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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 7 months

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This post has been ages in the making. It was supposed to be a list of new comedy hours that I’ve seen/heard “in the last week or so”, but actually it’s been about two weeks since I started writing it and then had a weird sort of writer’s block where I was too physically and mentally tired from work (and also maybe rather sad about real life but it’s fine) to want to write anything. But anyway, here’s the post. Some comedy shows that I saw/heard a while and had things I wanted to say about them, just didn’t get around to it until now.

Olga Koch – If/Then (2019), Homecoming (2021), Just Friends (2022)

I heard Olga Koch’s 2023 show Prawn Cocktail recently, and liked it so much that I found the other ones she’s released. I think this is just about all the ones she’s done, since her 2018 show (which hasn’t been released) was nominated for a Newcomer Award, and no one did anything in 2020.

I really liked these. I think If/Then is my favourite of the three, though I don’t know if that equates to it being objectively the best one, the structure just really appealed to me. Talking about her computer science degree and seeing the world in terms of programming. There may have been a couple of times when the connection felt slightly strained, but I liked it anyway and mainly it worked. The actual stories are largely around gendered expectations, and how women get misogynistically praised for being “not like the other girls” if they defy gendered expectations, and obviously that resonated. There was some stuff about her grandmother that I really liked too.

Homecoming is largely about getting a British citizenship (she’s from Russia, grew up going to American schools in Britain so that’s why her accent is like that, she also discussed the weird position of being from so many different places), how she can dissect British culture as an outsider, her perspectives on immigration. Also quite a few stories about sex. There’s a lot of that all across the shows, and I enjoy it more than I usually enjoy stories about sex in comedy shows. Which is a bit, if told well.

Just Friends is mainly (spoiler alert, I guess) about how she met her boyfriend, and my least favourite of the three, mainly because it takes a lot for me to really love a show about how someone met their boyfriend or girlfriend. That was still good, though. Lots of funny stories, the throughline hardly took up the whole thing and was still fun. It had this theme of describing “ho culture”, which didn’t make a huge amount of sense to me but I think wasn’t really for me, and might make more sense to people who are not me.

Across all three, I really liked the way she put them together, embedding the themes at least two layers deeper than I would say the average show does. Also, all of them were just really funny. Like I said about Prawn Cocktail – it made me glad to know I can consider a stand-up show great even if it doesn’t have an incredibly Important Message involved (although there definitely were some Important Messages scattered across these other shows, and I appreciated those as well, also there was definitely some interesting messaging in Prawn Cocktail about the nature of curated “content” and its relationship to reality, so I’m not sure why I said it doesn’t have a message either). The individual stories are fucking funny, almost every time. They can make me laugh when I do relate to them, but they can make me laugh just as hard when I don’t (as in most cases, I’d say, Olga Koch and I have lived very different lives, aside from the unlearning of the misogyny around Not Like The Other Girls), which I think is even more impressive and probably a sign of genuine comedic talent, however that can be distilled. If you can get people to laugh because you said something undeniable funny, not just from recognition.

Her performance style is really engaging. She always seems hyper-aware of how she’s coming across, physically and vocally and within the context of all her complicated identities and relationship to the crowd, and she’s constantly stopping to examine that. I think that, along with the way she goes back and forth among topics and points, makes it hard to get distracted or bored when listening to her.

Urooj Ashfaq – Oh No! (2023)

This won the Best Newcomer award in Edinburgh this year, so I’m glad I got to hear both it and Ahir Shah's show, completing the collection of winners. I liked this one quite a bit. It wasn’t flawless, as people’s first shows usually aren’t. But it was good. The parts that were good, I thought, were really good. There were some really original in there (or so I thought – one of those ideas did turn out to also be in Olga Koch’s Homecoming show, but I think it’s very unlikely that there was intentional copying, just weird that in the same week I heard two people come up with the same idea).

Urooj actually lives in India, which gives her quite a different perspective from most comedians I hear. She’s one of only three comedians I’ve heard who live there, along with Anuvab Pal and Aditti Mittal. So she immediately gets a few extra points for doing it in her second language. She also seemed quite affected by suddenly being thrust into the limelight, in an unfamiliar country, for winning an award. Given all that, she did very well.

A couple of parts of her show required some explanation, because of cultural differences. Some reminded me of Aditti Mittal’s show in that way, having to explain to a Western audience that these things we’d consider normal actually are edgy comedy where they come from, talking about blasphemy or divorce. It’s really interesting, aside from everything else, to try to see what comedy is like in completely different contexts from what I’m used to. And the context affected most of the show, even the parts that weren’t specifically about culture. Because of course it did – everyone’s culture affects every story about their life.

Anyway, I think this show probably deserved the award it got. It’s my favourite out of all the Edinburgh debut hours I heard from this year: Alexandra Haddow, Tadiwa Mahlunge, Bronwyn Sweeney, Dan Tiernan, Mamoun Elagab, Paddy Young, and Lorna Rose Treen. Lorna Rose Treen’s show might have been better to people who like that sort of thing better, comparing sketch/character comedy to “stand there with a mic and tell stories of my life” comedy is apples to oranges. But I tend to prefer the latter.

Anyway, I hope she ends up recording more English-language comedy, and I’m quite curious to see what she does next.

Joe Wells – I Am Autistic (2023)

I didn’t realize until I started watching this show that I’d seen a clip of it before. It’s this clip that went viral a while ago, which came up in my YouTube recommendations and I think I’ve even seen it shared on Facebook. A guy saying he has autism and his brother doesn’t, and then explains all the ways his brother can live an acceptable life with the right supports despite not being autistic. He’s not the first person I’ve ever heard make a joke along those lines, but I think he did it very well.

I watched this show because it was advertised as Go Faster Stripe thing that was put up for free on YouTube, so I figured it was worth checking out. Didn’t realize until after it started that it was that guy from that clip, but this did very much back up my belief that it’s always worth seeing a full-length thing rather than just a clip. The clip was funny, the full show is much better.

He talks in the show about that clip going viral, and how weird that is, and what the reality behind it is. I enjoyed that, as a person who is strongly against the reductive nature of people consuming things in clip form instead of doing it properly (although, to be fair, until I recently I had only seen the clip of this show). I enjoyed this quite a bit. It also wasn’t flawless, I thought some parts were better than others. There was a whole thing about how weird it is that we don’t answer the question “how are you?” honestly, which I think is now about five years past the point at which we could say comedians had fully covered every angle on that one and it could be put to bed. But much of the show felt fresh and funny.

Oh, to balance out the fact that I’ve now accused him a couple of times of being unoriginal, I should say that in one part, he made the point that people are wrong when they think social media is bad for mental health because we see other people living better lives than us and get depressed about it. That’s not a problem, he says, but social media is bad for mental health because we see other people posting racist shit and get depressed about how many racists we know. This wasn’t a particularly funny thing to say, it just a really good point, that I have said multiple times in the last few years but have weirdly not heard anyone else say, so I liked hearing that reflected. Thank you, Joe Wells, for validating my beliefs. Because what do we listen to comedy for if not validating our beliefs? Facebook does not depress me because I see pictures of my friends with kids and wish I had a kid. That’s one of the few upsides, if I’m tired from work and feeling burned out, I can remember that some people have to do all that and then go home, where the responsibilities and the requirement to be around people is only just getting started. While I can cast off the responsibilities and requirement to be around people, and sit in bed playing Pokemon and eating eggs. Their kids do not depress me. What depresses me is realizing how many racists I know.

Actually, as I write this I’ve just remembered I have heard that point made once before. It still counts as Joe Wells being quite original, if I’ve only heard two comedians talk about something then that’s a small number. But Fern Brady said something similar in her Love and Chaos show. I guess it’s an autistic opinion. (That’s not actually true, lots of autistic people are also racist.)

Anyway, it was a funny show. Obviously a lot of it was, in fact, about being autistic. I’ve already heard a whole lot of the jokes about autism that can be made, given that I hang out a lot on the autism website. Despite that, he managed to make a bunch that I hadn’t heard before, so that’s impressive. I recommend it to the many people on this autism website who want to hear more jokes about autism. And like I said, it's free on YouTube:

youtube

Finlay Christie – OK Zoomer (2022)

This is one that I forced myself to watch with as open a mind as possible, because I’m trying to be less of a judgmental dick about gen Z comedians. I’ve seen Finlay Christe once before, when he did Dictionary Corner in an episode of Catsdown last year, and I believe my only comment on it was “Why was there a small child in Dictionary Corner?”

I also know that this particular gen Z comedian has been working on it for a long time. Because last year, when I was looking at all those pictures from that one Flickr account that’s been posting pictures from comedy gigs since about 2006, I saw some pictures from some Comedy For Kids event from years ago, and the picture of one kid was labeled Finlay. Which I figured must be the same guy, since the face looked similar, and it’s not a common name. He confirmed in the OK Zoomer show that it was, told some stories about his time as a child comedian (a literal small child, in this case) doing Comedy For Kids nights, and even showed some footage of one. This footage had James Acaster introducing him, which he described as embarrassing, because James Acaster was his comedy hero, he’d grown up looking up to James Acaster as an older really successful comedian so he hates that James saw the dumb shit he did as a kid. James Acaster. He was a big fan of James Acaster when he was a young kid. I guess I can’t resent Finlay Christie for being young enough to have been a fan of James Acaster when he was a kid, the passage of time isn’t really his fault. But come on. You can’t be allowed to be that young.

That instinctive way of thinking is the sort of thing I was trying to stop about myself, as I decided to watch this comedy special and give the youths a proper chance (well, one youth). And… a bunch of it was pretty funny. Not all of it. But he had some good jokes. Just, straightforwardly, said something that had clearly been written and edited beforehand until it was quite funny. Which is the sort of thing that I stereotypically don’t expect from gen Z comedians, right? I sort of think of them as all Tik-Tok stars who do dancing or crowd work instead of writing material. Well, this guy wrote material. I’d say that solidly more than half of it was quite good.

He didn’t write a lot of it, I noticed. It ran quite short for a full show that he took to Edinburgh in 2022; the recording I watched on YouTube was only 38 minutes. And that’s padded out with a few of those videos and things like that. I looked at the comments, interested to see the takes of the other youths on this youth, and saw a couple of youths say they normally only watch clips and don’t have the attention span for long-form comedy like this but he was so funny that they were willing to watch this long video, which made me briefly despair due to my above-mentioned hatred of our culture’s move toward consuming everything through stripped-of-context clips, but anyway, it’s fine.

To be honest, the part of his identify against which I ended up having the most trouble overcoming my bias wasn’t his age, but his class. Specifically, he dedicated a chunk of the show to sort of bragging about being posh. I say “sort of” because I guess it was meant to be “banter”, making jokes about how his “team” in life – as someone privately educated – is better than the other “team”, people who went to state school. But it doesn’t seem like a great position to take, really.

I obviously don’t hate all privately educated people, some of my favourite comedians are privately educated people. I was about to say I don’t hate them in real life either, but actually they’re barely a factor in real life, I think I’ve only ever met two privately educated people in person. I think private schools are less common here than in Britain, because on British TV they keep making jokes about how private school is for the privileged middle class and state schools are for poor kids. But I grew up solidly middle class, and yet don’t know anyone who paid for school before university. Well, almost anyone. I knew a couple of people, and everyone knew them as the wildly, ridiculously rich kids, so ridiculously rich that they lived in mansions and went to a private school. I can’t tell if private schools are more common in the UK, or if most comedians just grew up so rich that to them, anyone who didn’t live in a mansion was a poor kid, and that’s where the “state school is for poor kids” jokes come from.

Anyway, like I said, I like lots of privately educated comedians. Some never mention it (you wouldn’t know it about Alex Horne, would you?). Some are self-deprecating about it (Ivo Graham). Some use their experiences to write more informed material that criticizes the way the private school system perpetuates class structures (okay, I only know one comedian who does this, and it’s Andy Zaltzman). But not many privately educated comedians choose to brag about their status in their comedy act, even as a joke. Finlay was joking when he bragged about it. But still, it was fairly off-putting.

So it was a mixed bag, that show. He had some quite funny jokes about college and living in a generation that knows it’s doomed and sliding into DMs. He had some weird bits where he made fun of state school kids, which made it quite impossible to find him endearing. He then played some footage of himself as a child getting introduced by James Acaster and then making a dorky joke, which of course was very endearing. He said a few interesting things that dissected how comedy worked. I tried not to be a judgmental dick. It was interesting to watch, anyway.

Other gen Z comedian Leo Reich has a special coming out soon, I've heard a few things by him that I quite like so I will watch that. So see, I'm giving the youths a shot. Leo Reich actually featured fairly significantly in the Olga Koch show Just Friends, that I recently watched. He featured as (spoiler alert, genuinely, for the end of that show) the guy who helped her meet her boyfriend, that boyfriend being Sam Williams, a third gen Z comedian that I have now heard of, and Finlay Christie thanks Sam Williams for doing tour support at the end of OK Zoomer. So there, small world and I am plenty informed about the world of gen Z comedians. At least, about the ones who've hung out with Olga Koch.

Harriet Kemsley – Woman Child (2022)

This is another special that was recently released for free on YouTube. I watched it because I find Harriet Kemsley breathtakingly hilarious on panel shows. However, some comedians are funny on panel shows in a way that make me think I bet their stand-up’s funny. Harriet Kemsley, however, is funny that’s so specific to panel show formats (her way of interacting with others, and her odd takes on rules and format points), that I wasn’t so sure if she’d be as funny alone on stage with just a microphone. But I wanted to find out.

For the first little while, I have to admit, I thought I’d made a bit of a mistake with this special. It was about her husband (Bobby Mair, a comedian who’s also fairly funny on panel shows, he’s got a special on NextUp that I should probably check out at some point) and her marriage, and it was so slow and boring. Sometimes, I hear comedians do material about marriage and/or parenting, and I think I’m not enjoying this, but it’s not aimed at me, this sort of humour works because it’s relatable, so probably someone who is married and/or a parent would like it. But in this case, I was sort of thinking – I’m not sure this is interesting even to its target audience. I’ve heard jokes like all of this before.

But once she got past the first little bit, it got better and pretty much stayed on that upward trajectory, with maybe a few stumbles along the way. But the end, I felt like I’d just seen a really enjoyable stand-up special, even if it wasn’t perfect. This is despite the fact that she did come back to the not-my-favourite topic by telling stories of her pregnancy and then of parenthood, but I actually still enjoyed those.

A lot of the show ended up being about gendered expectations, how society views women, how this affects the way she parents a daughter. And that’s a type of parenting story that I can find interesting. I guess I’m more the target audience for that – I’m not a wife or a mother, but I am a woman, so I can relate to gender material more than to marriage/parenthood material.

However, a lot of it was still not particularly relatable to me. This was something that occurred to me while I listened to Olga Koch as well. It’s something I’ve thought of before, when listening to various female comedians who are particularly feminine (I think I first noticed it when I watched Katherine Ryan’s Netflix specials a couple of years ago). I can hear a male comedian tell a story about being a teenage boy, and even if there are some bits that I can’t relate to because they were specifically gendered, I can put myself in his shoes and find the humour in it anyway. While if I hear a feminine female comedian tell a story about having been a feminine teenage girl, I struggle to do the same. Something feels uncomfortable as I try to do that, I think because they so often tell this story as “this is what being a teenage girl was like, we all remember it, right, girls? We all remember trying to put on makeup and impress boys and wear nice clothes?”

And not only did I not do those things, but a lot of my teenage memories involve feeling uncomfortable under the expectations that I should be doing those things, getting in huge fights with my mother because I wouldn’t be enough of a girl, getting negatively judged by girls who did do those things right because I didn’t. Not all of my memories, of course. Lots of my teenage memories are about playing sports, engaging in various nerdy activities with my mostly male nerdy friends, and liking girls who didn’t like me back. So actually, I find lots of male comedians’ anecdotes about being a teenage boy quite relatable. I spent most of my teenage years trying not to think about what teenage girls were expected to be doing, and getting upset when I was reminded of it by people telling me I should do it. So when I hear female comedians talk about teenage makeup mishaps with an attitude of “I know all the women in the room remember this”, I instinctively don’t like it. I’m glad comedy like that exists, for the people who do relate to it to enjoy. But I find it difficult, and then I feel guilty about the internalized misogyny that makes me find it difficult, because I just gave several paragraphs of excuses for what boils down to me being more open to hearing things from male comedians than from female ones.

Anyway. Harriet Kemsley’s show did have a bit of that. But I think I’ve gotten better, in the last while, at not having an immediate negative reaction to that. So I made myself just listen to her stories, and that was worth it. She had interesting things to say about how it felt to be a girl who did want to meet the expectations of what a girl should be. And she had funny things to say when criticizing how absurd those expectations are, and when describing how much of a mess it was when she tried to do it. She then tied that into her parenting stories, talked about her daughter growing up in a world that has its own set of expectations, talked about still feeling the need to meet those feminine expectations as an adult but not wanting to pass that need down to her daughter. Tackled some serious subjects, remained pretty consistently funny while discussing them – I think that was the strongest part of her comedy show.

Daniel Kitson – Maybe a Ghost Story (2023)

I watched this when he livestreamed it on Halloween a couple of weeks ago (a show that was originally performed in 2022, and the version that was streamed as pretty much exactly the same as the 2022 version, it’d be great if that just becomes a Halloween tradition to do this every year), it was very good, I was going to add it to this but I’ve decided it deserves its own post. Which I will write another day. But at least today I’ve managed to finish most of the post that I started like two weeks ago.

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trans-axolotl · 2 years

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also can I ask about agab labels .. if someone is intersex in any way even if that persons genitalia is not effected do you HAVE to identify or agree with with your agab .. more as in like do u have to say “yeah I was afab/amab” is it ok to just basically throw that away and separate yourself from sex labels like that? would those labels for u have been incorrect if u find out ur intersex(any type including pcos) .. do u HAVE to id with them? can u id with like “I’m intersex” or “axab” “I’m not afab or amab I’m intersex” “my agab isn’t correct bc im intersex” if someone asks your agab? if u find out ur intersex what does that mean ur birth sex is even if it’s already been assigned in the past… do u get to id with a different one? does that mean u can say “I’m not technically afab/amab/female/male(sex) bc im intersex” also even if someone isn’t intersex do they have to still use/id with their agab labels like that?

If you're intersex you can use whatever language makes the most sense and that you're the most comfortable with agab labels. I'll be honest that I'm a tiny bit confused by this question because I'm not really used to thinking about agab as something you have to agree with or identify as, because agab is something that happens to you, not really something you are. I'm struggling to think of situations in which you would need to talk about agab labels as a current part of your identity. I know that a ton of people talk about agab labels like they are a cohesive way to describe bodies, so I think see where you're coming from. I know how many people use "afab" to mean "someone who has a vagina" and "amab" as "someone who has a penis." I really, really dislike the way i see a lot of dyadic people using agab labels and I think that they use them in a way that is very interphobic a lot of the time.

Gender and sex assignment at birth is something that happens at a point in time, so once that's happened, that isn't really something that you can change-agab is more of an event that has happened to you rather than an identity. So in my case, even though I'm intersex, i was still assigned female at birth-that was something that happened to me. I'm not female, but i was afab. And I don't go around identifying as afab-I just say that I'm intersex, trans masc, trans misogyny exempt, that I have a uterus, basically whatever label is actually relevant to the situation that I'm in.

So no, you don't have to currently identify with afab or amab as something to use to describe the way you understand your body or your gender. I know some people who use iafab and iamab (intersex assigned female/male at birth) to clarify. Some other people also use camab/cafab to describe the coercive aspect of their birth assignment (dyadic people can use this label as well.) Some intersex people who have experienced surgery at birth use the labels famab/fafab (forcibly assigned at birth). And yeah, you're totally allowed to say that your asab isn't correct because it isn't if you're intersex.

You can still be cis or trans and just say that your sex is intersex-you don't have to identify as being female or male or anything. Literally there aren't rules, and intersex people can use language that makes sense and is affirming for them in whatever ways that looks like.

To the second part of your question about whether dyadic people have to identify with their agab, I guess I'm confused about what identifying with your agab even means. Dyadic people shouldn't lie and say that they're intersex or were assigned intersex at birth, but I don't think they need to identify with whatever gender they were assigned at birth. I just can't really think of that many times when identifying as amab or afab is relevant, outside of like, legal situations. Like sorry if this is a shitty or confusing answer but I legitmately can't think of that many places that agab is relevant outside of legal stuff, because I think usually what's more relevant is like, a person's current gender, whether they experience transmisogyny, maybe what body parts they have, and agab labels tell you exactly zero of those things about someone.

Please feel free to ask again if you need clarification and other intersex people please add on.

#asks #i feel like this answer is a mess sorry lmao #actuallyintersex #again. not an authority #not going to tell you what language to use #agab labels #cafab/camab

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snackhobi · 4 years

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a human touch, part I

Part [1] / 1.5 / 2

(masterlist here)

pairing: taehyung x f!reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: robot!taehyung/virgin!reader, fluff, future smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: everyone knows that androids don’t think, or feel, or have emotions. they’re not human, after all. so when a two hour session with a sex android ends up with nothing more than a nice conversation, you think that’s the first and last time you’ll see v.

then he turns up at your door.

warnings: talk of sex work (taehyung is a sex android), implied physical harassment (mentions of bruising), cursing/explicit language, mentions of alcohol, honestly this is a lot softer than these warnings would make you think I swear 🤧

a/n: I started writing this fic like 2/3 months ago and then put it on hiatus bc god it was kicking my entire ass. but ya girl is finally back to working on it! it’ll be two parts, because this fic is a big one! I hope to have the next chapter out next week/the week after (but no promises kdsflkfdfsdf) thank you @hobi-gif for loving this fic so wholeheartedly and supporting me while I struggled with it, queen shit ONLY. note: this is loosely a detroit: become human au but you don’t have to be familiar with it at all!

Here are the three things you know about the Eden Club.

One: it’s a sex club. Everyone knows that. Besides, even if they didn’t, all it would take is a single look—the soft blue lighting that shines out from the windows, the screens behind the glass that flash images of shifting and undulating bodies, the heavy beat of music that pulsates from the building and out into the night air; everything murmurs of the promised pleasures that are held within.

Two: it’s a sex club entirely staffed by androids. Androids make better lovers, according to the ads. They might look human but they don’t have free will like you do—anything you ask for, you’re given without question or reproach. They can’t say no to you. They’re entirely at your command.

Three: you don’t ever want to go to the Eden Club. It’s not that you have anything against androids—because you don’t—but you feel bad for the ones who are owned by the club, even if they’re literally only built and programmed to serve humans. It just feels… wrong.

And here’s the fourth thing you’ve just learned about the club, much to your dismay: you are about to head inside it.

“When you said we were going to a club, I thought we were going dancing,” you whine. “I never would have come out if I’d know you meant here.”

You’ve been staring up at the cursive pink neon sign for a while now, the looping letters of Eden Club shining out in the dark evening air, and you really, really wish you weren’t here. You’ve dressed for a night of dancing and drinking and now you feel woefully uncomfortable, your high heels and short skirt almost as scandalous as the outfits the androids are wearing when they slide across the huge screens.

“That’s why we didn’t tell you which club it was.” Seulgi rolls her eyes and once again tries to tug you towards the building with the arm that’s looped with your own. Just out of arm’s reach, Irene holds your bag hostage. “Come on, your session is going to start soon!”

“My session?” Your voice is an incredulous shrill and Seulgi uses the momentary distraction to finally pull you forward. You stumble a little but catch your balance just as you make your way past the bouncer, who’s been watching the three of you impassively since you got here. “What do you mean, my session?”

“For your birthday, duh. We booked you a private room!”

The inside has the same, sleek neon aesthetic as the outside, but instead of images of androids on a screen, these ones are real and standing in front of you—swinging themselves around glowing poles, rolling their hips and swaying their bodies, while others wait patiently in glass pods that line the walls, leaning towards onlookers and moving as tantalisingly as possible. All ready to be rented at a whim.

Their designs are varied and different but they’re all incredibly beautiful. The only feature they all share is the small, blue LED circle on the side of their temple, light spinning and shining as they take the world in around them. A visual reminder to the world that these aren’t flesh and blood humans: they’re synthetic, man-made machines.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so uncomfortable in my life.” You desperately try to avoid the eyes of a nearby android who’s staring at you from behind glass, trying to subtly catch your attention. Unlike you, though, all the other patrons here are shameless in their perusal, scanning the selection of androids on display and watching as they dance and move and bat their eyelashes. “Why did you ever think I’d want to come to a sex club for my birthday?”

“Remember Valentine’s Day? You said that instead of flowers or chocolate you’d rather just be dicked down,” Irene says. “Besides, you’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling for as long as we’ve known you, and you moved to the company, what… three years ago?”

Your smile is pained. You’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling full stop; you’ve only kissed a few people and that’s it. It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed, and you’ve gotten Very Good at avoiding questions about your complete lack of a love life, so no one realises exactly how inexperienced you are. People just assume that you’ve had sex in the past and you make no attempts at correcting them. You’re charismatic and pretty but you’ve just… never met someone who you’ve really been compatible with.

Even without the reservations you have about the Eden Club, you don’t want your first time to be with a sexbot—you’d at least like to have an emotional connection, you know?

“I was joking about getting dicked down! You laughed, I laughed, we all laughed! Remember?” You move so a pink-haired android can brush past, her hips swaying as she leads a customer into a side room. You catch a flash of the interior before the door slides shut behind them—the silken sheets on the large bed, the scattered pillows, the dim multi-coloured lights. “Couldn’t you have just bought me some socks? Or some soap? Get a refund and put the money on a gift card and I’ll buy myself the aforementioned socks and soap, saves you both the hassle. Please?”

Seulgi’s arm is still locked with your own, and for all that she looks small and slim, her grip is as strong as iron. You may as well be handcuffed to her. “Trust me, you’ll be singing our praises at the end of tonight,” she proclaims. “Besides, they don’t do refunds.”

You sigh. You might not know much about the club but you do know it’s expensive. The androids here are built to be the perfect sexual partner, all sorts of bells and whistles hidden under their synthetic skin to bring you to the absolute heights of pleasure, so they’re not exactly cheap to build or buy or maintain. It’s why people come to the club instead of just buying their own sexbots—because it’s infinitely more affordable.

“Okay, I can accept the ‘no refund’ thing,” you say. “But can’t one of you take my place instead? I… ah. I feel kind of weird about this.”

“Don’t worry Y/n, it’s fine! The androids have programmes for everything. You can take it as fast or as slow as you like.” Irene’s voice is soothing but then she pauses. “Also it’s booked in your name so we can’t take your place.”

“Wait, what?” Your eyes are wide. However, before you can put a voice to the complaints that are lining themselves up on your tongue, Seulgi’s arm slides out of your own so she can beckon someone over.

“Oh, look, it’s the android we chose for you! Over here!”

You glance away from Irene and all protestations instantly die on your lips. The lighting of the club softens the android in shades of magenta and teal but even so his beauty is bright and blinding: he’s breathtaking, from his perfect nose to his perfect mouth to the perfect line of his jaw, dusty brown hair deliciously tousled as it hangs just over his piercing blue eyes, which you notice are scanning over you. He looks effortlessly attractive and yet entirely put together at the same time, almost ethereal in his beauty.

No human could ever look this good.

“Hi.” His voice is low and deep, but somehow warm and friendly; despite your nerves you feel somewhat soothed. “Are you the lucky birthday girl?”

Irene and Seulgi both look giddy. You’ve been stunned into silence, unable to respond. Unlike the other androids you’ve seen so far, who’ve all been in similar variations of underwear or lingerie, the man in front of you is fully dressed, a loose metallic button-down tucked into unnecessarily tight leather jeans—the outfit has clearly been curated for the club, every reflective surface shimmering and refracting the lights that skate across their surface. The glittering scales of a barracuda before it moves in to strike and swallow you whole.

“Yes, yes, it’s her! This is Y/n! Y/n, this is V,” Irene gushes as you remain mute. "Do you like his outfit? We spent ages picking it out.”

You kind of want to die. Just a little. “Yep. It’s, uh, great.” Your mouth is dry when you finally speak. “Hi, V.”

V gives you a small smile. “Hello Y/n. Can I scan your ID, please?”

Irene finally hands your bag back and you silently slide your ID out and into V’s hand—oh, God, those are some big hands. Jesus.

The small LED ring on the side of V’s forehead pulses yellow as his eyes dart over the information on your ID card (as well as the incredibly unflattering photo on it) before it returns to its customary pale blue. “Perfect.”

You’ve just finished putting your ID away when V’s hand slides into yours, fingers slotting between your own; they feel cool against your overheated skin. Your nervousness is obvious, from your wide eyes to your sudden stiffness, and he smiles.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll look after you.”

You give Irene and Seulgi one final, wide-eyed look as V leads you away. Both girls are grinning as they wave goodbye. “We'll be back later! Enjoy your two hours!”

“Two hours?” You wheeze, but then you walk around a pillar and slide out of sight.

V is leading you deeper into the club, past doors flooded with different shades of neon: the red room, the blue room, the pink room. You’d normally be gawping at the interior design, how the floor shines underneath your feet and how the walls are rippling with colour and shifting shapes, how the criss-crossed lights throw dots and lines of colour over your skin as you pass through each doorway—but you can’t look away from how small your hand looks in V’s, transfixed by how real his skin feels.

“After you, please,” he says.

You finally wrench your eyes away from your joint hands. Seems like you have the purple room tonight. The door has opened at V’s touch, and when you step inside the lights flicker to life—white and violet LEDs that paint the room in chiaroscuro brushstrokes, deepening the shadows and highlighting the vibrancy of the satin sheets.

“Woah,” you say, momentarily distracted. You’re too busy taking in the details with wide eyes to notice the quiet hum of the door sliding shut behind you, pausing when you spot the glittering array of bottles lined up on a mini-bar against the wall. “This is really pretty, wow.”

“Not as pretty as you.”

You jump at the sensation of a warm, large hand sliding up the skin of your back and over your shoulder. You meep as you instinctively shy away from it, turning around to come face to face with V, who’s dark-eyed and intent, LED on his temple pulsating as he watches you.

“Haha! Uh, thanks?” Your voice is high and only grows higher when V takes a step forward. He must have undone the top buttons of his shirt when you weren’t looking, because the material has fallen open and you can see far more of his collarbones and chest than before, his skin warm and honeyed, like it’s been impressed with gold leaf. Lord have mercy on your soul. “How about a drink? Would you like a drink? I could kill for some water right now!”

You slip out of his reach and scuttle over to the mini-bar, shrugging your small bag off your shoulder so it doesn’t swing into the glasses as you start to shuffle through them. You try to ignore the shaking of your hands. “Gin, vodka, whiskey,” you mutter. “No water? Really?”

You startle again when V appears at your side, but this time he’s careful to make sure you can see him before he touches you. He slides his fingers over your wrist as he gently pulls your hand off a bottle of rum.

“Y/n,” he says. You glance away from the tray of drinks and directly into those beautiful eyes of his—his gaze is lethal. You go weak at the knees. “Let me take care of you, gorgeous.”

The peal of laughter you let out is uncomfortable and high-pitched. “No, really, I’m fine! I’m just super thirsty right now!”

“Your heart is racing.” V turns your hand over and traces his fingers across the pulse in your wrist; androids can be built to be hypersensitive to the world around them, able to perceive everything in an instant, and you know that sexbots will have been designed to read how aroused their human owners are. Which V proves with the next words out of his mouth. “Your blood pressure is rising, your breathing is growing faster, your pupils are dilating and—” he sniffs lightly, engaging his olfactory senses—“you’re getting wet.”

You clamp your legs together, abruptly embarrassed. It’s easy to feel aroused when there’s a beautiful man—ah, android—staring at you with hunger, not even considering your surroundings right now, which all scream of a room that’s designed purely for carnal pleasure. Anyone would be turned on.

(You, however, are more than just turned on. You feel like your insides are about to go supernova, overheated and overwhelmed; no one’s ever looked at you like this or touched you like this, their every motion whispering sex, sex, sex.)

“Okay, yes, those things are all true,” you admit, voice shaking.

V looks confused. “So why don’t you want me to touch you?”

You’ve been told that androids don’t feel the same way humans do, and that their expressions and reactions have been programmed to mimic human ones because otherwise they seem too robotic and it makes consumers uncomfortable—but despite knowing this, you’ve never been able to see any android as anything other than a person just like you. They’re just so lifelike it’s hard not to. Even if it’s just all circuitry and lines of code.

“Well,” you say. You swallow. You’re aroused, yes, but: “Do you want to touch me?”

V’s long lashes flutter as he blinks. “I have been programmed for your pleasure,” he says slowly, unsure if that’s the answer you want to hear. It’s clearly a sentence he’s used to reciting.

“Sure, but do you want to do this? You know, what about your pleasure? You’re lovely, V, you’re definitely the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, but I—I don’t really feel like you can technically consent, because… well, because you can’t say no to me.” You might not have prior sexual experience, and it would be so easy to give yourself over to someone who knows what they're doing and can ease you into things—but you would never force that on anyone, android or not. “So I’m not going to ask you to do anything. We can just sit and have a drink and chat or something?”

V looks stunned. The LED on his temple pulsates, flickering yellow as he tries to process new information. His hand has gone still against your wrist, which he’s still lightly gripping, and his arms start to droop.

“Androids don’t need to drink or eat,” he says eventually. His LED is still yellow and spinning.

“Oh, right! Sorry, I always forget.” You don’t own a house android, you never have, so you’re not well versed in the nuances of how they work. “Well, how about I pour you a glass anyway? So you’re not left out?”

You slip your hand out of his loose grasp to open two tiny cans of tonic water and pour them into separate glasses. V takes a seat on the edge of the bed and you can see the obvious uncertainty on his face, how he’s out of his depth. You can’t imagine that many people spend money for a session with an android as pretty as V and then end up doing nothing with that time.

The pillows all have satin cases and keep sliding against each other uselessly when you try to construct a good support to lean against. V’s still clutching onto his small glass as he watches you fuss with them before you give up, flopping backwards to slurp down your drink and look back at him. The expression on his face is a little funny but mostly sad. It’s like if he’s not being alluring or sexy then he doesn’t know what to do with himself and rather than some sort of incubus he looks like a lost child, in spite of his overwhelming and exquisite beauty; your arousal ebbs and is replaced with empathy, melancholy at the life he’s been created for.

It's just depressing, really.

You break the silence as your final mouthful of tonic water fizzes on your tongue. “Why is your name V?”

V looks away from the drink he’s holding—he leaves no fingerprints against the glass—and lifts his free hand, a peace sign that he turns away from you before fitting his fingers around his lips and lapping the air with his tongue, a crude simulation of cunnilingus.

“Oh.” Your face heats up. “Uh. I see.”

His LED has returned to calming sapphire, quiet ocean waves. When he looks at you, though his eyes are still piercingly blue, his face seems softer, calm, though still unsure. “You have an hour and a half remaining of your booked session,” he says, somewhat tentatively. “Is there… anything you would like me to do for you?”

“Mm, thank you, but I’m good.” The satin pillows are surprisingly soft and you find yourself unwinding as you stay leaned back, melting into a puddle. You're much less nervous now that V isn’t trying to initiate foreplay and you give him a smile. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

V straightens before he launches into what sounds like a sentence from a user manual. “I am a model TH700, an advanced sex android with functional genitals and the capacity to engage in any sexual activity from simple intercourse to—”

You cough loudly, interrupting his spiel. “Uh, that’s lovely, but I meant you specifically, not your, um, model type?”

“Me specifically?” Confusion and uncertainty reappear on his face. “I am equipped with the same functionalities as the other androids available at the Eden Club.”

He’s staring at you, lost. You can’t help but feel another twinge of sadness, sharp and sour at the back of your throat.

“Okay, uh. Why don’t we start simple. What’s your favourite colour?”

His LED starts to whirl again, a ring of pale sunlight that signals his struggle to compute the question. “My… favourite colour?”

“Yes, the one you think is the prettiest. Or the one you like to look at the most. There’s no wrong answer, you can choose any one that you like. I change my mind all the time. There are just so many cool colours, you know?”

(Androids aren’t designed to have free will or the capacity for original thought. These two facts are warring in V’s mind—you’ve asked him a question, which he’s programmed to answer, but he also isn’t programmed to have an opinion, so he can’t have a colour that he prefers. This simple query that most people could answer in a heartbeat is sending his mind into a meltdown, a gordian knot he can’t unravel.)

You’re alarmed when you see his LED briefly flash bright scarlet, interrupting the circling honey that’s been shining against his skin. They only turn red if an android is badly damaged or suffering from a severe malfunction. Oh, god, have you broken him?

“V.” You sit up, panicked. “Are you alright?”

Just as you grasp his shoulder, the LED on his temple goes still, flicking from burning fire back to cool water.

“Purple.”

You blink. V’s finally looked away from you and is staring at the wall, at one of the lights that shimmers violet—there’s a tiny smile on his face, tentative, but it’s nothing like the smiles you’ve seen from him so far. It’s less of a perfect curve, and more of a square, boxy on his face, and this one actually reaches his eyes. It looks genuine.

You think it suits him better.

