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lemonjoonah · 4 years

Text

Level of Restraint (M)

Pairings: Jimin x Reader, Namjoon x Reader, Taehyung x Reader Word Count: 13K Rating: M Genre: Thriller, smut, office AU, BDSM AU Warnings(contains spoilers): This story contains very dark themes and may not be suited to all readers, protected sex (vag+anal), threesome, double penetration, bondage (including partial suspension), dom/sub roles (reader is a sub), praise kink, mild degration, sensory deprivation, spanking, fingering, cum feeding, mild breathplay, sex toys, exhibitionism, voyeurism, discussion of safe word, Namjoon is a professional dom/sex worker, referenced discrimination of sex workers and those who participate in BDSM, public outing of sexual practices, inappropriate workplace relationships, referenced death of minor character, yandere character, misidentified sexual partner, manipulation, bribery, blackmail, implied stalking, violence.

Summary: As a co-founder of a consulting firm you can’t afford to be caught in a scandal. So flirting with your secretary, Jimin, would be out of the question. Giving your client’s son, Taehyung, a reference for a sexual partner would be reprehensible. And having regular paid BDSM sessions with your dominant, Namjoon? That would be a career ending disgrace. It’s too bad the only restraints in life you approve of are the cuffs that bind you to the bed, because there are those hiding in the dark waiting to take advantage.

A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who supported me while writing this story. It was hard not to question the level of darkness this tale descends to. In the end your assurances and aid are the only reason this fic made it to fruition. Upon reading you might notice several thematic references to the ‘Fall of the House of Usher,’ by Edgar Allan Poe and the Greek myth of Tantalus. They are two of my favourite tales, and together they greatly represent the darkened desires depicted in this oneshot.

...

8:55 am KNJ: Good girl.

Your heart races upon receiving the response you’ve been waiting for all morning. The sender had requested proof that you were wearing his last minute gift, and you were happy to oblige with the lewd photo. Finally seeing his simple praise for your efforts makes you grin from ear to ear, as you enter the front door to your workplace’s building. The message will be enough to get you through the day, high on the thought of his praise while his present is wrapped tightly around your ribs. Though the garment may be confining, you’ll endure anything to receive those two simple words.

Reluctantly glancing up from your phone you look ahead to see the elevator closing.

“Hold the door!” You call out, making a run for it. Mercifully the gap between the doors widens allowing you to climb in before it begins the long haul up. Glancing over to your savoir, you find your secretary standing at the panel. “Thanks Jimin.”

“No problem,” he responds with a warm smile. “What floor do you need?” Joking as he pushes the button labelled 14.

You playfully shove his arm while trying to catch your breath. Had he left you down on the first floor there's no telling how long it would be before the elevator returned. The building in which you work has been down to one lift for a couple days, with no promise of when the other will be fixed. It’s not a surprise really, ever since you moved into this complex three years ago you’ve been plagued with breakdowns and shotty utilities. Considering how opulent the tower is, with it’s gilded elevators and halls adorned in finery you expected better, but people often overlook flaws when they have something pleasant to stare at. Allowing the management to slack on some of the failings of the structure.

“Do you think you could send maintenance another message?” You ask your hand clutching your waist to comfort the stitch in your side, no doubt a result of the corset concealed beneath your clothes.

“Consider it done.” Jimin replies, pulling out his phone. “Are you okay Miss?” He asks, your heavy breathing failing to go unnoticed judging from the concern in his voice.

“Fine.” You quickly change the subject, not wanting to linger on your current state. “What’s on my schedule for today?”

“You have a consultation with Mr. Kim of HOC Industries in an hour-”

“Really?” You cut in, confused about the sudden change. “But I just saw him a few weeks ago. Why is he coming in?”

“He didn’t say, I just got a message last night from him stating he required an appointment immediately.”

“That’s not a good sign...” You groan, wondering what information had dropped to spur a need for such an urgent response.

“Afterwards you have an early lunch with journalist Min. Followed by a one o’clock appointment with Jeon Jungkook to go over the new web layout. And the rest of office hours are slated as admin.”

You cringe over the prospect of bookkeeping. Your accountant’s involvement in a recent accident, placed him on an extended leave of absence. Since you are the only other member of your small staff qualified to balance the books, this leaves you burdened with his duties. “Remind me later to make a posting for a temp position.”

“Noted,” Jimin remarks as he continues to scroll through his phone. “Oh and don’t forget, you also have your monthly massage appointment with Kim Namjoon tonight.”

You smile at the thought, you would never forget a booking with him, especially since he’s the reason for your current state of breathlessness. You’ve been counting down the days until you get to see him, with only a few hours left you can barely contain yourself. To everyone who asks he’s a masseur, but the services he provides are far more aggressively intimate than a standard massage. You force a small cough to cover the involuntary moan starting to escape.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.” It’s not a complete lie, with the stress from work there have been a lot of restless nights recently, your appointment tonight should help to relieve a bit of that tension. There’s a loud groan as the elevator comes to a stop at your floor. You look up to the top of the lift and over to Jimin with worry, both of you stepping off with haste once the doors open.

Your entire office space consists of only a few rooms. You and Hoseok had started this company only a few years ago, focusing on corporate consultations regarding public image and approval. All things considered you’re doing rather well. With your negotiation tactics, Hoseok's philanthropy efforts, and Yoongi on retainer as your media source, you’ve been able to take on several giant corporations.

As you walk down the hall you find the temperature starting to rise, and upon stepping into your’s and Jimin’s shared office, you’re hit with a wave of heat. You whisper your curses as you check the thermostat which has been jacked to its highest setting and refuses to shift back down.

Giving up on the system you turn to the windows, but even those are a struggle after being neglected for so long. You call out to Jimin for assistance, waiting no more than a second before he is by your side. But even with his help you only manage to open them to the grand extent of a sliver before you’re forced to give in. At least with your office door open there’s now a small draft pervading the space.

“I guess I’ll send maintenance another message,” Jimin chuckles.

“You don’t think he’s trying to push us out do you?” You inquire about the building owner, and one of your own clients. You don’t usually make such bold claims, but with Jimin’s ties to the dubious man, it’s hard not to ask.

“I wouldn’t put it past him. Though I think this is more likely due to his lack of regard for the workmanship going into his properties.”

You nod overlooking the now stuffy room which holds both your desks. It serves its purpose with a sufficient amount of daylight from the large windows, and a partial wall giving you each a bit of privacy. You’d rather not have to leave this building and the status that comes with it, but there seems to be no end with these faulty appliances. “So much for being the height of sophistication.”

While you settle into your workspace you’re already dying from the heat, a sweater and camisole overtop your corset was not the best choice for today, but you didn’t want to risk anyone noticing the garment beneath. As you shuffling through your newsite tabs Jimin readies the coffee maker, returning to you with the first dose of your daily caffeine needs.

“You’re a saint.”

Jimin smiles brightly at your compliment, living for the praise as always. “Do you want some ice on the side?” He laughs as you tug on your sweater to stop it from sticking to your skin.

“Only if I can rub it all over.” You sigh jokingly as you take a sip of the hot beverage.

“I’d be happy to assist.” His smirk and piercing gaze look to be downright serious, his flirtation hitting a new high today.

“Sorry Jimin, I already have a massage appointment later. I think Namjoon would be very upset if you took his job from him.”

“That’s too bad.” He mutters, his lip still curled into a smile before stepping away from your desk. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’d be more than willing to compensate him for his loss.” Jimin has never been shy about his attraction to you, a desire which you most certainly reciprocate, but your own company policies keep the both of you tied to flirtatious word play. With Jimin winning more often than not when it comes to provocative sentiments.

He hangs around on your side of the room, straightening the chairs and stray flies, while you continue your search for whatever prompted the need for your haste meeting. At last you find it, on the featured articles of a prominent celeb news site, with the headline reading, ‘The Dark Desires of the Kim Family Heir.’

Much to your chagrin the issue isn’t regarding your client, but his son. As much as you try to stay out of personal family matters, sometimes they are unavoidable, and this looks to be one of those cases.

‘Kim Taehyung has long been considered one of the most eligible bachelors. He has it all, money, power, and a spot on every top ten most attractive list, but those who have been with him more intimately say he craves something more...’

Your mouth falls open in horror as one of Taehyung's former partners exposes their most intimate moments with him. ‘The Gucci suits and custom cologne are just an expensive mask for the darkness beneath. He would ask to be tied, bound to the bed and struck. He wanted pain and pleasure...’ The further you read the more your chest tightens. You’d rather not jump to conclusions, but you wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. A fact which must make it all the more painful for Taehyung. You can only imagine what he must be going through, to have such private details exposed and exploited. He’s currently living your worst nightmare, a societal judgement over one's deepest desires. For professional reasons it would probably be best to stay out of this private matter, but you can’t in good consciousness let him suffer alone.

“That bad?” Jimin asks.

“Yeah...” You cover your mouth to hide your shuddering breath, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill on Taehyung's behalf.

Jimin shuffles in behind your desk with you. By lowering himself to read off your screen, his face falls next to yours. His hands come to rest on your shoulders as he leans in to eye the article in question. You should shoo him away, but you can’t help but be curious of his response to those who engage in such practices. As his eyes scan the page his grip on you tightens, his breathing erratic just like yours, with a whispered “‘Fuck,” escaping his lips.

“Are we interrupting something?” A voice calls out from your open door.

Your head snaps over in shock to find your next appointment waiting for you, with his son in tow. You jump up pushing Jimin back so you can greet your guests properly. “Mr. Kim! No not at all, please come in. This must be-”

“Taehyung...” The younger man mutters as he walks in, slumping down in one of the chairs in front of your desk. His sunglasses are still in place, the smell of spirits wafts over you along with the spicy scent of what must be his referenced cologne. He’s a sight to behold, a person of his caliber could make a fortune off his looks alone; he wouldn’t even need a drop of his father's fortune. But of course, that would have been before this public outing of his bedroom tendencies. Now he’s more likely to be seen as a pariah rather than an asset.

Directing the elder to the seat next to him, you take your own once again as Jimin retreats to his desk. You don’t even have the chance to exchange pleasantries before Mr. Kim launches into the purpose of their visit. “I assume you saw the article about my son?”

“I did, but-”

“And? What can we do about it? How can we spin it? Our stocks have already taken a hit.”

“Your son just had a serious breach in personal privacy...” You pause hoping that he’ll have some semblance of a realization that he is not the victim here, instead he simply waits for you to continue. Attempt to hold in your dismay, you give him the only answer you can, “Sue for defamation if you’d like, but whether they are printing fact or fiction the damage is done. The press is still focusing on your family due to your early misdealings in your company. I would argue that if you turn the view of operations around then there is a very good chance that the media will start to back off personal affairs.”

“You can’t expect me to twiddle my thumbs and wait. My shareholders are currently questioning his ability to lead, they might seek to replace him.”

“Good.” Taehyung mutters. “If those prudes have a problem with me, I’d rather not have to work with them.”

You bite your lip to conceal a snort of laughter. Mr. Kim fails to notice but his son seems to have caught your slip, taking off his glasses, he pierces you with a strong gaze.

Kim senior starts up again looking for sympathy and a way out, “Do you know how many of his flings I’ve had to pay off in the past-”

“Maybe you should just stick to your own business.” Taehyung eyes his father darkly.

“They made it my business when they started squealing to the press about what kind of man you are.”

You try to rein the situation in, this battle between father and son having no place in your office. “Mr. Kim! I would actually like to speak to your son for a moment. We can see if there’s a possible remedy for this... exposure.” You stand up, calling over the wall for your secretary "Jimin? Would you mind taking Mr. Kim to see Hoseok?” You turn back to your elder client, practically pushing him out the door into your secretaries’s care. “Jung Hoseok has been continuing his work on your company's philanthropic efforts. I’m sure he would love to show you what he has done with your portfolio.”

“Do you need me to come right back Miss?” Jimin asks with a pleading stare, his eyes flicker over to the young man still slumped in his seat.

“No I think we’ll be okay for a bit.” You mutter to him quietly as Mr. Kim proceeds down the hall. “Just keep him away for a few minutes.”

Once they're both gone you sit back down across from Taehyung with a sigh.

“So are your going to talk some sense into me?” He drawls with disdain.

“Fuck no,” you scoff, rummaging through your drawer. “Can I get you anything coffee, water... advil?” You finally pull out the bottle of pain relievers and offer one to him as you take one yourself, your head ready to explode in frustration over his father.

He tilts his head looking somewhat surprised, “So why did you send him away then?”

