged his bulge through his boxers. Slowly, he pulled them down to the middle of his thighs. His cock bounced up to hit his abdomen and he hissed as he stroked it a few times. “Open as wide as you can, honey.”

As always, you did as asked. Your tongue stuck out a little, wetting your bottom lip. He grasped the back of your head and leaned you forward a little, then you felt his blunt tip on your tongue. You gagged and spluttered when Steve was about halfway seated, he pulled out and leaned down, kissing you sloppily. “Breathe through your nose, baby. Don’t forget.” Then he was back at slowly entering your throat. “Fuck...” he grunted, finally fully seated in your throat, your nose pressed against his nicely groomed pubic hair. He caressed your throat then, rubbing the bulge in your throat, resisting the urge to press down and have you choke on his cock even more. “So good, Y/n.”

Steve started rocking into your throat, slowly fucking it as spit leaked from the corners of your mouth. After minutes of abusing your throat, he finally pulled out, adoring the way tears ran down your cheeks and how you hiccupped, wanting to desperately rub at your raw throat to soothe it. Your hands pulled at the belt and your eyes begged Steve to undo it. “Up, doll.”

He hoisted you up from your armpits and bent you over the desk. Steve pressed kisses down your back and reached in front of you, unbuckling your belt and throwing it somewhere to the left of you, then he unbuttoned and unzipped your pants, tugging them down with fervor.

Steve undid your restraints and left more kisses down your back until he reached your ass, spreading your cheeks to reveal your tight hole and glistening cunt. “I’d love to see this ass all bruised and red, but I’ll have to save that for another day.” His index and middle finger ran circles on your clit, your back arching to press into him more. “Sir, please!” You gasped, your hand flying out to the edge of the table and nearly knocking over the glass of whiskey he left on a coaster when Steve finally pushed two fingers into your aching hole.

“Gotta open you up first, doll, get you all sloppy and ready for my cock.” You cried out as he hooked his fingers, rubbing the magic spot inside of you. “Please, Steve, please.” He cooed at you, pulling his fingers out, and instead traced his name over your clit. “You gonna come, baby? Huh? You gonna drench my fingers, little girl?” You were moaning in wanton, hips humping his hand desperately. He brought his other hand down and started fingerfucking you again, giving you just enough to push you over the edge.

Your moans were breathy, your legs twitching, and you were panting by the time your orgasm faded. “I hope you know I’m not done with you yet, doll, I still haven’t come inside you.” That made you whine high in your throat and you tried, to no avail, to slam your legs shut around his hand.

Steve’s right hand fisted his cock a few times, making sure he’s rock hard and dripping with pre-cum, while his left kept your lips spread, showing him your gorgeous pussy. The blunt head at your entrance shocked you, and you yelped at the intrusion. “Sir!”

He leaned his head down and spit where you were joined, trying to make the glide even easier. “Shut up, doll.” He snapped after you cried out. Once he was as deep as possible inside of you he reached for his belt, looping it over as if he was going to spank you, and stuffed it into your mouth. “Bite down,” Steve demanded, a hand snaked around to the front of your neck where he was applying light pressure.

When you tried to push back against him he held your hips down against the wood steadily and started snapping his hips at a fast speed. Each thrust pushed you down onto the table, letting your clit rub against the mahogany wood.

Your vision felt spacey like you could black out any moment as he choked you. Your orgasm washed over you and you had to use all the strength you had in you to keep biting down on the belt. You didn’t want to know what would happen if you disobeyed his and let it go. Steve’s hips harshly snapped against your ass a few more times before he stilled inside of you, filling you with his spunk.

Before Steve cleaned you up and let you leave his office he had to finger his cum back inside of you, making sure none of it went to waste. Then, he made sure you had a way home, and a way to contact him, because, “Now you’re no longer Magazine Girl, but My Girl.”

@lo-bells

[sweettodo]

Professor ⟿ Hisoka Morow x femreader

Includes : smut, student x teacher

Word count : 2,7k

[STUDENT IS AGED, IN COLLEGE]

••

"Please- please sir, I'll do anything, please don't fail me this semester."

Professor Morow sits in his office chair; hand on his chin as he ponders, he did like the sound of you begging.