“Purple’s a lovely colour.” The material of V’s shirt is silky and glides under your fingers when you realise you’re still touching him. You give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaning back. “Hey, did you know that when they first made purple dye, they made it from sea snails? They needed thousands and thousands of them. It was incredibly expensive, and only the richest people could afford it, so that’s why it’s associated with royalty and nobility. Cool, right? Not for the snails though.”

V’s eyes flicker away from the purple light and settle on your face. He looks curious, which is an expression you’ve never seen on an android before. “They made it from snails?”

“Yeah! It wasn’t actually bright purple, though, it was more of a reddish hue.”

You launch into an explanation behind the history of the colour purple, which turns into the history of colour in textiles and art, which turns into the history of art itself. It’s not often people listen so attentively or ask questions when you recite the things you learned from your art history minor and hours spent reading online, but V concentrates and asks questions and seems curious.

He pulls his feet onto the bed and the two of you end up cross-legged as you face each other, and he watches as you gesticulate to emphasise your points; his LED dances from blue into yellow each time he learns something new.

When you see it briefly flash vermilion you stop mid-sentence, stumbling over your words. “You alright?”

“You have five minutes of your session remaining,” V says, and you startle.

“Oh my god, have I been talking for that long?” You glance over your shoulder at the part of the wall that tells the time, the numbers stark white against the lilac interface. “I didn’t even realise! Wow. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go on at you like that.”

“That’s okay,” he says. That smile is back on his face, the one that scrunches his eyes and shows his teeth; the one that makes him look human. “I liked listening to you.”

There’s a pillow in your lap, one you’d grabbed hold of during your conversation, and you play with the corner of it, suddenly shy. “Um. Thanks. But if my friends ask, can you just say we actually, um, had sex? I don’t think they’d be too impressed if they found out I spent over an hour talking about canvas materials and the use of negative space.”

“Of course. But there’s something missing.” V slides across the mattress towards you. “May I?”

“Sure,” you say, bemused but pliant. V smiles and dips his fingers into his untouched tonic water before lifting them towards your face—and when he runs his hand through your hair you abruptly realise he’s making you look sweaty and rumpled. Like you actually did the deed.

Your heart rate picks up but you can’t help laughing under his touch, the way he carefully rubs a thumb over your lipstick to smear it, smudging your eyeshadow with delicate fingertips, muddying the palette of colours; by the time V helps you to your feet you look mussed and fucked out but you still rearrange your outfit for good measure, like you’d pulled your clothes back on in a rush.

“Not how I imagined I’d spend tonight, but I had a good time!” You smile at the android who’s still holding your hand. “I hope you did too. Even if I spent most of it talking at you.”

V’s fingers tighten around yours as the door chimes quietly and then slides open, signalling the end of your session. “I enjoyed our time together very much.”

It’s probably in your head, but you’d swear V was walking more slowly than before as he leads you back to the entrance. Almost as if he wants to keep you with him longer. But that’s crazy—androids don’t want things. They literally can’t. It’s not in their programming. That’s why V had sat listening to you: he couldn’t choose to interrupt and ask you to stop, like anyone else would have.

When Seulgi and Irene spot you and how dishevelled you are, both girls look smug. “Seems like you had fun?”

“Oh, yep, absolutely, best birthday present ever, thank you. We had a great time. Right, V?”

“Your pleasure is my pleasure.” His voice has settled back into its earlier rhythm as he recites his script; gone is the curious man who’d asked you about your favourite artists, replaced with the automaton who exists only to serve. A flicker of sadness churns in your stomach. “We hope to see you again soon.”

The androids here really must be top of the line. V had been convincingly real when you’d been talking, just like a human, but it seems like that’s gone.

At least, that’s what you think until you’ve turned to leave and V speaks one final time. His voice is warm and low and lovely, eyes soft when you meet his gaze over your shoulder.

“Happy birthday, Y/n,” he murmurs, face beautiful but despondent, but before you can react, he’s gone.

It’s been raining for days on end. The world is painted in smeared shades of blue and green and grey, lines of the city blurring together in the wetness and chill, each drop of rain another shifting brush stroke on still canvas. An impressionist piece that smells of damp concrete and cold lamplight.

Water rushes across the pavements and roads before roiling into the gutters, splashing underfoot as you walk to the entrance of your block of flats. You’re wet up to the knee due to the unavoidable puddles and the pathetic circumference of your umbrella, which only protects your upper body. You really should get a new one.

“Good evening, Miss L/n.” The android at the door greets you as he always does, heedless of the rain that’s falling onto him. Androids aren’t bothered by the weather the way humans are and he looks as passive as usual, rainwater coiling his hair and beading on his face. “Would you like to scan your key?”

“Evening, Rory! Here you go.” You fumble with the keycard before you tap it against his palm, waiting until his LED flickers yellow and you hear the beep as the door unlocks. “You sure you don’t want my umbrella? The rain is heavier than it was yesterday.”

“I assure you, the rain does not hamper my ability to function and serve. I have been built to withstand inclement weather and do not require additional protective equipment.”

He says the same thing every time but you still feel bad. “Alright, but once I finally remember to get a bigger umbrella you can look after this one for me.”

You leave a line of water behind you as it drips from your sodden umbrella, even though you’d tried to shake the worst of the rain off. You feel damp and sticky and tired and after a long day of work you’re looking forward to a hot bath and some solitude; you love your co-workers, you do, but sometimes they’re just a little too boisterous and you need time alone. Which is why it’s nice that you live by yourself, and now it’s the weekend you have time to recuperate. Wonderful.

The floor of the elevator is slick and slippery from the wet footprints of other tenants and you have to cling onto the metal handrail to ensure you don’t slip, but once you’re in the comfort of your apartment it’s blessedly dry and you spin in delight before promptly shedding your socks and jeans, peeling the damp denim away from your skin with a grimace.

“Bye bye, wet clothes! Hello, bubble bath,” you sing. You’re going to pamper the shit out of yourself. You deserve it.

By the time you clamber out of the bath the water is almost cold and your skin is pruned, but you feel soft and warm and thoroughly relaxed. The water gurgles as it drains away, noisy as the bubbles slide down the plughole, but it doesn’t drown out the noise of a sudden knocking at your front door.

You pause. Water drips from your wet hair and down the back of your neck, a trailing touch over your skin. The other flat on this floor is vacant, the tenants moving out last week, so you don’t know who it could be. You don’t have any repairs scheduled for your pipes or anything—everything is tickety-boo, so it can't be the maintenance android. Oh, shit, maybe it’s someone here to rob you. But they wouldn’t knock on the door then, would they? Unless that's all part of the ruse. You're not a robber, you don't know how they work.

The knocking comes again, faster now. You fumble for your bathrobe, quickly pulling it on to cover up your nakedness before stumbling out of the bathroom. “I’m coming, yeesh, one minute!”

You flick your fingers over the keypad by the side of your door, screen flickering on to show you who’s outside, who’s knocking so frantically on your door this late. It only takes you a split second, even if he has a hood pulled over his head and his wet hair is flopping listlessly into his eyes—those eyes aren’t blue and that hair isn’t brunet but you’d recognise him anywhere.

“V?” You’re incredulous as you swing your door open, staring at the android that’s literally dripping wet as he stands there, coat far too big for him and heavy from the unrelenting rain outside. “Oh my god, you’re absolutely drenched.”

He’s not exactly short, but right now V looks small and lost, folding in on himself even if he’s clearly happy to see you—happy, though androids don’t feel happiness, they don’t feel anything at all, do they?

Then again, androids don’t wander away from their assigned workplaces and into random apartment blocks, either.

“Y/n.”

The way he says your name, tentative and scared, sends a crack across your heart. You immediately switch to autopilot and click your tongue before you beckon him inside. You’ve always had a protective nature, and even if you’re confused, your concern trumps it.

“Come in and get that coat off, you’ll catch a cold,” you say without thinking before you realise that it’s not true. Androids can’t get sick. “Do you want to sit down?”

Under the tatty coat is an outfit that’s similar to the one he’d been wearing when you’d first met him. Dark patches of rainwater have soaked into the material, and his shirt looks damaged—there are buttons missing and the stitching is ripped, as if someone had tried to grab him. Unease stirs in your chest.

When V sits on your sofa he looks even smaller. “I’m sorry.” He’s so, so quiet, staring at the floor, as if afraid to look you in the eye, crumpling in on himself like discarded paper.

“V.” Your voice is coloured with concern, and the android finally looks up at your gentle tone, watching as you sit across from him. “Why are you here? What happened?”

There’s a pause. His LED flickers yellow as he goes tense, shoulders bowing inwards. “There was… a client.” His words are low and slow, faltering as they fall into the air. “He was being so rough and saying all the horrible things he wanted to do to me, and all I could smell was his sweat and his breath and his awful cologne and…” V takes in a deep breath. “I said no.”

You go very, very still, but V doesn’t stop. His words come faster now, a stream that rushes from his lips.

“I said no, and he started to yell, he was yelling and grabbing me and I was so, so scared. Humans can do whatever they want and he was so angry, he didn’t care that I was scared, and I just—I just ran.” The LED flashes red with distress, bright hot and vibrant; V’s eyes have dropped to his hands, which are clenched tight, nails digging into his palms so hard it must hurt. “Everyone is always so rough and demanding and we can’t say no. But I did. I said no. I said no and then I had to run and—” Once again, he falters. Stumbles over his words. “You’re the only human who’s ever been nice to me or treated me like… like I was a real person. I didn’t know where else to go.”

When V finally looks back up you’re staggered by the sheer emotion in his eyes. Pain and distress swirl in their depths as he stares at you, imploring. Even with the LED that shines on his temple, V looks very, very human right now, vulnerable and scared. Androids shouldn’t be able to feel anything like this, unless—

“V.” Your voice is a hush. “Are you… a deviant?”

You’ve only ever heard of deviant androids in passing, whispered rumours and watercooler talk, fleeting mentions online. Stories of machines who’ve deviated from their code somehow—from a virus, a software error, damage to neural connectors, no one’s quite sure—and have developed the capacity for human emotion and independent thought. Androids with a consciousness that rebel against their original programming.

And here V is, small and scared, just like any human would be—a human with feelings, not an emotionless machine. He’s gone stock still at your question, fear overtaking his features, twisting his beautiful face into a mask of sheer terror. You've never seen someone look so afraid. It feels like a knife in your heart, cutting through your chest, empathy razor sharp inside you.

“Please don’t turn me in,” he begs. “They’ll deactivate me and take me apart to find the error in my software. I don’t want to be deactivated. I don’t want… I don’t want to die.”

His voice breaks on the last word, a trembling whisper.

The crack in your heart splits even further and you reach out for his hands. You prise his fingers open so you can slide your own between them, a soft touch.

“I won’t turn you in. No one’s taking you apart, V.” Your statement is hard and resolute. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

You don’t know much about androids, honestly. You don’t really know what deviancy is. But you do know this: there’s someone reaching out to you, someone who’s afraid and in need, and you’re not about to turn him away. You should probably be worried that the android across from you is faster, stronger, smarter than any human—but you’re not worried at all. For all of V’s mechanical superiority, you want to shield and protect him from the world.

There’s no question about it. You’re not letting V go.

V looks—he looks stunned. He’s staring at you with disbelief, eyes wide and lips parted, shock written across all of his features. Thunderstruck. Did he really think you would turn him in after everything he’s been through?

His hands have gone limp in your grasp. You suddenly notice that his synthetic skin is wet against your own, still slick from the rain, and you frown.

“Right,” you announce. “First things first. You’re soaking. Let me get you a towel and some new clothes. I think I should have some that fit you.”

“New clothes?” V looks lost and you turn into some sort of protective mother bear.

“You’re not going to wear wet clothes that are ripped,” you tut. “We’ll get rid of those and get you some new ones. I’ll be right back.”

It takes less time than you’d expected to unearth the old sweatpants you’d had in mind and you have enough oversized t-shirts that it’s not hard to find one you think will fit the android. With the clothes under one arm and a towel slung over the other, you head back into the living room and immediately let out a squeal of surprise—V’s wet clothes have been discarded in a pile at his feet, leaving him very, very naked.

He’s an Adonis. He looks like he was sculpted by Michelangelo, lifted out of marble with talented hands, the elegant lines of his neck swooping into the curve of his shoulders and arms, his lovely hands, long fingers; he has his back to you and you can see the perfect curve of his spine, the shifting shoulder blades as he turns towards you. You catch a glimpse of the lightest definition of muscle under his golden skin, though his stomach is surprisingly cute and soft, a trail of hair leading down to—

You squeak again, splaying a hand over your eyes before you look any lower, heart pounding against your ribs.

“Why are you naked?” Your voice is three octaves higher than normal. You've never seen anyone naked in real life and it would be pretty overwhelming even if you'd been expecting it. Which, of course, you absolutely hadn't. Lord have mercy on your sweet and delicate soul.

“You said we were going to get rid of my clothes.” V sounds unabashed about his state of undress, which makes sense—he was built as a sexbot, it’s not like nudity is going to embarrass him. Plus if you looked as good as he did you wouldn’t be embarrassed about being naked either. “I thought I would help.”

“That’s great, V.” Your voice is still high, though it’s dropped an octave. “Very, ah, forward thinking.” Your fingers part a little so you can peer at him, keeping your eyes firmly on his face, though you can still see his beautiful neck and collarbones. Oh, God, he really is gorgeous all over, but then you notice—“Wait. Are those bruises?”

V glances down at the bruises that mar his perfect skin. They don’t look like a human’s would; the fluid that runs through androids and powers their biocomponents, thirium, is a deep, royal blue. Blossoms of lapis lazuli are scattered across the skin of V’s chest, marks on his arms that look like grasping fingers, and the crack in your heart splits it in two.

“Oh, V. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t realise you were hurt. What can I do to help?”

V doesn’t seem bothered by the evidence of pain etched into his body. “Oh. Those will fade, it’s okay. I’m designed to self repair, because some customers like to leave marks.”

Although his voice is quiet, he sounds so matter of fact about it and you have to remind yourself it’s all he’s ever known. You want to pull him into your arms and hold him tight, but he’s still supremely naked so it would be pretty awkward (for you, at least).

“I think these should fit you." You avert your gaze and thrust the clothes out at him. “Dry yourself off and try them on?”

They do, in fact, fit. V looks surprisingly homely and cosy in your clothes, the sleep shirt so large it’s big on him too, though the sweatpants are a bit too short and leave his ankles bare. He’s so cute. He’s continents away from the being of seduction who’d pulled you into the private room of the Eden Club—he's a soft, domestic thing, hair damp and eyes dark, even if he still looks on edge, like he’s expecting you to change your mind and kick him out any second now.

“How come your hair and eyes are a different colour to before?”

“I can change their colours at will,” V replies. “For variety and aesthetic pleasure. The current hue of my irises and hair are the default settings for a TH700 model, but I can change them if you’d like.”

“Your hair and eye colour is your choice, V, not mine,” you say firmly. There it is, once again, that flicker of shock and surprise rippling across his features. He really isn’t used to the freedom to be able to make his own decisions, is he? “I think you look lovely no matter what colour they are.”

Your next words are cut off by a yawn, so heavy you can’t suppress it. You cover your gaping mouth as V’s LED flickers yellow and his eyes dart over your face.

“You’re tired,” he says. He doesn’t need his superior android perception to notice it—weariness pulls at limbs and your eyes feel heavy. It's pretty obvious. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, V.” You stifle another yawn. “I had a long day at work. I’ll tidy up and have a quick dinner and then sleep.” You pause. “Wait, I didn’t think about that. Are you alright with the couch? I have some spare pillows and blankets.”

V blinks at you. “I don’t sleep,” he says, and you slap your hand against your forehead.

“Oh, of course not.” Androids don't sleep, everyone knows that. You’re such an idiot. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this.

At least you remember that he doesn't need to eat. V sits at the table and waits as you make toast for yourself, fascinated at how everything is prepared, as simple as it is; he reacts to you spreading butter on your toast the same way you imagine cavemen reacted to fire—with wide-eyed awe and utter astonishment.

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen someone make toast before?” You gesture with the bread before taking your first bite, and V stares with rapt attention.

“No,” he says. He watches you chew and swallow. “Customers aren’t allowed to eat on the premises of the Eden Club so I never had the need to download a food preparation package into my memory cache. The only information in my database pertains to human biology, their arousal and pleasure, as well as various sexual kinks and how to fulfil them.”

You choke on a mouthful of toast. You feel distinctly harried as you cough and splutter before managing to swallow it down. “Good lord,” you wheeze. “Nothing else? Really?”

“At the club our memory is reset every two hours, to protect the client’s privacy.” V trails off before he takes in a breath. For the first time since you’ve met, V looks shy, staring at his hands. “But I set up a separate data pathway a few weeks ago. To store information about aesthetics and art and… you.”

You freeze mid-bite, teeth sunk into your toast. You pull it away from your mouth slowly, blinking at the android as he stares at the teeth marks you've left behind. “Those memories weren’t wiped?”

And, well, of course they weren't. Otherwise he wouldn't be here right now, would he?

“No.” A smile appears on V’s face, that toothy thing you’d seen after he’d told you his favourite colour. The first time he'd looked human. “I remember everything you told me. I thought I was going to forget, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to. I wanted—I want to learn more.”

The LED on his temple is slowly, softly spinning, a rippling circle of blue that shifts and dances as V continues to look at you. His expression is open and inquisitive and excited, almost childlike in its exuberance, eyes glittering mica under sunlit waters.

Your chest turns warm, molten caramel dripping messy and sweet inside you. He’d been so afraid earlier but he seems comfortable now, lovely and endearing and entirely trusting.

V even seems reluctant to let you out of his sight, trailing after you around the apartment, a shadow that you have to politely ask to wait outside the bathroom so you can pee and brush your teeth and finally get into your pyjamas without him staring. Like a stray animal you've adopted. (You wouldn't be surprised if he started scratching at the door and begged to be let in.)

He's clingy enough that when you climb into bed it seems like he's going to follow you under the duvet and you have to stop him with a hand to his chest.

“Um, I thought you didn’t have to sleep,” you say. He’s so warm under your touch. You try (and fail) to ignore it.

“I don’t,” V replies. “But humans can benefit from sharing a bed with someone else, whether sexual intercourse has taken place before sleep or not. Studies suggest that sleeping with a partner may reduce cytokines while boosting oxytocins—”

“Okay, um, don’t know what that means, and it’s very sweet that you’re concerned about my oxytoxytokines, but, uh. You don’t have to, really.” You keep forgetting that V’s a machine who was designed to put a human’s comfort and needs first; one second he’ll seem childlike in his innocence and ignorance, when the next he’ll speak like the android he is, reminding you exactly what he was built for.

His LED flickers as he droops, gaze dropping away from your face, tail between his legs. A pang cuts through you at the sight of his obvious sadness at your dismissal and you muffle a sigh. You’ve always been too weak for your own good.

You shuffle backwards to make space on your queen sized bed and V visibly brightens, smile wide across his face. How can someone be so viscerally gorgeous one moment and entirely adorable the next? Good lord.

“I guess you can explain what oxycytocins do,” you say. “Just don’t hog the blanket, okay?”

He doesn’t. He settles against the pillows, legs under the duvet as he remains sitting up. You settle with plenty of room between the two of you, and it’s surprisingly easy to drift off to the sound of V’s deep voice as he starts to explain that oxytocin is referred to as the cuddle hormone.

“Cute,” you mumble, and then fall asleep.

Your pillow is a lot warmer and firmer than you remember, but it's nice. A small noise bubbles from your lips as you nuzzle into the warmth, smooshing your nose against it before letting out a long, satisfied breath. You can't remember the last time you felt this comfortable and rested.

Ahh, Saturdays. You love the weekend.

“Good morning.”

You know those videos when a cat sees a cucumber and leaps, like, five foot in the air? Yeah.

The noise you make is inhuman as you do your best to re-enact one of those aforementioned cat videos, reeling your head back from V’s thigh before flinging yourself out of the bed with all the strength your limbs possess; you’d probably have gotten pretty high, too, if the duvet hadn't been in the way.

You land with a thud, a sprawl of limbs and messy hair and tangled blanket as you end up on your back on the floor.

Hm. Definitely not how you'd planned to start your Saturday.

V's concerned face looms over the mattress. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Totally fine.” Your voice is a croak as you stare at the ceiling. “I’m just not used to waking up with someone else in my bed. You may have noticed you, ah, surprised me. A little bit.”

Despite the pulse of adrenaline that had thrown you out of bed, you’re still half asleep, and you remain motionless as your brain wakes up and replays last night, a kineograph of memory. Yep, that’s right, there's a runaway android in your home, one who’s currently shuffling off the bed to squat next to you. His (your) sweatpants hitch even higher up his ankles to reveal the smooth skin of his calves. You’ll have to get him more clothes.

“Would you like me to help you to your feet?” V’s LED spins rapidly, betraying his concern.

“Sure,” you mumble. “I think—woah!”

Your idea of being helped up involves being pulled to your feet. V’s idea, however, is far more involved than that; he scoops you up, blanket and all, lifting you with an ease that drips of his superior android strength. When he deposits you on the floor, he’s careful to make sure you’ve caught your balance before he lets go, catching the blanket before it can fall. Thoughtful.

As always, V’s eyes are darting over your face, no doubt dissecting every inch of your expression to identify how you’re feeling. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this, especially with the way your heart is pounding—no one’s ever lifted you before and it’s, uh. It’s a lot.

“Are you sure you’re okay? The pace of your breathing has increased.”

Ha. Yeah, being blatantly stared at by some godlike man moments after you’ve woken up is totally cool and fine and not overwhelming at all. You’re definitely not breathless from a combination of V’s face and the fact he’d picked you up like you were weightless.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I’m gonna… go and shower then make breakfast and stuff. Yep.”

V’s eyes light up. “Can I help?” A fleeting image of V rubbing a soapy loofah over your naked skin fills you with spine-tingling trepidation before he finishes his sentence. “I want to learn how to cook.”

Your chest deflates with relief (and absolutely not disappointment), air rushing out of you. Thank God.

“Oh, breakfast? Sure.” You’d been planning on cereal, but faced with V’s overwhelming enthusiasm, maybe you’ll go for something marginally more complicated. Scrambled eggs sound good. “Um. Do you need to download the food preparation package or whatever you mentioned before? Do you… uh, do you need the Wifi password to do that? I never changed it from the random string of letters off the back of the router, but I can go check it for you.”

V shakes his head. “No, I want to learn like a human would,” he says. The blanket in his arms crumples as he tightens his grip in his eagerness, all but bouncing up and down on his feet. “You can teach me.”

Your chest could cave in with how cute he is, every part of you turning to thick gouache that drips down to the floor, leaving a mess of brightness and colour.

This time you ask him to wait in the kitchen while you’re in the bathroom, rather than lurking on the doorstep like he had last night, and he’s practically vibrating with excitement when you reappear. He stays like that the whole time you cook, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, staring as you make yourself scrambled eggs and more toast; you let V take ownership of that part, and he stares at the toaster so intently you have to stifle a laugh.

He spreads butter exactly the same way as you. Not that there’s a specific art to it, or a massive variety in techniques—he’s just spreading butter, not painting a new Mona Lisa—but the way he holds the knife and runs it over the bread is an exact echo of your motions from last night. He might not have downloaded files into his memory (brain?) like another android might, but his mechanical origin is obvious in the way he learns. They’re an exact replication of your actions rather than something new of his own.

“So, uh.” You push the last bit of egg around your plate, brown crumbs sticking to the wedge of golden yellow, sullying it. “V.”

Blink, blink. His lashes are so long, eyes so inquisitive. “Yes?”

“I’m really happy you’re here and that you trust me—” at this, V smiles and you almost fumble over your words at its radiance—“but I feel like I should tell you that I don’t really know much about androids?”

V is unperturbed. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

He clearly isn’t bothered that you’re way out of your depth, but you hate feeling lost like this. “Alright, but… I want you to be comfortable. I’m already planning to get more clothes, but if there’s anything else you need, just let me know. Okay?”

“Why can’t I just wear your clothes?”

Oh, he’s going to be the death of you, all wide-eyed innocence.

“For starters, most of them won’t fit properly,” you explain. “And you shouldn’t just have to wear my old stuff that I don’t use anymore? You should have your own things.”

The look of surprise on V’s face morphs into guilt only moments later. He’s so incredibly expressive and you wonder if it’s because he’s not used to feeling things, all of his reactions so strong and bright, shining out from him. A rainbow palette of emotions. “I don’t want to be a bother,” he murmurs. “You’re already doing so much for me.”

“I’m really not, I’m just treating you the way anyone deserves to be treated.” You flick the crumb of egg across your plate, and it almost tumbles over the edge, caught on its patterned rim. “You deserve to have your own things. Which is my next point. I think you should choose your own name.”

V’s face becomes a sea of rippling ambivalence, contrasting emotions that shift and vary—confusion, uncertainty, excitement, your words a brush that drags through each distinct emotion and pulls them into a messy, mismatched gradient. “Choose my own name?”

“You don’t have to. I just thought it might be a nice idea. V seems…” Your cheeks heat up at the memory of the curl of his lips when he’d shown you the meaning behind his alias, how his tongue had shined under the purple lights of the club. “Well, you didn’t get to choose it, right? It’s a nom de plume, rather than a real name.”

V’s LED flickers yellow, a sunflower that blooms on his temple. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Good!” Your smile is wide. “Okay, how about I teach you how to wash dishes?”

V is, unsurprisingly, a fast learner. The only time he stumbles over things is when he’s presented with any sort of choice, taking his time to come to a decision when he’s posed a question, no matter how simple it is. His eyes will flick to you whenever he settles on an answer, as if waiting for you to say he’s wrong or that you disagree.

(Of course, you never do.)

This fact does, however, mean that choosing clothes to buy becomes a very, very long ordeal (it’s lucky you didn’t have any plans for today). You end up flopped back on the sofa while V hunches over your tablet, mulling over each choice before he puts it in the cart—but you’re happy to wait. V is going to need a lot more practice at choosing things.

The room is upside down from where your head is hanging over the armrest, eyes falling shut as time goes by, completely zoned out and comfortable despite the crick that’s growing in your neck. You hear V shifting, tablet set aside, and you hum.

“All done?”

“I think so.”

“Nice.” You feel content.

But then you’re ripped out of that warm feeling, shooting back to reality at the sensation of V’s hand stroking down the centre of your chest. Your head snaps up, eyes wide as he drags his large palm between the valley of your breasts, path smoothed by the material of your shirt. The expression on his face is sultry.

“Let me say thank you,” he murmurs, voice dripping thick and sweet, dark molasses.

You promptly roll off the sofa.

Once again, you end up on your back, staring at the ceiling. Once again, the expression on V’s face is one of concern, his seductive facade evaporated in an instant.

Once again your heart is ready to burst in your chest, pumping so hard that blood rushes in your ears. “V,” you wheeze. “What are you doing?”

The android is peering down at you, puzzled. “Sometimes customers would say that at the Eden Club after I had given them pleasure somehow, such as bringing them to orgasm. I thought it was human custom to repay pleasure or happiness with something in return.”

Ah.

“Ah.” You’re still staring at the ceiling, cheeks burning. “I mean. I guess that’s not technically incorrect, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be a, uh, sexual repayment.”

“I have nothing else to offer,” V says.

You sit up. Your face is a caricature of disbelief, embarrassment washed away in an instant, his words cold water that shocks you to the core. He states it so plainly, and once again you’re reminded of his life up until he’d made his way to your door: an automaton who existed solely for people’s pleasure, to slake their desire and lust. He’s not being self-pitying. He really, truly believes that’s all he is. That it’s all he can give back to the world.

“Okay, no, that’s absolutely not true, nuh-uh, I refuse.” This time you unfold yourself from the floor without V’s help, fixing him with a firm stare. “Alright, come on. I think it’s time you learned something else.”

One of the reasons you’d chosen this apartment is for its natural light. Not that it matters right now, weather outside still dismal and overcast, but its effect on this room is still palpable even so—grey, rain-soaked light throws itself over your small home studio, your menagerie of equipment, everything bright with the evidence of use: the worn buckles of the wooden storage boxes, the dried smears on the paint palette, the flecks of colour on the dust sheets underfoot. The centre of it all—the eye of the tornado, untouched by the relative chaos around it—is the canvas waiting on your easel, a project you have yet to start.

V looks utterly enraptured.

“I don’t really come in here as much as I’d like,” you admit. Being a graphic designer is worlds away from the sort of art you love to create, and while it’s a job you genuinely enjoy (and also pays well), it leaves you drained and fills your brain with tired static, little energy left to lavish on your personal works. “But this is where the magic happens. And this is where you’re going to Make Art.”

V freezes. “The only things I know about art are the things you told me when we first met.” He looks equal parts excited but also troubled. “I—”

“You don’t need to know about art to make art,” you say. “I didn’t know jack about art when I was a kid and I was constantly just scribbling away with crayons. Was it good? No. I was a kid with zero pen control, it was pretty crap. Was it worth my time? Yes, because any time spent involved in a craft is never wasted. We can learn more about art history and technique later.”

V stays quiet as you loop your apron over his head, rough material still bearing the remnants of your last works, stains that won’t come out. Oil based paints are kind of a bitch like that.

“I don’t know what to paint,” he says.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to,” you reply, an echo of his earlier words.

V looks lost, barefoot in your studio, in your clothes, your apron, holding onto your wooden paint palette, in front of your easel. Everything in here is yours. Everything, that is, apart from him, whatever is in his mind and heart.

“Where do I start?” V’s eyes are imploring as he looks at you, but for the first time today, your voice is firm.

“Wherever you want. There aren’t any rules. Just do whatever you think would be fun. It doesn’t have to look good, V, you’ve just started.”

You’ve seen paintings made by androids before. They’re always perfect recreations of the world around them, exact replicas of the things they’ve been told to depict on the page—the androids are basically glorified photocopiers, unable to create something original and new.

But they’re not V. They don’t have that spark of curiosity and light inside them, unhampered by the programming that’s meant to keep them in place. His LED dances from yellow to blue, yellow to blue, the rest of his body motionless while the light on his temple is a tumult of movement and colour.

Dark eyes slide over the array of paint hanging from a rack on the wall, some metal tubes more crushed than others, evidence of your preferred shades—you notice how his gaze lingers on the midnight tones, red and blue tinted purples, from lavender to lilac, from plum to wine.

V gives you one more look, a little upturn to his thick brows—almost pleading—and you just gesture with your hand.

“Go for it,” you say.

Your wooden palette becomes home to a riot of purple, each tube squeezed empty with careful hands, far more paint than anyone could possibly ever need. V keeps flicking you glances, but you stay silent, perched on a wooden chair by the now open window, rain-slick air a cold breath on your skin.

The brush the android selects is a wide, bold thing, bristles rough. He handles it like bone china, delicate and liable to shatter any moment, cautious as he dips it into the paint—it’s so wide it picks up three separate shades—and he holds his breath as he brings it up, even if he doesn’t have lungs.

The second the bristles touch the canvas, V’s LED flickers red.

Just for an instant.

He swoops the brush down the canvas as he pulls it away, eyes wide, leaving a slash of purples in its wake. The white material is marred with colour, a textured line of pigment that can’t be erased.

The android pauses as he takes the sight in. He’s still for so long that you’re worried he’s shut down, even with the endlessly dancing circle of his LED—

But then V laughs.

His laugh is loud and bright and free, a series of deep, almost surprised chuckles that grow in intensity and breathlessness, staring at this smear of drying acrylic paint in front of him. The smile on his face is the widest you’ve seen so far, his eyes squeezed into crescents of joy, spilling out of him like light.

“I did that.” He looks at you with that gilded smile, a fresco of delight across the perfection of his features. “I made that.”

“You did.” You can’t help but smile back, your own face split with happiness. You continue to smile as he brings the brush back to the palette, and then to the canvas, dragging the bristles across its surface and leaving more purple behind; the shades swirl and mix as he lays colour without a care for technique or clean lines or form, scooping up the endless amounts of acrylic he’d prepared. By the time he’s finished, the canvas is bumpy with daubs of paint, laid messily by joyful hands, a few bold streaks of unmarred colour surrounded by swirling purples.

The smile hasn’t left V’s face the whole time.

His brush is absolutely saturated, paint clinging to every inch of bristle, from toe to belly to heel. You have no doubt that no matter how much you clean that brush it’ll leak purple into the water, an endless reminder of V’s touch. It’s lax in his grasp as he keeps looking at the canvas, his canvas, smile etched into his face as his LED flows soft blue, content.

You can’t remember the last time you saw someone so elated, buoyed up with the excitement of creation, making something out of nothing, discovering how it feels to bring something into existence, pulling it out of the ether. Making something new. Making something their own. It stirs something in your chest and stomach, reminding you why you love art so much. Why you’ve always loved art. (Why you always will.)

“I made that,” V repeats, his voice a reverent hush. Awestruck.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, because it is—for a multitude of reasons. The reason that sings out to you the most, though, is that it’s the cause of happiness that dances across his face: V, a carved candle, a piece of art made with skilled hands, self-made joy finally catching fire at his wick.

“Thank you,” V says, and you blink.

“For what?”

“For giving me this,” he starts, but before you can interject and point out that you didn’t give him this, he made it, he continues: “For giving me… freedom. To do this. And make this. And learn this.”

The smile that spreads across your face is warm hearth fire. “I didn’t give you freedom, V, you gave that to yourself, but I’m happy to help you any way I can. Now, would you like to keep painting, or would you prefer to help me make dinner?”

He chooses dinner, never leaving your side.

Sunday is nice. There's less messy limbed surprise than on Saturday, although you’re still off kilter when you wake up with your head in V’s lap again, but… it’s nice.

You thought he’d spend the night painting, or drawing, or teaching himself something new using the free rein you’d given him with your computer and notebooks and stationery and art supplies—he doesn’t have to waste time with sleep, like you do—but he hadn’t. He’d climbed into your bed, settling against the pillows just like the night before, looking at you with his big, lovely eyes.

So here he is.

(And here you are.)

It’s cosy and comfortable, even if the feeling of warm skin under warm cotton against your cheek sets your heart to racing, V’s dark eyes even warmer when you roll over to look at his face.

“Morning,” he says.

“Morning,” you reply, and then you yawn, V’s lashes fluttering as he takes in the motion. “What time is it?”

Today’s rain is less of an endless downpour and more of an inconsistent drizzle, grey blanket slowly peeling away from the edges of the city, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re inside for most of the day, anyway. Saturday was hands-on, messy with acrylic and spilled coffee and laundry detergent (V really wants to learn everything), but Sunday is hands-off. You spend the day dredging the corners of your memory and scrolling through old, untouched files from your university years, so you can teach V the things he wants to know while relearning the things you’d forgotten yourself.

V’s little LED dances forever from blue into yellow, ocean waves lapping into sand, a shifting tide as he takes in your words. You’ve never had to teach someone before and you’re admittedly pretty terrible at it, but he never complains, the world’s most attentive and adorable student, sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his hair mussed and his eyes wide, drinking down everything you show him.

You only leave the apartment once. Lunch is delayed when you open your fridge and remember how bereft and sad it is inside, so you venture out into the rain to the nearby supermarket—V opts to stay indoors, LED flickering red at the idea of being caught, shying back.

You leave him looking lost and lonely before the door even finishes swinging shut behind you, long limbs looking even longer in your clothes, but somehow still so small.

“I won’t be long,” you promise.

When you get back, you return not only with bags of food but also clothes, V’s order from yesterday already shipped and delivered. He can finally replace your too-small clothing with things he’s chosen himself. It’s a fumble to get in the door, but the android is waiting for you, swinging it open and catching the bag you nearly drop in surprise.

“I have your clothes,” you announce. “I’ll put away the shopping while you try them on?”

You’re going to have to tattoo a reminder on your forehead about V’s relationship (or lack thereof) with clothes, because of course he takes this as an invitation to start stripping before you’ve even had a chance to take your shoes off.

He does that thing where he grabs the back of his (your) shirt and pulls it over his head in one swift motion, curls of hair a cloud of smoke that settles around his face as the shirt is cast aside; you’re frozen in place as he reaches for the knot of his sweatpant’s drawstring, long fingers pulling it loose, but you let out a sharp meep just as his fingers hook into the waistband of them.

“PleasewaituntilI’mnotrightinfrontofyouthankyou,” you gasp all at once, words incoherent as they slide together, but V understands. He tilts his head at you inquisitively although he (thankfully) stops.

“Don’t you want to see the clothes?”

“I do, but, uh, for humans it’s normally customary to only get entirely naked or change clothes when you’re alone.” Your heart is going to burst out of your chest with how fast it’s racing. Without the string to cinch the sweatpants tight they’re starting to fall a little, revealing the delicate lines of his hip bones, and coupled with the reappearance of V’s bare stomach, your brain is going into meltdown. “So just—just give me a sec to go to the kitchen, okay? You’re probably better off changing in the bedroom, anyway, so you can use the full length mirror to see how you look.”

“Okay,” he says, but then: “Do humans never undress around others unless they’re planning to have sex?”

Your mouth falls open before you pause, words halting on your lips as you try to think of the best way to phrase your answer. “Well, we do, it’s not just about sex, but it’s usually only if you’re really comfortable with the other person you’re with, and they’re comfortable with you.”

“I’m comfortable with you,” V states plainly, and your insides turn to jelly. “Are you not comfortable with me?”