“I thought you could use a break. I’ve worked with many people like your father, they all want things done their way, and you’ll never be able to tell them otherwise. He’ll never admit to his faults, and the fact that he’s the real reason the media is all over you. So as long as you don’t tattle on me, we both can make it through this meeting with him thinking that he’s won.”

“Deal,” Taehyung agrees while he chuckles at your ploy.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” You offer once again.

“Actually I’ll take some advil.”

“I thought you might.” You poor him glass from the cooler and offer up the pill. When his sleeve pulls back to reach for the cup you can’t help but notice the glaring red evidence of a rope abrasion on his wrist. While he throws back the pain killer, you take another sip of your coffee rolling the bitterness over your tongue before breaching the difficult subject. “It can’t be easy to have the press prying into every aspect of your private life.”

“It’s not so much that they pry, but...” Taehyung hesitates, his brow furrows as his fingers run through his hair tugging on the strands between his fingers. “People know that they can go to them with a story and make money off any relations I have with them. And the press will gladly pay top dollar for what they have to offer.”

“The story is not a complete fabrication then?” You already know it’s not judging from his father's response and the marks on his arm, you just need to hear him say it.

“No, it’s mostly true.” He admits, watching your reaction.

“Then it would seem that your desires might be thought unconventional by many of your past partners?”

Taehyung nods, taking another sip of his water.

“From one unconventional individual to another,” you pause waiting for your own admission to sink in. To your delight Taehyung immediately perks up listening attentively as you continue. “There are more discreet ways to fill those needs.”

“Are you offering?” He asks, raising a brown along with the corner of his lips.

“No, I doubt that I would be very good at meeting your cravings, since we both hunger the same type of... attention.” You smile back at him, rejoicing in your mutual secret. “But I do have a friend who will take very good care of you. I’m going to give you a name and phone number, it’s up to you if you want to contact them, but I can assure you any conversations or actions between you and them will be kept strictly confidential. It’s not cheap,” you explain, but doubt that’ll be a problem for him. “But I assure you it’s safe and private.”

Taehyung can barely get the information from you fast enough once you jot it down. His hands, reaching for the sheet, accidentally knock over your coffee instead, sending the drink in your direction and staining your sweater. “I’m so sorry, here let me help you.” Taehyung jumps up and runs and grabs napkins from the coffee station.

“It’s fine really.” You assure him, making an attempt to stop him as he starts to blot the saturated material.

Unfortunately it’s at this moment that Jimin walks in to see your precarious state. He stands there for a moment in silence before explaining the reason for his return. “Mr. Kim said he needs to leave soon, Miss. He wanted to see if you two were... finished.” There’s glare set in his eyes for Taehyung's forwardness.

“Yeah, be right there, just one second.” You turn back to Taehyung, exchanging the damp napkin in his hand for the paper you had just written on. “Think about it, I hope you’ll give him a call. I don’t give out his information unless I think it will be of help to someone.”

“Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung mutters quietly while reading the slip. “If I were to go see him, would I find you there too?” He looks back up at you, biting his lip after posing his query.

“Likely not, he keeps his sessions very private, but you can always discuss your...” You glance over to Jimin who is still waiting, and well within earshot. “Preferences with him.”

“Then I’ll consider it, thank you.”

After seeing Mr. Kim and his son off, you're left to deal with the stain on your sweater, with only fifteen minutes before you have to leave for your lunch appointment. “Jimin could you call Yoongi and let him know I’m running a little late? I need to stop by my apartment on the way.”

“No need, I’ve got an extra shirt here.” He pulls out one of his own from his desk. “ I know it’s a men’s fit, but I think we can make it work.”

“Why do you keep that here?” You laugh. He only looks at you and the stain with a raised brow, no words needed to prove his point. “Never mind, stupid question, but I can’t take your shirt Jimin.”

“I insist, go put it on.” He forces it into your hands as you double check your watch, your time constraints leaving you with little choice.

Stepping behind the dividing wall, you strip down to your camisole, breathing a sigh of relief that the beverage hadn’t seeped into the fabric of the corset. Quickly throwing his button up over top and tucking it in, you check to ensure your intimate garment is still hidden relatively beneath the shirt before coming back out for his opinion “Does it look okay?”

Jimin nods, but when he reaches out to touch the shirt you recoil, fearing that he will discover what you wear beneath. He chuckles and persists, “I’m just fixing your collar.” He moves in closer standing just a couple inches away. Pinching the two seams of the fabric together, he considers the change. “I think it would look better like this.” You nod, keeping silent as he follows through. Pulling the fabric tight around your throat, your breathing is forced to pause for a moment as he fastens the top button. “Better?” He asks, while his hands linger around your neck.

“Much.” You whisper, as his fingers drift up to hold your chin, with the tip of his thumb dragging along the edge of your bottom lip. You stand there confused as to why your flirtatious game has taken such a physical turn. Although his actions are prohibited and should be censured, you can’t fully condemn them, deciding instead to remove yourself, rather than reprimand him. “I-I should go. I don’t want to be late meeting Yoongi.”

...

It was a productive lunch to say the least, but that was by no means thanks to you. Your focus was distinctly elsewhere. While you toyed with your bottom lip, thinking of how Jimin had touched it just moments before, Yoongi gave you everything you needed to secure several new clients. Even now as you return, disembarking the elevator on to your floor, you still can’t concentrate on the day ahead.

On the walk back to your office Hoseok catches you, quickly pulling you into his own and closing the door behind. “You need to do something about Jimin.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” You ask, nervous that he had seen you two together before you left for your meeting.

“Your client earlier, Mr. Kim, he said that he caught you two acting rather close, making suggestions that you two are involved in a sexual relationship. Usually I would disregard a comment like his but-”

“It’s not true, you know I wouldn’t!” As much as you might want to act on Jimin’s advances you’ve never crossed that line. You know it must have been bad for Hoseok to bring it up, for him to take this serious tone is evidence of his deep concern.

“I know that, but this isn’t the first time someone has thought you two might be a little too intimate. Some of the staff have also considered the notion. And I can see why, the way he looks at you, talks to you...” Hoseok trails off as his eyes linger on your apparel in confusion. “You weren’t wearing that earlier were you?”

“No, I had some coffee spill on me earlier. Jimin was nice enough to loan me his.”

Hoseok tilts his head as he raises his brow as if this validates his concerns.

“He was just being helpful!” You offer, but Hoseok doesn’t look to be swayed, and he’s right, this is a workplace not a morning after situation. “Fine, I see your point. So what do you suggest?”

“Redistribute him, send him my way if you have to, god knows that I could use the extra hand. You could even play it off as a promotion, just get him out of your office.” Your heart drops at the thought, not wanting to give him up. Hoseok seeing this takes a softer tone. “Listen I can see that you like him too. I’m sure it feels good to have his attention, but you need to get this out of your system. You have to put a stop to it. We can’t afford a scandal and you know it.”

With the assurance that you’ll think on the issue, and giving Hoseok your solution by tomorrow, you return to your office. But the problem is far from easy, though you did not lie about your physical relationship to Hoseok, you have been keeping something from him. From all of them. Jimin will never accept a promotion if it takes him away from you. He’s never worked here for the money, he doesn’t need to when his father owns half of the city, this building included.

...

-3 years ago-

“Mr. Lee, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me.” You pull out the chair to sit across from him. The massive mahogany desk of his placing a rather large distance between the two of you.

“Yes well, my building manager said you were very persistent.” There’s a small roll in his eyes as he looks from you down to the computer in front of him.

“I wanted to discuss one of your properties, an office space in the Madeline Suites.”

He takes a swift glance at your modest appearance with narrowing eyes. “Forgive me, but I believe that location might be out of your price range.”

“Monetarily yes,” You agree. “But we offer services which might be helpful to you.”

“I do not deal in favours. I can see that this meeting was a waste of time, you may go.” He waves the back of his hand to shoo you out, while his secretary grabs the door from the outside.

“I am not asking for a favour, but offering you my services. I’m the co-founder of a corporate image consulting firm. And come this time tomorrow, I believe you’ll be looking for someone within our realm of dealings.”

“And what makes you say that?” Lee asks, his words laced with cynicism.

You lay out the first page of the article which Yoongi had sent you, stretching it across the wooden surface to place it in Mr. Lee’s view. ‘Real Estate Developer Lee Gungsang Faced Prior Allegations of Unlawful Evictions and Price Hiking.’ “This is slated for tomorrow morning’s front page.”

Mr. Lee is quick to send his secretary off, the door shutting once again. “How do you know about this? These cases were settled before they made it anywhere near the courts.”

“I have my sources.”

“Then stop this! I will pay whomever needs to be paid to prevent this from leaching out. You want the office space, it's yours.” He’s voice is desperate, you have him on the hook, the question now is, how long will he let you drag him for?

“That’s very generous of you, but nothing will stop this from going out tomorrow. My offer is simply to help you get ahead of it and lessen the damage.” You explain, revelling in the fact that money can’t hide everything.

“And how do you propose to do that?”

You pull out a contract for your serves. “I will need you to sign off on my services first. A small fee plus a far more reasonable price for a three year lease of the offices on the 14th floor of the Madeline Suites”

“Without knowing your plan, I think not.”

You give him a bright smile before mimicking his earlier statement. “I do not deal in favours Mr. Lee.”

He grumbles while taking the pen, eyeing you with a dark gaze as he signs on the dotted line.

With the ink still drying you hand over another small document. “Here are a few of my suggestions. Twenty percent of the commercial residences that you have just vacated will be handed over to non-profits for a drastically reduced monthly lease. I’ll even let you pick which you want to support.”

He looks up at you mortified. “This is excessive.”

“No this is necessary. I’ve seen corporations do far more than this when they are not dealing with a scandal. Your accountants will agree with me that this is the best move, it can be seen as a donation and therefore tax deductible. For the evicted private residences, I was thinking of partnering with a refugee resettlement program but we can discuss that more in depth later.”

You carefully tuck away your contract in Lee’s file before dragging another concern to the forefront. “I do have one more request, before I leave today.”

“What more could you possibly want?” He scoffs.

You lean in to deliver your short but important demand. “A heads up.”

“I don’t know what you mean...”

“I mean if there are any other past dealings or actions which might impact your company I need to be aware of them.” There’s always more hidden in the dark, you have one of those secrets on hand now. You need to see if he’s willing to be upfront with you on every dealing of his past, otherwise you might be forced to dig him out from another grave a couple weeks from now.

“There’s nothing else.”

“Nothing?” You ask again as you pull out your phone ready to bring forward more evidence.

“No.”

“So the knowledge of you having and hiding an illegitimate son... you don’t think that’s important? The existence of the only child of the Lee empire, isn’t newsworthy?”

“How did you-” The terror in his face looks to be even greater than the prior accusation.

“You attempted to evict all of the residents who stayed in your residential apartment for over 10 years if they refused to agree with a massive lease hike. Park Jimin was the only one who wasn’t touched. He has no record of a job, living off what must be money given to him by his parents, so I looked into them. His father wasn’t listed but his late mother, Park Haesoon, used to work for your company, and 22 years ago she signed a NDA issued by your lawyer.”

You open to Jimin’s public instagram page turning it around for his father to see. “He may take mostly after his mother, but I can still see a few clues to your family resemblance.”

“When does this one drop?” Lee asks in dismay.

“It’s not going to, at least, not from me or my source. We try not to deal in personal life consulting, but I am going to give you some advice in this matter. Get ahead of it.”

“My wife won’t hear of it.” Mr. Lee mutters through clenched teeth, it’s easy to see that this conversation has him very much on edge.

You nod seeing the crux of his dilemma. “I looked into the approximate date of his conception, you were newly married at the time, were you not?”

“Yes. She knows, but her family does not, they have a large political presence and we cannot afford to lose all support from them. Trust me, the boy is not worth the risk.”

“He’s your child!” You berate the CEO, your anger getting the better of you as you think of the emotional toll on Jimin. Not only did he lose his mother but his father won't even publicly acknowledge him.

“I won’t be swayed on this matter. If you have nothing else to say you may leave.” Mr. Lee rises from his desk and once again gestures towards the door. “I’ll have keys to your new office space delivered to you tomorrow along with the lease. But I should warn you, if there is even a whisper of his name in public in conjunction with mine, I can assure you, your so-called firm won’t last another week.”

...

Less than a month later you and Hoseok have moved your entire enterprise to the new office space. You’re holding an open house for several different staff positions, when the most unlikely of applicants walks in your door, Park Jimin.