••

You could cry.

You could drop out right fucking now. Beyond fed up.

Tutor after tutor, study session after study session since ninth grade never did you any justice, even cheating- peeking over to your neighbors left you with an end result of the huge red D's, F's and C's scribbled onto your paper. You were tearing the hair out of your head.

You couldn't write an English essay even if there was a gun being held to your temple; you weren't necessarily illiterate, but you envied your classmates who could throw together a thesis in an hour lecture, not to mention these giant papers which could've driven you to kill.

Today, bright and early in the morning, here you sit in your English classroom writing a timed essay, an essay about the logistics of capitalism, whatever that meant. Headache booming while you wrote illogical sentences onto lined paper vigorously.

You didn't even bother to read over your work; an hour later you're finally standing up from your seat and shuffling down the row, reaching to drop your paper into the basket, "Miss. Y/l/n, have you looked it over?" Professor asks, you smile and nod, he takes it from you.

"I wrote it sir, I don't need to reread it." You retort, he leans back in his chair and raises an eyebrow at you.

"That's not necessarily what I meant; very well then." He smiles, you go back to your seat and wait for class to be over.

Thirty minutes later, kids are gathering up their bags and papers, scurrying out of the classroom to their next lecture, as you walk out of the double doors into the hallway, your last name is being called and you stop in your tracks, turning around, "yes, Mr. Morow?" You respond, stepping back into the classroom, he stands from his desk, hands patting the black button up as he stands, he waits for you to approach his desk, his arms crossed and he seemed a little irritated.

You approach the front of his desk, nervous, "now, you can't honestly tell me this is your best work." He sighs, you swallow hard, slightly embarrassed, he looked completely unfazed.

"W-well, in my defense Mr-" you stutter, he immediately cuts you off.

"There is no excuse for this lackluster paper." He states, you jump out of your skin, his tone threatening. Everyone always knew not to mess with professor Morow, he was strict and rarely tolerated unprofessionalism. But you- you, always drove him mad, he hated how you acted, he wished he could fail you for the year, being as you were so incompetent.

But that would be immoral or him to stoop that low.

"I should have you rewrite this, do you know how important this is for your grade? Do you want to pass, y/n?" You not, picking at your nails in fear, he was definitely failing you for this semester.

"I'm sorry sir, I try- I really do, it's just I can't bring myself to it." You mumble, head down in total humiliation. "Please- please sir, I'll do anything, please don't fail me this semester." You plead.

Professor Morow sits in his office chair; hand on his chin as he ponders, he did like the sound of you begging.

He sighs and moves towards his bag, opening it and shuffling through papers, pulling out mine, you braced yourself, "you're going to rewrite this, I will swallow my pride and give you a chance, I'd like to see you get higher than a C." He deadpans, you nod, gracious for his generosity.

Handing the essay back to you, "would you like me to do it right now?" You ask, he shakes his head no, closing his bag and picking it up.

"Nope, I'll help you later, you'll have to leave campus for this evening, so clear your schedule." Your eyes widen, he begins walking out, back to you before he peers his head back towards you, "do you want help?"

"Yes, yes sir I do." You sputter, he gives you a half cocked smile.

"That's what I thought." He leaves you breathless as he turns off the lights as he turns the corner out of his class, leaving you there in the barely lit room. You slowly walk out of the empty class, unsure if something like this was even appropriate, 'but it has to be, he's helping you.'

The next few hours would feel like eternity, laying chest up, looking at your ceiling spread eagle bored out of your mind. Waiting for time to pass before you anxiously awaited for later tonight. As you lay there, you hear your phone swoosh, indicating you had just received an email. You sit up and snatch your phone off the bed stand, opening it and seeing an email from the professor.

With an address being the only thing sent to you, you don't bother responding, 'this must be his house,' you spoke out loud, looking at the time on your phone, you might as well get ready, only an hour until you need to leave.

Wearing the same thing you had worn all day, a plain black skirt with a sweater, you just spray perfume over yourself and brush through your hair.

It was only 5pm, but the time of the year brought early darkness; so it was pretty dark by the time you were walking through the parking lot and unlocking your car door. Bag in toe you drive off campus, you scolded yourself for being so, so stupid. How can’t someone write an essay? Not to mention you were at fault for letting it get this bad... a teacher, y/n? A teacher is doing this for you? It was embarrassing.