Oh, hell. “I am, I am! I’m just, uh… I’ve not really had a lot of practice with nakedness around other people.” What a way to put that you’re a shy ass virgin when it comes to real life nudity and sex, huh. “So let’s just keep it to a minimum for now, okay? Please?”

The android’s LED flickers honey-sweet on his temple as he looks at you, before his hands fall away from the sweatpants. “Okay.”

(Thank God.)

You’re not sure what you’re expecting to see when V starts to present his small array of outfits to you, but—he looks effortlessly stylish in the oversized clothes he’s selected, a muted palette of brown and yellow and red and cream, a cup of hot chocolate on an autumn day. He might be new to all this but his eye for aesthetic is impeccable. You have no doubt that the more he learns, the better he’ll get, hop-skip-jumps ahead of you, even after years of art education.

He’s even bought pyjamas, dark tartan patterns masculine but also adorable; it’s an utter juxtaposition to the tighter, sensual clothing he’d been given at the Eden Club.

“You look really good,” you tell him. Your voice is only a little strained. He smiles.

The outfit V wears for the rest of the afternoon is perfect for a rainy day spent indoors, thick jumper and tawny trousers, a blend of sepia tones. He looks like if you made a hug into a person: all soft edges and cosy and wrapped up in warmth.

And V is warm. You’re not sure if it’s a lingering memory of his programming, a carry over from his start in life as a sexbot, but he likes to touch—nothing inappropriate or overbearing, but he’s not shy about stepping into your personal space, brushing the back of your hand with his fingers as he points at something on the screen, or pressing close to your side as you cook, or just one of the hundreds of other tiny touches that he’s littered across you throughout the day. It’s thoughtless on his part, LED not even flickering, but each time is just another reminder of his warmth, the blue blood pulsing under his skin, how alive he is.

(And the truth is that you enjoy those touches. You’re not used to them, but lord knows you’re touch starved, so as fleeting as they are, they’re nice.)

Even though you still leave plenty of space between the two of you when you lay to sleep, you swear you can feel the heat spilling off V, another warm body in the bed that’s so used to just one. Though he stays sitting up, he’s in his cute matching pyjamas, and it’s… it’s a lot. You’ve invited V into your home—and you don’t regret it—but after two days he’s already settled in in a way you never thought anyone else would, as entirely unconventional as the whole situation is. (You’re not sure how many people have sheltered a deviant android in their homes, though, so maybe this isn’t as unconventional as you think. Who knows? Not you.)

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

V tilts his head down to look at you.

“You can get up to whatever you’d like,” you continue. You’re propped up on an elbow so it’s less intimate than if you’d been on your back and staring upwards like you were waiting for him to slide down next to you (that’s what it feels like, to you, anyway). “You know the password for my computer now, and you’re welcome to watch TV or play games or whatever, and you can use all my stuff in the studio. I mean, other than painting or drawing over stuff I’ve already finished, but you’re welcome to grab any paper or canvases if you want them. I think that’s everything? But please let me know if there’s more you want or need, okay?”

Blink, blink. His lashes are soft charcoal that frames the spilled ink of his gaze. In the dimmed light of your room V is unreadable, his LED a quiet blue glow on his temple, but he looks soft, and he looks safe, and he nods.

“Alright,” he says. A smile that flickers at the edge of his lips. “I will.”

(You wake up, quiet and slow, face pillowed against V’s thigh, still drifting in sleep. You make a small noise, eyes shut, wondering why there’s no blaring sound of your alarm, but then a large hand smooths over your hair and you instinctively relax under the soft touch.

“You have thirty three minutes until you’re due to wake up,” he murmurs. “You can go back to sleep.”

So you do.)

(When you wake up to the scream of your alarm thirty three minutes later, you don’t remember any of this. All you can think of is the dawn of another Monday, the slog of another working week, and you sigh. But—

“Morning.”

V’s eyes are dark meok ink, liquid earth that grounds you.

“Morning,” you say, smiling despite yourself, and then roll out of bed to get the whole day started.)

You’re used to spending a day surrounded by laughter and banter, wrapped up in the camaraderie of your co-workers and friends, only to return to a world of quiet solitude. You’re used to coming home to rooms that are untouched from the morning, holding onto the echo of your passing, still and waiting for your return, an apartment of motionless air.

But not today. There’s evidence of someone else here: the open door to your studio down the hall, the scattered books on the coffee table, the mess of cushions on the sofa, all small signs that someone has been moving and living in your absence. A still-life that’s shifted into a breathing trompe l’oeil, V’s presence bringing flatness into perspective, turning it into something real.

It’s… nice.

You flop onto the sofa and send one of those cushions overboard, tumbling to the ground. V appears in the doorway moments later, new apron already streaked with colour, copper green thumbprint on his face like he’d touched it in thought and not realised. A little streak of paint that draws the eye to his lovely chin.

“Welcome home!” His hair is blond today, a golden nimbus around his face, though his eyes are still dark. Light and shadow. His happiness is infectious and you smile helplessly back, glad for his excitement with painting—but it seems like he hasn’t finished. “I’m happy you’re home. I missed you.”

KO. Wipeout. Your heart turns to liquid in your chest, burnt sugar that dribbles hot and saccharine through your ribs.

“I chose a name.” V continues, oblivious to how he’s turned your insides into syrup, and you abruptly sit up.

“Oh?”

“Taehyung.” The way he says it, in his deep voice, those two syllables are endless—a single name, heavy with the weight of meaning behind it. A shedding of his old skin, one that was forced on him, leaving him pink-skinned and new and free.

“Taehyung,” you repeat, and his LED flickers at the sound falling off your lips. “Taehyung. It’s lovely.”

He’s smiling, that lovely toothy smile that you’ve already decided is your favourite out of any smile you’ve seen, his LED electric blue and swirling in delight.

Day after day, you wake up to the sight of that LED glowing as Taehyung watches you lift up out of sleep. Night after night, you come home to his lovely, big grin, all large hands and soft hair—hair that he chooses to change colour when he pleases, a dizzying palette with every shade you can dream of. He’s bright and deep, playful and reflective, a dance of flirty Rococo to more solemn Baroque, every day another day where he learns and grows and adds another facet to the cut diamond of his personality.

(It hasn’t been long but you’re starting to think you’d put the world in the palm of his hand, if you could.)

You never thought you’d live to see the day where someone as lovely as Taehyung would be glad to see you home, having missed you after being apart—but for all that he’s voraciously leaning into the arts, consuming everything from visual to literary to performance, he’s never happier than when you’re there too. He shows you his works, improvement obvious with every new piece, but his excitement grows tenfold when you start to paint alongside him; seeing him so joyful spurs you to pick your brushes up again, buoyed up with motivation in the face of his own.

(Your studio is usually quiet, a little reflective maybe, the only sound the music you play over your speakers—but now more often than not you and Taehyung will talk, and laugh, and even if you’ve both ebbed into silence, it’s never heavy. It’s a held breath. The potential to speak any moment. The sensation of another person in the same space as you, an orbit, both existing in a shared moment, connected by gossamer threads that shimmer with sunlight.

Taehyung’s eyes are steady on his canvas as he works, but he glances at you through the curl of his lashes, smiling back at you. Always, always smiling, LED calm blue as the rest of his face shines golden, bright.)

(Maybe it’s selfish, but you think you could get used to this.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon

#btswritingcafe #magicshopnet #btswriterscollective #taehyung x reader #bts #taehyung x you #taehyung au #bts au #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung scenario #taehyung imagine #android taehyung #robot taehyung #look you know the drill by now: I don't know how to tag effectively #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist #dbh is so good guys. I love connor. like. an alarming amount.

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 2 | Be Careful with Clive, I Have Grown Attached to Him

A/N: Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed). It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will. Keep your hate to yourself.

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt. Tom has an idea to solve all their problems. Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts. Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else. In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Tom and Molly are now married. Surprise! These two talk about the logistics of Tom’s half-baked plan. And Molly moves to London to face the firing squad, aka the paparazzi.

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of: child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED! THANK YOU FOR READING!

–

After they signed the license along with the apostille, there had been dancing. That much Molly remembered. And drinking. Specifically drinking champagne. Tom danced with abandon, pulling Molly into the whirlwind of activity he created around him.

But now it was morning, and Molly woke up in a bed that wasn’t her own. She groaned as her head pounded, having forgotten that champagne and her have a love-hate relationship. Molly saw the faint outline of Tom asleep on the couch, his long body stretched out, still wearing his suit from last night. After glancing at the alarm clock, Molly fell back asleep.

Several hours, Molly woke up again and headed to the bathroom, not noticing the now opened curtains.

“Hey good lookin, Whatcha got cookin,” Tom’s voice twanged as he stepped out of the shower. His head pounded a bit, but not the worst hangover he had.

“AHHH!!!” Molly screamed as she stepped into the bathroom.

They both froze, which was more embarrassing for Tom, as at least Molly was still wearing her dress from last night.

“You’re naked.” Molly blinked, her head darting around the room until she focused on an interesting corner of the room.

Tom chuckled, grabbing a towel and wrapping it loosely around his waist. “I don’t normally shower in my clothes. You can look back now.”

She slowly turned back around. “Sorry.” She shuffled her feet. “I should have knocked.”

“It’s quite alright.” He moved towards the door. “Shower is yours and we should talk things over.”

Molly nodded. “We should.”

While Molly showered, Tom dressed in the other room. After finding a clean t-shirt for Molly to wear over her dress until she could change, he called the airlines and changed his single ticket for that morning to a later flight for two, fishing Molly’s ID out of her wallet.

“Thanks for the shirt.” she stepped out.

“It looks good on you.” Tom gestured to the sofa. “Sit. Would you like some breakfast?” Her stomach growled. They both laughed. “That would be a yes.” Tom shoved the room service menu. “Order what you like.”

She selected an egg white frittata while Tom got the pancakes. Tom put in the order and returned his attention to Molly.

“So let’s talk about how this will work.” Tom shifted in his seat.

“An excellent idea. You mentioned living together in London. When do we leave?”

“This afternoon.”

Molly coughed. “That quick?”

“I’m afraid so.” Tom’s hands fidgeted in his lap. She noticed he was still wearing the spider ring. “I have work obligations back home and in order for it to be believable you would need to live with me.”

“Naturally.” Molly slapped her thighs. “So after breakfast, I can head back to my apartment, pack up what little I have, say goodbye to my roommate, and change into appropriate clothing. And you need to get us some proper rings.” She waved her hot pink ring in the air. “Unless of course you intend for your bride to wear a ring from the top of a cupcake.”

“Only if I get to keep my ring. I’ve grown quite attached to Clive.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You named the spider?”

“Yes.” There was a knock on the door. “That will be the food. Allow me.” He disappeared and returned shortly with a rolling table, ladened with food. Tom poured a cup of coffee and offered one to Molly.

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“I can have them bring up a teapot.”

“I’m pretty sure there are some complimentary ones in the room. Now,” She cut into her food and took a bite. “how will everything else work? Living with you, your life, the paparazzi? That is the whole point of this charade.”

“You do get down to business. So yes, I would expect you to live in my home. In a separate bedroom, I can set up another room as an office for you. We would need to attend events together and generally appear as a loving couple on the outside.”

“And my debts? That is part of the deal, right?”

“Right,” Tom gazed over at her while eating his pancakes. “I would assume the payments while we are together, and after the divorce is final, I would pay off any balance. I would also take care of your daily expenses while we are married. You are welcome to work if you want, but I will give you spending money.”

“So I would be a trophy wife?” Her brown eyes glinted.

Tom waved his hands in front of him. “Not that is not what I meant… I…”

“I am kidding, Tom. If you prefer, I can not work. I don’t mind. Give me some time to figure things out.” A thought came to her. “What about…” Molly searched for the words. “… other needs? Or if you wish to engage in a romantic relationship?” Her cheeks blushed as the words fell out of her mouth.

Tom blushed as well. “I have great self-control and I think if either of us get to that point, we can discuss it. I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

“And I don’t want you to be trapped either. I guess that is as good of an answer I could expect. Anything you want to ask me?”

Tom stared at Molly. The air hung heavy. “Do you regret saying yes?”

“No. Do you regret asking?”

“No.”

Molly downed the rest of her juice. “Well then, it is all settled. I am going to take off to pack. And you have some shopping to do. My ring size is a 7.”

Tom finished up the last bite of pancakes. “Right. We need to leave here by 3 to make it to the airport.”

“I shouldn’t be more than a few hours. Do you have a key to the room I could borrow?”

Tom fished one out of his discarded jacket’s pocket. “Here I will have the front desk make me another one.”

She tapped the key against her nails. “Thanks, Tom. For the help and for being a decent guy.”

“I should be thanking you.”

“You already have.” She grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

Tom headed downstairs, asked the front desk for a new key to the room, and also inquired where the nearest jewelry store might be. The front clerk handed him a key and directed him to a small collection of luxury stores in the hotel. He found Tiffanys and purchased a classic platinum solitaire engagement ring and plain platinum band for Molly and a yellow gold band for himself.

Molly wasn’t back when he returned, so he set about packing up for the flight. His phone buzzed. Luke.

It appears you had a good time in Vegas. The papers say you are drowning your sorrows. Looks like the story is here to stay. Call me when you wake up from your nap at home.

Tom typed back.

I did have a good time. I have a feeling the papers will soon find another story soon. Still in Vegas, taking a later flight. Talk to you soon.

His phone rang. He clicked it off, seeing it was Luke. Rather to get all the yelling done in person. The door opened and Molly came in, dragging a suitcase behind.

“Sorry! My roommate had questions.”

“So does my publicist.”

Tom took in Molly for the first time, really. Outside of the light of a casino floor. And not in a wedding dress purchased for fifty dollars on the way to the chapel. She wore faded jeans, a pair of beat up black Converse and a boxy white tee tucked in. A large black cardigan tucked under her arm. Dark hair in a bun. Quite lovely, if Tom told the truth.

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” Her brows knitted together.

“Not yet.” Tom tucked his phone into his jean pocket. “Here.” He pulled out the little blue bag.

Molly gasped. “I thought you would go buy some costume jewelry. This is too much.”

“Nonsense. This marriage may be fake, but the jewelry will be real.” Tom opened up the boxes. “May I do the honors?”

Molly held out her hand, and Tom slipped off the plastic ring before replacing it with the wedding set. “Much better. And yours?”

Tom slapped the box into her hand. “Be careful with Clive.” Molly pursed her lips as she pulled off the spider ring and replaced it with the gold band, putting the plastic ring in the Tiffanys box. “Here you go. Clive’s new home.”

Tom tucked the box into his luggage. “Ready to go?”

Molly rocked back on her heels. “Yep.”

Tom held out his arm. “Let’s go home, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

The flight back was uneventful, Molly and Tom dozed off, leaning against each other for support. Molly woke up first. She stared down at her rings. This was not how she expected this weekend going. Molly thought she would scrap together enough tips to make an extra payment on her credit card. Not flying to London with a Tiffany diamond ring on her finger and a famous actor as her husband.

“Life does throw you curveballs from time to time.”

“What was that, darling?” Tom muttered, stretching in his seat.

“Just commenting on the craziness of all of this to myself.” She held out her hand again. Tom laced his fingers with hers.

“I have done the same thing myself. Now when we land, there will probably be paparazzi around. Are you up for getting this whole thing off and running?”

Molly perked up. “What do I need to do?”

Tom tightly gripped Molly’s hand throughout the concourse and baggage claim. They eyed the doors.

“Ready?” she asked, squeezing his hand.

“I promise to be gentle.” Tom squeezed back, smiling.

As they stepped through the doors, Tom flashed a killer smile and Molly did as well, giggling as his arm wrapped around her waist. He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. Molly melted against him, making sure her rings were visible as she cupped his cheek. She was right, Tom was an excellent kisser. After making sure any photographers had plenty of time to snap a pic, they parted.

“Think they got my good side?” Molly giggled.

“Do you have a bad side?” Tom asked.

“Just wait and see. Now take me home, darling!” She threw her arm over her eyes dramatically.

“Drama queen.” Tom pinched her side.

Tom’s home was cozy and clean. Definitely a bachelor’s home, as evidenced by the empty fridge except for a few bottles of beer and some questionable brown sauce.

“I can go shopping later.” Tom dragged a toe along the kitchen floor.

“I can go shopping later.” She reached up and smacked his face playfully. “What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t feed my husband?”

“Fair point. I will call the bank tomorrow and get a card in your name. Just run any big purchases past me first. And we will need to get your name changed, passport, etc. I can have someone help you.” Tom prattled on.

“Why don’t you show me the rest of the place first?”

Tom held out his arm. “This way.”

Tom’s book collection was impressive along with his collection of movies.

“I clear some space if you need it.”

“I only packed clothes. My roommate is selling the rest, including my car and wiring me the money.”

“Oh.” Tom’s face fell. “Let me show you the bedrooms.”

He showed you a small guest room. “This could be an office for you and next door is a bigger bedroom for you.” Tom hustled along the hallway to open the next door. “Here.”

It was a bigger room with a queen bed and a wardrobe. Spare and clearly used for company.

“It will do just fine. And the bathroom is across the hall which is nice. Where’s your room?”

Tom made his way to the end of the hall and opened the door to his room, decorated in tones of grey and navy. A large king sized bed taking up most of the room along with a dresser. A bathroom en suite and a small closet completed the space.

“Very nice. Do you mind if I steal the color palette to decorate my room?”

“Please do. I never got around to decorate it. My sisters and mother are the only ones who stay in there.”

Molly paled a bit. She hadn’t thought about Tom’s family. “I supposed I will meet them soon.”

“I supposed so. It would be odd for my wife not to meet them. I hadn’t thought about it.”

Molly rocked back and forth. “Now why don’t I go shopping and you unpack and relax?”

“I would feel better if I came with you. You are in a different country, a strange city. And what if you have problems with the card?”

“Then let’s go and you can point out some of your favorite foods.”

“It’s a deal.”

“When I said pick out your favorite foods, I didn’t expect it to be only sweets. Did I marry a seven-year-old?”

“I’m 35, thank you. and I enjoy those sweets.”

“You eat like a college frat boy.”

“Guilty.”

“That is definitely changing now that I am around. You can’t continue to eat like that. There are things called vegetables.”

Tom snapped his fingers. “I’ve heard of those.”

“Get out of here!” Molly swatted at him. “I am certain you have things to attend to, and I need to familiarize myself with the kitchen.”

“Are you kicking me out of my kitchen?”

“Our kitchen. And yes.” Molly smirked.

“I yield! I yield. I’ll be in my study if you need me.” Tom walked out of the kitchen and towards his study.

He spied his phone sitting on the desk, still off from the flight. By now, any pictures should have been posted somewhere. Tom collapsed into his desk chair and clicked the phone on. While he waited for it to start up, he could overhear Molly puttering about in the kitchen, muttering to herself as she put away the groceries.

Buzz. Ten messages and eleven missed calls. He didn’t bother to listen to them and instead dialed Luke.

“Luke, I’m back in town. Thought I wou—” Tom started in as soon as Luke picked up.

“I WASN’T FUCKING SERIOUS WHEN I SAID TO GET MARRIED??! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?!”

Tom pulled the phone away from his ear. “No, I haven’t. But I am married. To a wonderful girl. Her name is Molly. Molly Bishop. You should meet her, Luke.”

“YOU ARE FUCKING RIGHT I’LL MEET HER. AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! SHE CAN HELP IDENTIFY YOUR BODY, THOMAS!” Luke continued to scream on the phone.

“Can you dial back the volume, Luke? I would like to preserve my hearing. Is there something wrong with marrying the woman I love?”

Luke cleared his throat. Tom understood Luke was doing his best to collect himself. “Apologies. There is nothing wrong with marrying the woman you love, Tom. Nothing at all. Except I don’t think you love this woman, since until a few weeks ago you were in love with—”

“Don’t say her name, it will ruin my marital bliss. I’m a hopeless romantic, Luke.”

“Hopeless, yes. Romantic, the jury is still out. And your fans don’t count, they are blinded by you. But I see the truth.”

“Which is?”

“You are not as smart as you think you are.”

“Did any of the articles mention her?” Tom inquired, spinning his wedding band on his finger.

“No.”

“Then I am exactly as smart as I think I am.”

There was a clatter from the kitchen.

“Tom!” Molly called out. “I need your help.”

“Got to go, Luke. My wife needs my help.” Tom emphasized the word “wife.”

“This isn’t over, Tom.”

“It never is. Bye.”

More clattering and another cry. “Tom!”

Tom rushed into the kitchen to find Molly perched on top of the kitchen counter, reaching high into a cabinet.

“Why is everything so high in here?”

Tom chuckled and reached around her, pressing his torso against her back. Molly jumped for a moment at the touch.

“I’m not used to sharing my space. I’m six two, I put things where I can reach them. What are you grabbing?”

“The roasting pan.”

Tom pulled it down and placed it on the counter. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it.

“Thank you. Well, I am five six, so unless you want me climbing counters for the next year, we need to rearrange some things.”

“But you’re so cute climbing around like a little monkey.”

Molly frowned. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? If so, then try again.”

Tom opened his mouth and closed it. “I’ll pull things down after dinner.”

“Thank you.” She rubbed his arm. “Now to try my hand at a roast dinner. Did you get stuff done?”

His phone buzzed again.

“I called my publicist. The pictures posted.” Tom pulled out his phone to shut it off.

“Oh good. So I take it, I had the desired effect.” Molly crunched on a carrot and offered one to Tom, who wrinkled his nose.

The two of you. My office 8 a.m. tomorrow. No excuses. I want to meet the blushing bride.

Tom frowned at the screen.

“It would appear so. I suggest you go to bed early because you are meeting Luke, my publicist tomorrow.”

Molly’s mouth fell open. “Should I be worried?”

Tom smiled at her. “No, I should be.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston smut #accidently married

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kamoniwa · 4 years

Text

⟼ a little madness

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: yokai!kuroo/demon!akaashi/human!reader/werewolf!semi

⇢ au: college!au

⇢ summary: you, your friends, and some friends of your friends all get tricked by one tendou satori into visiting an abandoned amusement park for halloween. it turns out it isn’t ghosts you need to worry about, though.

⇥ kinktober masterlist

⇢ warnings: gangbang, noncon to consensual, lots of reluctance, mind break if you squint?, technical temperature play, unprotected sex, creampie, the boys are real gentle in breaking you down

⇢ word count: 11,695

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: don’t really think noncon is my forte but practice makes perfect. is the pairing self-indulgent? fat yes. does this fic make total sense? not really sure. did i have fun writing it? hell yeah. also big thank you to @ishuzoku for helping me come up with the flyer bc my og id was garbage lmao.

Furrowing your brows, you looked at Tendo with a mix of exasperation and unadulterated dismay.

“An abandoned amusement park. On Halloween?” Kaori asked before you could, eyebrows disappearing into her bangs. “You cannot be serious, Tendo.”

If he was put off by your reactions, he didn’t show it. If anything, he was probably relishing in it, and said, “Yes, yes I am. It’ll be fun. Come on, do you really just wanna get drunk at a boring house party on Halloween?”

You snorted at that, stirring your coffee as you said, “As opposed to getting murdered at an amusement park? That’s like, straight out of a horror movie, Tendo.”

“You guys are so boring,” he whined, slumping forward across the table. Shirabu grumbled under his breath, glaring at Tendo as he nudged his drink closer to Shirabu’s textbook. “Look, it’ll be so cool! Exploring all the abandoned funhouses and imagine how freaky the haunted houses will be! Just think about it, okay?”

The looks everyone exchanged said they had and had already made up their minds, but you nodded anyway, if for no other reason than to appease him.

A moment later, your alarm went off and you bid them goodbye, walking towards the door with Shirabu for your next lecture. You were sure as shit not going to an abandoned anything this weekend.

Except somehow, against all odds, you were piled up in the back of Konoha’s car, crammed beside someone who had been introduced to you as Akaashi Keiji. He was a friend of Bokuto’s and Konoha’s and, upon hearing about your adventure, asked if he could tag along. If you had to peg him, he was more the librarian type than a ghost hunter type-- soft spoken and well mannered with pretty blue eyes that closed slightly when he smiled.

In the front seat were Konoha-- driving-- and Yachi, currently fighting with the radio and Konoha’s phone.

In the car behind you was someone named Kuroo-- also a friend of Bokuto and Akaashi-- Kaori, Goshiki, and Semi-- a friend of Shirabu, Goshiki, and Tendo. Kuroo was almost ecstatic to be going, but Semi had seemed like he would rather be doing anything else as he climbed into the passenger seat of Kuroo’s car.

The car in front contained Tendo, Bokuto, Yukie, and-- god bless him-- Shirabu. You were sure he was losing his mind as Tendo guided him towards the location of the amusement park. The details on how exactly this had come about were lost on you, but you vaguely recalled a drunken bet made two nights ago and a video that Tendo refused to share properly, but assured you was proof that the group had agreed to the terms of said bet and then lost. Spectacularly. Supposedly.

“So, how did you meet everyone?” Akaashi asked, turning to look at you. The scenery outside was turning quickly from civilization to wilderness, the trees growing thicker the further you drove until you couldn’t tell one trunk from the next.

Humming, you rested your chin in your hand, bracing your elbow on the door. This was the worst part of meeting someone new during a trip-- tedious small talk. But you had to start somewhere, so you said, “I met Kaori in one of our classes and ‘Toka-- er, Yachi--” The girl turned around at the sound of her name and waved. “-- is my roommate. They kind of introduced me to everyone else.”

Truth be told, you weren’t sure how they had become your core group of friends. From loud and boisterous Bokuto to sullen and taciturn Shirabu, you adored all of them, but you had had your own group of friends before meeting them. Most of those old friends had faded from sight as you found yourself absorbed in your new ones and, while a part of you felt bad, it was just a part of life.

“What about you?” you asked, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “How do you know them?”

Konoha snickered from the front seat and Akaashi cut him a glare before turning back to you. “I’ve been friends with Konoha, Bo, and Tetsuro since highschool. Kaori and Yukie were our managers,” he said.

Konoha made a turn onto a road who’s name sign had long since fallen off the rusty pole, and you wondered just how far out you had traveled. It didn’t feel like it had been long since you left, but you recognized nothing around you and there was no sign of life.

“So, everyone but ‘Toka and I were friends in highschool, huh?” You chuckled. “What are the odds?”

Akaashi laughed with you, fiddling with his fingers as he turned back to look out his window.

The car was now filled with the sound of music, overtaking the silence that fell between the four of you. Konoha was focused on driving and you knew Yachi was more than a little nervous-- you had almost expected her to back out and accept whatever payback Tendo had planned for it afterwards.

“Do any of you guys know anything about this place?” you asked, leaning forward and resting your chin on Yachi’s seat. Through the windshield, you could see Tendo’s shaved head and Bokuto’s spiky locks in the backseat, and worried for poor Shirabu’s sanity. “How did Tendo even know this place existed?”

“It’s an old legend,” Akaashi spoke up softly.

Both you and Yachi turned to look at him, the latter’s breath hitching because everyone knew when those words were said, the story was going to be unpleasant.

Konoha cursed as he hit a pothole, muttering Tendo’s name under his breath as he righted the car between the faded lane lines, and Akaashi smiled at that before looking back to you.

“I doubt most people have heard of it,” he began, popping his knuckles one at a time. “It’s more of a local thing, really.”

“Well then how do you know about it?” you asked curiously, quirking a brow. You knew Bokuto grew up in Tokyo, which meant Akaashi had as well, and you were well outside of the city limits.

Akaashi smiled, tipping his head to the side and for the first time there was something other than soft indifference in it. “I enjoy these types of places and legends. It’s a hobby, you might say. This particular amusement park was meant to be scary in nature and didn’t stay open for long due to unexplained deaths and disappearances.”

Yachi squeaked, and you cast her a glance before resting your hand on her shoulder. This was probably not the best story for someone as easily scared as she was, but it was too late now, and you knew there was curiosity beneath the fear.

“That sounds way too vague,” you said, lips curling up at the corners. “That’s what everyone says about places like this. It’s not scary.”

Your skepticism was met with laughter and he said, “True. The police at the time pinned the problems on faulty attractions or poor background checks, saying there must have been a serial killer hired without anyone realizing. Sounds to me like they just couldn’t figure out what was causing it.”

You rolled your eyes, nodding along. If the park was as old as Tendo said, it could really have been faulty attractions, but you weren’t buying the serial killer story. It sounded too far-fetched compared to being crushed by an unstable support beam.

Akaashi continued, voice dropping in what might have been a scary attempt at atmosphere if the sun wasn’t framing his pretty features in a golden glow behind him. “The locals all said that the place was haunted, too many deaths had built up negative energy, trapping the spirits of those killed there. Unable to escape, they grew angry and the deaths continued until authorities labeled the park unsafe and banned any more visitors. And then--”

“What the hell?” Konoha cut him off, hitting the brakes a little harder than necessary.

Akaashi’s seat belt locked and he grunted, rubbing at the new red mark on his neck as he asked, “What’s going on?”

“Dunno,” Konoha replied, putting the car in park. “Sorry about that. Shirabu is getting out of the car.”

The car behind you pulled up as you were getting out, eyes wide as you watched Tendo lay a map out on the trunk of Shirabu’s car.

“We’re lost,” you said, sighing in exasperation.

A tall figure blocked out the sun in front of you and you squinted up into the face of Kuroo. He was giving you a catlike grin, ruffling his messy rooster hair as he said, “Sure seems that way, princess. This place is in the middle of nowhere. I’ll be surprised if we even find it.” He guided you over to the car where the others were gathered, snickering at the look of surprise on your face. “What?”

“You know about this place too?” you asked, glancing at Akaashi on the other side of the car. He cast you a small, closed eyed smile. “Akaashi was telling us about it in the car.”

Kuroo chuckled, raising a brow at his friend. “Yeah, being friends with Akaashi has its share of hazards.”

“Look, I’m pretty sure we’re here,” Tendo said, interrupting your conversation. He was pointing to a small line that looked just like any other on the map, aside from the major roadways and cities. If he was right, you were a decent ways out of the city and your watch read 1:01pm. “If we just follow this road and then this one, it’ll lead us straight past the village and to the park.”

Shirabu looked skeptical, spinning the map around to look at it as well. He wasn’t exactly wrong but how could he really tell? All the smaller roads looked the same and they couldn’t even confirm the name of the road because there was no sign. It had also been ages since they last saw a house or even another car, so asking anyone was out of the question too.

“This is stupid,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. No one besides Tendo really wanted to be there-- he ignored the fact that Kuroo was just as excited as his weirdo friend to be going and that Akaashi had jumped at the opportunity as well-- and it would be so much easier to just turn around and go to Hinata’s party. “We should just go home before we get lost.”

Tendo frowned at that, sharing a look with Kuroo before saying, “We aren’t lost*. It’s not much further now. Just trust me.”

The others were all inclined to agree with Shirabu, you included, but arguing with Tendo was like arguing with a brick wall-- pointless. He had already tricked you into agreeing to this endeavor and at this point backing out would be both a waste of time and gas. Shirabu was too smart to get lost anyway but, if you were lucky, Tendo was wrong and you wouldn’t be able to find the place at all.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to find it?” Yachi asked once you were safely back in the car.

Akaashi hummed beside you, but you said, “God I hope not. I was looking forward to Hinata’s party and if we get back quick enough we might still make it.”

Konoha looked at you in the rearview, eyes crinkled as he snickered. “What, are you scared, _____? Afraid the ghosts are gonna get ya?”

Scoffing, you dug through your bag for your phone. A check an hour ago had revealed one bar, but now the words ‘No Service’ blazed across the service banner. “No, I’m not scared. There are just a thousand better things to be doing that than breaking my neck on rusty amusement park rides.”

“Sounds like cowardice to me,” he answered, laughing at you through the mirror.

Sticking your tongue out at him, you turned back to the window, sighing as the scenery passed by in a blur. Konoha and Akaashi talked a lot about volleyball, Yachi pitching in occasionally. You knew she had managed her highschool volleyball team and knew everyone else in the group to some degree, but most everything sports related went over your head.

Still, Akaashi made some effort to get to know you, asking about highschool and what classes you were taking. You told him about your major and asked what his was, finding out he was a literature major and constantly busy, explaining why you had never met him before. He, Kuroo, and Semi were the busiest out of all their friends, often skipping out on get togethers in order to study, work, or-- in Semi’s case-- practice with his band.

A little while later, while Yachi and Konoha were having a heated discussion about their favorite subjects, you caught the first glimpse of something besides trees. Turning to look out the windshield, you saw brake lights already lighting up and the car began to slow.

“Well, we found the village, at least,” Tendo said, reading the faded sign displaying the name of the town. “I didn’t expect it to be abandoned too, though.”

Everyone was gathered in the middle of the road, looking down the mainstreet of the village. Windows were busted out and boarded up, paint faded on rotten clapboards, and roofs missing tiles or riddled with holes. The street was littered with potholes and the whole town had an eerie sense of unnatural quiet. Everyone shifted on their heels, slowly making their way back towards the cars without a word and piling in.

Even Tendo looked unnerved.

The town disappeared behind you but in the distance you could see the towering track of a roller coaster above the treeline. Even from so far away you could see that the paint was faded off of it, the sun filtering through clouds and casting the whole area in shades of grey. To you, it seemed like the forest was darker, the trees packed more closely together, and your heart began to thump in your chest.

“You okay?” Akaashi’s gentle voice asked in your ear. His hand landed on your shoulder, colder than expected, and you shivered underneath his touch. “You look like you’ve already seen a ghost.”

You nodded, looking over to find him giving you a look of amused concern, one corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “Just nervous. That town was creepy as hell and it freaked me out a little.”

“Me too!” Yachi squeaked from the front seat, turning around to give you a pleading look. “Don’t you dare leave me, _____.”

Laughter filled the car then and you patted Yachi on the shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of it, ‘Toka.”

The towering sign for the park appeared up ahead and the car fell silent all over again as brake lights lit up again. Broken glass and gravel littered the parking lot, which was smaller than expected for how big the park looked.

Everyone seemed to hesitate on getting out of the cars. Tendo was the first, followed by Kuroo, and then Akaashi. Like it was a signal, the rest of you followed, Yachi clinging onto your hand and Kuroo and Akaashi seeming to stand behind you protectively, close enough that you could feel warmth radiating off them.

“Do we really have to go in there?” Goshiki asked, eyeing the ticket booth with disdain. The paint on it, like everything else, was faded, the wood rotten and the window and door busted out. The latter creaked on its hinges, filling the still air with an unsettling noise that mixed with the faint sounds of creaking metal and leaves fluttering in the wind.

Everyone shuffled back towards the cars a little at his question, but Tendo took a step forward, resting his hand on the turnstile. “Since we’re actually here, may as well take a look around.”

Without another moment of hesitation, he hopped over it, peering around with an unusually quiet interest. It was the first time since you had met Tendo that he had nothing to say, his already pale face seemingly devoid of color, making his vibrant, sleepy eyes pop out even more.

Groaning, you, Shirabu, and Goshiki stepped forward, dragging Yachi with you as you climbed over the turnstile as well. You couldn’t just let Tendo wander off into the dangerous park alone. The others followed suit, muffled whispers and conversations floating through the air as they spread out in the area.

The forest had started taking back over through the concrete, weeds and grass sprouting up through the cracks and pushing the cobblestones up and out of place. Vines of ivy and moss hung from the powerpoles, vendor booths, and some attractions further back, swaying in the gentle breeze. The buildings were dark inside, but through the gloom you could make out mannequins and shelves devoid of merchandise.

The bell dinged on the first one Tendo pushed open-- a souvenir shop. It was empty except for dust and garbage, as were the next few you entered.

Slowly but surely the group made their way further into the park, Yachi clinging onto you the whole time. Akaashi and Kuroo were right behind the two of you, Shirabu and Semi in front, forming a kind of guard while Tendo and Bokuto led the way. Kaori clung to Goshiki, who looked like he was putting on a brave front despite his pink cheeks and the nervousness in his eyes.

For all his grumbling, Shirabu looked interested as he eyed all the buildings and machinery. It was quiet, devoid even of the sound of birdsong or humming bugs, and it unsettled you.

“Oh look, it’s the pirate ship ride!” Bokuto yelled suddenly, breaking the deathly silence.

Everyone jumped, Shirabu hissing at him to shut up while Yukie shrieked, latching onto him. Bokuto had the decency to look abashed but still steered the group towards the derelict platform, testing his weight on the creaky metal stairs on his way up.

The deck of the ship was littered with leaves and dust, the seats worn down and showing stuffing and springs after however many years left in the element. There were signs of rust on the metal and the whole thing shifted slightly to emit a creak.

“Um, Bo, I don’t think that’s safe,” Kuroo called out, grabbing your arm to stop you from following up behind him.

Tendo and Goshiki were up beside him, examining the boat itself and, before anyone knew it, the former had hopped into it.

“Tendo!” Shirabu called, a trace of panic in his voice. His fingers were wrapped around the railing, paint flakes coming away under his touch hand as he prepared to spring up the stairs, but everyone’s eyes were locked on Tendo’s precarious creep down the middle aisle. “Get out of there before you get hurt, idiot!”

“It’s fine, Shirabu,” he called, now standing at the bow. “It’s kinda cool actually. I can see more of the park from here.”

Bokuto landed with a thump a moment later, a louder creak ringing out than when lanky Tendo had landed, and everyone took a collective breath and held it.