He hands you a piece of paper which you can only guess is his resume, because your eyes fail to leave his face, your mouth unable to form words in your state of shock. Closing the door behind him, he gives you a nervous smile. “Judging from your expression, I take it you know who I am?”

You manage a single nod, still confused as to why he’s here, now, with you. It’s lucky you’re conducting the interviews alone, otherwise it would be difficult to explain your shock to Hoseok without exposing Jimin’s lineage.

“I’ve been wanting to meet with you,” Jimin confesses, adding sheepishly, “My father told me of your meeting. He said you took a bit of an interest in me, even found my social media accounts.”

“Oh, oh no.” You finally manage to sputter out, far more anxious with the younger man than his father. You never intended to meet Jimin, let alone have him find out you dug into some very personal aspects of his past and present. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to invade your privacy. I was only trying to figure out what was going on. And when I learned the truth, I wanted him to own up to his mistake of hiding you.”

Jimin chuckles lightly, sitting down in front of you, “I didn’t come here looking for an apology Miss, I know why you did it. I merely wanted to meet one of the few people to ever successfully scare the shit out of my father.”

The wide beaming smile accompanying his statement spurs a laugh from you, while also allowing you to relax in his presence. “Sometimes you have to intimidate these people to get them to do the right thing. But I’m sorry I wasn’t able to convince him to go public regarding everything.”

“That’s not your fault. In the end it was just nice to hear that there's someone who thinks I deserve better.” Jimin adds, with a look of sorrow leaching into his smile.

“Of course you do, but I must ask, why come here now?” You take a moment to confirm that it is in fact his resume that he’s handed you. ”I can’t imagine that you need a job.” He’s appearance alone is enough to tell you he’s buried in wealth, though his father has not given him the family name, it looks as if Jimin has gained some of the assets.

“Actually that’s exactly what I was looking for.”

“Your father didn’t pressure you to come here to keep an eye on me did he?” You ask with scepticism. Keeping watch over possible threats wouldn’t be a completely off brand for those of his status. And with you knowing some of his deepest secrets you could likely be considered one of the biggest risks.

“No.” Jimin chuckles, briefly raising his hands in surrender. “I promise I’m here of my own volition. Money isn’t my biggest concern, I’ve been hoping to build connections. I want to use my time wisely and work with someone who is worthy of my focus, and that just so happens to be you.” He finishes with a suggestive smirk, making you wonder if you’ve won his affection too.

“And what does your focus get me?” You ask, trying to weigh the benefits versus the risk. You doubt that Mr. Lee will respond kindly to you hiring his son, but if he continues to deny his son’s existence then what right does he have to disagree?

“Anything you require. I was interested in the posting for your secretary, but any position beneath you would suit me nicely.”

...

There’s no way you’ll be able to convince Jimin to willingly change roles and work for Hoseok instead. But you can’t deny that your co-founder’s points are valid.

Jimin greets you warmly as you enter your office. “Did you have a nice lunch?”

“Yeah, it was good.” You respond, forcing out a smile.

“Really? Because you look upset.”

You curse Jimin’s ability to read you at a time like this. “I promise, lunch was fine. Yoongi gave me some substantial leads.” You sigh sliding back in your seat. With your values shaken and morals questioned by Hoseok, you are deeply in need of someone to brace yourself on. Wanting to step out of the realm of responsibility and control even if it’s just for a moment, you make a request to Jimin. “Would you go fetch Jungkook for our meeting?”

“I can just call him in.” He makes the case looking reluctant to leave your side.

“Please Jimin just go get him. I need a few minutes for a personal call.”

Jimin looks at you crestfallen before finally leaving. It’s not often you keep things from him, he can scope you out too well for that. But Kim Namjoon’s actual role in your life is the one secret you feel is the most imperative to hide from him.

You pull out your cell, not wanting to use his number on your work phone. After two rings he picks up. “Couldn’t wait a few more hours to hear my voice baby girl?”

You're too embarrassed to admit he’s right, settling on another excuse for your call. “N-no I just wanted to let you know that I’ve sent someone your way... sir.”

“Don’t lie to me I can hear the need in your voice.” He chuckles lightly as he taunts you. “Your reference already reached out to me. I’m excited to play with him, is he just as handsome as he sounds?”

“More so.”

Namjoon hums on the line in gratification. “My babygirl, giving me another pet to play with.”

You blush from the praise. Taehyung makes the sixth person you’ve suggested following the charity ball you met Namjoon at a couple years ago. Where he, much like you, was secretly scoping out potential clients. Every one of those patrons you’ve given him since then has been his pet, but you, you’re his babygirl.

“I was wondering...” Namjoon’s carries on, in a tone far more hesitant than usual. “Tonight would you be willing to try something a little unconventional? Would you like to share him?”

“W-would that be okay?” He’s never suggested adding another to your sessions before, but you can’t deny you’re intrigued by the prospect.

“He mentioned an interest in you, and after discussing his needs I feel that I require someone other than myself to pin his desires on. You’ll be the carrot while I’ll be the stick. Do you think you could do that for me?” Namjoon proposes in a low purr dragging every heated thought and possibility to the forefront of your mind.

“Yes sir.” Your response is instant, with little thought required. Helping Namjoon with Taehyung? You’d be a fool to turn down the opportunity. There’s a small knock on your office door with the return of Jimin and Jungkook trailing behind him. You start to panic while still on the phone with Namjoon. “I’ll see you later then?”

Namjoon can of course detect the change in your tone, but instead of letting you off the hook he pulls you further. “Did someone walk in on you babygirl? I take it they don’t know about this side of you?”

“No they don’t.”

“No sir.” He calls out your lack of decorum, an error which you know you’ll pay for later. “Such a shame they’re missing out. What do you think they would say if they knew of my plans for you tonight? How I intend to hang you like forbidden fruit above another man. Do you think they would approve?”

Your eyes widen as Namjoon continues and Jungkook takes the seat in front of you with Jimin standing behind him. You clear your throat and hold up your finger to them, gesturing for another minute. Turning away to hide your face as you continue to try and end the call. But hanging up on one’s dom is never advisable, condemning you to listen for as long as he wishes to torment.

“I bet you would like them watch, wouldn’t you?” Namjoon asks, egging on your sinful thoughts, transferring them from Taehyung over to your co-workers.

You shift your thighs trying to dispel the building need as you consider the notation of them watching. Imagining Jungkook’s wide eyes taking in the sight, likely with a hand on his cock, he’s an innocent man with strong desires. You’ve known others like him before, they act with naivete but when confronted with an opportunity for more, they don’t hesitate to gorge on what is presented to them.

And Jimin, would he accept your darker needs? You wish he would, desperately wanting him to play along, to help mould you into submission. Your head now filled with thoughts of kneeling before him taking him in your mouth while he christens you a good girl. If only you could be sure that he wouldn’t react like most people, like those who condemned Taehyung. Your eyes flutter back over to your secretary who is looking at you with deep suspicion. You desperately need to end the call or risk giving yourself away. “I should probably-”

“Am I embarrassing you baby girl?” Namjoon teases with an amused laugh. “Does that mean I’m right?”

“Yes...”

“Yes sir.” Namjoon reminds you once again. “I’ll release you for now, but I better see you here at seven o’clock sharp. Is that understood?”

You breathe a sigh of relief at the release. “Yes sir.” After finally hanging up, you offer up an apology. “Sorry about that.”

“Who was it?” Jimin inquires with a soft tone, but a quick lick to his lips shows his intentions to be far from innocent. His clenched fists and hovering nature further pointing towards jealousy.

“No one important.” You smile through the lie, careful in your attempt to comfort him. It’s pointless to keep acting in this way, but you still can’t bear the thought of disheartening his feelings or pushing him away.

...

After your meeting with Jungkook, you're left with a stack of paperwork and your ever persistent lack of concentration as you try to figure out what can be done with Jimin. Should you just tell him the issue, would it help or would it make the situation worse? If he knows how he is perceived then will the affection stop, and if it does, will you struggle with that loss?

“Can I walk you to your car Miss?” Jimin asks with his jacket in hand. You check the time, reading just after five. So lost in thought you had accomplished almost nothing in the last few hours of the day.

“I think I might just stay here until I have to leave for my appointment, I still have a bit more work to do.” You explain rubbing your hands over your face as you pull yourself from your daze.

“Do you want me to stay too then?”

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you. But before you go I’d like to discuss something” You gesture to the seat across from you which he takes with hesitation. You’re usually not so formal and he can clearly spot the difference. You open your mouth and pause trying to find the right words as his eyes shine in your direction. The evening sun pouring into the room bathing his skin in with golden light makes it so much harder to stick to the issue at hand. You eventually resort to staring at the irrelevant papers on your desk as you open with your concern.

“I’m worried that our actions towards each other imply that our relationship is not strictly professional.” You blurt it out quickly, hating every word that crosses your lips.

“Have I been making you uncomfortable Miss?” Jimin’s expression falls along with his question, the heartbreak ringing out clear in his voice.

“No, no. It’s just, I’m concerned about how others see our interactions.”

“Oh, so someone said something to you then?”

“Hoseok mentioned that a few people think we appear to be a bit more than boss and secretary.” You know it cowardly to bring Hoseok into this, but the information is second hand. You can’t be sure what others have said exactly.

“Well you do know more about me than most.” Jimin laughs lightly.

“That’s not what they are implying. They think we are engaged in a sexual relationship.”

“And...” He draws the word out as if the implication is nothing, implying there should be a better reason for your concerns.

“We aren’t Jimin!”

“Well, there's only one way to fix that.” He stands up leaning towards you over your desk. “You can’t say you haven’t thought about it. We could keep it a secret if you’d like, no one has to know.”

You doubt Jimin could keep a relationship between the two of you hidden, with the way he dotes on you already, you’re one passionate night away from finding three dozen roses on your desk. “Someone would find out, and the fall out-”

“Fuck the fall out,” Jimin states with resolve, reaching out his fingers tucking back a strand of your hair before curling beneath your chin. “I’m tired of this charade. Hoseok only said something because he’s jealous. He’s jealous that you want me as much as I want you.”

“Jimin,” You whisper. “Even if that was the case, that still doesn’t make it right.” You pull back from his touch. “You should go. Think about what I said, because if we can’t maintain at least some level of restraint and professionalism... then you might be better off working for someone else in the office.”

“So you’d rather keep your social image than be happy with me?” Jimin accuses, the usual warmth having completely vanished from his face.

“It’s not like that. My standing is my life, it’s my career, any blemish would destroy everything I have.” You attempt to express the fear inside you, the weight that bears on you every day. You already have so many secrets and liabilities, but one as close and extensive as a relationship with him might finally crush you and everything you’ve built. “I like you, I really do, but I can’t take the risk. You have to understand, I’m not like you. I don’t have a secret trust fund to fall back on.”

Jimin looks as though you’ve stabbed him, pulling away he heads to the exit. “I’m sorry I’m not worth the risk. You know, I thought you were better than that, but it would seem you’re just like everyone else.”

The door slamming between you echoes through the office as you sag in your chair. Never in all your years have you ever sunk so low. By taking him on you wanted to ensure Jimin’s happiness, to show him his value despite the lack of acknowledgement from his father, but now it seems you’ve fallen into the same role as those who have hurt him before.

...

You type your code into Namjoon’s door, stepping into his hall quickly and shutting the door behind you. It’s just before seven and usually you find him in his living room already waiting, but today it’s empty. Not wanting to disturb him, you take a seat on the couch and wait patiently for him to join you.

You feel ready to fold in on yourself as you continue to dwell on your argument with Jimin. If you laid out boundaries earlier you likely wouldn’t be where you are now. Hating yourself over his confession, and your inability to accept it.

There’s movement from the bedroom door as Namjoon’s partner Seokjin comes out to greet you. You look up in bewilderment as he takes your hand, pulling you off the couch. “Namjoon has already started with the other client, so he sent me to fetch you.”

You nod understanding Namjoon’s divergence from the norm, it wouldn’t be safe practice for him to leave Taehyung alone in a precarious position. Now looking to the door with curiosity, you’re excited by what lustful visions will greet you on the other side. But when Seokjin presents something to you it’s clear that you won’t get to see those sights.

“You’ve been asked to wear this.” He holds out a wide silken strip, one that Namjoon has used as a blindfold in the past. You allow Seokjin to cover your eyes, with a touch far more gentle than you know Namjoon’s to be. You don’t want kindness, craving instead to be broken in by the man in the other room, especially after the damage you’ve done today. The loss of your vision will have to be punishment enough for the time being.