Soon you're driving up the spiral driveway up towards the large house in your view, nice car in the driveway, lawn well taken care of. It was beautiful. You take off your seatbelt, opening the car door with your bag and keys in hands.

You walk up the path and inhale before you're knocking on the door; waiting a few seconds and the door is opening. Professor Morow allowed you entrance, wearing the same button up and black slacks as earlier in class. We great each other, "follow me, my office is upstairs." He speaks, you follow him up the marble stairs, down the hall and he's opening a beautiful wooden door, a large desk, chairs in front, a couch with a bookcase behind it with stunning red curtains which were closed.

"You have a nice home Mr. Morow, stunning." You breathe, looking around and observing.

"My, well thank you y/n." He hums, sitting in his chair behind the desk, you sit in front of him, taking out your paper along with a notebook and pencil, “I'll have you rewrite, and after each paragraph I'll read it over for you." He says, crossing his leg, you nod.

"I- I wanted to thank you again, for helping me." Yoy mutter, he nods slowly.

"Don't worry, you'll make it up to me." He smirks, motioning to your paper to get you to start; so you do. Starting with your thesis, you spend extra time making sure you think it looked good. You hand it to him and he reads it over, eyes trailing across the page, "not bad, but I know you can write more about the proprieties within some enterprises.” You groaned and quickly started erasing, his hand immediately grabs your wrist, stopping you, “I didn’t say erase it.” He insists, you look up at him, then down at his hand; a big hand wrapped around your wrist obviously didn’t fill your head with appropriate things.

He suddenly stands, walking around the desk and reaches his arm to grab your pencil, his arm flexing next to your head while he rewrites the things you disregarded, your throat hitches, sitting still and tense; intimidated by his cologne aroma and the fact he was inches from you, “what has you so tense?” You internally gasp, heart beating and you see him now standing against his desk to your right. How the fuck could you answer this?

“I-uh, no reason.” You nervously chuckle, he crosses his arms; he didn’t buy it at all.

“Cat got your tongue?” He chuckles, stepping closer to you, you stared up at him, he towered over you, swallowing hard, “no need to be nervous, y/n.” He says. The tension was really thick in the room, you didn’t notice until you found yourself pressing your thighs together for pressure.

“Sir I-” his hand moves, tucking hair behind your ear, instantly silencing you. You’re spinning. Such an authoritative man making you feel small was a new feeling you hadn’t felt before; like you needed to listen to him or else you’d be in some type of trouble.

“I hope you’re paying attention, if you want to do good of course.” He murmurs, dropping his hand back down, you nod slowly, listening to him. “I’ve always known you could be a good girl.” You were stunned, you chewed on the inside of your mouth like crazy as he still stood over you.

“Mr. Morow,” you breathe, nervous, “I need to pass this class.” The desperation in your voice was pitiful, and Hisoka fucking loved it.

He brings his hand up to your jaw, caressing only a little with his thumb, “don’t worry, you’ll get a good grade,” he purrs, thumb running across your bottom lip, agonizingly slow, “open.” Mouth opening immediately. His thumb slides into your mouth and down deeper towards the back of your throat. You look up at him with beady eyes, he licks his lips and smiles.

He pulls out of your mouth, you hesitantly bring your two hands up, lightly touching his belt, his head drops down and he assists you in unbuckling his black leather belt, “my my, such a fast learner, so good.” Your face heats up, fingers working at the zipper of his pants, the tight space was noticeable, the bulge in his pants made you squirm.

Hand grabbing the back of your head, he’s releasing his cock from his open slacks, you braced yourself for the thick and long cock to stab the back of your throat. He holds your hair back out of your face while you’re spitting up the base of his dick, taking the tip between your lips slowly while you looked up at him with those eyes.

Tongue swirling around the tip, his grip tightening on your skull. You push your head further onto him, spit seeping down your chin; taking over, Hisoka pushes your head down all the way to the base, choking and your throat constriction, he groans and pulls you off him quickly, “do you like my cock down your throat princess?” He purrs, index finger lifting up your chin, you nod, he smiles and grabs you from under your shoulder, you stand and he pushes you over the desk, legs locking and you’re held up by your arms.