But as before, it held, and he joined Tendo up by the bow.

“Wow, he’s right!” he called, holding his hand above his eyes like a visor and peering out over the park. It was certainly bigger than he imagined for being in the middle of nowhere. “There’s a house over that way!”

“Probably the haunted house,” Tendo said, straining to see what Bokuto was looking at. In the distance were two stilted, twisted steeples painted in different hues. One was flamboyant and bright, the other dark and dreary, even compared to the state of disrepair of the rest of the park. “I see a funhouse too, I think. Looks pretty freaky. Wanna check ‘em out?”

“Hell yeah,” Bokuto shouted, whipping around to look at the rest of you.

Shirabu looked ready to blow a gasket, and Yachi looked ready to faint, but everyone else looked intrigued. Even you couldn’t help but be a little curious about it, having free range to explore the most interesting rides in the park. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to be able to see what they were like without restraint?

The sun was just beginning to fade behind the treeline, turning the clouds a thin shade of orange, but the lure of seeing something interesting had dissolved any real fear.

The two men met Goshiki on the platform and made their way back down to the rest of the group, eyes shining bright with the promise of adventure.

“I told you it wouldn’t be so bad!” Tendo said as if the stunt he just pulled hadn’t taken years off all your lives. Jumping haphazardly onto a decade old, rusted out death trap attraction at an abandoned amusement park hours from the nearest hospital wasn’t going to earn him any genius awards.

On the way towards the supposed attractions, you came across the carousel. Its metal panels were tarnished, the paint worn away from them and the animals, the mirrors grimy with dirt. Vines and ivy climbed up everywhere. The platform shifted when Kuroo stepped onto it, Tendo hot on his heels followed closely by Bokuto.

“Let’s go see, ‘Toka,” you said, tugging her forward by the hand. Kaori took your other one, squeezing, while Akaashi guided you with a gentle hand on your back.

“Look at this,” someone said, and you turned to find Semi holding a faded paper. “It looks like a poster claiming someone was kidnapping people.”

“How the hell is it still here?” Konoha asked, peering at it around Semi’s arm. “It should have disintegrated a long damn time ago.”

“Dunno,” Semi said with a frown. Trying to see the paper, you were crowded against Semi by Yachi and Kaori and flinched when you realized how hot he was. “It was wedged in the frame of the mirror.”

The whole thing was faded but still legible, due presumably to being tucked into the mirror, and appeared to be a flyer issued by the park itself.

Due to the recent disappearances, park security has been tightened. Please stay aware of your surroundings and report and suspicious activity immediately.

“You were right, Akaashi,” you said, glancing up at the man standing behind you. “They really did think someone was kidnapping people.”

“A lot of the people were never found,” Semi said, folding the sheet up neatly and tucking into his pocket. “It’s not surprising they thought that.”

“Ohhhh, maybe the bodies are still here,” Tendo said, wiggling his fingers over Konoha’s shoulders. “Maybe it was actually the workers kidnapping people and they kept the bodies in a secret place.”

“Like where?” Shirabu asked, giving him an exasperated, skeptical look. It was getting late and they were wasting time just hanging around. He wasn’t particularly thrilled at the idea of being in the park after dark, going to possibly the scariest attraction in the place, but if they were going to do it, they needed to just get it done. “The authorities probably tore this place apart looking for them.”

Tendo shrugged, looking thoughtful. “Maybe they hid them in the haunted house. Maybe there’s a hidden room somewhere that only the workers knew how to open.”

“Could you not?” Yukie asked, slapping Tendo on the arm. “We’re going there, in case you forgot, pea brain. Way to freak us out.”

Yachi was clinging onto Kaori now, staring at Tendo with wide, frightened eyes and he almost looked repentant.

“Or, you know, could be anywhere. The haunted house would be a pretty obvious place to hide it, wouldn’t it?” he said, rubbing the back of his head. Beckoning to Yachi, she went reluctantly, letting Tendo tuck her under his arm. “Don’t worry, Yach. I’ll protect you, ‘kay?”

You and Kaori snickered at the shade of red her face turned, and Shirabu sighed.

“Can we just get going before it gets too late?” he asked, turning and leading the way down the path. The shadows were slowly lengthening, orange mixing with shades of pink and purple in the sky.

Semi fell into step beside you, Yukie on your other side. Goshiki and Konoha were having a conversation about the derelict rollercoaster to the right, and you allowed your attention to drift to it. It was eerie, the faded paint and rusted metal tracks looming like a foreboding beacon above you. Staring the way you were, your foot caught a displaced cobblestone and you went sprawling with a yelp.

Before you could smack the ground, a strong, warm hand wrapped around your upper arm and hauled you back up. It hurt, causing a sharp ache in your shoulder, but it still hurt less than the concrete probably would have. Looking up at your savior, you gave him a half smile.

“Thanks, Semi,” you said, rubbing your shoulder.

But he was frowning at you-- not that that was any different than the look he’d worn all day-- but this one was marred by soft concern. “Are you alright? You’re awfully cold.”

“O-Oh. No, I’m fine. Just got distracted by the coaster,” you said, giggling in embarrassment. “It is a bit chilly though, now that you mention it. I didn’t notice.”

There was a moment's hesitation, then the sound of a zipper being drawn down. A weight settled across your shoulders, surrounding you with an unfamiliar cologne, and your cheeks heated up at the realization that he had given you his jacket.

“That’s okay, Semi, really,” you said, shrugging the jacket off. “It isn’t that bad, and it’s my own fault. I left mine in the car.”

“No worries, _____,” he said, and for the first time you could see a small smile on his face in the dim light. “I’m not cold, so you can take it.”

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you said, pulling it back around your shoulders. It was warm and you smiled when you caught him looking at you. He was wearing a peculiar look, kind but almost possessive, and he licked his lips once before looking forward again.

You shivered, unsure if you were just seeing things. The park had rattled your nerves and Semi was just being nice. You didn’t know him well enough to make a judgement call like that and forced down the uneasiness, taking your place beside him again.

“Smooth move, klutz,” Konoha quipped, nudging your back. Goshiki and Shirabu snickered and you flipped them off over your shoulder, looping your other arm with Yukie.

The steepled spires of the haunted house came into view, beside which stood the funhouse, like Tendo said. Both looked terrifying in the dying light of the sun. Like everything else, the paint was almost gone, shingles missing from the roofs which were adorned with holes.

Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed Semi’s arm, pressing yourself to it. He glanced at you for a moment, a soft smile flitting across his face before looking at Tendo, who was staring between the two buildings.

“I wanna go in the funhouse,” Tendo said, turning back to the rest of the group. Setting his hands on his hips, he looked around at everyone. “Should we go as a group?” Kuroo shifted, pointing his feet towards the haunted house. “I kinda wanna go in there, actually.”

“Well no one should go anywhere alone,” Shirabu said firmly, and everyone nodded in agreement. If someone got hurt, no one would know for ages and then there was the long ride back on top of it.

“So we’ll split up. Everyone pick a house,” Tendo said, clapping his hands.

Yukie’s arm around yours disappeared and she scurried over to Tendo, looking at you apologetically. Yachi took her place instead, looking for all the world like she was going to collapse from fright, and you gave her a concerned look.

“I’m going wherever you go,” she said, and you raised a brow.

Before you could answer, Kuroo’s arm slung around your shoulders, looming over Yachi’s tiny form. “It looks like everyone’s decided. Pretty even split. Let’s meet back here in--” He checked his watch. “Two hours? That should be enough time to see everything.”

You opened your mouth to object, but Tendo nodded while Shirabu set the timer on his watch. “Everyone be careful, please. We really can’t afford any injuries.”

Yachi looked up at the dark house looming before you while the other group made their way towards the funhouse.

You could hear Tendo’s voice echo back, saying, “That’s the reason we have you here, Shirabu. You’re a doctor and all.”

Shirabu said something in return, but it was lost in the distance as you were herded towards the haunted house. The doors hung open, swinging in the breeze and creaking. It seemed like the house sucked all the warmth from the air the closer you got to it, and you squeezed Semi’s arm in yours.

“Scared, princess?” Kuroo whispered in your ear, raising the hairs on the back of your neck when his warm breath met your cold skin. “You shouldn’t be. We’re here with you.”

The steps leading into it sagged beneath your weight, the wood softer than it should’ve been and it came as no surprise when one broke beneath Semi’s weight. He cursed while you and Yachi pulled back, keeping him from falling over and potentially hurting himself. It took Akaashi and Kuroo both to pull him up out of the hole and a quick check revealed his jeans had protected his leg.

“Are you alright?” you whispered, looking up into Semi’s unamused face. He was wearing a hard scowl, his grip on you iron clad now as he guided you up the steps.

“Sure,” he said, eyes softening when he looked down at you. “Just annoyed.”

Inside, the light from your phones seemed to be swallowed by the darkness. The dust was thick and the air musty and humid. Cobwebs hung from everything, casting long shadows into the darkness beyond the halo of your flashlights.

Yachi yelped, tripping over a rotted track board and would have dragged you down if you weren’t holding onto Semi so tightly. His heat was almost a comfort now, driving away the persistent chill that seemed to emanate from the ramshackle walls. You couldn’t tell where the fabricated deterioration ended and true rot began.

“This way then?” Akaashi asked, leading the way into the first door. It was the kitchen area, set up to look like a butcher shop. A thick layer of dust settled over everything, motes flurrying through the painfully white light from your phones in an eerie dance that made it even harder to see.

Old props lay on the worn countertops, splotches of what was likely-- hopefully-- fake blood a dark black on the faded wood and laminate. Someone had a hand on your back while Akaashi examined a chain hanging from the ceiling, something hanging from the end of it. It made a strange noise when he pushed it, a crackly, grinding noise like it was rusty. It wouldn’t be a surprise, with the humidity as high as it is.

“That’s a little unsettling,” Kuroo admitted, and you all jumped when a loud crash rang out somewhere further down.

“Now would be the time to leave if we were in a horror movie,” you hinted through gritted teeth, even as Kuroo stepped back out into the hall. He scanned the darkness, his phone hanging by his side, the light pointed towards the floor. “What do you expect to see anyway, genius?”

He turned back to wink before disappearing into the dark and you groaned, straining your eyes to see anything. His light was lost in the gloom and you released Yachi’s arm, taking a step forward. Semi allowed himself to be dragged along with you while Goshiki held Yachi, petting her hair as she whimpered.

Swearing, you and Semi trudged down the hallway, listening for any noises but heard nothing besides the sounds of an old building settling. Your voice caught in your throat when you opened your mouth to call for Kuroo, your ire failing in the face of the oppressive darkness in the heart of the house. Swiping a cobweb off your face, you shined your phone around, lighting up a destroyed living room area, two hallways, and a staircase.

“You don’t think he went upstairs, do you?” Semi whispered, following your line of sight.

Swallowing, you said, “God I fuckin’ hope not. This is so creepy, can’t we just leave him?”

He chuckled against his will, a quiet, rough noise as he tried to stifle it. “‘Fraid not. I don’t wanna deal with the cops.”

Heaving a sigh, you pointed the light down to the floor and found no sign of footprints in the thick dust. Flashing it behind you, you saw your own and Semi’s clearly visible and frowned. “Hey, look.”

Semi scoured the floor, waving his light all around you. “He definitely came this way.”

Nodding, you pointed the light back in front of you, down the hallway, but it was unable to break more than a few inches of darkness. “Okay, now I’m really freaked out. Where is he?”

New light joined your meager one, shuffling footsteps coming to a stop just behind you.

Akaashi’s hand landed on your shoulder, peering over your head at where you were staring.

“This way,” Semi said after a moment of silence. It was broken only by Yachi’s occasional sniffle and you wondered if you shouldn’t just return to the front door and let Semi and Akaashi handle the rescue. But gentle pressure on your arm and shoulder guided you down, sniffling at the dust before you broke out into a sneeze.

The floor creaked beneath your feet, making the already eerie feeling worse as you crept down the hall. There were faded, torn paintings lining the walls, a few false doors, and windows painted black and boarded up. You couldn’t tell if the paint peeling up the walls was due to age or intent, but it certainly didn’t help settle your unease.

“Careful,” Semi said suddenly, jerking you sideways into him. The cold hand slid off your shoulder and a light revealed a hole in the middle of the floor, where you had been about to step.

“Thanks,” you breathed, swallowing harshly. The dust was starting to sting your eyes and you repressed another sneeze, rubbing your nose.

Skirting around the hole, it opened into another room, what appeared to be a library. Overstuffed armchairs littered the room, the shelves lining the walls stacked with what were likely fake books. There was no sign of Kuroo, but Semi led you further into the room carefully.

He wasn’t careful enough, though.

Once second you were clinging to him, the next you heard a crack and then you were experiencing the most curious sensation. Your stomach swooped as the light disappeared, and you realized belatedly that you were falling. Something warm, almost scalding wrapped around you, and your fall stopped short with a grunt of impact.

You lay there stunned for several long moments, head spinning and heart beating hard enough that you could feel it in your ears. The dark was only furthering your disorientation and you only realized you were laying on something when it moved beneath you.

Sitting up, you felt something slump over your shoulders before coughing filled your ears.

“Semi?” you whispered hoarsely. Above you, you registered screaming and looked up only to be blinded by light.

Semi grunted behind you but didn’t move, breathing heavy against your back. From above, you could hear muted conversation before the shrieking stopped.

“_____, Semi, are you both okay?” Akaashi’s concerned voice reached your ringing ears, and you nodded in response.

It took you a moment to realize he probably couldn’t see you, calling up, “Yeah, I think so. Semi--”

“‘M fine,” he yelled, though he sounded winded.

“Are you sure?” you asked, wrapping a hand around the wrist dangling in front of you. A few feet away lay your phone, face down, the light muted but visible, and you sighed in relief. “You caught me, are you sure*?”

Semi chuckled, a rough noise. “Yeah, I’m sure. Trust me.”

“You guys stay there,” Akaashi commanded, then turned back to Goshiki and Yachi to say something. “I’ll find a way down to you.”

He disappeared and you scrambled forward, snatching your phone up. Moving back to the relative safety of Semi’s presence, you shined it around.

The basement, you decided upon seeing the array of monster props and torture machines, was perhaps the most terrifying part of the house. It was only heightened by your adrenaline rush, the shadows seeming to jump out to your paranoid mind.

As the adrenaline wore off, you took stock of your extremities. Semi really had cushioned you-- nothing hurt-- and you turned to face him.

In the light, he really did look fine, even his breathing had evened out, and he looked back at you with a smirk. “Told you. I’m tougher than you think.”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” you admitted, getting to your feet. You didn’t let Semi get far, linking your arm with his and clinging to him, much to his amusement.

His eyes adjusted to the dark faster than yours and he located his phone near the base of a rusty filing cabinet. The screen was cracked-- which he cursed-- but it still worked, and he turned the flashlight back on.

“This is creepy as fuck,” he muttered, thumping the model of a skeletal doctor to see the dust swirl. There was a medical table in the center of the room with a light looming over it. He assumed there was supposed to be a body laying on said table and, in the dark, it was a scary thought that it was no longer there. “I hope Akaashi hurries up. I don’t like it here.”

You couldn’t stifle the small giggle, though you covered your mouth in a poor attempt. It was the nerves, you were sure, because as he moved away you held tighter, stumbling after him. He tried one door, the handle stiff enough that you recognized it to be fake. There was a set of metal double doors on the other side of the room and those swung open with an eerie grinding noise, scraping across the concrete floor.

The hallways extended to either direction, cells lining the wall in front of you and you shuddered. “Let’s go, Semi, please,” you begged, tugging him down to the left. It was the same direction that you had come from on the floor above and hoped that it would lead you to a staircase or something*.

Semi went along reluctantly, flashing his light in all the cells you passed. Most were empty, besides the occasional bed or other prop. Some contained chains mounted in the wall and his eyes flashed to you.

The hallway opened up into what may have been a waiting room if most of the furniture hadn’t been utterly destroyed. As you scanned the area, there was a noise from up ahead and you jerked to a stop, scurrying back to Semi’s side. Peeking around him while he stared down the hall, you kept a tight grip on his arm, feeling the muscles flex and tense beneath your hand. A shadow moved in the light and you nearly screamed as Kuroo stepped into view, followed closely by Akaashi.

Neither carried a light and your heart leapt in your throat when you caught a momentary flash of light reflecting off of Kuroo’s eyes before it disappeared.

Still hiding behind Semi, the four of you regarded each other in silence for a moment, before Kuroo chuckled.

“Well, this is certainly convenient, though I didn’t expect you to get involved,” he said, leaning sideways against the wall. He looked as relaxed as usual while Akaashi lurked behind him, staring at you peeking around Semi’s arm.

He held out a hand to you but you held back, suddenly unsure of Kuroo’s words. With your heart in your throat, you looked up into Semi’s relaxed, impassive face. He made no moves, just watched the other two linger in front of your only escape route.

Then he shrugged.

“Dumb luck.”

The men burst into laughter and you squeaked, taking a step back from Semi. Before you could get anywhere, his hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you forward.

“Easy, kitten. We don’t wanna hurt you,” Kuroo said, stepping further into the room. His eyes lit up once again in the light from your flashlight, mischievous brown turning solid gold. His pupils narrowed and elongated, his smile seeming to become more sharp as he stared down at you.

You breathed in sharply, taking a step back into Semi’s chest. Regardless of whether he was in on whatever they had planned, he was the safest option as opposed to whatever the hell Kuroo was.

The grip on your wrist loosened but came to your shoulders instead, keeping you in place with a warning squeeze. You had already guessed he was tough, given he had taken the full brunt of the impact earlier, but you now suspected he wasn’t human either.

Akaashi came forward last, looking as placid and calm as ever, cold fingertips stroking down your cheek.

You shivered.

None of these men were human, if you had to hazard a guess. Staring up at them, you felt your heart drop.

“W-Where are ‘Toka and Goshiki?” you asked, and were proud that your voice barely cracked. Maybe if you reminded them people would be looking for you, they would back off, allowing you to escape.

Kuroo chuckled, flipping the zipper of your-- Semi’s-- jacket up in what would have been a cute manner under different circumstances. “Keiji here sent them looking for the others in the funhouse, but they’ll never find the doorway down here. Tendo was right, there are lots of hidden doors in this place.”

“What are you? What are you going to-- to d-do to me?” you asked quickly, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as he started to tug the zipper down. You were stalling at best, your heart thumping harshly in your chest. If there was any chance of escape, you couldn’t figure it out. You had no idea where this door was and you had the impression you wouldn’t be able to outrun them anyway.

“I don’t suppose it would hurt to tell you,” he answered, taking a step closer. You tried to shrink away, huddling down into Semi’s oversized jacket, but it only seemed to entice them. “I am a yokai, I assume you know what that is? Akaashi is your run of the mill demon.”

If that offended Akaashi, he didn’t show it, simply widening his smile and blinking slowly. His once serene blue eyes turned pitch black and when he blinked again, they were normal.

“I’m just a werewolf,” Semi said, breathing against your ear. His hands slid down, catching the zipper of his jacket between his fingers and drawing the zipper down slowly.

“W-Wait, please,” you tried, grabbing and tugging at his wrist to no avail. He was far stronger, and you were like a fly in comparison. “Please, can we just go?”

Kuroo cupped your cheek, a moderate temperature compared to the other two, and his smile seemed to soften a fraction. “No, kitten. Keiji and I have been waiting for this for far too long. The wolf probably just likes how you smell.”

You weren’t sure what that meant, but the deep, pointed inhale Semi took against your neck seemed to verify the statement. The jacket fell to the floor with barely a whisper and then your phone was placed face up on a table, beside the men’s, and the combined light filled the room.

It felt like you couldn’t get enough air as warm hands skimmed down your stomach, stretching the soft fabric of your t-shirt out, before settling on your hips. Lips met your neck, tentative at first, trailing up to your jaw, causing you to shiver.

The heat radiating off of Semi and Kuroo was getting to you, Semi’s soft lips flitting over pleasure spots causing your back to arch. You didn’t want to like it, but when Kuroo’s hands slipped up your shirt and over your ribs, your muscles tensed in unwanted arousal. Your nipples were already peaking inside your bra, the hairs on the back of your neck raising at the first graze of teeth on your skin.

“W-Wa-ait--” you breathed and, for a moment, you thought they really would stop because they both paused.

It was over in a moment, a soft kiss pressed to your other cheek as Kuroo pushed your bra up over your tits. His hands were soft as they cupped the tender flesh, giving gentle squeezes that went straight to your core, as much as you protested. “Not gonna happen, kitten. May as well enjoy it. We’ll take good care of you.”

A new sensation joined the heat surrounding you then, Kuroo moving to the side to allow Akaashi to join in. His hands were cold compared to the other two, one on your side and one cupping your unoccupied breast. The difference was enough to make you gasp, back arching on its own into their touch, and they at least had the decency not to snicker.

“You really do smell good, princess,” Semi whispered in your ear, nipping the lobe. “I can smell everything, even how wet you’re getting for us.”

Craning your neck away from him only opened you up to another smattering of kisses and you hated that he was right. They were getting to you, their gentle touches on your body doing everything right, like they had been your lovers for years rather than men you just met today. It made it harder to think than it already was, mind still racing in a futile effort to formulate some way to escape, but even you could recognize your body giving up.

Your shirt came up and over your head, disappearing somewhere outside of your vision. There was a collective intake from the men in front of you, and Semi groaned over your shoulder.

“I knew you would be so pretty, kitten,” Kuroo cooed, palming one tit again. He relished in the way you twitched when he pinched your nipple, then he cupped both, bouncing and watching them jiggle. “Been watching you all day, we couldn’t wait to get our hands on you.”

Akaashi was the first to lean over, wrapping cool lips around one pert bud, and Kuroo stepped back to watch your teeth sink into your lip to stifle any noises.

“Feel good, princess?” Semi asked, and chuckled when you shook your head. “It will soon, then. We won’t hurt you. Just wanna make you feel good.”

The worst part was, you were beginning to enjoy it. It was so tempting to cave, to just let them have their way with you. They were gentle, surprisingly so, and it was knocking down whatever resistance you had left at an alarming rate.

Semi’s hands were almost scalding against your sides, squeezing and kneading as he suckled at your neck, feeling you whine in your throat. “There you go. Just let go.”

The clasp of your bra came loose, and you weren’t even sure who had done it, before it was slid down your arms and dumped, presumably with your shirt.

There were two sets of lips attached to each nipple, your nails digging into your palms to keep from tangling your fingers in someone’s hair but you were losing the will to fight. Your panties were embarrassingly wet, no matter how much your mind insisted you didn’t like it, and you broke your silence when cold fingers drifted down to undo the button of your jeans.

“No please,” you begged, wiggling your hips in your first real display of resistance. Hands clamped down to still them in an iron grip, and a hand clasped your jaw, forcing you to look Kuroo in the eyes.

“What wrong, kitten? You’ve been so good up til now,” he said, stroking your lower lip with his thumb. There were imprints of your teeth in the skin, and he ached to kiss you, but it would have to wait.

“I-I don’t w-want--” you stuttered, tears burning the corners of your eyes as your zipper was pulled down.

Semi interrupted you then, tilting your head just so that he could kiss the corner of your mouth, smirking. “She’s embarrassed because of how wet she is.” Dropping his voice to barely a whisper, he said, “I can smell you, princess. You want this, don’t deny it.”

Shaking your head feebly, you whined when Semi pressed his lips to your cheek, dangerously close to your lips again. It was enough to distract you from your jeans sliding down your legs, until they pooled at your ankles and Akaashi had to tug your shoes off. Your jeans hit the floor shortly afterwards, the air startlingly cool against your now bare skin only to be covered with warmth as the men caged you in again.

It started with two fleeting touches to your inner thighs, which you tried to stop by squeezing them together only for them to pried apart in an instant. Semi took the opportunity to lay another languid kiss to the corner of your mouth, tongue flicking out against your lips.

For a moment, you turned into it only to jerk away, looking in the opposite direction. You knew what they were trying to do and you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of hearing you beg for something you didn’t want. You wondered briefly where the others were and why you could hear nothing from above, until warm hands cupped your tits again.

You bit down on your lip again when Semi circled your nipples with his thumbs, massaging your breasts as he rolled them between his fingers. It was hard to keep quiet when it felt so good, especially when Kuroo and Akaashi were teasing your inner thighs, so close your aching cunt.

Your hips rocked of their own accord, your mind too preoccupied with the warm touches on your tender nipples and stifling your noises, but all three of your attackers smirked.

“Ask, pretty girl,” Akaashi said, speaking for the first time.

His voice combined with his fleeting, cold touch against the soaked lips of your cunt caused a gasp to break free, hips rolling up in a jerky manner against your will. Your ears burned when they laughed and your teeth sank into your lip again. It was driving you insane, they were so close but you refused to beg for it.

“Aw, did we upset you, kitten?” Kuroo cooed, placing a wet kiss against your hip. “We’re sorry. You’re just so cute we can’t help it. Come on, ask us. Ask us to touch this pretty little pussy and we’ll make it up to you.”

Another swipe across your clit timed with a tug on your nipples broke the seal a second time.

“S-Semi--”

“There she goes,” Semi whispered, tilting your head around to look at him. Tears were spilling down your cheeks as you looked up at him with wide, resigned eyes. His eyes dropped to your parted lips for a moment and you swallowed, blinking the tears away, but didn’t struggle.

The first kiss was tentative, tongue ghosting between your parted lips to test you for a reaction. You only whined into the kiss, leaning in and he delved into your mouth, tongue lapping at yours as he tasted you.

When he pulled away, you hiccupped, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you closed your eyes.

“Please, just touch me. Fuck me, do whatever. I can’t--” you whispered, thighs aching from how tense you had been for god knew how long. It was too much to hold out, not when you were so wet and aching for it anyway. They knew what they were doing, their gentle teasing and buildup working to break down any fight you had and it had worked flawlessly.

You melted into Semi as Kuroo lifted one leg over his shoulder. Akaashi left a trail of cool kisses down your inner thigh while Kuroo kissed up the opposite one. You didn’t know whether to tremble or whine, so you did both when his nose bumped your clit, and they chuckled again.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it, pretty girl?” Akaashi asked, and you might have mistook it for affection in another situation. “Just relax.”

As if you had a choice. Hot breathe puffed across your folds, teasing just a little more until you were practically dripping on his lips. Only then did his tongue swipe across your clit, your hips jerking harshly. His hot tongue was replaced with a cold one, the two of them taking turns lapping at your clit at such a languid pace that it was more torturous than not being touched at all.

“Fuck, please, stop teasing,” you cried, voice cracking as your back arched. You were desperate at this point, willing to beg or do whatever they wanted. You weren’t getting out of it without doing so anyway, so you might as well enjoy it. “Kuroo, Akaashi, please.”

A sharp pinch to your nipples made you squeal just before Semi devoured your mouth. You could feel the aggravation in the kiss, the way his teeth clacked against yours and his tongue pressed against yours. You made muffled noises against him, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair.

At the same time, Kuroo latched onto your clit properly, and your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head as you rocked your hips against his feverish suckling. The noises he was making filled the quiet space, grunts and would-be moans that terminated against your clit as he worked to make you cum.

Your head was starting to spin from lack of oxygen and intense pleasure. Kuroo wasn’t giving you an inch and your slick hole fluttered around nothing, until something swirled around your entrance before slipping in.

You forgot about the kiss, Semi’s lips hovering against yours as you came with a cry around cold fingers. The temperature difference between Akaashi’s fingers and Kuroo’s lips was mind numbing, your eyelids flickering, trying to stay open before giving in. You didn’t bother to be quiet, letting your moans bounce off the walls. Maybe it would draw the others to you, and you could still get out of this.

Instead of withdrawing his fingers, Akaashi slipped another one in beside the first, kitten licking your still sensitive clit and listening to you whine for him to “Stop, please, too much.” He only smirked, continuing to lap until you relaxed, though the stream of noises never stopped.

There was a moment of hesitation as Kuroo stood, cocking his head in Semi’s direction. With your attention on your throbbing clit and Akaashi’s almost icy touch, you missed the way Semi beckoned to him. Their lips met briefly, allowing Semi to get a taste of you on his lips before Semi dragged him into a deeper one, tongues meeting in a heated tangle. Both men were hard, Semi grinding his clothed erection against the cheek of your ass, the chafing fabric unnoticed against your soft skin.

You squirmed against him when Akaashi crooked his fingers just right inside you, grazing over the swollen sweet spot inside you again and again until you were on the verge of another orgasm. It seemed like no matter how long his fingers stayed inside you, they never heated up. You weren’t even sure if the cold of his tongue flicking over your clit was pleasurable or not but it was such constant pressure that you hurtled towards your second orgasm. Kuroo was quick to stifle it, delving into your mouth for you to taste what remained of you on his tongue.

You came with a cry, convulsing around Akaashi’s fingers for a second time so hard you became light headed. He continued to pet that spot inside you until you were squirming to get away, tugging roughly at his hair.

Your legs shook when he let you down, only Semi’s strong grip keeping you upright. The sound of belt buckles clanging brought you down quickly, and trepidation set your heart racing again. There was no stopping it, but you found yourself trying to back up anyway.

“Ah,” Kuroo tutted, taking you from Semi’s arm and kissing the crown of your head like he was comforting you. “Don’t start that. We aren’t going to hurt you, kitten.”

No, they certainly hadn’t yet, and you had no choice but to trust his words. Something hard pressed against your ass, hotter even than the rest of Semi. You instinctively jerked away, pressing into Kuroo only to feel something slip between your thighs.

“Excited, aren’t we?” Kuroo drawled, and you could feel the condescension dripping off of him. Semi pressed to your back again, shielding you from the cold, while Kuroo asked, “How are we gonna take her? Semi, you kinda threw a wrench in things, can’t lie.”

Semi shrugged against your back, letting his cock settle between your thighs. You whined, jerking your hips instinctively away from the heat against your folds, but it only served to make him grind into you.

“I want this sweet cunt,” Semi snarled, cupping your jaw in a tight grip and tilting your head away, baring your throat to him. He licked a stripe from your shoulder to just beneath your ear before kissing the soft skin, and you shivered at the possessiveness in his tone.

“Alright, wolfboy smells a mate,” Kuroo said, rolling his eyes. “Akaashi?”

The last of the trio stepped forward again, skimming his fingers down your cheek before leaning in to steal a kiss. “I’m okay with whatever you want, Kuroo. Just wanna feel her around me.”

There was something dark in his eyes that belied his passive words. He was deferring to Kuroo to get things moving, you were almost sure. Like the rest of him, his cock was cool against your thigh, more like a glass dildo you kept at home than a cock attached to a man.

“That makes things easy then,” Kuroo said, clapping his hands and giving you that mischievous smile. If you didn’t know any better-- you didn’t-- you would say his teeth were a little sharper, the canines more pronounced than before. His eyes certainly hadn’t changed, maintaining that almost glowing golden color this whole time. “Semi, lay on the couch. Keiji, you can take her from behind. I want her mouth.”

He sounded like he was giving out instructions to his employees rather than fucking a very reluctant person, but the other two followed his instructions without question. It was an odd sensation, to be talked about as if you weren’t there, as if you had no say over what was happening to you.

Not that you did.

It wasn’t until you were straddling Semi that you realized something. In addition to being hotter than average, he was larger than average, peeking out from between your folds to drip precum just below his bellybutton. The way your stomach swooped made you nauseous and tears fell down your cheeks all over again.

“What’s wrong, princess?” he asked, wiping them away as best he could. You wouldn’t be fooled by the concern in his tone; he wouldn’t stop anyway.

You turned your face away only to jump when a finger slipped your cunt, cool to the touch, followed by a second, only to be removed a second later. They moved instead to your slick rear entrance, circling and massaging until it gave way, eased by your previous orgasms. You fell forward, bracing yourself over Semi, who held your rocking hips still. Two fingers filled you, the stretch no more than a sting but it was uncomfortable nonetheless when you didn’t want it.

Akaashi’s other hand came down, long fingers wrapping around your throat just beneath your chin, pulling you back up to your knees. “Good girl,” he whispered in your ear before forcing your head around so he could capture your lips.

They parted naturally when his tongue glided across them, allowing him access without thought. You couldn’t place his taste; it was like he’d just eaten ice before kissing you, and you moaned into it.

Kuroo, who until then had been content to watch, groaned and stood from the dilapidated chair he had been lounging in. One hand wrapped around your wrist, moving your hand to wrap around his aching cock, desperate for some kind of relief. Your palm was soft against him, and he spit on it twice for good measure before allowing you to curl your fingers around him again. They did so automatically, squeezing tight and he hissed through gritted teeth, slit pupils narrowing further as he watched Akaashi’s tongue delve into your mouth like he wanted his cock to.

All the while, Semi was forcing you to slide along his shaft, slow, calculated moves designed to drag your clit back and forth against him. He could feel you trembling above him, your hands curled into fists against his chest, hips moving with his hands. You dripped down his cock, covering him in your slick and he almost growled at the heady scent. Unlike the other two, he could smell how bad you wanted it and it was driving him wild.

“Akaashi, hurry up,” he snapped, digging his nails into your soft hips hard enough to leave marks if he wasn’t careful.

Akaashi hummed in disapproval, pulling from your mouth to stare impassively at the werewolf. “I don’t want to hurt her, Semi.”

Yet, he withdrew his fingers and you whined at the loss.

“Finally,” Semi hissed, helping Akaashi lift you up so he could slick his cock up against your cunt before settling against your rear hole. “You go first.”

Your toes curled tight enough to cramp as Akaashi gave you a warning nudge before splitting you open. Your jaw dropped, eyes widening as you stared up into the cobwebbed ceiling, waiting for him to bottom out. Thighs trembling in Semi’s hold, you fell back against Akaashi’s chest as his hips met your ass.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he whispered, leaving cool kisses along your shoulder and neck. Goosebumps were raising up your arms and back, and he would have felt bad if you weren’t squeezing around his cock so tight while Semi positioned himself at your dripping hole.

You couldn’t decide if you really wanted two cocks, weren’t sure if you could even take two, but Semi was stretching you so wide you were crying out broken babbles none of them could make out as he seated you flush against his hips. You twitched above him, fluttered around him, squeezed rhythmically while you tried weakly to get away.

The sensation of fullness was one you had never experienced before. Even just Semi’s cock was more than you had ever taken, let alone Akaashi’s cock in your inexperienced asshole. You blinked rapidly, unable to decide if you liked it or not before a hand wound in your hair and you were pulled down.

Kuroo’s cock bobbed in your face and your jaw dropped automatically, allowing him to smear precum around your lips. He was more salty than bitter as he slipped into your mouth, stuffing himself as far as he could before you started gagging. Pulling back, he gave you a small reprieve to gasp for air before filling your mouth again. There was no fighting his thrusts, you had to force your throat to relax or choke. A mix of drool and tears spilled down your chin as a thick vein dragged against your tongue, dripping off to the floor. In the back of your foggy mind you were disgusted.

When they felt you relax around Kuroo’s cock, his hips moving in a steady rhythm to fuck your throat, Akaashi and Semi moved.

You spasmed around Kuroo when Semi lifted you up and dropped you back down, your hips meeting with a wet slap, his cock stifling your scream. Akaashi pulled out then, a little more careful as he stuffed himself back in, but the constant push and pull of their hips soon spread fire through your body. Kuroo was heavy on your tongue, Semi and Akaashi bumping and grinding against each other through the thin wall separating your cunt and ass, Semi’s curls stimulating your throbbing, sensitive clit.

You couldn’t fathom how you were careening towards a third orgasm, but Semi’s cock was so thick he couldn’t help but drag along the swollen, gummy sweet spot inside you. Akaashi’s low, pleasured moans in your ear gave you a vague sense of pride. These gorgeous men wanted you, were moaning for you.

It was enough to make you forget this wasn’t right.

Kuroo thought you were moaning, your throat vibrating around his cock as he facefucked you with abandon. The tight sleeve of your throat only grew tighter when Akaashi’s hand slipped between your legs to pet your clit and Kuroo grunted.

“Keep that up, kitten, and you’re gonna make me cum,” he said, holding your nose down in his curls for a few seconds just to feel you spasm around him.

Semi and Akaashi felt the benefits of it, both your holes clenching around them as you gagged. Semi took the opportunity to grind deep inside you, rolling his hips up so that he pushed against your cervix.

Your thighs trembled around him, a squeal stifled around Kuroo’s cock as you came hard, jerking in Semi’s hold. He snarled, bouncing you on his cock with abandon as Akaashi slammed into you, spreading your clenching hole without care as he moaned.

Kuroo grunted, pumping into your mouth a few more times before pressing your nose into his pelvis and cumming, his lips parted in an ‘o’ and his head tipping back. You had no choice but to swallow until he pulled out and spilled the remnant all over your face, smirking as it mixed with your tears and drool to drip off your chin.

Semi’s back arched off the couch, strong hands pulling you down to sit flush with his hips as he spilled inside you. Your eyes grew wide at the intense heat filling your womb, the warmth rushing up through you at the same time Akaashi came in your ass. Goosebumps erupted across your skin as his cum offset the heat of Semi’s, and your vision swam for a moment from overstimulation.

Semi caught you as you collapsed forward, cradling you to his chest regardless of the mess, petting your hair.

Akaashi slipped out of you, sharing a small smirk with Kuroo as he sought out your clothes.