“Does he want me to undress too?” You ask, touching the silk over your eyes, you're completely blind and already longing for the next step.

“No he wishes to save that pleasure for himself.”

You smirk thinking he might, you’ve been wearing his gift all day it’s only right that he gets to see it first.

There’s a knock and a click of the door before Seokjin takes you in hand again, leading you in. The air is warmer and heavier than that of the living room, making it impossible to draw a fresh breath.

Seokjin pushes down on your shoulder, a wordless order to kneel. The plush carpet meeting your knees as you lower yourself, if only you could reach out to get a better sense of what’s in front of you, but form dictates that you keep your hands on your lap.

The bedroom door closes, signalling Seokjin's departure. Sending one last wave of clean air before you're smothered once again. Locked away for the night with your master and his new pet. There’s a small creek from the mattress and the familiar rattle of restraints against the bedpost. You can just barely make out the tone of Namjoon’s low whisper as he speaks to the current tenant of the bed.

Footsteps land to your left, muffled by the wall to wall but still sending vibrations through the floor. As Namjoon approaches, your heart pounds wondering what his first move against you will be. He takes his sweet time letting the anticipation build as your chest continues to heave in its attempts to take in the thick air. You keep your posture, maintaining your stance with the knowledge that he will inspect you. Head lowered, hands on thighs, perched on your toes as your knees dig into the ground. Your legs soon start to tremble as your feet strain to bear the weight.

Namjoon settles right in front of you, the slow draw of his breath reaches your ears, while the heat of his exhale hits your face. A hand trails up the outside of your thigh stilling the tremor in your legs with a forceful grip. You freeze wondering if your jitters will cost you, you can’t let him find fault not if you want him to reward you with his presence.

But as he takes your chin tightly between his index and his thumb, you know you're in the clear. He tilts your head up as you breathe a sigh of relief. “Such a good girl, setting the perfect example.” His fingers slide down petting the column of your throat with a firm touch. “I was so happy to receive your picture this morning, did you wear the gift all day as ordered?”

“Yes sir.” You pant back, eager for him to see for himself.

“It wasn’t too hard for you then, to go so long in such a confined state?”

“No sir.”

“Good girl,” He purrs in your ear as he starts unfastening your shirt. He hesitates on the buttons for a moment. “Babygirl, would you care to tell me why you're wearing a men’s shirt?”

You swallow not wanting to admit that it’s the fault of the man currently lying in his bed. You plan to take the fall, wanting Namjoon’s undivided attention even if it’s in the form of a punishment. “I spilled something on mine sir.”

“So clumsy.” He has the shirt completely off now revealing the corset for him and likely Taehyung to see. Namjoon helps you to stand, unzipping your skirt he pushes it to the floor. You feel so helpless without your sight but Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind assisting. He uses the soft fabric of the shirt to dab at the sweat beading on your skin. “Who, may I ask, clothed you in theirs? Such an expensive label, he must think highly of you.”

You shift in place, made uncomfortable by your inability to answer. Knowing if you say his name thoughts of him will be summoned to your mind. You don’t deserve to think of him at such a time, not after you led him on and left him dry.

“You don’t wish to tell me?” The feel of Namjoon’s breath leaves you, the sounds of his feet indicating he’s moved to the right of you. Heading to a space you know to be occupied by a table and closet full of his tools. There’s a scrap of metal and what sounds like the jingle of buckles.

“No sir.”

“And why is that?” Fingers trail up your arm as Namjoon signals his return to your side.

“Because I’m not allowed to have him sir.”

“A noble response.” Namjoon reasons while he wraps the leather strap of a familiar collar around your neck. “But I still plan to get that name from you before we’re done.” He buckles it swiftly checking the tightness with two fingers. You thought him finished but he progresses to cuff your wrists in leather too, tethering them together in front of you.

He leans in again with a hushed request, “Still know your safe word?” You nod repeating is back to him before he leads you on towards the bed.

Namjoon stands behind you as he presents you to his new pet. When you gave Taehyung Namjoon’s number you hadn’t been expecting this but you can’t deny enjoying the prospect. But you find the silence and lack of reaction from him unnerving. “I asked him not to make a sound,” Namjoon explains, “And he’s abiding by my rules so well it’s he?”

Namjoon takes your hands helping you to feel the current state in which Taehyung is interned. A Leather cuff just like yours binds one of his wrists with a short chain leading to bedpost. You imagine that his other limbs are restricted to the other corners of the bed, for Namjoon has bound you in the same state before.

“Can he see?” You ask Namjoon wondering if he has been left blind too, or if he’s eyes are watching you now.

“Can he see you? He can babygirl, in fact, he hasn’t looked away once, and why would he?” Namjoon sits you down on the large bed to join Taehyung before pulling down the matching underwear to your corset. “They’re so wet, have you been soaking these all day?”

You nod in response. A delighted Namjoon makes an offer to Taehyung. “Would you like a taste pet? A reward for being so good.” Namjoon revels in his situation with a chuckle, the man beneath you must have nodded. “Then open up.” You know what a taste means for Namjoon, those panties of yours are most certainly shoved into Taehyung's mouth. He lets out a groan of satisfaction at the welcome intrusion.

Namjoon’s hands find your waist dragging you up further on to the bed with your knees now resting on the mattress. “You’re going to straddle him for me babygirl.” He shifts you over pulling up one of your legs to settle them on either side of the man beneath you. Your knees bent with your calves coming to rest against his bare hips. Without his billowy clothes he is far more slight than you expected, but his skin feels firm and toned.

You slowly move to lower yourself knowing what you will come down on top of as you sit, but Namjoon seems to have other plans in mind. He takes your bound wrist, lifting them above your head and latching the cuffs to a chain in the rafters of the canopy bed. Once fixed in place he tests your limitations, a quick tug to show you even with your arms fully extended you are only able to lower yourself to half a kneel. You groan in frustration with the realization you can’t move any closer to the cock that rests below you. It’s just as he promised, hung like forbidden fruit above another man. Your dominant’s flare for the poetic never failing to surprise you.

“Problem babygirl?” Namjoon cooes in your ear. “Do you have something you want to say?”

“No sir.”

“Good, because if I recall you still need to be punished for your lack of formality on the phone earlier today.”

Your stomach drops as you realize he’s going to discipline you right now, in full view of Taehyung. The heat rises to your face at the thought of being demeaned in front of another. Namjoon’s hand cups your bare ass, readying it for the assault. “You failed to call me sir twice, three for each lapse should do it.”

While the first strike eases you in, those that follow are not so gentle. The ring of his index biting your flesh with each impact. The third strike is so strong you pivot forward on your knees, your back arching as you bare forward still confined to the corset and chains. The weight of your body pulls painfully on your shoulders for a brief second, but Namjoon is there to catch you. Stopping you before you can slip and more, and propping you back in place before continuing.

One hand lays firmly on your stomach to prevent the shift from happening again, while the other rubs the curve of your ass mapping where he should strike next. You can feel the warmth in your skin as the blood rises to the surface in reaction to his beating. Your nerves are caught in the struggle between pain and pleasure, even as the sixth and final blow lands.

“Good girl.” Namjoon whispers his touch disappearing, as you ease down against your restraints. You hang completely by your wrists while your legs quake from the shock. Every nerve in your body feels as though it’s been left on fire with nothing to quench the flames. Leaving you to hang there for what seems like eternity.

“Sir?” You whisper in the dark as the heat continues to build inside you. Wondering where he has gone your body reacts, begging for the return of his attention with a dripping cunt. And with Taehyung below that can only mean the steady drip of your arousal is left to fall on him.

“Babygirl you’re making such a mess.” Namjoon confirms along with a groan from the man beneath you. “But he appears to be leaking too. Do you want some?” You nod eager for a taste.

Namjoon obliges, grabbing your throat in one hand, he presses a damp finger to your lips for you to take. Your mouth latches over the offered digit, allowing the bitter fluid to sweep over your tongue. You're forced to let it sit there unable to swallow as the grip on your throat tightens, with the strap of the collar digging into your skin. Your mouth fills with saliva prompting you to close it despite your desperate need for air.

“Does he taste good?” Namjoon wickedly possesses knowing you can barely even nod. It’s when you start to tremble that he finally releases your airway.

You swallow quickly before letting your mouth hang open in a pant. With your lungs still restricted by the corset your breathing comes in short shuddering waves. “Yes sir, so good.”

“I think he likes having you drench him, shall we give him more?”

“Please.” You beg but Namjoon suddenly delivers a staggering blow to your backside, indicating your misstep. You’re left gasping from the sudden impact, swinging in the restraints as you try to recoil. “Please sir.” Your plea comes again this time with the proper decorum.

There’s a crinkle of what sounds like a condom wrapper as Namjoon readies himself behind you. His fingers damp with lubrication find your back entrance, your tight hole giving way to a single finger. “You’ve been training for me like I asked?”

“Yes sir.” You almost come at the thought of it along with pleasure with the swirling digit. You’ve dabbled in anal before testing out a few toys, but a few weeks ago he sent you a plug with a tapered t-shaped end, giving you strict orders to wear it to work the following day. Unfortunately that was the date you had scheduled a meeting with your whole team. You were a flustered mess as you fought through your presentation, Jimin’s presence by your side making it so much more difficult to maintain control of your arousal . But the full day of public and torturous stimulation was worth it, for the reward that night was a call from Namjoon. His orders led you through every action of self pleasure. Telling you when and where to touch before finally directing you to come. You’ve used the item several times on your own since, knowing your practice would help you in this moment. You wanted to make Namjoon proud and take him with little resistance. That desire now intensified with having Taehyung as an audience.

“Then you're ready to take me in front of him?”

You nod gripping chains of the restraints as Namjoon eases into you. “Just relax.” His hands glide down your shoulders and back, coming to rest splayed across your hips, the tips of his finger root under the corset and dig into your stomach. Your grip eases as you lean back into him. “That’s it.” He mutters quietly as you stretch to accommodate him. “Good girl.”

After taking a few inches Namjoon pushes down on the front of your corset bowing the metal latches back to so they release, with a few clicks and swift presses the garment is off allowing you to breathe deeper than you have all day.

“God you should see him babygirl, he’s so ruined by the sight of you. You have him panting for you.” You wish you could curse Namjoon for his choice to blindfold you and silence Taehyung, you would take any punishment that came of it, but all you can muster is a gasp while he continues to fill you more. “I wonder how he’ll react,” One of Namjoon’s hands leaves your hips coming to rest with something soft against your aching clit. “When he sees you come.” With a click the object vibrates, throwing you back completely onto Namjoons cock from the shock.

You catch Namjoon’s lustful groan between your cries. He starts to thrust inside of you one hand gripping your chest while the other holds the vibrate down in place despite your bucking hips. It doesn’t take long for you to completely fold. As the heat inside you finally reaches its peak you shatter, your head falling back on Namjoon’s shoulder as you convulse and moan. With nothing for your cunt to clench your legs grip the trussed man between them. He too lets out a sinful groan as the fluids from your fold continue to drip down your legs meet his adjoining skin.

Namjoon turns the device off and slips out, the bed shifts as he moves in front of you. When his hand cups your face you lean into his touch. “You okay?”

You nod hoping he’ll be lenient with your lack of speech. You hear him whisper as he checks in with Taehyung too. “I’m going to take these now.” Namjoon must finally be freeing him from the waded underwear of yours.

Namjoon’s hands find you again, playing with the arousal dripping down your legs as he drags his fingers up to the source. A finger grazes your folds slipping between without penetrating. You pull desperately against your restraints hoping that it might find its way inside.

“So are you going to tell me who you’re not allowed to have?” Namjoon asks again. “Or do I have to let you hang here all night?”

“My secretary...” You give in with a whisper, hoping that Taehyung won’t hear.

“And what’s his name? Say it and I’ll give you what you want.”

The deal is too good for you to resist, you last only a couple more seconds before finally giving in. Crying out, “Jimin,” as two of Namjoon’s fingers breach you. Your sopping slit squelching as he curls his fingers.

“There it is.” Namjoon sighs, his other hand brushing your cheek. “Is he the reason you’re so worked up tonight babygirl?”

“Y-yes sir.” You stutter as his fingers continue. He gives you another minute of bliss before removing his digits.

“You’re going to do something for me, okay?” Namjoon asks. You nod as he continues to hold your face. “That man between your legs, you are going to fuck him and imagine Jimin as you do so, is that clear?”

“Yes sir.”