“Hmm, how about you give me these wrists.” He hums, ripping you off your only stability, side of your face hitting the desk... right on top of your essay. You hear a click followed by another, cold metal now holding your wrists together.

“What, do you just have handcuffs in arms reach for this typa’ thing?” You found it humorous.

Mr. Morow didn’t.

Your skirt flying up, followed by a shard pain on your thigh, you gasp and try to look up; belt in hand, your English professor had whipped you. Hard. Your leg tries to move back but he’s placing his hands on your waist, keeping you still, “tell me, why might your panties be this soaked? I haven’t even touched you.” He had bent down to your ear, vibrations sending you crazy, “do you want me to fuck you? Princess? Fill you up?” You bite down on your lip, he made you tingle just by the sound of his voice.

Another smack of the belt against your ass rings through you and you yelp out in pain, hissing. “Answer me. Go on,” even his soft voice made this sound harsh, you press your forehead against the desk, panting; the pool of wetness most likely slipping down your thighs.

“Fill me up professor, please.” You mewl, he chuckles deeply, the sound of the belt on the floor caused you to sigh out of relief; instead his hands were grabbing your thong, pulling them down slowly and letting them hit your ankles.

“Oh my, so fucking wet.” He hums, pulling apart your ass cheeks to get a better look.

“Sir.” You retort, needy and beyond ready to be fucked at this point.

“Yes?” You tense up, mouth dropping open when you feel his tip stroke up and down your folds, your thighs tremble and shake under his grasp, slowly pushing his throbbing cock into you. You cry out, “use your words, what is it?” He questions you once more.

“So fucking big.” You moan, he pulls your hips further onto his cock; shaping your pussy to his liking, stretching you out and hitting every nerve possible, “oh my god!” His hips finally touching your ass, you twitched and tightened around him, fitting around him accordingly.

“You take my cock so well.” He pulls out, hands tight around your waist as he slowly thrusts you, you gasp and squeal, he didn’t even need to try to hit your gspot. He speeds up, enough to feel that sharp pressure of his head poking at your cervix, his name spilling from your mouth.

“Such a good girl, do you like that?” Ramming into you, your legs wanted to drop as he fucked you numb, his big hand grabs your hair, yanking your head upwards, “answer me.” He grits, you couldn’t, you couldn’t even compose words as he fucked every syllable out of you.

You didn’t answer, he shoves your head down, slamming onto the desk painfully, you wince and he picks up pace, “I told you to answer me,” drilling into you, you’re stomach twisting into a tight knot.

About to reach your hard orgasm, he only fucks harder, screaming out a gasp, “fuck! Your cock feels so good Sir!” You cry.

Your moans and screams were music to his ears, only inching him closer to stuffing you with his kids, “such a good little fruit, you’re sucking me in so good.” He groans, your cum coating his dick, he picked up your arms by the metal chain of the handcuffs, using it as leverage to demolish your insides.

Your wrists sore, makeup dripping down your eyes along with your tears, hair a mess, legs numb and shaking ready to give out, “I’m-I’m gonna cum again!” You wailed, he didn’t change his pace, cock stroking against your sweet spot.

“Do it.” Hips sputtering, only slowing down slightly, you become his cum disposal, dumping his seed into your hot cunt. He’s groaning, panting lightly; throwing your second orgasm into the mix, your slick and his cum pouring down his cock and your thighs, you shook profusely, he massaged your ass with his hands before unlocking the cuffs and pulling you up, dropping to your knees and huffing.

“You took me so well.” He purrs into your ear whilst picking you up by the armpits and placing you in the chair, he wipes under your eyes where most of the mascara was and brushes your hair out of your face, crouching down to your level and pulling your panties over your knees, you lift up a little so he can pull them up completely while watching his every move.

While you composed yourself, he walked back around to his desk, gathering papers together in a stack, “we can finish writing tomorrow, how about that princess?” You smile and nod, relived he wouldn’t put you through the torture tonight.

“Sure,” you say, standing and trying way too hard to walk normally, you pick up your bag and keys, walking towards his office door.

“See you in class tomorrow, professor.”