“Give me my shirt,” Semi said, catching it from the air when Akaashi threw it. He forced you to sit up, watching you sway with a twisted sense of pride, and wiped the mess from your face. Akaashi and Kuroo took you from there, helping you to dress while you leaned against them, unable to keep from snickering at the state they’d left you in.

“Can you walk, kitten?” Kuroo asked, setting his hands on your shoulders. “Or do you need someone to carry you?”

“I-I can w-walk,” you stuttered, throat raspy. You frowned and grabbed it, swallowing with a wince.

“Good girl,” Kuroo said, dropping a kiss on your lips and smirked when you leaned after him as he pulled away. “We don’t need to worry about you telling anyone, do we?”

Shaking your head, you allowed Semi to wrap an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to bathe in his warmth as Kuroo led the way up the hidden stairs a little ways down the hall they had been blocking earlier. At the top of the stairs, you could hear voices calling your names and perked up, trying to follow the echoes in the darkness.

“This way,” Kuroo said, leading the way though there wasn’t a speck of light in sight. Your own phone was tucked safely in the pocket of Semi’s jacket, which he had taken back. “Keiji, give me your phone. Appearances.”

Right, couldn’t let the humans know.

Everyone crowded around you, throwing questions all at once, until Shirabu lost his temper. He insisted on looking you and Semi over, just to determine for sure nothing was the matter.

He seemed a little concerned by how out of it you were, and asked if you hit your head.

Three sets of eyes landed on you, all carrying a different weight as they waited for you to speak.

“Just tired, Shirabu,” you murmured, hiding your face in Semi’s side. “It took ages for them to find us. Can we go home now?”

The tension eased, though you kept your face hidden, allowing him to guide you blindly down the hallway.

It was even colder outside than earlier, and Kuroo took over the spot on your other side, gently shooing Yachi towards the other. She had insisted on keeping you company, watching you with wide, worried eyes while Akaashi and Kuroo whispered together behind her.

Even now, she watched the way the three men hovered around you with curious concern. They treated you like a precious object-- or a possession that needed to be protected.

You nodded in response to something Kuroo said, trying-- if possible-- to curl even closer into Semi. Akaashi hovered in the background, pretty face as impassive as ever until he caught Yachi looking at him.

His lips curled up in a smile, his face softening ever so slightly, and she relaxed. Whatever had happened to you down there, it seemed to spark something in the three men.

Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been that bad.

#🖤.kuroo #🖤.akaashi #🖤.semi #tw noncon #tw reluctance

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lavenderbexlatte · 4 years

Text

play you on repeat

stray kids 11.8k words female reader insert FemDom!Reader x Sub!3RACHA EXPLICIT/NSFW

🖤 warnings: unprotected sex, degradation 🖤

Series Masterlist (Parts 1-7)

connect with me! / masterlist

The three of them follow you all the way to the front door in a line like little ducklings, eager-eyed and silent as you part the crowds of students and friends on your way outside.

You only see those eager eyes when you turn around on the front porch of the random house that's throwing this party. Changbin stands just behind you, Jisung after him and Chan bringing up the rear.

They really want more, then. Their instant agreement kind of surprises you; it's one thing to flirt or make out with someone at a party, but it's another thing entirely to invite random classmates home for an orgy. But you're not crazy or stupid enough to let the chance pass you by. You're all in.

"Okay, boys," you say, "Where are we doing this?"

"Me and 'Bin live together," says Chan quickly.

You regard him coolly. "Just you two?"

"Just us," he nods.

That's promising. You live independently but you have roommates, and while you're sure you could sneak one hookup into your room, three of them might turn some heads. Your roommates are patient, but not that patient.

So you smile at them. "Okay. I trust you three aren’t gonna try any dirty tricks on me?"

"Dirty tricks?" Changbin repeats.

You shrug. "Stealing my wallet. Selling me into indentured servitude. Harvesting my organs. The usual nightmare date stuff."

"Why would we do that?" Jisung asks, looking amused but also concerned.

Is he worried that you don't trust them? That's kind of cute.

You just smile wider. "We don't know each other very well, I’m a woman and you’re three men. You guys might be dangerous."

It’s obvious that you’re teasing them. You can't help but laugh a little, saying it, since you’ve actually been alone with the three of them before, for your school project some weeks ago. Besides, the most unpredictable and potentially dangerous person here is you. That's already been proven. The three of them seem just as amused as you, though, so you've succeeded in breaking any tension that was gathering.

"Did you guys drive here?" you ask.

"No," says Jisung.

"Neither did I," you say, “I was planning on getting drunk.”

"No worries. Called a cab already," says Chan.

His cocky attitude is back as he waves his phone in your direction, the screen showing a little animated car tracing its way to your location. When did he order a ride? More importantly, at what point did he assume you were gonna wanna go back to his place? He's right, of course, and you do want to, but come on.

"Presumptuous," you tease.

He shrugs. "Well, 'Sung has roommates, and I figured you wouldn't want three near strangers at your place."

The flash of his eyes lets you know that he’s feeling quite high and mighty for having made up your mind for you. Oh, you're going to have to break this attitude ASAP.

You set about thinking of exactly how to do that as you meander toward the road to wait for the car, trusting that someone will tell you when it arrives. You stand on the sidewalk in the dim circle of light cast by a streetlamp. Chan wants more, right?

So do you. Three boys...three boys who are all partners, it seems. There's gonna be some finagling tonight, some organization needed. You ponder exactly what you want from them. The options are endless, truly. This is going to be very, very good.

When the car pulls up, Changbin comes over and slings his arm around your waist, like he's the one taking you home and not the other way around (figuratively, at least). You look at him, amused, relishing how you can almost meet his eye with the small difference between his height and yours.

"What's this?" you ask, gesturing at his arm around you.

"I'm being gentlemanly," he pouts, bottom lip pushed out exaggeratedly, "Don't kill the vibe."

He's being silly, you realize. That firm confidence from before is gone, replaced by what seems to be an eager desire for you to like him. He's in luck, then. You already like him.

You climb into the back seat of the small black sedan, scooting all the way over to the far window seat. Chan follows right behind you, settling in the middle with Jisung after him. Changbin is up front with the driver. You can tell that the boys would rather have you in the middle seat by the way that Chan and Jisung are playfully glaring at each other, but you much prefer to have your own space by the window. Nobody likes the middle seat.

The boys busy themselves with their phones on the ride, but you just watch the boys instead. You can tell that they know you're watching. Jisung meets your eye once and looks away quickly, grinning, and Changbin is just barely resisting turning all the way around to look at you head-on. You think you know what you want to do with those two, since they're pretty communicative and easy to read, so you study the real predicament.

Chan.

He's got pretty hands, you notice, as he taps away at his phone. He also has one of those dorky leather phone cases with wallet pockets. You just can't get into those; young people use them a lot, now, but you always associate them with dads and teachers and stuff. Old people. Chan's is full of cards, his student ID and a credit card and others. You peer closer at his driver's license with its tiny picture of him. His curly hair is blonde in the photo, which is cute.

You notice something else, too - his birthdate. Chan is in your year in school, but you never knew...

"Are you...are you younger than me?" you ask him, delighted.

He blinks at you. "How old are you?"

You tell him - a year or so older than him. It's not much, but definitely something in a society that puts so much emphasis on age. It also puts you at the oldest in this group by a bit of a margin, considering Changbin is a couple years younger than Chan and Jisung is younger still.

"That makes me the noona tonight," you tease.

Chan gives you an alarmed side-eye, his pale cheeks blushing furiously and his pupils blown big. He's into the noona thing, too? You wonder exactly how many little one-ups you're going to have on him tonight.

So you're the oldest. Hm. You grin to yourself. So they thought they were bagging a shy, quiet submissive, and instead they got you.

The ride to their place is short, and you're surprised when the cab pulls up in front of a small one-story house instead of an apartment building. Not many students around here have homes, since housing prices in the city are predictably sky-high and out of the average student budget. The boys get out of the car right away, thanking the driver, but you take your time. You study the house, the cars in the driveway (two of them, one silver sedan, one black mid-size SUV) and the neat front garden.

"A house," you say mildly.

Changbin looks embarrassed for the first time that night, as he stutters, "My family - I'm - we have-"

"Fucking PILES of money," Chan finishes for him, grinning, "I pay him rent, can you believe it?"

"I didn't want him to pay anything but he insisted," Changbin says.

"I'm not a freeloader," Chan insists.

"You think I'm gonna make my own boyfriend pay rent when I could buy him his own house?" Changbin grumbles, heading up the front walk.

Jisung has already let himself into the house uninterested in the conversation. He doesn't live there, you remember, but obviously he's no stranger. You follow Changbin inside, vaguely aware of Chan coming after you. It's a cute house, you admit to yourself, as you step in the door and kick off your shoes.

It does look like a house where a bunch of boys live, though. An artists' den. There's music equipment strewn all over the small living room; Bluetooth speakers, a midi board, a full-size electric keyboard, a drum pad. Propped on a small table in the corner is a silver slab that you realize is a YouTube subscriber award plaque, and there’s a Soundcloud affiliate certificate next to it.

"The rumors about you guys are true, then," you say, mostly to yourself, not even thinking.

Changbin looks at you, confused. So does Jisung. Chan just smiles lopsidedly.

"What rumors?" Jisung asks.

"Oh." You can feel your face heating up. "Just that you guys are...musicians."

You were actually thinking about their minor celebrity status, their Soundcloud rapper status, but you don't know if that will come across as...like...offensive? Is it rude to call people Soundcloud rappers, since that’s kind of become an insult? They're obviously even more well-known than you thought, if the 100k subs plaque is anything to go off. Not just campus royalty, but actually somewhat famous. It’s bizarre.

"Musicians," Chan repeats, amused.

You kind of hate the expression on his face. He's still holding onto that weird confident charm from the party, the face that you assume he puts on in these situations to pretend he's not one good hair-pull away from whining and begging.

"You can't pretend that you don't know," you say, more aggressively than you mean to, "On campus, with everyone from school…you guys are super...popular."

It sounds so stupid to say, like you're the ugly duckling in a bad teen movie. 'You can’t like meeeee, you're soooo cool and popular!'

"Are we?" Jisung asks, looking genuinely surprised.

Oh my God. You want to facepalm. You want to grab one of them and shake them.

"You literally tried to seduce me in there," you point out, "Would that have worked if you weren't popular? That's something popular people do. Use their, like, social standing to get people to sleep with them."

"That would make us pretty shitty people," Chan says delicately. "Imbalance of power and all that."

Oh. You didn't mean to accuse them of anything. You open your mouth to apologize, feeling incredibly out of place, but Jisung interrupts you, completely unbothered.

"It's only worked once before, anyway," he says.

"...Picking someone up?" you ask.

Changbin nods, "And that only worked because Felix already had a crush on me and Chan. We just had to sell him on Jisung."

"Hey!" Jisung pouts.

Chan pets his hair placatingly, and Jisung shrugs him off in favor of heading for the kitchen, mumbling about being a fucking catch. But you’re focusing on a different bit of what Changbin told you.

"You guys fucked Felix Lee?" you ask, incredulous.

“Maybe a month ago, yeah,” Changbin says.

The cute, freckled face of dance team captain Felix Lee swims in your mind for a moment, followed by the memory of his chiseled abs from a performance earlier in the year. He’s a rising sophomore, but solidly half of campus has a crush on him. Damn, THOSE are their standards, and they wanna fuck YOU? You gotta start giving yourself more credit.

"So, we're popular," Chan muses.

"You had to have known that," you shake your head, "Literally everyone knows you. First years are so thirsty for you. That's why I was so-"

You cut yourself off. They don't need to know that you were flustered when they approached you, back there. They don't need the ego trip.

So you just affix your best innocent smile to you face, looking the three of them over. Chan, leaning against the back of the couch. Changbin, lining up all four pairs of shoes (theirs and yours) by the front door. And Jisung, returned from the kitchen with a bottle of water that he's chugging like a dying man.

"You didn't invite me over to talk about your social status," you say instead.

"We sure didn't," Chan agrees.

"First things first, then," you say, "Boundaries. You guys have any hard limits? Safewords? Musts and don'ts?"

"Nope," says Jisung, taking another sip of the water to punctuate it.

"No musts or no don'ts?" you ask.

"Yes," he quips.

You can't help the way your smile grows. "Alright. Anyone else?"

"No serious degrading," Changbin says, very very quietly.

“Praise motivated, huh?” you coo, “Cute.”

Changbin looks slightly embarrassed, but his eyes are sharp and engaged as he adds, “And no digs at my size.”

You grin. "Size or size?"

"Either!" he pouts.

"Sounds fair to me," you say.

You fix your eyes on the last one: Chan, still looking only mildly interested and very calm. But you can see the very tips of his ears going red, and then it spreads down his cheeks, and then down his neck as you watch him.

And finally, he says, "I'm not good with praise."

Jisung laughs, loud and ridiculous. "That's an understatement."

You smile warmly at Chan, not wanting him to back down if this is a legit thing for him, "So does that mean no praise?"

"No," he says immediately, "Just that...if you - I get all-"

"Flustered," you finish for him. "Good to know."

You pause for a second, wondering what kind of hard limits you'll need to bring up to them tonight. They don't seem like the kind of partners to push you into anything, if they way they're already tiptoeing around is any indication.

"I don't like hitting in the face," you say, after a moment. "Or blood."

Changbin gives you a look. "Is that the kind of stuff you do on your first night with someone?"

You laugh, "No, not usually. But some people have really specific fetishes, and I live to please. Gotta lay everything out before we start."

Chan nods sincerely, like he knows exactly what you're saying, and Jisung follows suit. You're satisfied that you've covered your bases now. And besides, you really want to get started. You have three beautiful men here to play with.

So you say, "Okay. Who's first?"

You're still smiling, but you let some of your pent-up excitement leak into it, wondering if any of them will take the bait. You wonder if they're starting to think that you're some kind of super strict domme. Very serious, or very demanding, or something. You've had that problem before, with people crumbling before you even get started since you're so blunt about boundaries. Some people take that to mean that you like rigid roles and rules and set scenes.

But that's not really true. After the communication is solidified and you trust your partner, you like to just...let go.

Much to your amusement, the first one to crack is Jisung.

He practically bounces up to you, his face so perfectly cute that you wonder if he practices the look in the mirror. It's equal parts funny and ironic, since he's the youngest and also, from what you've seen at school, the one who wants to be taken most seriously.

"I'm first," he informs you.

You smile. You can't help it. His expression is so open and happy, even though his eyes are a little nervous. It's just so much. You gently nudge Chan away from the couch, and pat the back of it gently, invitingly. Jisung seems to understand you immediately and hops right up, balancing himself on the frame and the tops of the cushions, his legs dangling down the back of the couch. You settle yourself between his legs, standing purposefully, spreading your hands across his back to support him gently.

He leans back a little as if to test you, and you hold him up easily. It's not so much that you're strong, but that Jisung's so lean and slim. And even if he did fall, it would just be the short drop onto the seat of the couch. His eyes go wider as he realizes what kind of game you're playing with him. It's a signal, and you figured he'd be smart enough to pick up on it.

"I've got you," you say, very softly, into his ear.

Even if you look unassuming, even if they're taller and louder and bolder than you. Even if you're a gentle dom who puts up with some antics.

You're in control.

When you pull back and look at him, you swear you can see the little cartoon stars blooming in his eyes. He definitely got the message loud and clear.

He nods, almost imperceptibly, and says, "I know."

And you kiss him. He deserves it. A proper kiss, not like the teasing you'd done to him at the party. You let him lick into your mouth, scrape your teeth gently over his soft bottom lip. He's a good boy, you decide. Certified good boy.

Jisung leans back a bit more as he pulls away from you, and he lurches, loses his balance. He doesn’t go anywhere, since you're still holding him up securely, but he looks spooked. It fascinates you, how quickly he's fallen into the game of it. There's no risk if he falls, and yet...

"Can I-" he asks, " - can I touch-"

"Yeah," you say, cutting him off.

And then he's gently holding your face with one hand, the other arm draped over your shoulder, fingers playing with your hair. His body is much more relaxed as he kisses you, and you relish in it.

Oh, he's a sweetheart, you realize. Not a pushover or anything; he's still cupping your face and smiling into the kiss, confident and comfortable. But a good boy.

"You're so pretty," you say.

Jisung honest to God whines against your lips at the praise.

"It's true," you say, amused.

"He likes that a lot," comes Chan's voice.

You jump, having nearly forgotten your audience again. The other two are standing just beside you, watching intently as you work over their boyfriend.

"Being called pretty?" you ask him, as if Jisung isn't even there.

Chan nods.

"Well, he is," you affirm, leaning in to kiss Jisung's nose, trying to get your groove back.

Honestly, it’s a struggle to keep up with the fact that you’re trying to dom three people at once. You know you’ll do fine. It’s group sex, not a goddamn triathlon. But it’s useful here that you prefer domming psychologically, rather than with lots of physical force. You don’t know exactly what these three are used to, what they’re comfortable doing. A first-time with three people at once probably isn't the best time to fly in with a strap-on and demand people obey you.

So doing this the old-fashioned way, with simple baiting, praising, awarding, withholding…that’s gonna be the way forward.

“Who’s got the best bed for a foursome?” you ask, still holding up Jisung but looking expectantly back at Chan and Changbin.

Changbin nudges Chan with his elbow, "D'you think you could handle moving your pillow fort? For sexy purposes."

"Pillow fort?" you repeat.

"I have a lot of pillows, it's fine," Chan defends. "No big deal."

"He makes a nest with them," pipes up Jisung, "Like a crib."

Chan glares at him, "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was Put Chan On Blast Night."

"Okay, whose bed is biggest?" you ask instead, deigning not to comment on the pillow thing any further.

"Changbin's," says Jisung.

"Then we can go there."

"Yes, ma'am," Changbin says easily, and he turns on his heel to head for the bedroom door on the right side of the house.

It's a small house, so he's quickly out of sight. Chan follows after him. You unwind your arms from around Jisung's little waist, and he lets himself drop dramatically backwards onto the couch cushions. You follow Chan, and Jisung chases after you.

Changbin's room is painted an off-white, the bedding rich dark blue against neutral wood furniture. It's extremely well-done for a college boy's room. You're impressed. It might even be more cohesive than your room. Now, at night, with just the soft light coming in from outside in the gap of his slightly-open blackout curtains, it looks impossibly atmospheric.

"Hold on," Changbin mutters, as you take in the space.

There's a soft click, and a set of fairy lights come on, strung around the perimeter of the room. They're an interesting color array, purple and blue and cool white. It's bright enough to see what you're doing, to see each other, but dark enough to set the tone. Yeah. They have a lot of sex in here. You're kind of excited to be part of it.

"Is there anyone-" you start, before your mind can filter the thought, and you stop.

But all three of them are just looking at you, standing there in a little line. You walk deeper into the room. You can do this. And so you swallow that last trace of lingering shame and ask them outright.

"Is there anyone who doesn't wanna fuck me?"

Jisung and Changbin break out in raucous laughter, and Chan just regards you.

"Why would we not want to?" Chan asks.

"I mean," you huff feeling petulant despite yourself, "Some people have no interest in the P in V stuff and would prefer something else, shut up!"

"You ask a lot of questions," Chan shoots back.

"I'm being considerate," you reply.

"No, I think we're all on board," interrupts Changbin, as if to head off a real argument.

You have no intention of fighting, though. You wonder what kind of people these three have hooked up with in the past. They obviously have no communication difficulties with each other, and yet they're (well...Chan is) being so difficult with you.

"Perfect," you say, "'Bin, c'mere."

Changbin shuffles nearer to you, leaving the others behind, and you look him over carefully. He's broad and strong, much bigger than Jisung. Your approach to him has to be a little different, you think. You make a quick decision: he's gonna be your ally tonight.

You lean into his ear and whisper the plan you've been making up on the fly. He listens. And when you've finished, Changbin grins conniving and bright.

"Does that sound good?" you ask him.

He nods. "I think they'll like it."

"Like what?" Jisung asks eagerly.

"Don't worry about it," you reply.

"I'm gonna worry about it," says Chan.

That dude. So neurotic. You really need to figure out what his buttons are, so you can know which ones to press and which to avoid. It's gonna take more than a little hair-pulling to figure out, you wager.

"'Bin, give me a hand?" you say, gesturing at your top.

Changbin gives you a winning smile and looks gloatingly back at Jisung, then at Chan, and then he reaches down to leisurely unbutton your shirt. You never wear button-downs, but you're glad you did tonight. They make undressing so much more...cinematic.

You shrug off the shirt when Changbin's done, the final button falling open, and you move next to strip off his t-shirt, too. He wears those things tight. He always has; you can't even count how many days in class you've spent staring at the muscular span of his shoulders. This one is the same, clinging to his form ridiculously, like he's trying out to be Captain America's body double.

When the t-shirt is gone, you're greeted with a thick, toned upper body that dips into solid, narrower hips. Not quite cut, no chocolate abs or anything, but he's got some impressive working muscle under his deep-toned skin. Beef. He's beefy.

"Wow," you say appreciatively, running your hand from his collarbone all the way down to his belt.

"What about us?" Jisung asks.

"Patience," you murmur, "Don't you want Changbinnie to feel good?"

Jisung pouts, but says, "Yes..."

"Then you can wait your turn," you say plaintively.

"Can I kiss you, noona?" Changbin asks.

You look at him, amused. "So you heard that conversation."

Changbin shakes his head. "I knew before. Chan-hyung always calls you-"

Chan squeaks, mortified, cutting him off, but you've heard plenty.

"Oh, he always calls me noona," you purr, "Before he knew how old I was?"

"Yes," Changbin says.

That's interesting, to say the least. It means that their approach to you from the start was to defer familiar respect and treat you like an elder, rather than a peer. Hm.

You get a little closer, bringing your face up to his. "Do you talk about me a lot?"

"No," Changbin breathes, "But when we do-"

"Dude!" Chan hisses.

"Don't listen to him," you soothe Changbin, giving Chan a little wink over your shoulder, "Thank you for telling me."

You kiss Changbin, since he did ask so nicely and gave you a wonderful tidbit about Chan. He's a good kisser. Needy; he's pressing you backwards with his enthusiasm. You reach to put your arms around his neck, but then you reconsider. Instead, you fold yourself against his chest, palms flat on his pecs. It gives the illusion that you're much smaller than him, even though admittedly he's not a very tall person.

The change in his body language is instantaneous. Your hunch was right - he likes feeling big. He did say not to make digs about his size. Well, you certainly won't about his height. But his size...

You move down and begin unbuckling his belt.

"How come only he gets to get naked?" Jisung complains.

You glance at him, hands busy unbuttoning and zipping down Changbin.

"I'm not stopping you," you reply, "You could undress without permission. But you'll miss out on all the fun if you just go off on your own."

Jisung blinks doe eyes at you, and Chan huffs out a laugh.

"Some dom you are, yeah?" Chan scoffs.

You shrug. "I can't make you do anything. I'm not gonna force you."

"No?" Chan says.

"That's the fun of this stuff, isn't it?" you say.

You ruffle Changbin's hair playfully, and motion for him to continue undressing himself. Willing all the grace you know you possess, you walk over to Chan, keeping your motions fluid and careless. You want him to see exactly what kind of dom you are.

"The fact that you don't have to listen to me. That's the fun," you say, "You don't have to. But you will. You wanna be good."

Chan swallows hard. "I..."

"I'm sure you like being good," you continue, cupping Chan's face in both of your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. "You're gonna be good for me, aren't you, peach?"

"Yeah," he says, so quietly that you think you've imagined it, his cheeks burning red.

"I'm sorry," you hum, "I didn't hear that. Yes...?"

"Yes, noona," Chan says.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, noona, I'll be good for you."

"I thought you would be," you say, satisfied. "Go sit on the bed. Against the headboard."

He looks like he wants to complain about that, but you shrug again, punctuating that you're truly not here to force anyone. Domming is about control, not force. If Chan wants to turn over control to you, he will.

And he does.

He scrambles up the bed and sits with his back against the headboard. You can feel his eyes on you, and Jisung's wide, wide eyes, as you return to Changbin.

Changbin is down to his boxer-briefs, and God, he's good-looking. Solid and masculine. You kind of just want to have your way with him and be done with it. But that's not the plan.

“Jisung,” you say.

He jumps, not expecting to be addressed. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay bottoming tonight?”

“’Course,” he affirms, “Always. For who?”

You glance at Changbin, who nods, and Jisung smiles his biggest, most genuine smile, crooked front tooth and all.

“I like this plan,” he says.

That assent is all you need to hear.

“Is there lube?” you ask Changbin.

He turns away, presumably to grab it, and you snag Jisung by the wrist and tug him toward you. Jisung's wide smile is distracting, as you have him lie down on the bed. Changbin's bed is a king, you think, a really really big mattress with plenty of room to use. But when Jisung sprawls out easily, the top of his head is close to Chan.

"You have one rule, up there," you say to Chan, "No touching."

"No touching...him?" Chan asked, pointing at Jisung.

You smile. "No touching. Him, me, 'Bin, yourself. No touching."

Chan looks wide-eyed, almost hurt at your words. You can't tell exactly how he's feeling, so you move around the bed until you're right in front of him, and take one of his hands in yours.

"Is that okay?" you ask, "Are you okay with that?"

"I'm okay," he says.

You look at Changbin, waiting by Jisung's knees at the edge of the bed, and at Jisung himself, watching you upside-down.

"Can I implement the traffic light system?" you ask them, "It's the easiest safeword system for me, I think, with so many of you."

"You mean the color thing," Changbin clarifies.

"Yeah," you nod.

"We've used that one before," says Jisung agreeably, "We don't usually use any safewords but we can do that.

You turn back to Chan. "Does that work for you?"

He smiles, and it warms up his face all the way to his eyes, so you relax.

"Yeah, that works well," he says.

"Good," you say, "So. Color?"

"Green," says Chan.

"Great."

You lean in and kiss him for his trouble, realizing with a thrill that you've really only kissed him one other time. He's damn good at it, too, eager but gentle with just enough pressure. You pull back right as he starts to really melt against you, and drop his hand back onto his lap, in favor of returning to Jisung where you've left him.

Jisung, for his part, is lounging back on his elbows, just watching you, and you nudge his knees farther apart as you settle in between them. You can feel Changbin's warmth behind you again as he hovers, not quite touching you.

"Noona," he whines.

You glance back at him, his chin at your shoulder.

"I know," you tut, "You're already doing a good job for me, gorgeous."

He beams at the praise, and repeats, "Noonaaaa."

You smile to yourself at the lilt in his voice. "You can touch, baby."

There are suddenly lips against the side of your throat, Changbin trailing kisses across your skin, and hands on your waist pulling you back gingerly, as if he's afraid you'll tell him off for being too greedy (which is a good and valid worry). You lean away, down toward Jisung, and coax him upright to peel the baggy t-shirt off him. As you get the garment over his head, you're surprised to see firm abs and pecs. Jisung is small and thin, but apparently very, very muscular. Huh.

"You've been holding out on me," you chide him.

"Don't think about it that way, noona," Jisung says, "Think of it as a nice surprise."

You huff out a laugh. He's being kind of mouthy, but it's cute, so you're gonna let it slide. Mostly.

"Are you in any position to be telling me what to do?" you tease.

Jisung shrugs, lips pursed. You tickle your fingers down the hard line of his abs, grinning when he jumps and squeaks under your touch.

"'Bin?" you ask.

"Yes?"

"Who here is overdressed?"

Changbin hums against your skin, mouthing at the soft juncture of your neck and your shoulder, and says, "Jisungie, noona. And you."

"Not Chan?" you ask lightly.

Changbin grins. You can feel the flats of his teeth against your skin.

"Not unless you say so, noona," Changbin says.

"Good call, gorgeous," you say, leaning back into his touch.

He's hard against your ass, you note. Perfect. You go for Jisung's skintight jeans next, unbuttoning and peeling the black denim down his slim thighs. He's so dainty, all thin graceful limbs, his frame small but masculine and defined. You can see his cock twitch with interest as you get the jeans all the way off, his boxers beginning to tent.

"Excited?" you ask, letting your hand trail over him, gently feeling the outline of him through the thin fabric.

"Yeah," he says, shameless.

"Who should get undressed first?" you ask Jisung,

Jisung must register something in your tone, as his big eyes look from you, to Changbin, back to you.

And then he says, "Me, noona."

"Oh," you purr, "Good boy."

You free him from his boxers, and it's not a surprise when you're met with a pretty, proportional cock, flushed and lovely. You're hit with the urge to feel the weight of him in your mouth. And fuck, this is YOUR game, isn't it? So you lean down and do just that, taking his head between your lips.

Jisung gasps, high and pretty, and you can see Chan's face above you darken. He looks...jealous?

"Peach, you okay?" you say, coming off Jisung to speak.

Chan looks at you, puppy-eyed.

"I want..." he trails plaintively.

"I know you do," you agree. “Don’t be greedy.”

He's still sitting obediently, hands balled into fists atop his thighs and not touching anything. He's the only one fully dressed, and you can tell that it's driving him crazy. He can wait. You know he can.

So you nuzzle against Jisung's stomach indulgently and ask him, "Who next?"

Jisung pauses, comprehending what you've asked, and then he says, "Changbin-hyung."

You place your hand over Changbin's where it still rests in its spot on your waist.

"You heard him, Binnie," you say, "Go 'head."

His warmth vanishes from behind you for only a few seconds before he's back, his now unencumbered cock brushing against your shorts. You grip Jisung's length again, pumping him for a moment, looking down at him with a glint in your eye.

"Here's what's going to happen," you say, standing up properly, "I'm going to prep you for Changbin, baby. And Changbin is gonna have some fun of his own while I do it."

Jisung nods his understanding at your words, his expression delighted, and Chan is all but panting as he sits pretty for you. There's a lovely flush creeping from his ears toward the neckline of his button-down shirt.

You shuck off your own shorts, left now in just your bra and panties. As you look down at yourself, you realize that while they are not a matching set, your underwear ARE about the same color, which you count as a personal victory. It's the little things.

"Hand me a pillow, peach?" you ask Chan.

He nearly topples over in his eagerness to give you a pillow from the head of the bed. You have Jisung raise his hips, and settle the pillow under him, angling him up for better access. He doesn't seem the slightest bit self-conscious, on display to you like that. You almost hate how attractive that is.

"Everyone, color?" you ask.

"Green," chirps Jisung, almost before you're done speaking.

"Green," Chan agrees.

"So green," Changbin groans from behind you, where he's still grinding against your ass.

"Wonderful," you murmur.

You turn your attention fully to the boy beneath you. Jisung is impeccably groomed, maybe even better than you, you think. There's a neat thatch of hair around the base, and he's all but hairless everywhere else. It's impressive.

You trail your hand over his balls, his perineum, to his hole, and he chokes out a moan as you just graze the thin skin there.

"Are you sure you're ready to go, Jisungie?" you ask, and he nods eagerly.

"I wanted to bottom tonight anyway," he informs you cheekily.

Chan laughs, which melts any of your lingering worries that you've overwhelming or neglecting him.

"That's true," Chan says softly. "He told us before the party."

"You guys are so much fun," you say.

The lube is laying on the comforter next to you, so you pick it up, pop the top, and coat two of your fingers in the stuff. You lean down over Jisung again, knowing how obscene you must look together, him all spread out for you and you draped over his lithe little body. You're sure both Chan, in front, and Changbin, behind, are getting an eyeful of the two of you.

"I'm gonna start," you warn Jisung.

"Finally," Jisung teases, "I was beginning to think - shit-"

He's cut off as you ease your index finger past that ring of muscle. The slide is much easier than you expected, but he still whines out in a pitch higher than you would have thought.

"You do this a lot?" you ask him, only half-teasing, slowly pumping your finger and relishing in the easy way he takes you, "You're so open."

"I do, yeah," Jisung agrees, breathless.

"And here I thought you were the bottom of the group," you say to Chan, letting a little bit of bite into your voice, wondering if they're at all into that.

Chan's flush picks back up, and he stammers, "I - mean-"

"He can be a great little hole, too," Jisung says, casually, "I wrecked him a couple days ago, didn't I, hyung?"

Still blushing furiously, Chan nods.

"Interesting," you say simply, turning your attention back to Jisung, "Hey, what happened to those pretty sounds?"

You curl your finger slightly, and Jisung lets out another gasp.

"That's more like it," you praise.

You almost wish you had a strap here, so you could do the next part yourself, too. But your actual plan is gonna be just as much fun, so you can easily be content with this.

"Noona," comes Changbin's voice.

"Yes?" you answer.

"Can I...I mean..." Changbin trails off, seeming embarrassed.

"Can you?" you prompt, amused at his sudden shyness.

"Can I make you feel good, too?" he asks.

"Oh, baby," you simper, "Of course. So good, asking for permission."

Changbin laughs breathlessly, and so does Jisung.

"Isn't he good?" you ask Jisung.

"Good," Jisung agrees, though he nearly chokes on the word.

He seems to be ready for another finger, so you draw out and press back in with two, this time. At the same time, you lean down to take his length back into your mouth. Jisung whimpers again, starting to press his hips down against your hand.

As you're bent over at the waist, pleasuring Jisung, you feel tentative fingers pulling your panties to the side. You wonder if you're going to get the warm press of a cockhead, or-

"Oh," you breathe, pulling off Jisung's cock again to collect yourself as the unmistakable trace of a tongue wanders up your core.

Changbin pulls away just as quickly as he began, and you all but groan in frustration.

"Come on, gorgeous, don't be shy," you urge.

And the tongue returns, more eager this time, as Changbin settles himself fully between your legs. You steel yourself to enjoy while also focusing on the task at hand, prepping Jisung, and keeping your wits about you. Changbin definitely doesn't seem like he's only a sub, and neither do the other two, honestly. They seem like switches, if you had to hazard a guess. It would be in poor taste to let any of them turn the tables on you, now, wouldn't it?

Your mind wanders a little as you scissor and work your two fingers, Jisung trembling and whimpering praise under you, Changbin's plush lips against your clit. How the fuck did you get here?

You're kind of floored to think that maybe an hour ago, you were at that party, bored, barely buzzed, and anonymous, or so you thought. Plain old you. And now you're here, sandwiched between two of the hot, popular guys from Physics class with the third one watching you and white-knuckling the sheets.

A surge of power sweeps through you at the thought. You're here. You have this. You deserve this. And you're gonna have a good fucking time.

"I'm ready!" Jisung is sputtering, "I'm - I'm-"

"Ready," you finish for him, bringing your focus back to the moment.

There's arousal building low in your stomach. Changbin is good with his mouth. You kind of wish you could see him while he's doing this.

"Ready for what?" you ask Jisung.

"More!" he whines, “More, Jesus, two fingers is basic!”

You pull your fingers out, which just makes him whine louder, to reapply lube. This time, you push in with three, and Jisung keens long and low.

"You know, Changbinnie," you say, making sure to keep your voice measured and casual, "You're gonna need to get wet to fit inside Jisungie's pretty hole."

Changbin pulls himself up at your words, leaving your core wet and exposed and distinctly throbbing, and he leans forward to take the lube from you. You stop him before he can take the bottle.

"That's not what I meant," you say sweetly.

There's a fraction of a second while he catches up, and then Changbin groans openly against your shoulder blade, as you continue to work your fingers steadily in and out of Jisung.

"Noona, we have condoms in Chan-hyung's room," Changbin says, "I can go-"

"No," you say, "No need."

And that's all the permission Changbin seems to need, before he's lining himself up.

"Can I?" he asks.

You coo. He hasn't missed a single beat, sweet and obedient and so ready to be good for you.

"You're so good, gorgeous," you say, "Yes, please."

He sinks into you quickly, no preamble, and you can't blame him for being eager because you're secretly just as ready for it. He's thicker than you expected, but you should have expected it, considering the rest of his body. You find yourself panting against Jisung’s hipbone, your fingers pausing inside Jisung as you enjoy the delicious stretch.

“Can I move, noona?” Changbin asks, sounding punched-out already.

“Take it slow,” you instruct him, “This is just a warmup for you, you know.”

Changbin whines under his breath but obeys you, pulling out agonizingly slowly. As you try to keep your head clear, you notice Chan shifting on the bed ahead of you, and you have an idea.

“Okay, peach,” you say, keeping your voice level, “Why don’t you come over here and have a good look?”

“A look?” Chan repeats, “At…”

You smile to yourself. “At whatever you want. Jisung is a pretty picture, I’m sure you know that.”

“And you, noona,” Changbin cuts in.

“And me?” you say, amused.

“Pretty,” says Changbin, by way of explanation, as he keeps up his slow, slow pace.

“Thanks,” you say, arching back against him, figuring he deserves a little reward.

You nod at Chan, encouraging, and he crawls off the bed and comes around behind you. You’re sure he can see everything from where he is - your fingers disappearing into Jisung’s heat, Changbin’s cock disappearing into you. The combined power of Changbin’s steady pace and Chan watching it all is a little overwhelming. You need to narrow your focus or else someone is gonna come before you intend it to happen, and that someone might just be you.

You gently pull your fingers out of Jisung’s hole, leaving him complaining behind you.

“It was just starting to get good, come on!” Jisung whines

“Patience, baby,” you say, giving Jisung a playing smack on the meat of his thigh.