“Is that okay with you pet?” He asks the other occupant, who still remains silent with his answers. The sound of another condom wrapper, comes as your confirmation. Taehyung lets out an unexpected high pitched whine, likely due to the pressure that comes with the latex being rubbed down his shaft. You’re already so invested in the lie that he’s even starting to sound like Jimin.

Namjoon is once again behind you. You can hear the rattle of the length of chain that holds you up and as he sinks back into you, his cock slipping in far easier this time, your body gladly welcomes the fullness of his intrusion. He then lowers you inch by inch, with little strength left in your legs you are relying only on the restraints and Namjoon to hold you up. After gaining a bit more freedom you can feel the tip of a cock brushing up against you. Namjoon’s arm comes to rest on your thigh as he lines the erection up for you to take it inside. It’s a slow descent, as you stretch to accommodate both of them. Your thankful Namjoon’s mercy for easing you down gradually.

When you bottom out Namjoon pulls the chain down from the rafters he releases the length from your cuffs, but rather than discarding it he attaches it to your collar, tugging on it as if it’s a leash. Though your hands are still bound together you have the freedom to rest them on the man laying down in front of you. You take pleasure in dragging the tips of your fingers across his skin, feeling his abs flex and his cock twitch inside you as you do so.

Namjoon starts to thrust, keeping a close hold on your collar. While he pushes you are sent up and down on what you desperately want to be Jimin’s thick cock. After a few thrusts you are shoved forward entirely by Namjoon, colliding with the man beneath you. Your chest is pushed into his, as your bound hands are pinned between the two of you. While your head is left to rest on his shoulder, the tip of your nose is able to graze his neck. As you breathe in your mind continues to play tricks, the smell coming off him mimics that of the cologne your secretary wears, rather than the scent of Taehyung.

Namjoon must have unbound his legs as they bend up to cradle your own from behind his hips bucking into yours, with both men taking you at a steady pace.

You move in closer to his neck, with a lick you taste the salt of his skin showing your intentions. Biting down on the spot, you suck in deeply as your teeth dig in even harder. The carnal groans you receive from him sending shivers to your spine. There’s the sound of a soft slap, Namjoon didn’t hit you, but the man beneath you returns to his ordered silence.

Namjoon thrusts even harder, pushing you into his chest repeatedly. The thought of being fucked into Jimin’s embrace is too much to bear. Your cunt clenches as you continue envisioning your secretary, and how you're grinding your clit against his pelvis.

You cry out over the swelling girths inside you, knowing their both likely to come soon. Clenching down one last time you dissolve in the pleasure and contentment. Namjoon finishes first remaining inside while his pet comes too. He leaves you there laying upon your imagined Jimin, in your daze you can barely move let alone focus on reality. With a wave of exhaustion you start to slip from consciousness, but not before one last praise reaches your ears. Your delirium grants you the satisfaction of hearing the voice of Jimin whisper, “Good girl.”

...

You can’t remember the last time you slept so well. You woke early to find Namjoon had taken care of you in the night, he released your wrist cuffs, and removed your blindfold, after you had passed out from the physical exertion. The only restraint to remain was your collar which he asked you to wear today. Taehyung was sadly already gone, but you can’t deny it was nice to have Namjoon to yourself before you left.

Now as you head off to work, showered and freshly dressed, with a turtleneck hiding your gift, you check your phone for the first time. Finding a string of apologetic messages sent from Jimin in the early hours of the morning. You reply apologizing too and asking to revisit the subject as soon as you get into work. Thankfully he agrees, the smiling emoji he ends his text on sends a wave of relief through you.

You step in the front entrance of your building ready to handle and objectively listen to Jimin’s thoughts and concerns. While you wait for the elevator your phone vibrates listing a call from an unknown number. “Hello?”

“Hey it’s Taehyung. Hope you don’t mind, I stole your personal number from my father.”

“Taehyung...” Heat starts to rise in your face at the thought of last night. The elevator arrives and you quickly step in. “No, not at all, to what do I owe the honour of this call.”

“No need to be so formal,” He giggles at you.

“Sorry, habit,” You respond. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to thank you for yesterday...” Taehyung starts off.

But his words are soon interrupted by someone shouting, “Hold the door.” You comply, pushing the button to keep them open, while trying to keep your focus on your conversation with Taehyung.

“...It’s not often that I meet someone who I can be so open with. I called the man you recommended and I’ve scheduled my first session with him tomorrow.”

You freeze, unable to fully comprehend what he’s saying, surely he misspoke. It can’t be his first session. “W-what do you mean your first session is tomorrow? You were there-” The collar hidden beneath your turtleneck feels as though it’s tightening around your throat. “Last night, I saw you-” The line goes dead as the elevator closes and starts to ascend. It was Taehyung in the bed with you and Namjoon last night. You saw... nothing you saw nothing because of the blindfolded that you were asked to wear.

“Everything okay?” You jump at the sound of the other voice, forgetting that some else had gotten into the elevator. Looking up you find Jimin there beaming at you, his head tilted from his query.

“Namjoon,” You flutter with your phone, too panicked to even greet your secretary properly. “I need to call Namjoon.” But the line won’t connect, not with you in the elevator. “Fuck...” You try again your patience not willing to wait the minute it’ll take to disembark on your floor.

You are almost there when the elevator shudders and stops. The sudden halt sends you off balance, but Jimin’s there to grab hold of you before you can fall. You thank him before stepping back and putting a bit of distance between the two of you again.

Jimin turns his attention to the panel, pushing the call button, he waits for someone to answer, but the call remains silent.

While he continues in his attempt to make contact, every scene of the night before floods back to your memory as you try to piece everything together. It was Taehyung, it had to be. He must just be playing a stupid joke. He was surely going to shout ‘gotcha’ before the phone disconnected, but you won’t know for certain until someone can get you off this blasted lift. You sink to the floor and Jimin follows, unable to reach anyone on the outside.

Despite your best efforts to rationalize what happened, your panicked breaths fail to slow, Spots start appearing in your vision as the elevator sways around you. Your breakfast threatens to make another appearance on the polished marble floor.

“It’ll be fine. Someone will notice soon.” Jimin attempts to comfort you but even that won’t quash the fear raging inside you.

“It’s not just that...” You whisper. “Something happened last night. I need to call Namjoon, I need to figure out...” Who was actually in that bed with you. Your confusion and panic break free sending you into a fit of tears as you hug your knees to your chest.

“Hush, it’s okay.” Jimin readjusts, moving in front of you and taking your hands in his. He leans towards you as he whispers in your ear. “Don’t cry babygirl.”

Your eyes snap to look at Jimin in alarm. Your prior worries are nothing compared to the terror which takes hold now. “H-how do you know that name?” Your stuttered words barely make their way past your lips.

“I think you know the answer to that question.” He pulls at the collar of his shirt allowing you to spot a large red mark on his neck, right where you had bitten the man you once thought to be Taehyung. “I wanted to wait a bit longer, I wanted more moments like we had last night but it would seem that someone had to go and ruin it.” You pull back but Jimin’s hands shift to take hold of your wrists, mimicking the manacles that embraced you the night before. “Are you not happy babygirl? You got your wish. And I... I got what I’ve always wanted.”

“This is so wrong Jimin! You knew I thought you were someone else! You knew that I wouldn’t have done that last night if I knew the truth.”

“Even though I was the one you really wanted babygirl?”

“Stop calling me that! Just because of what happened last night does not make me yours. You lied to Namjoon. You said that I sent you. You told him you were Taehyung!”

Jimin gives a wicked laugh in response to your accusations. “Oh, but you are mine. Namjoon is the one who’s been keeping things from you. He’s been in my employ far longer than yours.” He coos as his fingers tighten their grip on you. “I was the reason you were introduced to him, and I was the one who bestowed you with that name shortly after.”

“No, that’s not possible, Namjoon and I, we met at a charity event.”

“Hosted by my father. Where I told him to make himself known to you, to entice you to become one of his pets. I may have acted the sub last night but I am the one who holds Namjoon’s reins, I always have.”

“No he would never do that! He’s considerate and-”

“Had so much to gain by dominating you on my behalf. Money, power, and an assurance of safety, he would’ve been a fool to turn my offer down. Especially since you were so willing to play along with him. I dare say he enjoyed his time with you, but I was the one who permitted him to touch you. I was there to listen, to read, and to direct every conversation. Those gifts he told you to wear to the office, they were all from me.” He lets go of one of your wrists to pull down the neck of your shirt. Revealing the leather band strapped around your neck. “Today it’s the collar, yesterday it was the corset, and a few weeks ago...” Jimin smirks as he recalls the memory to your mind. “You barely made it through that meeting thanks to my gift.”

It’s impossible to swallow the admissions coming from him, but regardless of what may be true or false, you won’t stand for any of it. “You’ve had your fun, but this ends now.” You reach up attempting to remove the collar but Jimin pushes you to the floor pinning your arms above you as he straddles you. The elevator wavers from the struggle, teetering as you lay captive beneath him.

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’ve placed yourself in. I hold in my possession your darkest secrets. One’s that will ruin you if they make their way out. Your illegal activity with a sex worker, your inappropriate sexual conduct with your secretary. Not to mention the names and dubious activities of every client you’ve recommended to Namjoon’s services.”

“Why... why are you doing this?”

“Because you found me. I worked so hard to exploit my father from the outside, getting everything I wanted without the threat of public exposure. I couldn’t let you ruin it all. When we first met I considered you a threat, but then I saw how easy and enjoyable it was to mould to my will. The more intimate you become with someone the more power you give them over you. Simply being your secretary isn’t enough, not if I want you in a more pliable state.” Jimin hushed whisper mixes with a haunting giggle as his lips come to your ear. “I plan to bend you to fit every one of my needs.”

“You’re psychotic!” You lash out trying to throw him off but he stems your revolt by planting himself further down on to you, sitting on your chest as the elevator sways.

“Psychotic? No, I am simply a man who found his passion amidst his revenge. I know what I desire, and vengeance has taught me how best to take it. So if you want to keep yourself and everything else around you from falling, I suggest you play along like a good girl. Or I promise you, my punishments won’t be as kind as what you’ve experienced before.”

“What is it that you want?” You ask, already fearing his answer. He has you trapped in a gilded cage with him, where one misstep will send you plummeting to meet your end. Nothing that comes accompanied by such threats can be palatable.

“At work? To keep the status quo, I’ll remain your secretary, only so I can keep a better hold on you.”

“Hoseok won’t agree to that. He already thinks I should ditch you. I should have listened to him.”

“Then you will make him agree or he might have an accident, much like your accountant did. He too thought we were too close, even threatened to say something. Don’t worry I saved us from him, just as I’ll save us from Hoseok if you can’t convince him to back off. Do you think you can get him to agree now?”

You give a solemn nod, with Hoseok on the line you have no choice.

“After hours, we’ll drop the middleman.” Jimin lowers himself further on to you, laying down on top, his weight flattening you to the floor. With his head coming to rest on your restrained arm as he whispers further plans. “Every night you’ll come to me instead, and every morning you’ll have a new gift to wear. When we step off this elevator you’ll act as if nothing is wrong. You will go about business as usual, is that clear babygirl?”

You stifle a sob staring directly up and away from his eyes, not daring to give him the satisfaction of your fear. With little else to cling to, all you can do is agree for the time being, as much as it pains you, you choke out your compliance. “Yes...”

“Yes what?” Jimin purrs, his lips faintly touching your ear. “Address me properly, or I will find ways to discipline you right here on this lift.” His fingers tighten and nails bite into your skin.

“Yes sir,” you whine as a plea for him to stop.

Jimin mercifully lessens his hold on your wrists, hitting you instead with a smirk and befouled praise. “Good girl. I knew you’d finally see that I’m worth the risk.”

...

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izukuwus · 4 years

Text

Housewarming (NSFW) (Bunny!Izuku x Reader)

Summary: Izuku comes over to spend the weekend helping you finish moving into your new house. You learn a few things about the habits of rabbits, including just how deep the rabbit hole goes. (bunny!Izuku x reader) (smut smut smut smut smut)

Warnings/notes: fuckin. just straight up fuckin. biting, hair pulling, tail and ear pulling, oral (giving and receiving), uhhhhh reader has tits and a vag but gender is not confirmed. reader and izu are both switches, praise kink with reader receiving, uhhh I think that’s it? a gratuitous amount of focus on the fact that bunnies wiggle their noses to express interest in things.

A/N: so uh. I’ve NEVER written smut before so please be gentle. but I had a conversation on discord the other night with some of my lovely wives. that conversation started something like this:

the following is how the conversation ended. (writing smut is apparently much easier with live audience commentary, i’ve learned.)

Word count: 8100+

Spending weekends with Izuku has always been at the top of your list of favorite things, pretty much second only to the man himself. Can anyone blame you? Your rabbit-eared best friend (read: longtime crush) is pretty much the sweetest guy you've ever met, his mom is a wonderful woman, and often, you feel more at home curled up with Izuku on his bedroom floor (neither of you ever want to take the bed only to leave the other on the floor, resulting in a history of cuddling each other to sleep and entirely defeating the purpose of sleeping on the floor to begin with) than you do your own house most of the time.

Spending the weekend together has been a monthly ritual for the two of you for years now, beginning in your last year of middle school (consisting of an extremely flustered bunny) when you still lived in the same apartment complex. You've since moved and the years have been kind, the innocent ritual remaining steadfast no matter how busy you or Izuku got with school or training or any matter of thing.

Only... This weekend is different. Because in the past, the two of you were always in the dorms or at his mom's apartment. There were always people somewhere nearby to pop their head in and offer fresh cookies or join in beating you at Mario Kart or put in a noise complaint if you laughed too loud.

In a way, there were always limits.

This weekend is the first in your new house, bought for a surprisingly low price that you can assume is the result of being relatively small and not in a very desirable area.

This weekend, you're completely alone with him.

Realistically, it's likely not that big of a deal. He's just coming over to help you unpack after you spent the past week preparing for the move. A housewarming sleepover is the perfect way to get you used to sleeping in the new place, after all, and you'd be much more comfortable if Izuku were there with you! (Besides, free labor.)

But you can't help but be just a little high strung.

You've reminded yourself a thousand times now that it's just Izuku. You trust him with your life, after all, and he's trusted you with every secret he has (even those he's technically not legally allowed to be disclosing to you). You were the first person he told about his new quirk, even before his own mom. So why the hell are you so nervous?

You're busily and restlessly looking between kitchen cabinets to decide where your dishes will go when he arrives, landing three firm knocks on your front door. You greet him with a smile and nearly cry when you realize he's brought flowers and pizza, his trademark nervous grin on his face.

"Great! This is the right place!" Izuku says, and you smile and step aside to let him in. "Your new place looks great, [name]!"

You smile, relaxing at his presence as you watch him walk in to explore. "Nothing's really set up yet," you say as he investigates the new house. "I've got a couch, a table, and a lamp and that's about it."

He turns to you, nose twitching excitedly. "It's got a lot of potential! I can't wait to help you get everything set up so we can really see how nice it is! Oh, and these are for you! I know it's traditional to give something, you know, useful for a housewarming gift, but I-I wanted to congratulate you on finally getting enough together to get your own place, and I think having something nice to look at is useful, too, so—"

You accept the bouquet with a faint blush, smiling up at him. "I love them, Izuku. Thank you." (Privately, you think that just his presence here gives you something nice to look at, but you suppose the flowers will stay a little bit longer.)

There's a quiet moment where the two of you just look at each other, and man, Izuku is really good at making you think he might actually be attracted to you, huh. (Probably just wishful thinking.) "Let's... let's go ahead and get started, yeah?" you say, eyes drifting hungrily to the box he has balanced on one hand. "I see you've brought pizza. I haven't put together the chairs yet, so wanna sit in the middle of my kitchen floor and eat pizza?"

He chuckles, ruffling your hair. "Lead the way."

An entire pizza between the two of you and with the entire kitchen unpacked, you fling yourself onto the couch with a sigh. "God, I'm so tired of this move already," you whine. "I just wanna be done already."

Izuku laughs as you drape yourself over the back of the couch dramatically, throwing an arm over your face. "That bad, huh?"

"Yes!" You take a moment to peek at him as he crouches by your TV, but his back blocks your view of what he's actually doing. Instead, you watch his fluffy tail with amusement. It twitches whenever you speak, and you swear to god it's the cutest thing you've ever seen. "I spent the past weeks packing when I wasn't at work only to unpack it and I'm tired, 'Zukuuuu."

"Well, what if we took a little break?" he offers with another twitch of his tail. He stands, brandishing your favorite controller as he circles around behind the couch to hand it to you. "You up for it?"

You roll your eyes, shifting to reach for the controller. The minute your fingers brush against it, though, Izuku takes a step back, his nose twitching quickly. The corners of his lips pull up into a poorly-concealed grin, and you sigh, flipping over and reaching for it again.

"Izuku..." you say, tone playfully warning as he pulls the controller just out of your reach a second time.

"You sure you want it?" he teases, pulling the controller just far enough away that you pop up on your knees, propping yourself on the back of the couch with one hand as you reach. "You want me to destroy you that badly?"

Ohgodpleaseyes—You choke, your hand slipping out from beneath you. Before he has the chance to be too concerned, you let out an annoyed noise and fling yourself over the back of the couch, chasing after him with a beet red face. Izuku yelps and runs the other direction when he sees you coming, hardly giving you the chance to break into a sprint before he's down the hall.

He stops a few feet down, watching you with one ear raised up, the other dropping against his shoulder. The grin on his face is downright goofy, and you let out a small giggle before giving proper chase.

Izuku, naturally, is not one to be caught. Even without the use of One For All, bunnies are naturally very fast, and you learned fairly quickly that he does not get caught if he doesn't want to be. Still, you'd be damned if you weren't going to try. You try to tackle, he somehow manages to slip around you and back down the hall, evading you constantly until the two of you have bounded through every room of the house, narrowly avoiding boxes and as-of-yet still-disassembled furniture just to get your damn controller between his amused laughter.

Izuku stops and watches you again just as you're starting to get out of breath, nose twitching a mile a minute. You come to a stop just in front of the couch, panting a bit from the exertion of chasing your fucking menace of a best friend around your house. He has both controllers held behind his back, and that's about when he does the single cutest thing you've ever seen in your life.

He fucking binkies, leaping into the air a few feet as he flicks his head, his ears flopping with the movement. You let out a giggle, trying very hard not to completely lose your composure, and, in a fit of goofiness, mimic the motion. It doesn't quite work the same when you're not the adorable one with the bunny quirk, but apparently, it does something, because Izuku's face goes full red in an instant, eyes widening as he searches your face.

He drops the controllers.

Your eyes flick to them as they hit the ground, and you realize that if you're going to get those controllers you have to do it now. You make a move to sweep them off the ground, but the second you move, it's apparently over for you.

The slightest sound of electric sparks reaches your ears before the wind's knocked out of you, your back hitting your couch cushions roughly as Izuku slams into your body, one hand cradling the back of your head protectively before he straddles your waist, looking down at you with a downright ecstatic look, green lightning sparking around Izuku for just a moment longer as he stares down at you, nose still twitching like it's run by a motor, ears straight up in the air, but that's hardly the key detail here.

His face is beet fucking red as he stammers. "D-do you really mean that?"

"Uh... wait, mean what?" You tilt your head, a little flustered from suddenly getting tackled and pinned down by your incredibly attractive best friend. Is your head spinning, or is that just the room?

Fuck, are you imagining things, or does he look excited beneath all that blushing?

"Y-you did it back, usually that's, uh, it means— um..." The excitement drains from his face steadily and his expression drops. (His ears also drop.) You've never seen him look so wounded, and now you're really confused. His next words tumble out of his mouth at a dizzying rate. "I-if you don't know what I'm talking about then nevermind, I obviously messed up, I can leave—"

The moment Izuku pushes off you and stands, very obviously embarrassed and looking on the verge of tears, you regain your bearings just enough to tackle him back down so now he's the one being pinned down. "No, you're not backing out of this. Did I really mean what, Izuku?"

He stammers incoherently for a second, his eyes roaming over you like he's not sure where to look, and you're suddenly a little self-conscious at the fact that you've just pinned him to your couch with no room for interruptions if things were to go the way pinning someone down on a couch is probably supposed to go, but you refuse to let up until he gives you an answer. You bring a hand up to his cheek, swiping a thumb where the first of several tears is moments away from slipping out.

"Come on, Zu-kun. I obviously did something to upset you, and I don't know what I did, and won't know what I did until you explain it to me."

He lets out a shaky sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as if it'll change the situation.

"'Zuku..."

Finally, he opens his mouth to answer. "It's, um, w-well, usually when rabbits, y'know, c-court each other, to, y'know..." His hands come up to cover his face in sheer embarrassment as he says the next words in a hushed hurry, so quick and quiet you almost don't catch them. "Y-y'know, m-m-mate and stuff like that, they, uh..."

Hot shame floods your being as you slowly come to a realization of what, exactly, you may have implied to him.

"It's, it usually, um, there's, kind of a m-mating dance? And w-when, um, I-I didn't really mean to, but um, at the end, i-if one of them binkies and the other d-does it back, it means, um—" He lets out a mortified whine. "P-please don't make me explain it any more than that," he says finally, sounding defeated.

Oh. Oh.

Well, that's something along the lines of a "disaster" if you've ever caused one.

"Oh fuck, I am so sorry, shit Izu. I didn't mean to—"

"I-it's okay," he mumbles, dragging his hands off his reddened face. "You can get off me now."

Jesus, he's about seconds away from crying as he gently tries to push you off him.

Well, fuck. Unless you're mistaken, the expression on his face is utter heartbreak. You're already in the worst position possible here, so...

You lock your thighs in place around his waist to resist his gentle push. "Izuku, wait."

"[name], it's okay. Please just, give me a minute to—"

"Izuku." You firmly place your hands on his chest, pushing him back down. "Please listen for a sec?"

His hands remain on you, but he stops pushing, not meeting your eyes as he waits in silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize that binkying back at you like that would imply that I, you know, wanted to get with you, but that doesn't..." You chew your lip, locking your eyes on the controllers, still on the floor from when he dropped them. No backing out.

You mumble the last part (the most important part) so fast you almost hope he doesn't hear you: "that doesn't mean it was the wrong idea or anything—"

His head is still turned away, but his eyes flick to your face with a surprised sniffle. "...what?"

You furrow your brow, your heart hammering away in your chest. "God, please don't make me say it again," you whine, your hands coming up to hide your own face.

"No, please say it again," he breathes. "I mean, I already misinterpreted once today and I don't want to—"

You let out an embarrassed whine, pressing your hands to your face even harder. "I didn't mean to say it but that doesn't mean it wasn't something I meant to say eventually," you hiss out slowly and much louder than you would have liked.

You peek at Izuku through your fingers, desperately looking for any reaction to tell you whether you just irreparably fucked things up with your best friend.

Izuku is, and always has been, a very expressive person. You've been able to gauge his emotions at a glance for as long as you've known him—even if he didn't wear his heart on his sleeve, generally the angle of his ears and the movement of his nose or tail have always been more than enough to keep tabs on how your best friend is feeling.

Right now, though, aside from the flush on his cheeks and slight parting of his lips, Izuku is carefully blank. It's like he's shut down, mentally—blank eyes, nose still, mouth just slightly open but not with any hint of emotion to it. Not positive, not negative, just mild shock and a practiced blankness that has your face burning and you moving to get off him.

You feel him shift beneath you just a moment, and then once again, you yelp as you suddenly find yourself on your back, but this time, you're not looking up at Izuku, because his lips are pressed to yours, one leg hanging off the couch while the other is wedged firmly between your legs. You can feel his hands tremble as they cup your face, your eyes blown wide with shock. He's unpracticed, but his lips are soft and it's him kissing you so enthusiastically that you really have no right to complain.

Your eyes flutter shut as you begin to kiss back, your hands gently coming up to tangle fingers in his hair. You let out the tiniest whimper as your reciprocation seems only to spur him on, him kissing you somehow even more passionately.

You can't help but giggle into the kiss when you feel his nose twitching against your face, causing him to pull back just enough to breathe. His obsession with training over the years has clearly done him well—his breathing seems mostly unaffected by the kiss, while you lay there panting and trying to make sense of what the hell just happened.

Izuku watches your face for just a moment, seemingly shocked at his own actions, but leans in again, brushing his nose against yours adoringly. "I-I'm sorry, I was just... really happy..."

You let out another tiny giggle, leaning up to kiss him again. Much like in all other areas of his life, he's quick to kiss back, already seeming to kiss you with a bit more precision than the first. He pulls back, hot breath ghosting against your lips as he whispers to you. "I-I've loved you for—" —he breaks off to plant another tiny kiss on your lips— "—s-so, so long, [name]."