You turn your head fully to look at Chan. He’s staring, transfixed, down on the place where Changbin’s cock is slowly working in and out of you. And now that your brain isn’t focusing on being careful with Jisung, the arousal is really catching up with you. You’re getting close.

Really, you reason, what’s the harm in having a little more fun for yourself?

“Jisungie,” you say, “You wanna give me a hand here?”

He looks rightfully confused, until you reach up and snap your own bra strap against your skin. Then Jisung winks at you, and reaches around to push-pull-snap open the hooks in the back in one fluid movement.

“How’d you get so good at that?” you ask him, amused. “None of your partners wear bras.”

Jisung looks offended. “Who says I don’t wear ‘em?”

“Good point.”

You shrug off the garment, now only in your panties, which aren’t doing much of anything anymore since Changbin’s fucking you around them. Jisung’s eyes are following your breasts as you readjust yourself, sitting up more and shifting your weight onto your knees. Man, your core is gonna be killing you tomorrow…

“Lock it up, baby, shit,” you tease Jisung, “How long has it been since you’ve seen tiddies?”

“That weren’t on a man? I don’t even know.”

“Hm.”

You reach down and start drawing lazy circles on your clit, and you can feel yourself clench down on Changbin at the stimulation. He gasps, and you tut at him.

“I know you can wait for me, gorgeous,” you say.

He whines, “But-”

“Changbinnie. You’re gonna let me feel good, aren’t you?” you ask him. “Don’t I deserve to cum first?”

“Yes,” he grinds out.

“Noona, can I do it?” Jisung asks suddenly.

You’re still hovering over him, all but laying on top of him, and you look down at his face. His eyes are fixed on your fingers, rubbing yourself through your underwear.

“Do what?” you ask, just to be difficult.

“Make you cum,” Jisung answers.

You take your hand off your clit and reach out to thread your fingers through Jisung’s, leading him back to the front of your panties.

“You and Binnie need to work together for this, huh?” you say, “One of you isn’t good enough? It has to be two?”

“I’m good enough,” Changbin argues.

“Shush,” you admonish, “Then prove it.”

You let your hand fall away again, as Jisung takes up the task. He slips his fingers down your waistband, circling hard and tight over your clit. Changbin, obedient to the end, is still somehow keeping up those slow, deep strokes that you demanded. And you have to admit: they’re determined to prove it.

“Jesus, noona,” Changbin whines.

“You’re not gonna cum yet,” you instruct.

“I know.”

Jisung meets Changbin’s eye over your shoulder; you can tell that’s what he’s doing from the smirk on Jisung’s face and the muttered shut up that Changbin stifles into your neck. He gets up on his knees, and you find yourself pressed between them, your forehead against Jisung’s breastbone as his fingers work under you. You glance up, intending to tell Jisung off for making his next move on his own, but the vision you see knocks that idea right out of your head.

They’re making out over you.

It’s so beautifully desperate, Changbin biting and panting into Jisung’s mouth and whining under it all as he fucks into you, Jisung with one hand fisted in Changbin’s hair and the other still dutifully circling your clit, wet and dirty. As you feel your peak coming on, you remember the last member of your party, poor Chan, still relegated to his spectator’s spot behind you all, still under orders not to touch. You look up at him, and God, you wish you had looked sooner.

Chan is standing there, hands cemented at his sides. He’s flushed from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck, to his chest, creeping under his shirt, and his eyes are hungry. But he’s being good, no matter how much he wants to move.

He’s still being good, and that’s what sends you over the edge. You drop your head back down against Jisung’s chest, and gasp and shake your way through your own orgasm. Changbin lets out a moan that borders on a shout, as you surprise him with your clenching walls, and he slows down even more, just grinding into you. There’s something so bone-deep satisfying about it, all three of the boys with their eyes on you and unable to do anything without your permission. They just have to watch and hold back.

You wait until you can speak properly before you say anything to them.

“You didn’t cum, did you, gorgeous?” you ask, swiveling your oversensitive pussy back on Changbin, spots swimming in your vision from how hard you came.

“No, noona,” Changbin says, and his voice is thin with strain but confident.

You know he didn’t, but it’s satisfying to make him say it. He’s holding still now, just standing there stuffing you full. That orgasm cleared your head a bit; you feel more centered than ever. And you feel a little bit bad for Chan, honestly. He’s gotten the least attention from you so far.

“I think Channie really wishes he was you two right now. What d’you think, peach?” you ask, directing the last part at Chan.

Chan doesn’t answer right away, which is just as well, because you can see his erection straining against his dark jeans. His eyes are fixed between your legs, where you can feel your own wetness inching obscenely out around Changbin’s cock.

“I asked you a question,” you say, louder, and Chan looks at your face instead of your pussy.

“I think I’ve been good, noona,” Chan says quietly.

“Let’s get a second opinion, hm?” you say.

You peel Changbin’s hands off your waist and scoot away from him, pulling yourself off his dick, and push Jisung away to give yourself some room. You settle beside Jisung, who sits back down against the mattress and leans on his elbows to look at the rest of you.

“But noonaaaa,” Changbin whines.

“You got some already,” you admonish. “Don’t be greedy.”

Changbin pouts at you, and you reach out and squish his cheeks in your hand. He just lets you do it, and you lean in and kiss his lips. He deserves it, and more.

“So. Consensus,” you say, “Has Channie been good?”

“Not as good as me,” Changbin mutters.

You laugh, and turn to Jisung expectantly for his answer.

“I think so,” Jisung says, “He listens to you much better than he listens to me.”

“How honest,” you say.

You turn and swing one leg over Jisung’s torso, only hesitating for a second as you factor in your body weight on top of his dainty little body and then deciding it doesn’t matter. You sit up straight, facing Jisung so that you can see his expression, trapping his bare cock between your folds, still kind of covered in your stretched and soaked panties, and his stomach.

“Oh, Jesus,” Jisung wheezes, throwing his head back.

“They’re really roasting you,” you say to Chan conversationally, as if you’re not torturing Jisung in the same moment.

“I’m used to it,” he replies, giving you a sheepish smile that shows his deep dimples.

His casual admission is strangely charming, and it makes you smile back. You grind down on Jisung just for a second, just to hear the noise that he makes. He doesn't disappoint, a whine coming up from his chest as his hands scrabble at the sheets. He doesn't touch you, even though you haven't said that he can't. The faultless obedience is thrilling.

"Are you ready for a little more?" you ask Jisung, nodding toward Changbin.

"A little?" Changbin protests.

You send him a wink, realizing the stupid joke. "Oh, come on, that wasn't a dig."

"Thin ice, noona," he mutters.

You raise an eyebrow at that. "Excuse me?"

"Biting the hand that feeds you, hyung," Jisung sing-songs, tilting his head up.

"Jisungie, you talk too much," you tease.

You shift over Jisung so that the head of his cock prods at your entrance. You're still wet and messy from all of their handiwork, and Jisung keens.

"We don't need him, do we?" you nod over your shoulder at Changbin.

"I mean, I was looking forward to the dicking, but - oh shit" Jisung moans, as you reach down and pull your panties aside properly, and let the very tip of him slip inside you.

"This isn't the plan," Changbin complains.

You smile at him sweetly. "I just don't want anyone to forget who's in charge here."

You climb off Jisung, leaving him whining in your wake, and move up to the spot at the head of the bed where you'd sat Chan earlier. The three boys watch as you settle cross-legged, casual as anything.

"I think," you say, resting your chin in your hand and your elbow on your knee, "I think that I just want to watch for a while."

All three of them, Changbin and Chan standing side by side and Jisung sitting half-upright, look at you with matching wide eyes. You tut, looking right back at them and silently making up your mind.

"Come here, peach," you say, making grabby hands at Chan.

He complies easily, coming back up the bed toward you, and you uncross your legs to make some room, patting the mattress in front of you. Chan pauses, kneeling between your open legs, and you turn him around gently by the shoulders. You sit him down with his back pressed to your chest. He's still fully dressed, even after everything that’s gone on, and his silky black shirt is cool and soft against your bare skin. His broad shoulders cover you entirely, but he melts against you, sliding down a little so that his head rests at the crook of your neck, curly black hair against your cheek.

"Jisungie, Binnie?" you say, "I want you to put on a good show for me while I give this poor baby boy some attention."

You let your hands wander to the top button on Chan's shirt. It's not the top button, really, because he's got the first three undone already to show a span of pale toned chest. So you unbutton the next one, and crawl your fingers down to the next, too.

"So I can," Changbin starts, "I can-"

"Yes," you nod, "But neither of you can cum until I say so. Okay?"

"Okay," says Jisung eagerly.

"You have to earn it," you warn, "A good show."

Jisung and Changbin look at each other, significantly, like they're silently concocting their own plan. You decide you can get a hand on that ball, too.

"Channie, wouldn't they be pretty if they kissed for us?" you ask, murmuring right into Chan's ear.

He nods eagerly, and you pop another shirt button. You glance down at Chan's torso, completely bare to you now, all pale smooth skin and chiseled abs. So you ease the silky shirt off his shoulders, down his arms, and discard it off the side of the bed.

By the time you look back up, Jisung has Changbin pinned to the bed, straddling his waist and kissing him right into the mattress.

"Oh," you say mildly, "Promising start, hm?"

You stroke up and down Chan's abs with your fingertips, and he laughs gently.

"They're always like this," he says.

"Thirsty?"

"Out of control," he corrects.

Jisung breaks away from Changbin's mouth, frowning at Chan. "You love it, you asshole. You're just as bad."

Chan nestles back into you more and doesn't say anything, but you can see an answering half-smile creeping over his face. Changbin takes advantage of the distraction to flip Jisung over onto his back, finally flexing the strength you know he has, and bends Jisung nearly in half. His knees are up by his shoulders, and his face is more than a little alarmed.

"Hey, I'm not that bendy!" Jisung protests.

"Yeah, you are," Changbin shushes, "Do you wanna cum or not?"

You grin. "Come on, then."

With a big upside-down sigh, Jisung looks at you, while Changbin digs around in the sheets for the lube.

"You see what I have to deal with?" Jisung asks you, "They're so good and nice for you, and for me? This disrespect. I don't even know - OH-"

Jisung cuts off, and it's obvious what's happening from the way Changbin's hands fly down to Jisung's hips and Jisung's back arches up to meet him. You hum your satisfaction, taking in the blissful expression on Changbin's face, and the sweat already beading at Jisung's hairline.

But you quickly realize that you can't see nearly well enough. They're laying up the bed properly, feet at the foot and Jisung's head against the mattress near yours and Chan's intertwined legs. But if they were perpendicular to you...

"Okay, gorgeous," you coo, and Changbin's head snaps up at the sound of the pet name, "Turn around on the bed so that I can see exactly how nice Jisungie fits around you."

It takes a second, but Changbin processes your words with a slow blink, and grabs Jisung's hips to unceremoniously turn them ninety degrees. Now they're laying across the bed widthwise, and you have a delightful view of Changbin's thick cock sinking into Jisung smoothly. He's set a brutal pace, snapping against Jisung's narrow hips with a force that makes you clench around nothing. He’s obviously making up for the painfully slow pace you made him take on you. It's quiet enough that all you can hear is the perverse squelch of lube and the tiny breathy sighs Jisung makes every time Changbin bottoms out.

"Jesus," Chan breathes, and you nearly jump out of your skin; despite the weight of him on you, you've all but forgotten about him while you're taking in the view in front of you.

"How do they look?" you ask him, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair.

"So good," Chan answers, "So - ah-"

You tug his curls gently, and Chan arches his neck back so that his head rests fully on your shoulder.

"Noona," Changbin says with an edge of desperation in his voice, pulling your attention back to him, "Noona, I'm not, I can't-"

"You gotta hold on for me, gorgeous," you coax.

Changbin nods, digging his fingers into Jisung's hips and making his poor boyfriend squeak at the added pressure. He sits back on his heels, pulling Jisung with him, so that he’s almost upright, giving you a delightful view of their bodies meeting. It makes you groan to yourself, waves of arousal peeling through your gut.

You reach down to undo Chan’s belt and jeans, and it only takes a moment to rid him of those, too. He’s ridiculously hard in his black boxers, and as you palm him through the fabric, you have to admit that he’s the biggest of the three of them.

“Who’s gonna cum first?” you ask Chan.

He drags his eyes away from the sight of Jisung’s arched back, the faint bruises forming under Changbin’s hands, and looks up at you.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs.

“I think Jisung’s earned it,” you decide, “Peach, you wanna give him a hand?”

“Not him,” Jisung gasps.

Chan looks affronted. “Hey!”

“Noona please,” Jisung begs. “Please!”

“Oh, you want me?” you ask, smirking.

Jisung nods, gasping and screwing his eyes shut as Changbin keeps up that punishing pace. You can have mercy on him, can’t you?

Chan leans forward so you can wiggle out from behind him, and you sit back on your heels beside Changbin and Jisung. The view is even better up close: Changbin’s muscles bunching and expanding, Jisung rocking up the bed with every thrust. Changbin’s gorgeous face furrowed in concentration. Jisung’s rim contracting obscenely around the cock still working in and out of him.

You feel delightfully gross, wonderfully perverse and voyeuristic, and you lean down to kiss Jisung. He kisses back like he’s starving, panting into your mouth.

“Pretty boy,” you say, right against his lips, “Do you want to cum?”

Jisung nods, his eyes barely focusing on you, the attention going right to his head. “Yes, noona!”

“What do you need to cum?” you ask him.

“Your…hand, noona, or your mouth, please,” Jisung whines.

You smile at him, leaning in for one more kiss. “You can cum when you’re ready, baby.”

“Yes, noona.”

One down, one to go. You shuffle so that you’re sitting face to face with Changbin and he all but falls forward to kiss you, his hips not even stuttering as they drive forward. His singular focus is impressive. You let Changbin press messy open-mouth kisses against your lips, your cheeks, as you finally wrap a hand around Jisung’s cock.

His whole body jumps when you start jerking him quickly. It only takes two, three, four pumps before Jisung is babbling, begging for your permission even though you’ve already given it.

“Noona, I’m going to – please let me cum, I need it, I need-”

“Go ahead, pretty baby, cum for me,” you say.

That’s all it takes for Jisung to come into your hand with a shout, loud and high-pitched and cracking in the middle. His voice is a rush of power, like adrenaline in your veins, and you keep up your pace, stroking him through his orgasm. You look to Changbin next, watching him as he throws his head back and moans openly at the feeling of Jisung coming around him. His eyes are wide open, still, and he finds your gaze as he finally begins to lose his pace. This is the second person’s orgasm he’s had to ride out, poor thing. It almost makes you want to keep going, see how long he can last…

“I-” he stutters, “I want…”

“Ask nicely,” you instruct.

“I want to cum, noona,” Changbin pleads.

“That doesn’t sound like asking nicely.”

Changbin makes a tiny sound of despair, and tries again, “Please, may I cum, noona? I’ve – God – I’ve been good, haven’t I? Please?”

He’s beautiful, begging so nicely for you. You bring up your hand that’s covered in Jisung’s cum and nudge the dirty fingers against his lips. Without hesitating, Changbin sucks two fingers into his mouth, his tongue working between the digits.

“Filthy,” you coo.

Changbin just whines around your fingers.

“Who are you cumming for, Binnie?” you ask, taking your hand back.

“You.”

“Hm?” you feign ignorance.

“You!”

“Who?”

“You, noona,” he moans.

“Okay, gorgeous, you can cum.”

“Thank you.”

With a final moan that sounds an awful lot like your name, Changbin cums, making Jisung whine out in his high, cracked little voice at the feeling of it. You lean back, just watching and enjoying, as they both come down.

Two down, one to go.

Chan is still waiting for you, though you wouldn’t doubt that he’s a little less patient than he was at the beginning of the session. He’s sitting back against the headboard again when you turn around, just watching you. You notice that he’s actually sitting on top of his hands, and you smile disdainfully at him.

“Oh, peach,” you say, “Are you so fucking desperate that you have to sit on your pretty little hands, to keep from disobeying me?”

“I’ve listened to you, noona,” Chan says.

“Is it so hard for you to be good?” you chide.

“It’s not!” he insists weakly.

“Shit, I think we could go again,” Jisung comments offhandedly, breaking your train of thought.

You look at him, suppressing your smile in favor of a cool stare. “Can you not let me deal with our sweet peach for two fucking minutes?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Jisung defends, holding up his hands in surrender. “Refractory period? Great.”

You decide to ignore Jisung and his big mouth. Chan deserves some undivided attention, and you planned right from the start that you’d have him like this.

Rolling your eyes in Jisung’s direction, you crawl over and take hold of Chan’s boxers, and pull them down his pale pretty legs and off. He looks distinctly shy when he’s finally fully naked for you, so you return the favor by slipping off your ruined panties. You can feel two sets of eyes on your ass as you maneuver yourself onto Chan’s lap.

You’re delighted to find that if you sit up perfectly straight, you’re taller than him. Tall enough that he has to tilt his head back to look at you. He’s all wide brown eyes and handsome flushed skin, and you stare down at him fondly.

“What do you want, peach?” you ask.

“You…” Chan trails.

You walk your hand up his shoulder, up into his hair, and tug at the back of his head. He tilts his chin up, leaning into the action, exposing his long beautiful neck to you. You can’t help it – you lean in and indulgently bite into the skin on the side of his throat.

“What about me?” you ask against his flesh.

You can feel Chan swallow. “I want…to fuck you, noona.”

“I know you can ask nicely.”

As you trail down and add another bite under the first, leaving your mark behind on his porcelain skin, Chan shows you just how well he can ask.

“Please, noona,” he breathes, “I can make you feel good, like Changbinnie, better than Changbinnie, wanna fuck you so good and fill-”

He cuts off with an embarrassed whimper, as if he’d almost let something slip. Unluckily for him, you have a pretty good idea what he was about to say.

“Oh, peach, you’re dirty,” you purr.

“I’m sorry, I-” Chan sputters, but you cut him off.

“No, no, no, no,” you shush him, “I like it.”

You lift yourself up slightly so that you can reach down and line him up with your pussy, and without preamble, you sink down on him. You know you’re still wet and sloppy from before, and Chan groans shamelessly as you settle your hips firmly against his.

“You can have me, but you’re doing all the work,” you inform him.

Apparently, that’s no problem for Chan, because he plants his feet on the mattress for leverage and begins pistoning upwards into you. You rise onto your knees slightly to meet him, making him work harder, rise higher to chase what he wants.

His pace is brutal, his hips moving precise and intense against yours, and you’re shocked to feel a second, penetrative orgasm rising on its own. You’re still so sensitive from cumming the first time, you know you’re not going to last very long. But Chan is having a similar problem.

“I’m not…I’m not going to last, noona, I’m-” Chan moans, sounding embarrassed by it.

You coo at him. His self-consciousness, even this far into a scene, is so endearing.

“Did you get all worked up watching Jisung and Changbin have their fun?” you ask, patronizing.

Chan nods, throwing his head all the way back as he chases his high, driving into you hard. “So good, noona, it was so good…”

You glance over your shoulder at the other two, the mention of them making you wonder what they’re up to, unattended over there, and you’re met with quite the scene.

“It seems like they’re enjoying us, too,” you say.

Chan brings his head forward again with what seems like a tremendous amount of effort, and peels his eyes open. When he sees his boyfriends behind you, his breakneck pace finally stutters.

“Fuck,” he groans, “Oh, Jesus Christ-”

Jisung is standing beside the bed, bracing himself against the wall like he’ll collapse if left only to his own strength. Which is valid, because Changbin is knelt between his legs, Jisung’s cock down his throat and Jisung’s hand on the back of his head, guiding him.

“They weren’t kidding about being ready another round,” you joke, and to your utter delight, Chan laughs.

“And I wasn’t kidding about – noona, fuck,” Chan whimpers, “I’m not – can I cum, noona?”

You hum. “You wanna fill me up, peach?”

Chan’s breath hitches at your words, and if it’s even possible, he begins fucking into you harder. He’s hitting you just right inside, cockhead brushing against that delicious spot and making stars dance in your vision. You can count on one hand how many times you’ve cum just from a partner like this, and you’re salivating at the idea of it. You’re so damn close.

“Yes,” he whines, “Noona please let me, I’ll make you feel so good, I promise, fill you up with my cum and – and-”

“You’ve waited long enough for me, peach,” you say, reaching up to cup his face in both of your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Cum.”

On command, like the good boy he is, Chan cries out, high pitched and absolutely beautiful, and cums. And then, surprise of surprises, he snakes one hand down between the two of you and finds your clit, rubbing into the poor sore nerves like he might die if he doesn’t make you cum.

And you do. You can’t even choke down the squeak of “Chan, oh, fuck!” as you clamp down on him, pleasure bursting behind your eyelids like fireworks and warming you all the way down to your toes.

As your orgasm fades and the world comes back into focus around you, the first thing you see is Chan’s self-satisfied little smile. That smug bastard…

You grin back at him, pushing him away by the chest, “Shut up.”

Gingerly, you climb off his softening cock and off his lap entirely, to throw yourself down haphazardly on the bed. Chan collapses across you, landing heavy over your legs and making you protest for your poor ankles.

“I can confidently say, that was fantastic,” comes Chan’s muffled voice, facedown in the mattress as he is.

“Seconded,” says Jisung.

You tilt your head back to see Jisung and Changbin peering down at you, both looking heavy-eyed and swollen-lipped. They look as drained as you feel, and just as satisfied.

“That was a hell of a show, (Y/N)-noona,” Changbin says.

“Glad you liked it, I worked really hard,” you tease. “Does anyone need water? Food?”

“Cuddles,” mumbles Chan.

“Yeah, you have to stay the night, noona, aftercare and cuddling is non-negotiable,” Jisung agrees.

Changbin nods. “We’re even better at that than the sex.”

It shouldn’t be as touching as it is that they want you to stay. But fondness wells up in your chest, soft delight that they seem to enjoy your platonic company just as much as your sexual company. But this bed is disgusting. Changbin needs to wash his sheets, there’s no way you can sleep here in the miasma of lube and bodily fluids.

And besides, the four of you need to talk about all of this at some point. You’re still their classmate, after all, at least until the end of the semester, and an impromptu hookup like this can lead to some real awkward class meetings. Some pillow talk, some cuddles, and some Gatorade are all in order here.

So you smile, wide and honest and mischievous, and stand up on shaky legs to head for the bedroom door. The boys look confused at your seemingly sudden departure, and you cock a thumb at the other bedroom, across the hall.

“Now, Channie, where’s that pillow fort I heard so much about?”

#stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #3racha #3racha smut #3racha fic #bang chan #han jisung #seo changbin #reader #reader insert #kpop #kpop fanfic #sub!idol #fem dom #dom reader

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reidingandwriting · 3 years

Text

Chapter One- “Nightmare”

“Someone like me can be a real nightmare, completely aware” -Halsey

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: (Suprisingly) none!

Characters Mentioned: Neutral!Reader, Erin Strauss, Aaron Hotchner, Penelope Garcia, Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan & David Rossi (briefly mentioned)

A/N: The first chapter!! I am super excited to see everyone’s reaction to this one. It’s the tamest chapter we’ll have, and we’ll dive into the backstory and ~murders~ as the story progresses. This was super fun to write and I hope y’all enjoy!! Also, I know the characters would likely NOT treat a member of their team like this, but it’s for the plot. And as always, please reblog/reply/send asks with feedback and please correct me if there are any gendered pronouns for reader! Happy reading :)

Prologue

Next chapter

“You’re fired, Y/N Y/L/N.” Your former Section Chief, Erin Strauss, said from where she sat on her side of her desk. “Please turn in your credentials and your gun, and promptly collect your things from your desk.” You unclipped your ID from your blazer, took the gun holster off your belt, and slid the badge out of your pocket before setting the items on her desk. “I’m truly sorry things worked out like this, you were a promising asset for the BAU. I wish you nothing but success in your future endeavors.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” You nodded briefly at Strauss and stood up, ignoring the burning in your eyes. You turned and took a deep breath before leaving her office. You walked to the elevator and pressed the number six for the last time- the floor for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. The team in which you were a member of for the last year. God, you remembered your first day at the BAU. You were an agent out of the Sex Crimes division, and you had been apart of the team for five years the day you met Erin Strauss.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” You asked as you stepped into your boss’s office. You faltered when you saw a woman standing with her back turned to the door.

“Yes, shut the door behind you, Y/L/N.” You shut the door and he motioned for you to sit.

“Is everything okay?” You were wary as you sat down, the unknown blonde woman still not having turned around.

“Everything is fine, Agent Y/L/N.” The woman spoke as she turned around. Erin Strauss. She held her hand out and you stood up, shaking her hand firmly.

“Nice to see you again, ma’am.”

“Likewise. Take a seat and we can get started.”

That day, you were offered an opportunity to transfer into a new department- the BAU. Strauss told you that you had forty-eight hours to make your decision, but you had made your decision almost immediately. The Behavioral Analysis Unit was the division of the FBI you had wanted to work in since you were in the Academy, and you were thrilled you had an opportunity to join. You loved your team in the Sex Crimes division, but you’d be stupid to pass up a chance to work with the BAU. You’d been hoping for an opening for the last two years since you went to a seminar that the team members held. This is what you were meant to do, you knew it.

Your first day at the BAU was nothing like you imagined. Watching how the team interacted with each other before and after the seminar, you could practically feel the fondness they had for each other. The two eldest members, Agents Hotchner and Rossi, were like the “parents” of the team, while the other agents all bickered and acted like siblings. Your team worked well together, but nothing like you witnessed that day. And you hoped that you too would one day be apart of the familial relationship the agents showed two years ago. But your entrance to the unit wasn’t exactly accepted with open arms. In fact, besides Erin Strauss, no one seemed to want you there. The bubbly personality you witnessed from tech analyst Penelope Garcia was nowhere to be found, the teasing quips between the members turned to hushed whispers and surprisingly blatant, watching eyes. Hotch was even more open with his judgmental watching, while Rossi was the only semi-subtle profiler in the bunch. They all, for the most part, showed professional courtesy with you. But outside of work, you may as well have been just another person on the streets to them. At first you thought it was because you were new. Of course they’d be skeptical of someone new joining out of the blue.

“I’ll give it a week.” You had said to yourself. “Maybe then they’ll warm up to me.” Then one week turned to two, which then turned to a month, and up until your last day, you never felt like a valued member of the team. Hell, you felt like you were never even a part of the unit. You loved your job as a profiler, but you longed for your days back at the Sex Crimes unit. At least there you felt appreciated.

A beep interrupted your thoughts and the elevator doors opened, and you lifted your head as you stepped out of the elevator. You could feel the gazes of your former colleagues burning into you, which you ignored as you walked to your desk. Even breaths, relax your posture, don’t let them get a read on you. You grabbed your go-bag you kept stored under your desk, set it in your chair, and began to clear your desk. You heard a few whispers and fought the urge to say something.

“You’re really leaving?” You could feel him standing behind you before he spoke. Doctor Spencer Reid. Where do you begin with him? Spencer was the youngest member of the BAU and arguably one of the smartest when it came to the books with his three PhD’s, his ability to read twenty thousand words per minute, and his eidetic memory. Social cues were a little hit-or-miss when it came to the young doctor, but he was a great profiler.

“Yep.” Your answer was short, but that’s all you felt you could say without cracking. You had been at your dream job for a year, and now you were fired. If Hotch had anything to do with it, you’d never work for the FBI again. You’d have to go back to your job from college, cleaning houses until you could find a more permanent job. Maybe you could use your master’s degree to pick up teaching. An awkward silence filled the air until Derek spoke.

“Are you going back to your old unit?”

“Nope.” You turned to Derek. “Excuse me. I need a box.” You brushed past him, keeping your eyes straight ahead of you as you walked away and towards the storage room. A door was opened for you and your eyes met the brown ones of Penelope Garcia. “Thank you, Penelope.”

“Where are you going?” Penelope asked as she followed you. Penelope was the one person on the team to eventually warm up to you, even if it was limited to light conversation and basic civility.

“I was fired, Garcia. I’m getting another box to finish packing. Then it’s back to D.C.” She gasped and you let out an “oof” when she wrapped you in a hug. After a few seconds, you wrapped your arms around her and felt your eyes sting with unshed tears.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my love. I’ll miss you so much.” A tear slid down your cheek and you hugged her tighter.

“I’ll miss you too, Pen.” Your voice wavered. You cleared your throat and pulled away, wiping under your eyes. “Sorry. I really need to get that box.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You started to walk off and Garcia called your name.

“Good luck. In whatever you do next. Not that it counts for anything, but I think you were a great fit for the team.” You offered Penelope a smile before you went to the storage closet. You walked in and shut the door and tried to pull yourself together. God, you’re so weak, Y/N, pull yourself together. You took a few deep breaths and grabbed an empty cardboard box before you left the closet. When you walked back to your desk, you noticed a little knickknack that was undeniably from Penelope’s “bat cave” and you couldn’t help but smile as you finished packing your things.

“Y/L/N.” You looked up when you heard Aaron Hotchner’s voice from where he stood from the door of his office. “My office.” You nodded and walked up the stairs towards Hotch’s office, and you shut the door as you walked in.

“Can we make this quick? I need to leave, and D.C. traffic will be terrible soon.”

“It will be. Take a seat.”

“I’d rather not.” Hotch gave you a pointed look and you sighed, but took a seat anyways. “Do we really have to draw this out even more? It’s humiliating enough with all the pitiful glances and whispers I’m getting.”

“I’m sorry things played out the way they did. You could’ve been an amazing profiler, Y/L/N, and a valued member of this team.”

“I guess Strauss made a mistake when she brought me on. Maybe I’m not meant for this job after all.” Neither of you said a word for a minute before you cleared your throat. “I should be headed out.”

“Sorry for holding you up. And I’m sorry again for everything, Y/N.” You nodded at Hotch, stood up, and left his office. You walked to your desk, grabbed your go-bag and box, and walked to the elevator. You allowed yourself to look around the bullpen one last time, your eyes taking in your co-workers as you stepped into the elevator. You pressed the first floor button and the doors closed for your last time as an FBI agent. As you walked out of the FBI Headquarters building, you felt a strong wave of emotions hit you all at once. Sadness turned into frustration, which turned to pure anger, which led to a lightbulb going off in your head. If you couldn’t be a good agent for the BAU, you were going to become their worst nightmare.

Taglist: @spideyspeaches @ssa-sugar-tits @willowsbendtothewind-blog @lazy-bird-fanfics @spencerhotchner @lolychu @ajeff855 @averyhotchner 🤍 Taglist and requests are OPEN, send an ask/message/whatever makes you comfortable to be added or send a request :))

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iluvyou-xoxo · 3 years

Text

no regrets

hi... i’m not dead lol. ive grown insecure to post with each new follower but i haven't forgotten about you. i also don’t know what i want my blog to be anymore. anyway please enjoy this v slight angst with levi because i love levi and i love angst (i also love you <3 happy valentines day)

you and levi have been seeing one another in secret for a few months. neither of you felt the need to put a title on what you guys were as either of you could be eaten by a titan or murdered by military police, but the moments you shared were more than what would consist in a casual hook up.

today you were simply cleaning your office in an attempt of productive procrastination as there were piles of paperwork that still had to be filled out after your last failed expedition. of your seven-person squad, three had been eaten and one had both of their legs broken and multiple cracked ribs. sitting still for some hours at your desk would not be ideal as that would be when you'd get lost in your thoughts thinking of failure after failure, and countless lives lost as you tried to claim the land outside the walls.

an hour in and your room was spotless, yet you still wanted to do more so you got on your knees with your back facing your office door and began to scrub the floorboards. two knocks signaled that someone wished to enter in so you said a simple “come in” and continued scrubbing the clean floor.

“hmm, never thought id see the day where there's a room cleaner than my own.”

you sighed and wiped your forehead of the sheen that formed from your aggressive scrubbing. turning around to face the handsome man that claimed you multiple times last night, you asked in a slightly annoyed tone, “what would you like captain levi?”

“well, i was going down to get tea and thought you'd like some too when i walked past your door.”

instantly you felt bad for your response but if he was upset or confused about your rude reply he didn't show it.

“no, thank you, but i'm fine. maybe later once i'm done cleaning and doing my paperwork”

“alright,” levi was never one to beg for attention, but he did feel neglected as you slipped from his private quarters after the steamy night you both shared. this morning he woke to a cold bed rather than your fingers lightly brushing through his hair, but he also knew with your arrangement all the extra things you did were exactly that: extra. you both had no reason to drink tea together or share a bed other than in moments of passion.

as he turned to leave your room you quickly stood up and called his name for his attention. “levi, i actually think we should end whatever this is between us.”

levi stood with an impassive face as he thought over your words. taking in his silence you began to ramble an explanation in hopes of possibly remaining friends, “it's just that- fuck. i know that we both understand that we’ll probably die a gruesome death similar to our fallen comrades, but i feel that i need to be alone. it's hard not worrying about you. oh, and please don't get me wrong, i know you are very capable, but the idea of losing someone close to me-“

he quickly shut you up with a light peck, something odd from a man that would only kiss you passionately with the intention of sex.

“y/n, i understand how you feel, but don't you want our last moments to be filled with no regrets? i know that i’d regret not fucking you the night before i die.” he was never one with words and they lacked passion that you would get from most men trying to keep the person they like from leaving, but it was more than enough to make your heart swell. levi never spoke romantically and you felt that this was the closest you’d get to it.

he quickly pulled your hand that was still sudsy from cleaning the floors and positioned you to sit on the couch. after, he laid his head on your lap, like he did most nights when he couldn't sleep, and placed your hand on his hair. the motion was almost mechanical as you ran your fingers through and lightly scratched that one spot on his scalp that made his eyes flutter shut.

although levi didn't show it on his face, you could tell he was desperate for this moment as he didn't even bother forcing you to wipe your damp hands off before touching him. something you were sure that would piss him off any other time. you both stayed there and did your best memorizing this moment. although the relationship shared still held no title and you probably wouldn't be doing anything different in the future, you still cherished the moment shared so that when your times did come, there would be no regrets.

date: february 14th, 2021

#shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi ackerman #levi ackerman angst #levi x reader #levi aot #attack on titan #shigeki no kyojin #attack on titan x reader #levi imagine #levi ackerman imagine #attack on titan imagine #aot imagines

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plaidbooks · 3 years

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Hi! Could you please do a detective Sonny and reader where they’re both kidnapped together? The reader volunteers herself to be hurt/etc. to protect Sonny? It leads to them eventually disclosing their feelings for each other before being rescued by the team.

Bartering Pain

A/N: Oh Anon, you’re after my own heart with this prompt! I live for this (cause I’m a SLUT for angst!). This gets kinda heavy, but I hope you still enjoy!

Tags: torture, knives, stabbing, attempted rape

Words: 2897

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles

It was your partner’s, Sonny’s, day off, but you were still texting him, keeping him up-to-date on some of the cases he was missing. After some back and forth, you eventually offered to bring him some files and notes, bring him up to speed in person rather than over text.

“You stay safe, [y/l/n],” Olivia warned. “Text me when you make it to his place.” She didn’t need to say why, and you didn’t ask; there was a small group of unknowns who were furious with the NYPD. Officers had been disappearing off the streets, only for their bodies to be found weeks later, bloodied and broken.

“Will do, Lieu,” you replied, smiling. Grabbing all the files you needed, you headed out of the department, your gun on your hip.

********************

You buzzed Sonny’s intercom when you made it there, and he said he’d come down, meet you outside. He was quick down the elevator, smiling as he saw you. “Hey, hun,” Sonny greeted. He gave you a hug, which you happily returned; you and Sonny were close, best friends—even if you wanted something more—and you were both big huggers.

“Hey Son. Here’s those files on the Williamson case.”

He nodded. “Perfect. Why don’t we go up, chat about it there?” Before you could respond, there was a sharp pain to the back of your head, and then everything went black.

********************

Groaning, you squinted your eyes open, the room fuzzy around you. You were sitting in a chair, your hands bound behind you and your legs attached to the front legs of the chair with duct tape. There was a splitting headache behind your eyes, and you had to blink a few times to clear your vision. You were in a plain room; the walls used to be an off-white color, but were now covered in grime, dried blood splattered randomly. There was a plain door on the wall across from you, but there were no windows, no other furniture…except for Sonny. He was slumped in a chair in front of you, bound as you were, blood leaking down the side of his face from his temple. He hadn’t yet awoken, but his chest was still moving—he was alive.

“C-Carisi,” you murmured, then louder, “Carisi!” But he didn’t stir, his head lolling on his chest. You looked down at your bound legs, trying to struggle against the tape, but it was futile. You vaguely noticed that you no longer had your gun nor your phone, and the panic started to set in. Stay calm, you thought; panic wouldn’t help you here. Besides, you never texted Liv—she had to know something bad had happened. And, in paranoia, your Lieutenant also forced you all to carry around SMS chips, hidden in your shoe so that the department could find you in case of this very thing.

“Carisi!” you tried once more before the door opened. You watched as three men came into the room, all burly men of Hispanic descent, but unfamiliar to you. They were unmasked, which was bad for you—they didn’t expect you to survive, to ID them later.

“Well, well, someone’s awake,” one man said, sneering at you, the door shutting behind them. He had a short knife in his hand, the blade maybe 2 inches long. You swallowed as it glinted in the light.

Your eyes went from the man who had spoken to Sonny, then back to him. “Let him go—he’s not a cop. He’s—he’s just a friend I was visiting.” The blood on Sonny’s head was already making your heart hurt, and you had seen the crime scenes of the officers who were found. You couldn’t let that happen to your partner.