He goes to kiss your lips again, but whines when you turn your head so he hits your cheek instead. "I love you too, 'Zuku," you hum, continuing to dodge his kisses playfully.

"[naaaame]," he whines. "I've got a lot of lost time to make up for, stop dodging me..."

Cute, sweet kisses are lovely and all, but as long as you're trapped between his muscles and the couch, you might as well tease him a little, right? And you've got just the idea to push him a bit further.

You look up at him with a playful smile as he glares heatlessly at you. His hand, previously cupping your cheek sweetly, grows a little bit firmer in its hold in an attempt to hold your face in place so he can kiss your lips. He darts down to capture your lips again, exactly according to plan.

Your fingers, still entwined in the mop of green he calls hair, grip carefully and tug his head back before he can properly kiss you.

Bingo. You can't help but grin with flushed cheeks as he immediately grinds his hips down onto your leg, letting out a breathy moan as something suspiciously firm and growing rubs against your thigh, bare from the shorts you dug out of your clothes this morning.

You watch his face in awe, his freckles disappearing among how purely red he's gone, and give another gentle tug to his hair. This time, he borderline whimpers, hips moving like he's being controlled. His eyelids flutter shut, hot pants causing his chest to heave as green eyes stare down at you, darker than you remember.

No lies here, the fact that he can't help but grind on you is... really hot. So hot, in fact, that you can't help but shoot him a teasing smirk as he watches you with half-lidded eyes. "Excited, Jackrabbit?" you muse.

He whines as his head drops to your shoulder. Quietly, so quietly you almost miss it, he mumbles, "how can I not be when you of all people finally take an interest in me?"

God, if he weren't still grinding his hard-on against you, that would've been adorable. "If I'd known you were into me, we could've been doing this years ago, 'Zuku baby." You punctuate your sentence with another tug to his hair, to which he retaliates by biting down on the crook of your neck, dragging a drawn-out moan from your throat.

He pulls off with a small giggle of his own, eyes staring down at you playfully. "Aw, are we sensitive, honeybun?"

You don't dignify him with a response. At least, not a verbal one. You pull him back down for another heated kiss, lips moving against his as your hands slowly drift from his hair, down to his chest. You splay your palms out, just feeling his muscles for a second before you pull back, take a breath, and shove him as hard as you can. He lets out a tiny "guh?" before you're straddling his hips, hands returning to his hair and lips returning to his.

He's shocked, but clearly he's more than happy to continue making out with you like this. You, however, have a curiosity stemming from years of Izuku dodging around you touching his ears that you just have to sate, so your hands slowly but purposely crawl up to the base of his ears, thumbs brushing the velvety appendages gently before you pinch the base and give them the slightest tug.

Izuku pulls back with a moan, shivering as you continue to thumb his ears in slight awe at their texture. "[n-name]~"

You bring a hand up to laugh. "Aw, are we sensitive, Izu?" you tease, drawing a glare from him. Just to drive it home, you shift and grind your hips down, planting both hands on his chest to steady yourself, effectively killing his glare as he lets out another shaky moan.

"T-that's not fair," he whines.

"Life's not fair," you muse, grinding down one more time before leaning down and tugging at his shirt. He doesn't seem to notice, lost in pleasure just from grinding with his eyes closed. "'Zuku baby, can I see a bit more of you?"

Another whine tears from his throat, and he opens one eye to look up at you. "O-only if I—hah—get to see more of you, too."

You smile, locking your legs around his hips and giving him a show as you slowly peel your shirt off. When it's over your head, you look down and wink, almost losing your composure completely.

His jaw's dropped, eyes locked on your body, and when you wink, he bucks his hips up. You yelp, barely managing to steady yourself at the sudden force, and this time when you lean down and go to pull his own shirt off, he helps you wiggle it off of him. You suppress a groan at the sight of his bare chest, shifting up a bit so you're straddling his abs and he can't grind against you as easily. (You love it, but can't have him getting too excited, now.)

Scarred, calloused hands settle on your waist as he just admires you, completely wordless. You've half a mind to be self-conscious about his lustful gaze on you, but it's hard when you've got your own view to devour.

Izuku really is gorgeous. Sure, it's not the first time you've noticed over the years. Where he was once your scrawny bunny boy, years of training and hero work have left him littered with scars and bursting with muscles, maintaining his lithe form without sacrificing any amount of strength. Among the scars is a smattering of freckles decorating his shoulders, and that's just his body. To say nothing about his face, still young-looking despite the years and, as of right now, dripping with utter adoration for you.

"You're gorgeous," he breathes, thumbs gently rubbing circles into your hips.

"Says you." You smooth your hands over his chest, dragging your nails teasingly. When you barely brush against his nipples, he shivers, letting out the slightest gasp. You smirk and repeat the motion, watching his face as his fingers twitch around your waist. You could honestly tease him like this for hours just to watch his face and feel his muscles as his stomach trembles between your legs. (Again, Izuku has always been the epitome of expressive, and it's moments like these that you truly understand how much that shines.)

Izuku, however, has a better idea as he effortlessly sits up with you in his lap, trembling as he gives you a slow, charged kiss. (You'd like to imagine his thought process right now is something along the lines of "holy shit holy shit holy shit", but it's difficult to tell.) When he pulls away, he buries his nose in your neck, letting out a shuddering sigh as you glance down over his back. "I-is it okay if I touch you, too?"

You stifle a laugh when you finally notice his tail hitting the couch a mile a minute, forgetting for a moment that Izuku asked you a question. "Just do it already, Jackrabbit," you tease. "You don't have to ask."

He doesn't waste a moment at your permission, immediately shoving your bra up and out of the way to take one of your breasts into his mouth, a hand coming up to knead the other one excitedly. For a moment, you simply hold him as he enjoys himself, letting out little gasps as he lathes a hot tongue over your nipple and lets out a tiny moan of his own. But naturally, your eyes drift to his tail again. The ball of fluff seems to be moving of its own accord, and honestly, you can't resist drifting your hand down to grab it and give it a little tug.

The mouth on your breast leaves as Izuku immediately tosses his head back, letting out a strangled moan louder than you ever thought possible. His hands squeeze instinctively as his eyes roll back, ears falling back and brushing your hand as he momentarily loses himself.

Your face flushes as you watch his with renewed interest. You swear you can see hearts in his eyes, the blush on his cheeks creeping down his neck and shoulders, and holy fuck do you wish you had a camera ready. You want to look at that expression every day for the rest of your life.

He lets out a few garbled noises that might have been words, had he been two percent more coherent. Your laugh dies in your throat when, upon collecting himself, he gives you a look about four shades darker than you ever thought your sweet Izuku to be capable of. You knew he was gorgeous and fun and amazing, but now you can add "panty-dropper" to the list of words describing him.

You don't fight back when he practically flings you back onto your back and clamors to hover over you, nipping at your neck as his hands find the waistband of your shorts. He yanks both your shorts and your panties down at once, leaving them to pool around your knees as the force pulls you back flush with his hips. When you give his tail another weak tug he growls into your neck. You're gone. You're officially gone. Between the not-so-gentle reminder that this boy can fling you around like a ragdoll whenever he wants (and that you kinda wanna thank him for doing so) and the growl, just...

Goodbye, panties. You're living a better life now.

When he looks into your eyes with that same heated gaze from before, your breath catches in your throat. His voice, however, is far from matching when he speaks. "I-I really want to take things slow a-and do things right, b-but if you keep pulling my tail like that, my patience is gonna run out, you know?"

You watch his face with wide eyes for a long moment, pulling the most innocent face you can muster. "Pulling your tail like what, Jackrabbit?" you say teasingly.

And then.

You pull again.

Izuku's moan turns to a whine and mixes with your own as he bites down on your neck a third time to muffle himself. He pulls up when he's collected and reaches behind himself, one hand firmly wrapping around your wrist while the other grabs your other hand. Slowly, purposefully, he pins your wrists down in one hand, attempting to intimidate you with a glare. There's no heat to it, though, especially not like this, not when there's hearts in his eyes, not when he's panting and sweating and blushing down his neck and you're now fully aware that he moans like a goddamn pornstar.

To his credit, none of that makes you any less horny right now.

Now that he's got your wrists pinned down, he takes another moment to just look at you with hungry eyes. They roam your disheveled form, paying particular attention to your tits as they bounce with every heavy breath. His eyes drift up to your face, and he swallows harshly at the look you're giving him. It takes him just a moment longer of admiring you, the damn near animalistic look from before slipping away to something more Izuku before he speaks.

"I-if we're going to do this, I want to make sure you feel good, too," he says evenly, no longer looking anything but purely genuine. "So please keep your hands to yourself for a little bit?" He tilts his head, ears flopping with the motion, eyes innocent as if he's not asking you to hold still so he can drive you to madness without interruptions.

You nod slowly, swallowing a bit and stilling in his grasp. His fingers twitch, his face lights up, and for just a moment you swear he's more like a puppy than a bunny.

He shifts, his hands releasing your wrists but hovering over them a moment longer. "If you need me to stop at all, just let me know, okay? The last thing I want to do is push you further than you're okay with it."

"Okay," you whisper breathlessly, watching with interest as he properly lets your wrists go. He glares playfully for a moment, watching to see that you don't move your hands, and when he seems satisfied that you'll actually listen this time, he begins tracing down your arms with featherlight touches.

He's painfully slow in his movements, fingertips grazing your skin as he moves down. He briefly leans down and pecks at you softly, first your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then grazes your lips just enough to draw out a whine as he cups your cheeks. With every tiny kiss, he mutters against your skin— "love you—" "—so much—" "—so fucking much."

"Love you more," you chirp sweetly.

"Hmm, that's debatable," he hums. "But let's come back to that later. Right now, there's s-something I want to do."

With that, he continues running his hands down your body, smoothing his rough palms out just to feel your skin. He exhales slowly as he palms your breasts, smiling fondly down at you as you gasp. "You're so soft..." he whispers, mostly to himself, as his nose twitches a single time. He only plays with your breasts for a moment before his hands continue to move down your body, eliciting a surprised giggle when his scarred hands smooth over your sides. He slowly moves in with both hands, dipping between your thighs, and just when you think he's finally going to touch your dripping slit...

He gently parts your thighs and continues moving, lightening his touch as fingertips drag over your inner thighs. You let out a mournful cry when he continues down your legs, hands smoothing against your outer thighs and hooking underneath as he reaches your knees.

He exhales, flicks his eyes up to your face with a blank look that usually spells trouble. Without warning, he yanks you toward him in a controlled jerk, leaning down as you yelp. Before you can get your bearings, his hot tongue is dragging flat against your heat. You let out a moan that almost drowns out his own at the flavor.

"God, y-you're so wet for me, [n-name]." His breath is hot against you, green eyes locked on yours. "You taste so good."

You'd like to respond, really you would, but he goes right back to eating you out, tongue firmly dancing over your clit before dipping into you. His hands grip your thighs as he enthusiastically gets to work, little moans peppering the space in between your own gasps and pants. You throw your head back as he works—he's a messy eater, to be sure, but you swear you can feel him learning as he goes. He's probably cataloging every noise you make, every twitch of your thighs, especially if the rhythm he quickly falls into is anything to go by.

When he moves to latch his mouth over your clit, his eyes closed as he loses himself to pleasuring you, and you're so so close, maybe you can get away with at least winding your fingers through his hair—

The moment your hands move, his eyes shoot open, and he pulls away from your pussy with a look that screams nothing but disappointment, though it doesn't quite cut. "Honeybun..." he says, voice husky and gently chiding, your slick glistening on his lips. "You said you'd keep your hands to yourself."

You instantly slam your hands back down to the couch, letting out a whine as you give him a pleading look. "B-but I wanna touch you, Izu," you whine out.

His hips buck against air at your words, his nose twitching in surprise as his eyes widen. Seeing a crack in his armor, you have to pounce. "Come on, Jackrabbit," you insist. "You're so good to me. Can't I make you feel amazing, too?"

He's so stunned that he hardly reacts as you prop yourself up on one elbow, yanking him down for a hot kiss with a hand on the nape of his neck. You wrinkle your nose in distaste when you realize you can taste yourself on his lips, but that doesn't mean you're going to stop, not by any means. You lift a knee, opening one eye to make sure you're aiming correctly, and rub against his aching bulge just as his tongue slips into your mouth.

The poor boy jerks away from your mouth, letting out a quiet, drawn out moan as his cock twitches against your knee.