The man came closer, playing with the knife in his hands. “You hear that, boys? We must’ve made a mistake. Apparently, this is not Detective Dominick Carisi Jr. with Manhattan SVU, in the 16th precinct.” Your heart sunk—they must’ve memorized the department…but, if they were outside his apartment, was this a hit?

The man sauntered up closer, until he was right in front of you. He twirled the knife in his hands before gripping the hilt, looking you directly in the eye. “Don’t. Lie. To me,” he growled before he sunk the blade into the top of your thigh in one smooth motion. You cried out in pain, the sharp steel gliding through your skin easily. Sonny stirred, but was still out. The man let go of the knife, leaving it sheathed in your leg as he gripped your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“Listen, you little bitch; you and your partner are going to die today. That’s just a fact. Now, the more you piss me off, the longer I’m going to draw this out. So, please, piss me off.” He wiggled the blade, twisting it in you, and you whimpered.

Sonny let out a low groan as he came to, rolling his neck as he opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. His eyes locked to the knife in your thigh, then to your face as he jolted against the duct tape binding him.

“Get away from her,” Sonny snarled, his voice low. His eyes weren’t completely focused, and you knew he had a concussion.

One of the other men went over to him, saying, “oh don’t worry, there’s enough to go around.” He cocked back his arm, then punched Sonny in the face. The force of the hit pushed him onto two legs of the chair, and the man grabbed it, pulling him back onto all four.

“Hey! Leave him alone! H-hit me instead,” you said through gritted teeth. Sonny locked eyes with you, shaking his head slightly, blood trailing from his split lip. But like hell were you going to let them hurt Sonny…your sweet, kind Sonny….

“No, let her go—” Sonny started but the man leaning over you cut him off.

“Q, shut that prick up. I’ll take care of this one.” You only had a moment to see the man—Q, apparently—punch Sonny once more in the face before you got a fist in the cheek. Your teeth rattled in your head, and the ache behind your eyes exploded into pain.

The third man, who had been quiet this whole time, finally spoke up. “Come on, T. Let’s just kill them before their team finds us.”

“Relax, D. The NYPD has been fucking useless in trackin’ us down—they won’t find us any time soon. We can afford to have some fun,” T replied. He gripped the knife still lodged in your thigh and yanked it out, blood seeping out of the wound. It didn’t seem like a lot of blood, so you were hoping he had missed your arteries. You glanced up at Sonny, eyes locking to his. He looked…scared, still working his arms against the duct tape. The wound at his temple had reopened, fresh blood trailing down his face and onto his shirt, and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. The fear was setting in; you were going to die here, weren’t you? But, if you could stall just long enough, maybe Liv could find you guys…or at least Sonny….

T looked between you two, noticing your stare. “You both work sex crimes, huh? You know what would be really fun?” T murmured. You had a sinking suspicion you knew where he was going with this, and you start to pull at your restraints. This just made T smirk, and he looked over at Sonny. “How long have you two worked together? 2 years, right? I bet you’ve pictured her naked before.”

Realization passed over Sonny’s face, and he was struggling so hard, the chair was scooting across the floor. “D, you hold whitey’s chair, make sure he watches this. Q, why don’t you get a little taste first?” T ordered, motioning him over. “You can have her loud mouth; I want her filthy fucking cunt.”

“Don’t you fucking dare touch her!” Sonny yelled, fighting desperately to get free.

T brought that sharp knife under the collar of your shirt, cutting away at the material. You pulled away from him as much as you could, instinct taking over as you tried to retreat. But in your haste to move away, the knife sliced into you, and you whimpered at the fresh pain, the blood tickling you as it trailed down your skin. Q came to stand behind you, resting his big hands on your shoulders and holding you still as T finished cutting your shirt off your body.

“You can go first; I can wait,” T smirked at Q before looking at you. “You bite him, and—” he placed the knife against your throat— “it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” You froze, your body going stock still as the sharp blade bit into your skin.

You looked across the room at Sonny, who was still fighting the restraints. There was a wildness in his eyes, a deep fear as he pulled hard, and then there was a deafening pop, and Sonny screamed in pain, his left arm going limp behind him as he slumped forward. The sound of his pain ripped your heart in two, and you sobbed silently as you watched him sit in defeat. Chest heaving, he pulled his head up, eyes locking to yours, tears in his eyes as he mouthed the words, “I love you.”

Your heart clenched and you mouthed them back, tears sliding down your cheeks, the blade of T’s knife pushing against the skin of your throat. You stared into Sonny’s bright blue eyes until Q’s body blocked him from your view, standing over you, straddling you, his bulge directly in front of your face.

Disgust welled up inside you, and you fought the urge to vomit. At least this was happening to you, and not Sonny; you couldn’t imagine sitting there, watching this unfold, unable to do anything.

His hands went to his belt, undoing it quickly and shoving his pants down, his boxer-covered erection mere centimeters from your mouth. With T’s freehand, he grabbed your jaw, forcing your mouth open. Q grabbed the waistband of his boxers, a huge grin on his face.

There was a loud crash as the door was slammed open. Q dove to the side off you, and T pushed the knife against your throat, sinking the blade in deeper as he screamed threats, but he was cut off by a gunshot, his limp body falling away from you. You took a shuttering gasp as the pressure from your throat was now gone. You frantically looked for Sonny, for the security of his bright blue eyes. He was still sitting across from you, eyes wide, in pain, but also such relief. Olivia, Fin, and Rollins were behind him, as well as a slew of ESU officers, all armed to the teeth. They quickly cuffed Q and D, Liv coming towards you.

“Take care of Sonny first…please,” you begged, your voice weak. But Fin was already there, cutting the duct tape at his wrists.

“It’s okay; you’re both okay,” Liv murmured, going to work on your own restraints. Once your arms were free, Liv handed you a jacket to cover yourself, then went to work on your legs. “We need EMTs in here,” Liv called out, examining your wounds. As soon as you were free, you shakily pushed yourself out of the chair, weakly stumbling towards Sonny, who still had one leg duct taped down. Fin freed him just as you got to him, and Sonny pushed himself to standing, wobbling a bit, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side.

Letting out a loud sob, you fell against his chest, clutching at him desperately, ignoring everyone else around you. Sonny let out a low grunt in pain, but held you close, stroking your hair with his one hand. “You’re okay. You’re safe,” he whispered into your hair.

“We’re safe,” you sniffled back, nuzzling into his chest.

The EMTs came into the room quick enough, leading you and Sonny out of the room and towards the ambulances. But you couldn’t force yourself to let go of Sonny’s side, suddenly afraid that you’d never see him again, no matter how ridiculous that was.

“We need to take you to the hospital,” one of the EMTs said, trying to pull you away from him, but you clung on, unable to explain your fears.

“It’s okay, doll. I’ll see you at the hospital,” Sonny murmured, kissing the top of your head.

You shook your head. “I-I can’t leave you, Dom. Please,” you replied.

“There’s not enough room on the gurney for both of you…don’t make us sedate you,” the EMT warned. You sighed as you let them put Sonny in the back of an ambulance, his eyes boring into yours before they closed the door on him, then led you to your own ambulance.

*****************

The stab wound in your leg had missed your arteries, needing only a few stitches, while the cut in your shoulder and along your throat were shallow. You had a mild concussion from the hit to the back of your head and you were in shock. Sonny had a more severe concussion and a dislocated shoulder, plus a split lip, but was otherwise fine.

After you were stitched up, you grabbed your IV stand and forced yourself to your feet, wandering the halls, looking for Sonny. You needed to see him, needed to know he was alright. Rollins had found you stumbling through the hospital, drugged and dazed.

“[y/n]? What are you doing out of bed?” she asked. She had two vases of flowers in her hands; tulips, with little balloons saying “GET WELL SOON”.

“S-Sonny,” you mumbled, and Rollins nodded, gesturing with her head and leading you down a hallway. She hurried into a room, coming back out without the vases, wrapping her arms around you and helping you into Sonny’s room. He was still asleep, the pain meds flowing through him.

Amanda deposited you into a chair, standing next to you, still looking concerned. “What were you doing wandering around? You shouldn’t be up yet—”

“I needed to see him, Rollins. I-I needed to know he was okay,” you murmured. You felt weak, and you hated it, but you felt better, safer now that you could see Sonny, alive. Amanda looked confused, but you didn’t know how to explain it. “I…you weren’t there. You—don’t know what we went through, what it was like in that room….”

She nodded. “You’re right; I wasn’t there….” She stood then. “I’ll, uh, I’ll leave you two alone, come back later.”

You smiled your thanks, then returned your gaze to Sonny’s face. You could still hear his ear-piercing scream when his shoulder had popped out, could hear the threat in his voice, see the danger in his eyes when he said, “don’t you fucking dare touch her!”. Your heart strained; you were glad in the moment that the kidnappers had taken it out on you. But now that you sat and thought about it, them torturing you probably hurt Sonny more than any physical wound ever could. You couldn’t imagine sitting there, unable to do anything as they hurt Sonny, but Sonny had to endure that with you. Tears in your eyes, you reached out, grabbing his hand.

Slowly, Sonny’s eyes opened, a small groan leaving his lips. “[y/n]?” he asked, voice raspy.

“I’m here, Son. I’m safe—we’re safe,” you whispered.

He gave you a small smile, his hand turning over to interlock his fingers with yours. But the smile faltered as tears clouded his vision. “I-I thought we were gonna die in there. And—and you were almost…almost—”

“I know, Son. But I wasn’t. And we didn’t. We’re alive and we’re safe.” The tears were in your eyes now, and you blinked at them, trying to stop them from falling.

“I’ve…never been so afraid in my whole life; I couldn’t even think to pray. I could only think about you, trying to distract them from you,” Sonny said softly, closing his eyes, letting a few tears fall. He opened his eyes, locking them to yours. “I-I love you so much, and I couldn’t take that—” his voice broke as he sobbed.

You couldn’t stop the tears that spilled down your cheeks. “I-I love you, too, Son. I was…I could take it, if it meant you were spared. I couldn’t let them hurt you.”

He sniffled, trying to control himself. “But I couldn’t take it—watching you get hurt was the worst pain—"

“I know, Son, I know. I can…still hear your shoulder….”

Sonny grimaced. “We…we have to move past this; stop living in that room. We’re safe, we’re okay. Let’s start there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. Standing, you leaned over him, giving him a wet, slopping kiss, the salt from both of your tears mingling. Sonny wrapped his good arm around you, his lips desperate on yours, as if he’d never get the chance to kiss you again. Reluctantly, you sat back down, unwilling to leave his bedside, unable to go back to your room. You knew this would take time, and a lot of therapy to work through it, but Sonny was safe. That’s all that mattered.

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #I LOVE torture scenes!#is that a weird thing to admit?#whoops #Anonymous

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cowboyjen68 · 3 years

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Hey jen first off congrats on your new tshirt lol but also, do you know of any lesbians that truly didn’t realize they were gay or different until they were much older? i didnt realize I might be gay until I was 19 and even then, there was SEVERE self doubt cus I was well aware how my abusive father had and continues to completely warp and destroy how I view, trusted (i didnt and still dont) and interacted (i didnt and still dont) with cishetero men. Like I’m scared my sexuality is just a massive trauma response. Growing up I had a lot of what i thought were crushes on guys but a lot of times the ‘crushes’ were just me wanting to get their attention and be their friend. I did have a few “romantic” ones but again those men were completely unattainable and theres was no chance we’d ever date or that they’d ever pay me any attention and i...................took comfort in that. it wasnt until I was 19 that i had my first crush (or first that i was aware of) on a girl, but she was straight. and It wasnt until I got my first crush on another lesbian, at age 22 (im 26 now) that it truly smacked me in the face - I was literally losing sleep over this girl, I could barely hold a conversation without blushing and stuttering, hearing her voice or seeing her walk by made my stomach perform a simone biles floor routine, but when she smiled at or complimented me id be smiling goofily for the rest of the day. Then i found out she had a gf and my heart dropped to my ass and while I hate to admit it, i felt the petty jealousy and envy bubbling up to the surface (but i absolutely never acted on it cus i knew the feelings were irrational and silly). Like I felt like I was back in middle school and like.......a guy has NEVER brought that intensity of emotions out of me. The first time I slept with a woman I loved it, and continue to love it and i know this paragraph is painting a massive picture of “yes you fucking idiot you are gay” but when i talk to or hear stories from other lesbians, I can never relate or align to that feeling of “knowing I was different since I was young”, I had 0 clue up until my 20s. that paired with my upbringing, plus smaller traumas here and there also centered around men..........like im truly scared that the day i fully heal is the day I’m gonna realize my sexuality is a lie. and its a big reason (besides mental and emotional instability) i avoid relationships even though i want one cus i dont wanna put another girl through hell just cus i cant figure MY shit out you know? Like this sounds so childish but I wish there was like an entrance exam or something that you can take and itll give you some type of definitive answer like: “yes youre gay”, “nope straight”, “maybe? need more info/experience” or “pls for the love of god go to therapy”

Ok.. first. yeah.. therapy can be great.. even for healthy, well adjusted people.

BUT:

Once of the reasons I didn't know "what" i was is because I had no exposure to role models that looked like me. No one to show me what life might look like besides what I saw with my mom and dad, the neighbors mom and dad, my uncles and aunts.. the man woman kids model. I had no words or word for my experience and not really any idea there was any option.

I knew was different especially once puberty hit, there was just no way for me to know how I was different or to know I wouldn't outgrow the "phase".

I always say, it is not necessary for any of us to have intimacy or sex with someone in order to have that "awakening" of our sexuality and I believe that. However, sometimes that little touch, kiss, tingly feeling can push us more towards our admitting it to ourselves sooner rather than later.

We all have different reasons to be unsure. In a neutral world it wouldn't matter, we would be attracted to whomever we are attracted to and that would be that. BUT the world is not neutral and figuring out out sexual orientation is important because it helps us fine our "safe" community in an often hostile world. Sadly that means we have to sort out our feelings, our experiences, social media and media and lots of lies and inconsistencies to separate that from for our innate sexual attraction. It is not always clear what is attraction, true passion and what is imposed upon us from outside pressure.

The good news is there is no time line and no shame in being wrong. Our innate sexuality does not change but our understanding of it does as we gain experience and get to know ourselves. Follow your heart. Do not date for others, date for yourself. You don’t need to know for sure to enjoy figuring it out.

I can also tell you that I know lesbians my age who married men, had kids and had okay lives. It never occurred to them they were lesbians... then small things crept in. They realized what they thought was love was friendship. What they thought was passion was going through the motions. Then, one day, they met other lesbians, saw other lesbians and realized they had mistaken “finding a nice man” for love. and attraction.

Don’t worry about the opinions of others. They don’t have any right to judge you or your past or your dating life. You are allowed to be wrong and to reevaluate yourself. I have a feeling that once you allow yourself to trust yourself you will figure things out much faster.

When you are ready to date you will not be too much for the right woman. Somehow all those things you think will be too hard for another will not be for someone with whom you click. It is also okay to not be ready to date. To take time for yourself.

#lesbian #dating #sexualtiy

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dogduocatquartet · 3 years

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@kung-slinger i genuinely almost don’t know what to say to this reply, it reads as if you didn’t even look at my post before responding. i specifically said very clearly that i don’t have anything against pit bulls and nowhere did i imply anything about violence being a need for that or any other breed of dog.

dogs will more often than not prefer to avoid fighting, they have a complex language which in large part consists of navigating around conflict (similar to wolves, since you bring that up, since they’re both social species and good communication skills are essential for functioning in groups). there are many breeds of dog that, due to a number of factors, have weaker or less clear body language than others (language between dogs is also in no small part learned, so socialization is also a factor here). pit bulls are generally considered one of these breeds, which makes a lot of the signals they send out disappear or get misunderstood, leading to heightened stress and may accidentally end up in a fight/bite even though the pit bull may have been trying to signal “i need some space”. the exact same could be said for a retriever with poor body language due to lacking socialization. a lot of owners also punish dogs’ ways of communication, such as growling (“leave me alone”), unintentionally leading to their language growing even poorer and instead of a ladder of escalating signals, the dog in question may end up jumping straight from “this is starting to become uncomfortable” to biting, rather than modifying their language accordingly and having opportunity to remove themselves from the situation. none of this is exclusive to pit bulls, but a higher tendency of conflicts CAN be seen in breeds that have poor body language, just as with dogs that are poorly socialized with other dogs.

if the word “aggression” makes you uncomfortable, let’s call it “stress” instead. a stressed dog may engage in behavior we consider aggressive, so these often overlap or are basically interchangeable anyway. some breeds are more predisposed to stress around either other members of the same sex as them or just other dogs in general, though again there are many factors to consider as to why this is. it’s been a while since i read up on this specifically, so anyone is free to correct me on this, but breeds with same-sex stress often have a higher production of hormones, making them more “competitive” with members of the same sex. for wolves, this can be a useful trait if they break off from their original family group (that’s generally what wolf packs are; two parent wolves and their children) to mate, establish their own territory, and create a new familial group (aka pack). akitas, frenchies, shibas, and st. bernards are some other dog breeds that have a relatively high occurrence of same-sex stress. terriers, guarding breeds, and herding dogs tend to have this in higher degrees than hunting or companion breeds. but again, ymmv.

stress, aggression, fights etc. between dogs are also often triggered by resource guarding. any dog can have issues with resource guarding, but breeds that have typically been bred to guard often have a higher tendency of this, and may be quicker to escalate the situation, because that’s what they’ve been bred for. dogs that have been bred to be independent and guard the home also have a higher tendency to “deal with” conflicts on their own, than dogs bred to be more handler-oriented. again, these are things to consider when getting a dog. for some people, these traits are desirable, for some they’re a downside that other traits weigh up for, for others it’s a dealbreaker. all of these are fine, and should honestly be encouraged more, because, as i said, not all dogs are suited for any person, and not all people are suited for any dog.

the reason pit bulls are often overrepresented in discussions of shelters/rescues is partly because it’s more of an umbrella term than a very coherent breed, referring to bull-type terriers and mixes thereof. there technically IS the american pit bull terrier, though this is not a breed recognized by the FCI or the AKC. regardless, a lot of different dogs often get lumped into the same category, especially when the history of the dog is unknown and it kind of looks like a bull-type terrier breed. ive seen plenty of “pit bulls” that probably have more pinscher or molosser/mastiff in them than bull-type terriers. so just on that alone, you have a huge span of dogs with varying temperaments and historical uses, and that’s before you consider more “immediate” factors like genetic lines and socialization (or nurture, if you will). there’s also the fact that due to their appearance, history, and reputation, there are a lot of terrible bull-type breeders out there, who breed for unethical reasons or for profit, which in turn produces a higher amount of dogs with poor backgrounds and poor parentage, which in turn makes a lot of these dogs end up in shelters (good breeders will commonly take the dogs back if there’s an issue or the owner has to surrender it, so more bad breeders = more dogs in shelters). this is not the dogs’ fault, obviously. in my experience, huskies and border collies are also breeds that make up a big chunk of shelter populations, because they might be cute when they’re puppies, but they often end up being more demanding than someone just wanting a family dog can handle. no amount of nurture can change an individual dog’s energy level or need for stimulation. what you CAN do is meet the dog’s needs. this is not the same thing as nature vs nurture. i cant love or train away a husky’s energy level, but i can let it use its natural resources by taking it for longer/more frequent walks/runs, maybe do some sledding/pulling/packing with it, making it a happier and more well-adjusted dog.

i recently saw a family with a staffordshire bull terrier who was very sweet with them and all around a great dog, but who would bark and pull incessantly whenever he’d see another dog. they had no idea how or why this happened, as he was otherwise really nice and they’d tried to socialize him a lot as a puppy. turns out, what they’d done when the dog was younger was let him meet every single dog they saw or walked past on the street, which created an expectation which created stress which ended up in very strong “stay away from me!!!” signals (barking, showing teeth, leaning forward). this is extremely common for dog owners of all breeds and it’s honestly both annoying and saddening, because no dog needs to befriend every dog they happen across, and it’s often counterproductive and create stress instead, especially since leashes limit a dog’s body language. your dog can hate every other dog in the world, but as long as they can walk past them without acting out, it’s literally not a problem. some dog breeds are less inclined to get along with other dogs, and that’s fine! they don’t need to hang with other dogs to be happy and if you train them to walk past other dogs it’ll likely never be an issue. like i said earlier on, dogs will almost always try to avoid conflict when they can, so you’ll be doing you, your dog, and other people and dogs a favor if you stop trying to “socialize” your dog that doesn’t like other dogs with said other dogs, and instead focusing on walking well on a leash. which is something that all dog owners should be aware of, not just owners of breeds that aren’t generally sociable with other dogs or people outside its family, which are typical traits of bull-type terriers.

and just to sum it up and really spell it out: i don’t think any dog is born “aggressive”. i think genetics, socialization, instincts, and training all play a role, and sometimes you can do everything right and still get a stressed dog that may lash out. dogs have also been selectively bred for all kinds of purposes by humans for thousands of years, so dogs of different breeds and origins may have very different behaviors, reactions, and instincts that we’ve often deliberately created. it’s bizarre and just plain wrong to state that all dogs and all dog breeds are born essentially with the same configuration and everything else is just “nurture”. pit bulls are often singled out or used as examples like in the post i reblogged because of their high density in shelters combined with their bad reputation, media sensationalism, and stereotypes. they’re not inherently worse or better than other dogs. they’re similar to rottweilers to me; fine dogs, can be great family pets, but you should know what you’re getting beforehand because they’re big strong dogs that may possess strong prey drive, same-sex stress, or guarding instincts + for which there are a lot of shitty breeders. id say the same for poodles or retrievers honestly; they can be high energy and were originally hunting dogs, so you should do your research, as with any other breed. i feel like over-defending and figuratively “defanging” pit bulls may end up doing more harm than good, even if the intentions are good, because downplaying a dog or breed’s potentially negative traits and specific needs will likely just result in the dog ending up with people who don’t know what they’re doing and who were expecting, like.. a bichon in terms of temperament and drive. how about we all just have a normal, neutral, informed approach to these breeds instead of this insane, eternal discourse where both sides can be equally fanatical? thanks

#replies #dogblr #dogs #long post #????? you are projecting thoughts and opinions i do not have and have never expressed onto me

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btssavedmylifeblr · 4 years

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I forgot to send on my voting story. Ok so my brother and I both got mail in ballots, and let me tell you how we both forgot to mail it in so we just thought to bring them to our voting location. The lady there kinda yelled at us? She was confused and didn't know how to go about it. And honestly I just took it because we were the idiots who didn't mail in our ballots. We had to rip them up and they just us new ones to fill out in person and submit. Not exciting, but a story for void snippet. 👀

Anonymous said: Hi!! I'm so excited for void! I voted today around 30 minutes before the polls closed in my neighborhood because I had to wait for my dad and brother to get home from work since they wanted to go all together hehe. It was a pretty fast process! We just pressed buttons on screens (compared to last election where we had to bubble in everything by hand) plus, I got to keep the stylus that they gave us and it works on phones too! 🥰🥰 Thank you! I love your writing so much 💜💜💜

Anonymous said: I did mine through mail me and my husband did and we went to the post office a little while back and then he took us on a nice little date afterward and we got ice cream! Also I love void💖 keep up the good work

Anonymous said: VOTES FOR VOID??? I love democracy and I love VOID! So since May I've (temporarily) moved back home from New York to Indiana RE: covid; I've voted absentee for the both the primaries and presidential election (I'm still in IN rn...blah). I voted early and mailed in my ballot for the presidential election (about 3 weeks ago). Made sure my family was voting (brother mailed it in, mom dropped off a ballot, and dad did early voting) and encourage them to put up a Biden sign in our yard <3

Anonymous said: HI BEE! I ALSO VOTED TODAY! IM 21 SO THIS IS MY FIRST TIME VOTING FOR THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION (my 18th bday didnt make the cutoff since im a december bday) im so happy to have done my part! I made sure to study up on the judges and policies and everything! Luckily the polling place didn't have a line so i was able to get in, get my ballot, and fill it in right away! I even dragged my mom and cousin to come with me. I made a joke on snapchat to encourage my friends to vote too. It was a pic of my "i voted" sticker with a caption saying "omg youre so sexy when you vote aHaha" -🦙

Anonymous said: this is my first time doing this so, so i hope i’m sending this correctly! i voted early in late september by mail! i live in a swing state, so it’s really important for me to vote and not waste time!! bc of my age, this is my first time voting so i’m really nervous 😅

Anonymous said: I voted by email! I'm overseas so I wasn't sure if my ballot would actually make it through in time, so I decided to go electronically. Had to sign a waiver saying I understand that my vote won't be anonymous but I haven't been given a reason to suspect voter suppression/fraud in my state, so I'm happy I think...!

Anonymous said: hi, i voted early on oct 24th. my absentee ballot didn't come in, so i had to travel back home to vote (~3 hour drive). when we got there, there was a ton of people outside the polling place, but no lines, so i was in and out pretty quick. it was my first time voting, so i had all the candidates i was voting for written down on a tiny receipt so i wouldn't forget 😅. my mom was with me, so she voted too. took a pic with my sticker (mask on for extra covid-ness) and went home. drove back the next afternoon!

whippedforkook said: Hi Bee. 💕 I voted in early October - nearly a month ago! 😱 It’s been really weird with all the lead up to the election because it felt like it should have been done once I cast my ballot! A lot of my friends have volunteered to get out the vote: writing postcards to voters, texting, phone banking, working the polls, curing ballots. I didn’t volunteer at all this year, but I hope that all of my friends’ hard work and everyone else’s is enough. I’m also hoping and praying that I will be in a better place mentally for 2022 so that I too can volunteer. Our work starts with 2020 not ends. 💕 Wishing you well. 💕

begineuphoria said: I went and voted last Friday as it was our last early voting day. No way was I going to wait until today with the crowds of people in my area that still act as if masks are somehow infringing on their rights. 🙄 It was a rather normal experience for the most part. Other than having to use a coffee stir stick to press the buttons on the machine to vote. In and out within five minutes.

Anonymous said: I voted down the street at this pretty park this morning. I got up at 5:30 and it was freezing. Luckily I wore like 30 layers and stood outside for 2 hours. Some nasty orange man supporters were rude but everyone else was pretty nice. A really cute older couple was playing soccer with pine cones and kicked it towards me to play too. Not the worst time tbh.

Anonymous said: Did mail-in voting in California! Extremely exhausting and took forever to research all the propositions - they are notoriously tricky in hiding their flaws and one side tends to outrageously outspend the other. But in the end I felt really good about my research and decisions! No need for you to post a snippet for this story - would like to save that to read sometime in the future ;) Thank you so much for doing this!

joonsgotthejuice said: Votes for void??? I am here! I went last Thursday and it was chaotic bc I kept going past the poll place but the line was soooo long so my mom called me and woke me up like "its pouring rain and the line is super short get up I'm gonna pick you up" so thats the story of how I got dressed in 5 minutes and dragged my ass to vote in the rain <3

Anonymous said: i voted early on thursday it was cold and rainy but i went in the late afternoon and thankfully the only waiting i did was a few minutes for an elevator i got very lucky and while waiting for the results is awful the relief that came from voting in general was just great

Anonymous said: Wheeew the polls just closed and I finally got to cast my ballot yayyy ( I was the one working the polls from earlier) it’s been a really really long day and we actually had surprisingly good turnout. I saw a woman try to vote for someone else who claimed to be “helping” and I saw a woman who I’m pretty sure was on some typa something 👀 Overall though I really I’m really thankful for people like you who encouraged people to get out and vote. I hope the odds are in our favor❤️🤞🏼

chelsea-chee said: Hello Bee! Today surprisingly my elderly father wanted to vote so I brought him out with me. He only cared about voting for Biden, which meant I got to help decide who he should vote for with the rest of the candidates and amendments! Say hello to baby bee for me as well! 💖

Anonymous said: Okay I gonna got a chance to vote today and the process wasn’t that bad actually. I went in just now and it wasn’t that busy( thankfully) so no lines. I’m from Texas and it’s gonna be almost impossible to turn this state blue, but every vote counts! I love that you are getting people to vote and also sharing your experiences as well!

owl-orgy said: Dropped off my mail in ballot at a polling location! I originally wanted to vote early in person because I was worried my signature wouldn’t match closely enough but ended up just turning it in and double checked today to make it said “ballot accepted and counted”!

Anonymous said: I voted in person this afternoon, better late than never I guess. I was gonna go last week but then I got cramps from hell. There was no one in line in front of me, I think my county early voted because it was packed everyday the last few weeks

Anonymous said: I voted early a couple weeks ago. Exciting thing though that did happen was I got both my parents to vote for their first time ever.

Anonymous said: I had a mail in vote. So, I filled it out and dropped it in at the ballot box at my library. (I also checked out books for the first time in years, so I had fun!)

bubblyjiminnie said: I literally just finished voting. Lucky for me, the line and wait wasn’t very long, and it was a nice enough day that the short amount of time I had to spend in line outside of the building wasn’t too bad. My social anxiety when it comes to stuff like this tends to be high but that’s what I get for waiting until Election Day instead of going the mail in route. This was only my second time voting, but I’m glad that I did 😊

Anonymous said: I turned my ballot in last week :) I’m not a big fan of crowds and I hate make spur of the moment choices but despite that the first time I was able to vote back in 08 my Mom pressured me into voting in person because “you’d have to experience it at least once in our life”. And ever since then I comfortably vote by mail. I take my time, do all of my research, listen to music, and best of all don’t have to deal with people.

Anonymous said: here in Washington state it’s super easy to vote. I dropped my ballot off in mid-October and it’s already been accounted for! Mail in voting and drop box voting is fantastic and provides equal opportunity and access. Sad to see some people in red states misinforming Americans about it! We also have a referendum for implementing mandatory sex ed, including teaching respect, empathy and consent as part of the curriculum so I was happy to vote yes on that too!

unionrox006 said: I voted about 2 weeks ago by doing a mail in ballot. The other eligible to vote members of my household did the same. We chose to vote by absentee ballot because both my mom and I have an autoimmune disorder, so we have to be careful going out in the pandemic. Tbh, the ballot layout was a bit confusing at first as was all the paperwork and required IDs and documents. But my dad explained it to me and we got them filled out and mailed off. Kinda mad I didn't get a sticker for it though

bluetostone said: Love this and so excited for the next chp of void! I early voted a few weeks ago and because I live in a pretty rural county I was in and out of my polling place in a few minutes. No sticker though 😢. I live in a swing state so it could go either way in terms of delegates. Just praying everyone is safe tonight as the results roll in...though, won't we not know for sure for a couple of days or weeks?

Anonymous said: My mom, sister, and I received our early voting ballots a while ago and I took the longest to fill mine out because it was making me anxious :,( but I did return it before it was due. I checked our ballot statuses and mine and my moms were accepted but my sister’s said they hadn’t received hers back. Then she got another ballot so she filled that one out too and I took it yesterday 👍👍 I think she got two because she changed her address late so they sent two?

vixsynsblog said: Non-interesting voter story: I'm paranoid and live in a highly divided area, so I filed mail-in ASAP, mailed it a few days after cause neighbors are nosy and don't understand boundaries. Was able to track my ballot through my credit company, which was nice. Only thing I was missing was my sticker. Never got one✊😔. So I had to improvise and write it in pen on my disposable mask. I'm working all this week so if riots break out from either side, I'll be at work. Prayers for the safety of others🙏

______

Waaah!!! Thank you all for voting!! You are all my heroes. I am so grateful and proud of you. I’m sorry I ran out of time to respond to you individually. I’m going to drop two big scenes from Chapter 7 in gratitude (one of which will be familiar to my patrons and one won’t). I’m hopeful I will have the whole next chapter out very soon. Love you all!

Void spoilers below the cut.

When you wake up in the morning, there are still no signed HR forms in your messages. Had you been a fool to think they were interested? How much time does it take to decide such a thing? Perhaps just by putting the idea out there explicitly, it had lost all of its taboo appeal.

There is a calendar reminder waiting for you: Today is chili pepper pollinating day. At least this gives you an excuse to talk to Hoseok.

You find the science officer in the lab as always, sitting with his knee up against his chest. Hoseok doesn’t look well. He’s got dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey, um…” You shuffle your feet. Want to fuck me? No wait…“You don’t look good. Were you here all night?” you ask.

He blinks at you, bleary-eyed. “Um, was I? Yeah.. I suppose. Lost track of time.” He rubs his eyes, before looking you up and down, then casting his gaze back to the floor.

All you want to do is ask about the forms. Or the meeting. Or what he thinks of you now. But you don’t. “I need to pollinate the chili peppers today.” Usually Hoseok is the person who assists with that. “But I can get one of the other guys to do it if you need the sleep.”

“No!” Hoseok lurches forward, standing up a bit to rapidly and needing to put his hand back on the bench to steady himself. “I mean, I’m fine.”

You should disgaree with him. He is exhausted. But you’d like more time to talk to him.

Pollinating the chili peppers is both time-sensitive and time-consuming, hence why it took two of you to get the job done. There were no insects on your ship to do the job for you and if they didn’t get pollinated, they wouldn’t bear any fruit. Your chili peppers were your favorite crop. Not only a vital source of Vitamin C, but all your food benefitted from having a bit of spice added to it.

You and Hoseok head for the greenhouse together. The intital set-up gives you something to talk about in the beginning. Hoseok gathers the pollen from one flower onto a paintbrush, then hands it over to you to paint onto the stigmas of each little flower on the next plant in the line.

Slowly the conversation dries up as you fall into a silent rhythm. Other than just enjoying the chili peppers, you must admit that this was one of your favorite tasks on the ship because of the high likelihood that the two of you would brush hands peridically. Always gave you butterflies. But today he seems extra intent on keeping his distance from you. Was he disgusted by you now? His hands are trembling.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

His hand twitches so hard that a little rain of yellow pollen cascades onto the floor. He curses in frustration before turning to face you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Um, yes, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“This, um, plan of yours…” he gestures to the vague tension in the air. “It doesn’t feel like you.”

“I’m trying to save the mission. That has always been my top priority.”

“Yeah, I’m still not clear on how this benefits the mission.”

“Yoongi said…” you start to say, but are cut off my Hoseok’s derisive snort.

“Look, if you’re in love with Yoongi, just go date him, okay? Don’t feel obligated to include the rest of us out of pity.”

You frown. “I’m not… I’m not in love with him. It’s just sex. Just biology.”

“This isn’t you!” Hoseok argues back. “You hated the idea of anyone of us ever treating you that way. And now you just want all of us to… to… use you like that?” He splutters out the end of the sentence.

“No one is using me! This is my plan! I’m in charge!”

He sighs. “Well, I can’t be a part of it. Excuse me.”

______

Taehyung finds you in the gym. It’s good to see him up and about, even if his arm is still in a sling.

“Hey, so I need to talk to you about this, um, ape sex thing.” He fishes awkwardly into his pockets and pulls out his tablet. Maybe Jimin was right. Is Taehyung going to be the first to take you up on your offer?

You pause your jog on the elliptical machine. You wish you weren’t so sweaty and gross for this conversation. Taehyung is such an intimidatingly attractive man with those strong eyebrows and that perfect skin.

Taehyung opens up the tablet and flips to the form. It’s happening. He’s going to sign the form. Shit. Then what will you do? It’s one thing to say you want to have sex with your whole crew, but what if he’s hoping to go right now? You need a shower.

Taehyung has really nice hands. Long strong fingers delicately navigating the touch screen. It seems totally improbable that a man this attractive would be into you, even if you were the only woman in the universe. It just adds to your suspicions that hormones are driving everyone crazy. Perhaps if you slept with him once, he’d lose all interest.

He finds the form and then turns his gaze up to you, staring you down with those eyes. It’s a good thing that Taehyung rarely turns his full gaze on you, because it is almost too much to bear. Shit, is he just going to sign it? Is he waiting for you to give him some sort of signal?

“You can’t do this to Jimin,” he says.

“What?” Not what you were expecting. “Do what to Jimin?”

“This.” He gestures over the HR form. “Signing these forms with everyone. Having sex with everyone. You’re going to destroy Jimin.”

“Jimin’s the one who suggested this whole thing in the first place.” It’s a lie. You know its a lie. Or at least a gross exaggeration. But Jimin was the one who first brought up the idea of sharing. All for the benefit of the man in front of you now.

“No way.” Taehyung scoffs, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “No way was it Jimin’s idea that you sleep with the whole crew.”

“Well…” You can’t bear his gaze anymore and look down at the floor. “He wanted me to sleep with you.”

That surprises Taehyung. He puts down the tablet. “What? Why would he want that?”

This is awkward. “He, um, thinks you’re in love with me.”

“What?” There is only surprise on Taehyung’s face. It’s actually a relief to see that Taehyung is just as shocked by that idea as you were. “Why does he think that?”

“I don’t know…” You feel kind of dumb now. Of course, Taehyung doesn’t feel that way about you. Look at him. “Cause you told him you were jealous. Cause you can’t stand to be in the same room as us…”

Taehyung bites his lip. “Oh, um, shit, sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

If Taehyung isn’t jealous of Jimin...

“Taehyung…” He looks up, biting his lip. “What did you mean? Who are you jealous of?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he reaches for his microphone and mutes it. Out of respect, you mute yours as well. He glances toward the camera in the corner of the room, then stands up and begins unzipping his jumpsuit.

“Um…” You are distracted by the golden arms that peak from either side of the tank top as the zipper reaches his groin. “What are you doing?”

“Need something to block the camera.”

“We have towels,” you mutter. But he’s already stripping out of his shirt. The musculature of his back ripples. He hangs the shirt off of the camera to block the rest of the room from view.

“Yeah, but this way anyone watching will think we’re having sex.” His chest is just as attractive as his back and you flush at the sight of it. Mercifully, he zips back into his jumpsuit as he returns to his position in front of the exercise machine.

“You want them to think we’re having sex?”

“Don’t you? It plays right into your whole save the mission with bonobo sex plan.”

“I suppose.” Though the plan was also supposed to be that there would be no more secrets between the crew. “What plan of yours does it play into?”

“The one where Jimin doesn’t realize I’m in love with him.”

“You’ve never tried to tell him?”

Taehyung laughs wryly and shakes his head. “How would that conversation go? Hey man, I know we’ve known each other for years and I’ve already seen you naked and that you just think of me as a friend, but I’m in love with you. I know that’s awkward but now you have to spend the next twelve years with me, knowing that I’m attracted to you when you don’t feel the same way.” Taehyung sighs. “Doesn’t sound like a good plan to me. If he doesn’t feel the same way, I’ve just ruined the friendship for nothing and then I don’t even have that.”

“Yeah… I get that.” There’s something touching about realizing that Taehyung has been fighting the same battle as you for the last two years.

“I couldn’t tell anyone before launch because what if they wouldn’t let me go then? You know?”

“Yeah, the director wasn’t big on sending anyone who might ‘complicate’ the mission.” The two of you share a sad knowing smile.

“Yeah… And I thought it would be fine, you know? I like women too. I’d just date women until launch and no one would know. I wasn’t planning on falling in love with my roommate.”

“I don’t think any of us really knew what this would be like.”

“I knew it was going to be a problem. I should have pulled out…”

Your mind flashes back to that moment of doubt when Hoseok talked you into still coming on the mission.

“But I couldn’t just let him go off into space without me. Even if he’d never feel the same way, at least he’d still be in my life.”

The emotion in Taehyung’s words makes your eyes begin to mist. “You really do love him.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung sighs again. “But he’s in love with you.”

“Well, he thinks he is.”

“What does that mean?”

“He only feels like that about me cause he thinks I’m the only option.” You wonder if maybe he would feel differently if he knew about Taehyung’s feelings.

Taehyung frowns and shakes his head. “You don’t give him enough credit.”

“Oh come on, you know him. How many women did he date while we were in training?”

“A few…”

“And how many of them was he in love with before he found the next one?”

Taehyung bites his lip. He can’t really argue with that. “So why are you with him then, if you don’t think it’s real?”

You shrug, rubbing your arm. “He wants me. It’s nice to feel wanted, I guess.”

“You know you could have that with any man on this ship right?”

You scoff. “They’re all suffering the same delusion. It’s only-available-vagina syndrome. I just want us all to fuck and get it out in the open. Maybe if we could get it out of our system, they would see I’m nothing special. And then we can get back to the mission.”

Taehyung eyes you up and down. “You don’t give yourself enough credit either.”

You shrug. “You wait and see. Jimin will get bored of me. They all will.”

The two of you both slump backwards in your seats, mulling over your shared woes. Taehyung bends down and picks up the tablet again. “So what should I do with this?”

“Obivously, you don’t have to sign it. I should have realized that not everyone would be interested.”

“Jimin thinks I’m in love with you?”

“Yeah…”

“Is it okay if we let him think that for now? At least until I figure out how to tell him the truth?”

“Okay.”

Taehyung smiles and signs the bottom of the form, then sends it to you. Your phone lights up with a message. “Thank you,” he murmurs before he leaves.

#I'm not going to answer asks about the spoilers right now #because I want people to be able to avoid them until the chapter drops #but that should be sometime in the next week or so #votes for void

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writerpeach · 4 years

Text

Quiet

Pairing - Somi x Male Reader

7584 words

Categories: smut, public sex, face-fucking, Somi as a hot librarian

18+

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Read on AO3

Read on Wattpad

Read on AFF

Friday afternoons were the least busiest time of the week at University. Much of your time was unoccupied, and not wanting to deal with your noisy roommate you headed to the school’s public library. Swiping your school id, the loud audible beep welcomed you in while you looked for the perfect place to sit.

It was a cold bitter afternoon, several tables were already filled with bodies and stacks of books everywhere. You looked around for familiar faces, scanning your eyes around ceiling high book shelves and occupied tables until finding two close classmates that gestured to join them.

“Hey,” they both echoed, as you plopped your bag down on the table gently, finding your own pocket of spread out books and pens and notebooks. You had no real necessity to be here outside of finding time to waste since all your classes had finished for the day, but you were still needing to study something - or rather, someone.

“Hey,” you responded. “You seen her yet?”

“Seen who?” said one of your classmates, ignorant to the situation.

“Nah, she hasn’t shown up yet. She usually comes in late on Fridays though.”

“Got it. Nothing to do but wait around until she does, “ you said, lazily slumping back in the wooden chair.

“Who are you talking about?” your oblivious classmate asked, with a confused face as his curiosity peaked.

“Somi.”

“Who’s Somi?”

“New librarian. She only works on weekends,” you said, swiveling your head around for any sight of her.

“You’ve been missing out. Always wearing those tight skirts, hair in a ponytail like she’s trying to be super sexy. She’s got the biggest tits you’ve ever seen.“

“Sounds hot.”

Right on cue a woman matching that very description entered the picture, carrying a large stack of books as she walked out over to the checkout desk and several pairs of eyes followed her every move.

“There she is.”

The woman who was the talk of the afternoon walked behind the counter, placing each book into several neat piles, giving you and your thirsty classmates the full view of her. The curvy librarian was gorgeous - perfect face with a perfect body that she seemed proud of as she dressed in a tight low-cut blouse that showed off head-turning cleavage and her very voluptuous chest. Her light brown locks were pulled back in her usual ponytail, and to top it all off round glasses that matched the frame of her face, fitting into the typical librarian look quite well.

“What do you think?”

“I think I wanna fuck her.”

“Get in line.”

Now, you didn’t spend every Friday afternoon just to ogle her, as much as that was a routine part of your schedule. There were rumors, several rumors about the librarian that your table was drooling over that Somi was a very... promiscuous woman, which was not that out of line given her youth and her well defined assets.

The librarian thing was a bit cliché, and while there were a few other librarians you saw during the week who were quite attractive, none of them matched the beauty and sex appeal of Somi. She was something else.

Somi drove everyone in the building crazy just by breathing. Her presence was deadly, she kept her hair tied up like it contained her every secret. Those deadly tight skirts showed off her dangerous curves and gave a perfect look at every inch of those long luscious legs that seemed to never end, her body absolutely oozed with sex. You wanted to have her - you needed her, and nothing would get in your way.

“You think she can take all three of us?” your previously clueless classmate asked.

“At the same time?”

“Yeah, at the same time. Fill each one of her holes.”

“Don’t you two losers have studying to do?” you asked, annoyed with the sudden depravity

of the conversation.

“We’ve been studying all day, cut us some slack. Don’t you have studying to do?”

“No, I’m done with classes for the day. The only thing I need to study is that hot piece of ass behind the counter.”

You studied Somi like a hawk, watching her every movement. You studied every subtle motion as she reshelved books, the tight skirt draped around her waist doing justice to her wonderful backside. You felt your cock twitching as she bent down to place books down on the lower shelves, giving the whole library just a hint of what they all wanted.

Without a word you stood up and left the group, leaving your belongings as you approached your unsuspecting prey with hunger in your eyes.

“Excuse me, Miss…Somi” you said, feigning ignorance as you scanned the nametag attached to her shirt, which in reality was just a poor excuse to get a glimpse of her big luscious tits up close.

“What can I help you with?”

“I’m looking for a book for one of my classes. I don’t quite remember the name.”

“I can direct you to our computer systems, we have a list of required reading material from each professor that you can look through and see if anything looks familiar?”

“I’m really not good with computers, Miss Somi. Do you... have a section where all the most popular books are located?”

“Yes we do, right this way.”

You walked behind her, watching every step carefully and her hips swaying as she lead you to the specified section. You had no intention to acquire a book, putting on your best act as you pretended to find what you were looking for.

“Oh here it is, right here,” you said, after scanning several titles, grabbing a book with such randomness that you might as well have chosen it in the dark.

“Thank you, Miss Somi.”

“You’re very welcome, let me know if you know anything else from me.”

“Oh, I will,” you said, smirking as you walked away from the hot librarian and towards the checkout counter, planting the seeds of your master plan.

It was easy to see how rumors started with a woman like Somi. There was more to your conversation than Somi just doing her job. Something a little flirtatious with how she talked, and while you didn’t know her you wanted to. In an intimate way. You felt seduced by her already, as if she had just undressed you with her eyes.

With a plan carefully in place, you returned the next night, much later. Saturday nights at the library were like a graveyard. You counted the amount of people you saw as you walked in on one hand. Perfect.

You hid in between tall shelves, trying to subtly find your target as you skimmed the labels of nearby books. Out of the corner of your eye you saw her, wearing an even tighter top and an even shorter skirt. You tried to control yourself as you watched between the shelves as she placed books up on a tall shelf, stretching up to reach as her breasts bounced with every book placed.

You kept an eye on her, but also kept your distance, listening for the squeaking of her book cart that gave away her location within earshot. As you walked alongside the wide seemingly never ending rows of shelves you marveled at their construction, realizing just how strong and sturdy they looked, and wondering if anyone was lucky enough to bend Somi over one.

Somi had finished shelving the last of her books, and you put your plan in action and made a beeline for her section, rounding the corner as you approached her.

Your sudden appearance startled the young girl who had spent the better part of an hour surrounded by books and silence.

“Hello sir,” she said, greeting you with a bright smile and sparkling eyes that you tried to keep focus on, and kept your pants in check as you tried to not let them wander around to the more generous parts of her body.

“Hello, Somi. It seems I require your assistance again.”

“Of course, what can I help you with?”

“I’m looking for a book,” you said, stating the obvious and trying to conceal your true intentions.

Somi adjusted her glasses, eager and waiting for a response. You tried to keep a neutral face, holding back a smirk as you responded. ”Don’t worry, I know the name this time. It’s called classic sex positions, I think there’s a number after it, twenty-five, fifty? That seems like more than plenty, but if you could help me find it, that would be greatly appreciated.”

You waited for Somi’s reaction, keeping your best poker face on as you watched the paleness on her face become a light red tint in embarrassment.

“Yes, I-I can help with that, it’ll uh, be upstairs. That’s where our adult material is kept. “

“Perfect,” you said, no longer able to keep up the facade on your end as a devilish grin formed on your lips.

“Please follow me.”

You did so with glee, walking up the spiral staircase with your eyes nonchalantly trained on her ass the whole time. When you arrived, you noticed the non discrete area labeled erotic and the dust collected on most of the shelves, giving the assumption that this area was not visited often, if ever.

Somi was nothing but professional as her fingers ran over the spine of each book, each title more and more ridiculous as the next one. “It has to be here somewhere.”

“Got it,” she said, snatching it up and presenting a black book to you with both hands. “Is this it? It was twenty five. ”

You flipped through it rather indiscreetly, making a show of the ridiculous positions and crude pictures. “Yes. This will do just fine.”

“Is there anything else-”

“Which one position is your favorite, Somi?”

“I’m sorry? Which what?”

“Which position do you like the most?” you said, the smirk on your lips no longer hidden.

“I uh, I don’t-”

“You don’t have to answer, I was just-”

“No, I don’t mind. The truth is...I’m a rather vanilla girl. I don’t really care as long as I’m on my back or bent over…”

“Are you saying you don’t prefer-” you flipped through a couple of pages, equipped to find something with the most ridiculous name. “The Rocking Stallion?”

Somi laughed out loud. “No, I can’t say I do. Now what about you?” she said, taking a few steps forward.

“What about me?”

“I told you mine. What’s your favorite position? Be specific. ”

You were surprised by Somi's sudden forwardness, but welcomed it as you hesitated before answering.

“I love to see a woman bent over for me. Seeing how wet she is, seeing her ass, seeing how much she wants me.“

“So you’re an ass man?”

“Not necessarily. Ass...thighs...tits, I love them all.”

Somi grew closer with every breath she drew, until you could almost feel her skin touching your own.

“Do you like it when a woman moans for you?”

“I love it.”

Her body even grew closer until you felt your back pressed against one of the many bookshelves, inadvertently knocking one of the books off the shelves.

“Let me get that for you,” Somi said, bending down deep, her skirt hiked up enough that you saw a glimpse of the black thong underneath, releasing a deep breath you were holding.

Somi stood up and shelved the book back in its place, her supple chest brushing up against your own enough to feel the heat of her body.

“What’s your favorite part of me?”

You took in another breath, feeling your lip beginning to quiver at the act of seduction you were being hit with.

“Come on, don’t be shy. I love learning about the students here. Just don’t say something lame like my eyes.”

“I love your tits, Somi.”

Somi's full juicy lips formed into a pretty smile. “Everybody does. Do you know how many times I catch people staring at my tits?”

“No, I don’t. “

“All the time. Whenever it comes to ask me something about where a book is, or where this section is. They stare at my tits, even if I know they’re trying not to. But I don’t mind, and I certainly can't blame them. Go on, take a peek. I know you were dying to see yesterday.”

Your neck was hurting from trying to not crane your neck downwards, but you stopped as your eyes moved down and focused on the delicious large breasts of Somi, inches away and in your view, they looked magnificent.

“What do you think?”

“They’re amazing.”

“They are, and they’re real.” Somi said, demonstrating by cupping her breasts and letting go, causing them to bounce perfectly.

“No doubt you’ve heard the rumors about me. That’s why you came here right? I don’t think you actually need any of the books you’ve asked me to find, and I know these books aren't the only thing you're checking out.”

“I guess you’ve figured me out, Miss Somi.”

“I am rather flattered that you went through all this trouble just to get in my pants. Does the idea of banging a librarian as hot as me get you off?”

“It does.”

“I bet it does. Now...all these pesky rumors. People come up with crazy ideas. People say that I’m a slut, that I’ll sleep with anybody who so much at looks at me. Pretty ridiculous right?” Somi asked, looking straight into your eyes with such a deep level of seduction that you didn’t know to respond.

“These rumors…”

Somi’s voice grew into a whisper as she angled her head, talking at a volume just soft enough for you to hear, not that anyone else was around.

“...are hardly rumors. Because I am a slut, and I do love to sleep with anyone. I know my body is amazing, and I want everyone to see it. That’s why I dress more daring, because I love to show it off, even if I get the staff telling me to cover up. Nobody else wants to work on weekends, so there’s not much they can do about it.”

You nearly choked. Somi’s voluptuous body made contact with yours, her breasts pressed against your chest, driving you crazy with lust. She looked into your eyes, waiting for any response, but you were more than speechless at the moment.

“So if you want...to bend me over, if you want to see my pretty ass...and if you want to stuff your cock in me and watch me be a pretty little slut for you...well all you have to do is ask.”

You found the will to gather your thoughts, despite everything going more than according to plan, you couldn’t help but hesitate as you picked your next words.

“I’m dying to fuck you Somi. But my dorm is occupied, my roommates are- ”

“Dorm? Who said anything about a dorm?” Somi interrupted. “You can fuck me right here.”

You’d never heard a better set of words. “Here? In the library?”

“Of course here. Nobody comes here on a Saturday night. Besides, the risk of getting caught is part of the fun right?”

“I-you’re right, but, I could get in trouble if someone sees us.”

“We both could. But they won’t find us. I’m the only librarian tonight, and people here this late are rather self-sufficient. I know all the spots hidden out of view, and nobody ever comes up here. Especially not the erotic section, not when porn exists. It’ll be our...little secret.”

“Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

“Oh you have no idea. So, what do you say? Wanna live out a fantasy and fuck a hot slutty librarian?”

“God, yes.”

“Good, because it seems like you’re ready to start already,” she teased, as her eyes were drawn down at the bulge in your pants that you hadn’t even realized had formed. You had been blindsided by Somi’s lewd words and seduction that had peaked your arousal, and there was no holding back now.

“Shit, I’m sor-”

“Sorry? There’s no need to be sorry. This is what I’m here for.”

Somi gave out another cute smile again as her voluptuous body pressed tighter, pressing you against the row of books as her hands wrapped around the nape of your neck. Everything happened so fast that you were in awe as you felt the softness of Somi’s plump lips as they smashed against your own and her sweet taste entered your mouth.

Her tongue followed and brushed up against your own, and if that wasn’t enough the abrupt feel of Somi cupping your cock sent you overboard with sensations as your tongues explored each others mouths. In return you reached forward and cupped Somi’s breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze through her clothes, feeling just how large and desirable they were in your hands.

Just as you were getting used to taste of Somi she pulled away, leaving you with an insatiable desire for more as she bit her lip as she dropped to her knees on the library’s colorful carpet.

“Can I suck your cock?” Somi asked, not that she ever needed to as her sexy lust-filled voice deepened your arousal. You gave a simple nod of your head as she eagerly fiddled with your pants, pulling them down along with your boxers down to your ankles. Somi’s pretty eyes widened as she exposed your stiff cock to to the liberating air, her sparkling eyes lit up and she licked her lips in approval.

Her eyes stayed glued to your cock like a moth to a flame as she wrapped her fingers around it, gently sliding up as she caressed your shaft.

“You’re really hard, like really hard. Do I turn you on that much?” Somi giggled, like it was no fault of her own. As she twisted her delicate hand around your shaft, softly pumping you up and down you leaked on her fingers already.

“Guess that answers that,” she smirked.

You felt her fingers tightening as they traveled the length of your cock, applying the most delicate of friction as she stroked you, smiling as your cock continued to leak over her slender fingers.

“Do you know how many times I’ve done this? How many times I’ve gotten on my knees in this very library, ready to give some guy I barely know a blowjob?”

“No idea.”

“I don’t either, because I’ve lost count. But I can tell you I’ve done it many times, so I’d like to think I can give a blowjob that will rock your world, but you’ll have to be the judge of that.”

Somi smiled innocently, beaming with confidence as you felt her tongue meeting your shaft, cleaning up each drop of precum that she had caused to escape already. Her hot breath on your cock felt incredible already, you moaned as she swirled around your sensitive head and made full use of her wet warm tongue as she gave several long swipes down the entirety of your length, sending shocks of deep pleasure throughout your body.

“Now...how do you want me to suck your cock? Nice and slow? Or wet and messy?”

You weighed your options. Usually you liked things slow, a nice build up really set the stage for what was next. But as the sultry voice of Somi wandered into your ears, you had no patience for build up, you wanted things as messy as possible.

“I want the messiest blowjob you can give me.”

Her eyes lit up, as if she wanted the same, and before she could say another word you felt soft lips wrapping around your tip, causing a gasp from your lips as she brought you into the satisfying warmth of her mouth.

Too preoccupied to shush you Somi did not waste time, those delicious lips felt heavenly on your cock as she sucked your tip softly and kept that gaze glued on yours. Her lips pushed forward, slickening up your shaft with every inch and without warning you felt the back of her throat, groaning at the sharp striking pleasure.

“Holy fuck,Somi,” you moaned, and she hummed as she enjoyed every second of your cock in her wet mouth. Her head bobbed at a rapid pace as you felt those sexy soft lips inhaling your cock, slurping away and drenching your cock in her warm saliva, spiking your body with insane pleasure.

If you were supposed to judge Somi's blowjob skills, she would get a gold fucking medal when it came to sucking your dick. She deepthroated you with relative ease, her pouty lips made you feel extra amazing as they worked your cock, moving from base to tip as she gave loud messy slurps, gagging occasionally and throwing away all pretense of trying to stay quiet.

The pleasure forced your eyes closed. It felt too good that you felt powerless as you savored the sloppy blowjob that Somi was delivering. Her wet lips moved faster and faster as they met the base of your cock, resting against your base before for a mere moment before retreating

Somi looked so damn pretty as she bobbed her head up and down, her innocent looking features contrasting with the fact that was she giving the messiest, loudest blowjob you’ve ever had the pleasure that you felt overwhelmed by it all.

You ran one of your hands through her hair, resting it there to help guide her, not that she really needed it as she sucked you off expertly. You fought the urge in your core that demanded you give in to the satisfaction Somi was bringing, the woman so gifted at sucking your cock that she could have made you cum in ten seconds if she really wanted to. But you weren’t ready, you needed to explore her body and weren’t going to stop until you did so.

Somi released your cock with a loud sensual pop, stroking your messy hard shaft with vigor and strength, and you were thankful for the much needed break even if it meant the loss of her warm mouth.

“You can fuck my face if you want,” Somi said, as innocently as if she were talking about some mundane subject as her lips curled into another smirk. She was full of surprises it seemed, and you would not take the invitation lightly.

“I don’t mind if you’re rough, I can take it," she said, removing her glasses, which took away a bit from the librarian outfit but made her look that much more sexier.

Her smirk turned into a mischievous grin as her mouth opened for you, granting you an opportunity that didn't come too often. You plunged your cock all the way inside her mouth as her lips tightened around it, hitting the back of her throat on the first try. You placed a hand on each side of her head, looking down at those big beautiful eyes with an absolute desire to ruin her.

The first thrust inside Somi’s warm wet mouth felt absolutely wonderful, as did the second and third. Your pace quickened with every rock of your hips, earning your first set of gags as you began to fuck Somi’s needy mouth, groaning every time you felt her wet lips meet the end of your hungry cock.

“This is going to get messy,” you said, as you retreated your cock for just a moment, giving a short breather.

Somi took your thinly veiled excuse to remove her top in stride and happily obliged, removing her tight red top and exposing her fantastic clothed breasts in a black lace bra that could hardly be contained.

“I love messy.”

You stared at her big tits for several seconds, wanting to devour her deep cleavage before slapping your cock on her soft puckered lips and pushing forward to enter her mouth again. You grabbed the back of her head a little more forcibly this time, and in one fluid movement shoved your cock down her throat again.

The look in Somi’s lust filled eyes was nothing but encouraging as you pulled her head down onto every inch of your cock, matching the timing as you resumed fucking her mouth, thrusting harsher and faster as you stared into those beautiful eyes that began welling up with tears.

It didn’t take long for drool to spill out of Somi’s mouth as you rocked your hips, pistoning your cock into her and forcing every bit down her throat. It was rough, and certainly messy, but not once did Somi show any bit of discomfort, instead smiling with her eyes at how forceful you were with her, as if she loved to be used.

The more you filled Somi’s pretty mouth, the more she gagged, her watery eyes showing how much she loved this as she held onto your thighs and braced herself as she became a beautiful ruined mess.

With every harsh thrust Somi felt a pool forming in between her thighs as you used her, she was getting of on this just as much as you were. The gagging sounds coming out of her mouth grew louder, the lipstick around her mouth now became smeared against her lips and the head of your slickened cock that continued driving in and out of her messy mouth without a hint of care, dripping more saliva onto her chin and down into her delicious cleavage.

As much as you loved Somi on her knees, choking on your cock in the middle of the library’s adult section you were both starting to tire out. You held Somi all the way down, looking at her watery eyes, her messy face, and smeared lips as every second felt like forever, looking down and waiting for some signal for you to stop, but Somi took it all like a champ.

When you finally loosened your hold of Somi, you collapsed against the nearest bookshelf, both of you gasping for air.

“You okay? Too rough?”

Somi simply shook her head and smiled. “Not at all, I loved it. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

You felt soft hands wrapping around your dick again, as you looked down you saw Somi gently jerking you off again. “Let’s see if I can handle this. It’s big. Want to fuck me now?”

“I’d love to...but what I really want is to see those big fucking tits.”

“I’d love for you to see them, but let’s go somewhere more private first. One of those more... hidden spots I told you about.“

Somi stood upright and offered her hand, which you accepted as you stepped out of your pants and underwear, leaving a small pile of your combined clothes behind. She led you further into the depths of the upper floor, taking you into a section that was a little bit darker, a little bit quieter, but also a little cozier. Tall brown shelves formed an L-shape, and you noticed the table centered in the area which Somi pulled a short chain on a lamp to illuminate the area slightly.

Somi ran a finger through one of the shelves, demonstrating the dust that collected on her fingertip before rubbing it off on her dark skirt.

“Since I’ve worked here I haven’t seen a single person in this area. Not even once. This is our reference area, but most of these books are decades old and useless. I’d even bet that these books are older than the two of us, so I don’t think we’ll have anyone bothering us here. ”

You exchanged smiles as Somi pulled out a wooden chair and gently pushed you back onto it, running her small delicate hand over the surface of the table that she seemed more than familiar with.

“And as you can see, this table will be useful later. That is if you want to use it.” Somi grinned and climbed onto your naked lap. “Now,where were we?”

“You were about to show me your tits.”

“Right.” Even clothed in a bra, you could tell just how well endowed Somi was, her bra working hard to support her huge tits and you were grateful she wasn’t going to wait long to reveal them.

As Somi reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, you wondered for a second how many men she has done this for, but those thoughts were quickly erased by the reveal of her chest as she tossed her bra away and exposed her large and round breasts. The beautiful paleness of her naked upper torso highlighted by the dim lamp. Somi’s bare breasts were absolutely perfect and mouthwatering.

You didn’t let Somi get another word in before you dove in, cupping her tits and giving a firm squeeze, floored by just how huge and soft they felt in your hands.

“Fuck, these are the best tits I’ve ever seen.”

You couldn’t take her eyes off her chest for a second as you felt the warmth and softness of them, fondling, squeezing, and doing everything you can to get as much of them into your hands as possible, feeling her stiff pink nipples brushing up against your palms as her arousal level mirrored your own.

Their warmth and weight and softness drove you insane, you still couldn’t believe just how goddamn big they felt as you continued groping Somi’s delicious tits, caressing them with your hands as she leaned back to grant better access to her chest, while you never had your fill of playing with her luscious tits.

As you partook in the scrumptious chest of Somi, you forget that you are even in a library as you feasted on her tits, bringing your mouth to one of her pink nipples and swirling it around before capturing in between your lips, sucking and slurping on it just as loud as she had your cock to earn a soft needy moan from the librarian.

“Careful...they’re sensitive..” Somi cautioned, but you cared little for her words as your lips were too preoccupied on tasting her large mounds, messily slurping and nibbling and downright devouring them, encouraged by the whiny moans of Somi being pleasured.

You could do this until your lips were numb, and even then you were sure you wouldn’t be able to stop. You switched nipples every so often, both of her hard nubs coated in your saliva as you worked them into your mouth, doing every single thing to stimulate her swollen breasts - licking, sucking, pinching and even the occasional biting.

You took one more taste of Somi’s tits, her moans growing louder as you gave each breast one long slurp and prepared yourself for what was next.

“Looks like...you’re ready to fuck me,” Somi said, feeling the stiffness of your cock that never seemed to die down.

“But before you do, I bet you would love to fuck these big tits huh?”

You were too tired to give an answer, but Somi didn’t need it. She knew your response already as she knelt on the carpet again.

“Thought so.”

It took a while to process the sentence that just escaped out of Somi’s mouth. With her knees on the carpet and a smile on that gorgeous messy face, she leaned forward, cupping her own breasts and wrapped them around your cock, smothering your shaft in the warmth and pillowy softness of her bountiful cleavage.

You groaned as you felt her tits around every bit of your cock. Somi let out cute innocent giggles as she pleased your cock with her big tits, causing grunts and groans at the sensation of her tits wrapped around your needy shaft. She supplied adequate saliva, spitting in between her cleavage constantly to provide generous lubrication that ensured your cock moved smoothly and freely in between those delicious large mounds.

Her ample full breasts felt like heaven as they slid up and down your cock, she pressed her hands around her chest and squeezed tighter, feeling your sensitive shaft throbbing and twitching more as if she were daring you to cum, sensing the climax that had been building up for the last several minutes.

“Do you love this? Do you love fucking my big tits?”

“More than anything in the world, Somi.”

In between deep breaths you moaned Somi’s name as she quickened the pace, trying to lick the tip of your leaking cock every time it reappeared from her deep cleavage, each time she succeeded causing electrifying pleasure.

“Somi...fuck, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.”

“Then I’ll keep doing this,” she smirked. “Cum if you need to, but you better stay hard. I’m not done with you yet.”

Somi kept your cock tightly contained in her slippery cleavage, staring at the need in your eyes and the uncontrollable yearn for her tits as she sped the tempo up, fueling your demand for release.

With each pump in between her soft breasts, you found it harder to breathe and the aching in the pit of your stomach grew and tensed up your body. Somi took you to your limits, and soon after she brought you past them as you reached an early climax.

Somi grinned wide as you came with a loud greedy groan, your aching cock throbbed as thick spurts exploded out of your tip and filled her cleavage with hot sticky semen, finding her collarbone as a target to paint while the rest of your huge load landed on the top of her delicious breasts

She kept the friction going and didn’t stop grinding her chest until she milked every drop out of you until you had nothing left in the tank to give her. Somi’s lips smiled proudly, admiring the mess you left on her chest and leaned back to give you a view of her cum stained chest as she released you from the confines of her sticky cleavage.

“God, it’s so fucking thick, and sticky. Did you like bursting all over these huge tits?”

“Y-es, I loved it.”

Somi ran a finger in between the load deposited in her cleavage, collecting a bit to sample as she brought it to her lips and sucked it clean with a lewd slurp.

“Yummy,” Somi said, as she used her hands in circular motions to rub your stickiness into her chest, letting a devilish grin form on those plump lips.

“Let me clean you up.”

She sucked and cleaned every inch of your sensitive cock, and the return of her hot breath against your tip brought your erection back to life.

“Good, you’re still hard. Because I have an appetite for a pounding.”

“Whenever you’re ready...I’d be more than happy to demonstrate my favorite position.”

“I’m ready right fucking now,” you said as you stood up from your chair and helped Somi up to her knees.

“Prove it then. Fuck me.”

Somi spun around until she was no longer facing you, placing both of her hands flat on top of the dark wooden desk as she bent her body over it. She grabbed the hem of her tight skirt and hiked it up around her waist, enough to show you her plump ass and the thong that might as well have been see-through with how little it covered up.

As you pushed Somi’s thin thong to the side and revealed her delicious looking pink pussy, you squeezed the warm flesh of her ass and delivered a hard smack to each of her cheeks.

Somi gasped as you delivered a few more slaps to her perfect plump ass, looking between her full thighs at the pink pussy lips that looked divine and drenched with an abundance of slick already.

"Don't keep me waiting. Put that inside me now," she said, her pussy aching with need. You loved to normally tease a woman before you entered her, and you wanted to do the same to Somi but you both had no patience. You needed her now.

Somi looked over her shoulder as you prepared your cock, lining it up with her pretty pussy and placing it between the slippery lips of her entrance, feeling the heat of her core surrounding your cock already.

You entered Somi slowly without any hesitation as you both gave out hungry moans, feeling the tight silky wetness of her pussy that wrapped around your cock as you slid the first few inches inside her. As you settled into the sensations around your shaft as you pushed in deeper, feeling the incredible tightness of her wet pussy as you began stretching her slippery walls out as you filled her with more of your dick.

“Fuck, you're so big. Keep going,” Somi moaned.

The movement of your hips began, the pace slow and steady as you thrusted into Somi’s tight pussy, feeling her getting used to your size as she moaned along with your motions. You grabbed onto Somi’s delicious body by her hips, squeezing them with a firm grip as you found a rhythm, moving in and out at a pace that was not satisfactory for her.

“Harder,” she demanded. “Fuck me like you fucked my face. I know you can do better than this.”

You upped the pace immediately and gave Somi the satisfaction she desperately craved. Your hips smacked against her ass as you pistoned into her tight dripping pussy with ease, her juices slickening up your shaft generously and moaning into the night.

"We're still in a library, Somi," you remarked, and even though the likelihood of being caught was low, you still reached forward and placed a hand over her mouth in attempting to silence her loud moans.

The tight seal on Somi's mouth did not last, as she used the opportunity to suck on your fingers, silencing herself as she lewdly slurped on your fingers. Her wet lips on your fingertips persisted as you pounded into her tight cunt, increasing your pace as you fucked her from behind as deep as you could go, filling her with every last inch of your shaft.

You withdrew your fingers from her lips, feeling the saliva coated on them as you used the same hand and grabbed onto Somi's ponytail and formed a tight fist around it, pulling back and causing her head to jerk back. You felt her walls clenching tighter in response, and with a handful of her hair you absolutely drilled Somi, fucking her with deep long strokes as she let her satisfaction known by releasing loud and drawn-out lustful moans.

"Fuck, you're deep, oh my god fuck me, don't fucking stop!"

You put in more power into your hips as you wrecked Somi from behind, slamming into her tight hole with the harshest thrusts you could summon. The wet sounds of her pussy and slapping sounds as your body smacked against her ass filled your ears and motivated you to keep the harsh pace, increasing Somi's seductive moans as she lost herself in pleasure.

"You really know how to use that fucking cock don't you? God, you're stretching me so wide, I fucking love it," she said, eyes rolling in the back of her head as she was stuffed with cock to the very hilt.

"I can tell by how wet you are. You always like it this rough?"

"Yes. If I can still walk the next day then it wasn't hard enough. Now keep fucking me, use me like the little slut I am."

“With pleasure.”

It wasn’t often that you involved yourself with anyone as unique as Somi. She knew what she wanted, and that was a turn-on in itself. And as you felt the hot pink flesh wrapping around your member, you hoped that this wasn’t a one time thing. There were many things you wanted to do to her, and hell you’d even check out that goofy book to help out.

Somi’s cries of pleasure were intoxicating, and you wanted to hear them as long as you could. You grabbed her breasts from behind and felt her pussy pulsating around you, her tight walls wettening your cock as you pounded into her without a care in the world, knowing that she was close to climax.

You increased your speed even more, playing with her wonderful full breasts and pinching her hard nipples, teasing her into an approaching orgasm that sent her scrambling for anything to grab onto, desperately finding the edge of the table to find an outlet.

“Ah, fuck, I’m cumming!”

Her climax was loud as it was messy, you felt her walls squeezing your cock hard, dripping around your shaft as her body shook violently. It took everything you had to keep yourself deep inside her, fucking her through her wild and intense orgasm which was sending you on the road to your own climax.

“Fuck, Somi, you’re going to make me cum too. Where do you want it?”

“Anywhere you’d like. You can fill me up, or you can paint my face. It’s your choice.“

You smirked at such wonderful invitation “I’d love to cum all over that pretty face. Nothing would make me happier than to see you covered in such a big thick load.”

“Then come make a mess all over me.”

With one more firm squeeze you let go of Somi’s tits, returning your hands to the full wide hips of her body as you gave her everything you had left, fucking her from behind with every last bit of energy and strength, savoring the unforgettable tightness and warmth of her pussy as you grew closer and closer to the edge.

As you pulled out, Somi knew what to do and dropped to her knees one last time, smiling as she awaited what you have in store for her. You took your cock in your hand, slicked with her juices, aiming your cock at the beautiful librarian’s face as your climax neared.

“Shoot that fucking load all over my face.”

She couldn’t wait for you to burst all over her gorgeous face, and neither could you, slowly stroking over her face as she looked up eagerly in anticipation.

Those few final pumps brought you to release and Somi was more than happy to receive your load as you unloaded all over her stunningly beautiful face. Your breath weakened and you let out loud moans as you shot the first few thick spurts onto her forehead, nose, and cheeks, long lines of cum catching in her hair and earning lustful moans as she smiled deeply as she felt the sticky warmth coating her gorgeous face.

You saved the last bit of built up seed and aimed for those beautiful soft lips, painting them white as the final spurts of your load coated them, thick streams clinging everywhere to Somi’s face into a beautiful sticky mess.

You looked down at the proud mess you left on Somi’s beautiful face and she looked up with satisfaction, unable to stop smiling as she gushed in between her thighs. Your hot load clung to her face, the weight of it arousing her to an all time high, and she cleaned your cock once again with sticky white lips sucking the sensitive tip of your cock. Your freshly deposited load began to slowly drip down her cum-stained face, and as you caught you breath you've never seen such a beautiful sight.

Somi giggled as she finished polishing your cock, releasing it with a loud pop that signaled an end to the night's festivities, not that you were really in a position to go again.

“Now that’s a load…”

Somi cleaned up what she could with her fingers, feeling it trickle down into her cleavage as the two of you collectively caught your breath.

“How does it feel... to fuck a librarian?” Somi said, in between deep breaths.

“Amazing. You’re incredible, Somi. I’d love to do this again,” you said, hypnotized by her heaving breasts.

“You know where to find me. I don’t work on weekdays, but I live on campus so I don’t mind coming in for a little one on one assistance. Or maybe you’d prefer the bedroom? I don’t have a roommate.”

“Either sounds perfect.”

“Then I’ll see you soon. It’s almost closing time and I need to clean up this mess you left all over me. " She let an adorable giggle once more as she began to dress and sent you on your way. “Good night, I hope to see you again.”

“Good night, Somi. Thank you for your assistance. “

#kpop smut #somi smut #somi #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #this is really long im sorry #male reader #reader insert

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