He stares at you for a moment, face flushed and breathing heavy as tiny tears form at the corners of his eyes. "I-I'm so sorry, [name], I wanted you t-to—"

You cut him off with a sweet kiss, locking lips with him as you carefully shimmy out of your bra and bottoms (both having been left hastily shoved out of the way), tossing them out of the way. When you're properly stripped, you gently push him back so you're both sitting up and pull away with a sweet smile.

"We're only done here if you want to be, Zuzu," you say, dripping with affection (and perhaps maybe something else).

He immediately shakes his head, ears following the motion as his face flushes worse. "N-no, I want to... I want to keep going."

You chuckle softly and slide off the couch, gently guiding him to sit in front of you properly before you reach up to toy with the zipper of his pants. "Then, let's keep going, hm~?"

He nods, nose twitching relentlessly as you slowly pull his zipper down and slide your hands into his pants. You cheekily smooth your hands over his ass before actually beginning to pull his pants and boxers off in one go. You giggle as his cock springs out, somehow still hard despite the obvious mess of cum clinging to his thighs and the inside of his boxers. You slowly lean forward, sure to make eye contact with him. Instead of going for the mess he's made just yet, however, you run a thumb through some of his cum and smear it over his abs, just to have an excuse to lick it off.

You're slow and sweet as you lick up his abs, arms wrapping loosely around his waist. The look he gives you is almost one of betrayal as you pull back, and you bring a hand to your lips with a coquettish grin.

"Sorry Izu baby, I've been wanting to do that for the longest time," you admit, resting your arms on his legs and your head on your arms.

He groans lowly at the admission, head dropping back. "H-how long—" he breathes out, cutting off when you drag a finger over his length.

God, even his cock is gorgeous. Long, thick, honestly just a little bit intimidating. You're functionally a virgin thanks to your formative years spent being silently in love with a certain green rabbit boy, so you're a little concerned that he'll split you in half when you actually fuck.

...You might not complain if he does.

You admire it with adoring eyes as he whimpers. "Now's not the time for asking questions, Jackrabbit," you coo, glancing up at him for only a moment before wrapping your hand around his cock. (Christ, you can barely wrap your whole hand around it.) "I was good long enough, so you'll let me return the favor, right?"

"I'll be good," he whines, bucking into your hand something fierce. "I'll be good so please, [name], please—"

You lift your head from where it rests, guiding his tip to your mouth to press a tiny kiss there. Izuku whimpers in response, attempting to buck his hips again. You smile, snaking an arm around behind him to gently run your thumb over the fluff of his tail. You keep a light hold on it, just touching it enough to feel it as you take a deep breath in preparation. When you're ready, you lean forward again slowly, teasingly breathing hot air onto his cock before finally, finally taking him into your mouth.

"Fuck," Izuku breathes as your mouth closes over him, gripping the couch cushions with white knuckles.

If you thought you'd take this slow and teasing, well, regrettably, Izuku can't seem to control himself well enough for that. He bucks into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with ease as you choke. You tug his tail ever-so-slightly as a warning, but his response is almost more than the way he lost his mind earlier—his hips move frantically, leaving you to do nothing but relax and take his cock down your throat.

"I-I'm sorry," he babbles. "Y-your mouth is so— so good, you're so good for me, honeybun, I'm sorry, I don't think— ahn~ I don't think I can be good like you asked, it's too good, you're too good, s-soooooooo—"

You manage to tear yourself away from him just in time for him to erupt, hot ropes of cum hitting your face and the top of your breasts, precious little making it into your mouth as you gasp for air. His tail twitches in your hand as he babbles, legs shaking and feet gently thumping the floor. You gently, carefully, clean him up, pausing to grab your discarded shirt and wipe your face off.

When you're both clean and still out of breath, you rest your head against his leg, tilting up at him sweetly as you trace small, soothing circles over his opposite thigh. "You said you'd be good, but I guess this makes us even, huh, 'Zuku?"

He mutters something you don't quite catch.

"What was that?"

"I said—" —you're suddenly tackled once again, skidding across the floor from sheer force as Izuku pins you down— "—not. yet."

Well. Mark me down as scared and horny, I guess.

"S-still raring to go, Jackrabbit?" you force out in your best teasing tone. "Huh, guess it's true what they say about fucking like—"

"Hush," he hisses out in a dark tone. You gulp; all the adoration and sweetness you're used to from him has melted away, leaving only something dark and carnal in his eyes that has you shivering. And then, almost instantaneously, he slips into a saccharine tone. "Be a good girl and let me take care of you, okay sweetheart?"

Oh god. You nod so quickly it's dizzying, so slightly that if it were anyone other than Izuku watching you, they might not notice. But it is Izuku and he notices, just like he notices your breath hitching when he does something right, notices how you respond to his praise, notices how you watch him, excited and intimidated all at once, and the smile he gives you is deceptively sweet and innocent and so so unsuited to the situation at hand that if the circumstances were different, you'd laugh. But you're not laughing. Not when you feel his head prod against your entrance and circle teasingly.

He doesn't tease you for long, though. One whine from you is all it takes for him to slide into you, made easier by how soaked you get the moment his goddamn guttural groan reaches your ears. He shakes as he enters you at a torturous pace, drawing a cry from your lips as you feel yourself stretched in a way you've never been before. The slightest squelch fills your living room as he finally bottoms out in you and stills to let you adjust to his size.

You're not sure whether to thank every deity that he's got at least enough self control to let you adjust (or that he's going to fuck you at all) or to plead for him to please god just rearrange my guts already before you lose your fucking mind. Izuku forces himself to open his eyes and watch you as you take him in, biting his lip as your face contorts. It's so much, so much to not just ruin you right off the bat, but he's careful to wait and not hurt you... too badly, at least.

You just watch him, meeting his eyes with a half-lidded gaze of your own as you pant and lie still. After a moment, Izuku realizes why you're so still and quiet—

His head drops into your shoulder as he chuckles. "You really are so good for me, honeybun. Are you ready?"

"P-please~" you mewl into his ear.

That's all he needs to hear. Slowly, carefully, he pulls out of you until just the tip of his cock is left throbbing inside of you, and then he snaps his hips forward in one sharp motion. That damn smile drops from his face, his jaw going slack as he starts a slow pace, trying his absolute damnedest to not completely lose himself. As much as he adores watching your expressions, he can't help but throw his head back, eyes squeezing shut as he pistons into you, panting heavily.

"Hah~ Fuck, [name], y-you're so— so tight~"

When he finally brings himself to take a peek down at you, he can't help the sudden increase in both speed and force as he grips your hips. With every thrust, your tits bounce in response, and your expression is nothing short of starstruck as he damn near slams into you. Before he even realizes it, a stream of words fall from his lips, every one of them truthful, adoring, and just a little bit incoherent. Your mouth hangs open in silence, unable to even moan as he drills into you at a pace quickly approaching brutal speeds.

"God, y-you feel so much— so much better than I ever expected-hoped-dreamed about, honeybun, and I really mean that, really mean that, you're so— guh, so tight around me, i-it's hard to believe you weren't made to take my cock, you know? You're so hot and wet and tight and I— I-love-you-love-you-love-you oh godddd I love you so much you're so gooooooood~"

If you were able to focus enough to think, let alone speak, you'd probably make some comment about how he's literally fucking you like a rabbit, but it's all you can do to claw desperately at his back, legs locking weakly around his hips as you quiver beneath him. Between the way he's babbling nonsensically to you and the wet slaps filling the room and the charming sloppy-enthusiastic way he's fucking you relentlessly it's almost too much. If you can walk after this, it'll be nothing short of a miracle.

You've been almost silent, practically unable to moan due to the overwhelming bliss from being stretched out so deliciously, but the keen that tears from your throat as the building knot in your stomach finally snaps is loud, nails dragging down his back one last time as your tongue lolls out of your mouth.

There's not really any doubt left in Izuku's mind that he's fucked you stupid, not with your walls fluttering around him, not with your hands desperately moving, searching for something, and he's got an idea of what it is when your hand brushes his tail and yanks, rougher than you have before, hard enough to send him crashing over the edge with you and nearly making his legs give out from the pleasure.

Izuku's vision blacks out as the pleasure crashes over him, the pair of you riding out your orgasms in tandem as he paints your walls white. You're dizzy as he finally collapses on top of your body, shuddering and not bothering to pull out of you as he rests his cheek against your heaving breasts.

"Holy shit, Izuku," you breathe, hands tangling in his hair as you stare up at your ceiling.

"Now we're even," he says, shaking a bit as he chuckles.

"I hope you know I'm never letting you go." His hair is soft as you nuzzle into it. "Holy shit."

"Aw, am I that good?" he teases, slowly pulling out of you. You whine at the loss. "Shh, it's okay, honeybun. I promise that won't be the last time."

"Thank god," you mumble, playing with his hair lazily. "Go out with me."

"No."

Your hands still, your blood running cold. "Oh."

"You go out with me," he finishes, smiling against you.

You lightly smack the back of his head. "You scared me, dick."

"Is that a yes?"

You go back to playing with his hair. "I guess. But you have to go out with me, too."

"Yes, that's how it works."

"Really?" you retort. "You had me fooled, rejecting me so you could ask me out instead."

"What can I say?" He lifts his head, pushing himself up to plant a soft kiss on your lips. "I wanted to win."

"You could've killed me, Izu," you whine. "You're heavy and then you say no—"

He rolls his eyes, nuzzling into your neck. "You know I could never actually say no to you, right?"

"Oh~? Are you saying you're too in love?" you tease.

He giggles, pressing tiny kisses along your neck. "Yes, I am. I've been in love with you since middle school. Got a problem with it, honeybun?"

"O-oh." Huh.

"What? Got nothin' to say to that?" he teases.

"S-sorry, I'm just... fuck, you're saying I could've had you years ago?" You press a kiss to the top of his head, right between his ears. "I've been in love with you for just as long and this whole time I've just been pining instead of kissing you."

"Pining?" he echoes, rolling off of you with a grunt. He immediately wraps his arms around you to pull you flush with his side, smirking at your little squeak of surprise.

You blush, burying your face in his chest. "Y-yeah, I said it. Pining."

"Tell me more, Honeybun. I'm interested to know exactly what you mean." A large hand drifts up to card through your hair affectionately, and you sigh as you drape your arm over him.

"Izuku," you whine. "It's embarrassing."

"Please, [name]?"

"...fine," you mumble. "I was always... You were always so sweet and kind and passionate, and in middle school you were cute and I wanted to protect you. But then we got to high school, and oh no he's hot, I guess... I mean, shit, Izu, you got muscles. And scars. I know you don't like them much but they're hot."

"'Hot', huh...?"

You don't have to look at him to note how much he's clearly enjoying this. "Keep making fun of me and you can sleep on the floor tonight."

"That's okay, as long as you're here, too," he replies without missing a beat. "Do you wanna get up and go wash up? I can't imagine all that feels very comfy right now."

You laugh nervously. "I'd love to, but, uh. I still can't feel my legs. I don't think I can walk."

Izuku lets out an affronted gasp as he sits up. "[name]. I'm offended at the implication that I'd make you walk." He pushes himself up. "You wait here, and I'll run you a bath."

"Mm... no," you reply, watching him with subtle amusement. "Run us a bath, Jackrabbit."

He laughs, shooting you a wink. "Anything for you, Honeybun. I'll be right back."

He rushes off on shaky legs. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles when he returns not even a moment later.

"Hey, [name]?"

"Hm? Could it be that you don't know where my bathroom is?"

He rubs the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "Maybe."

You laugh. "Down the hall, first door on your right."

"Right. Gotcha! Thanks, Honeybun. Oh, one more thing?"

"What's that?"

His expression shifts, eyes dripping with fondness as he looks you over. "I love you."

Your heart swells, smile unwittingly stretching your cheeks at the confession. "I love you too, Izuku."

#midoriya izuku x reader #bnha x reader #smut #not sfw #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #my fics #bnha reader insert #midoriya izuku x reader smut #bunny!izuku #bunny!izuku x reader

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avengerscompound · 4 years

Text

The Surrogate - Chapter 8

The Surrogate: A Clintasha Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count: 1789

Rating: E

Warnings: Pregnancy, talk of miscarriage, medical proceedures

Synopsis: A freak end of the world incident leads to meeting your two best friends, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. While your friendship with the two Avengers is anything but conventional, they are your all-time favorite people. When you find out that Clint and Natasha want to start a family but have exhausted all their options, you realize your powerset might allow you to give them what they want. Having your best friends’ baby might seem like a good idea on paper, but when you are as close as you, Clint, and Natasha are, will doing something so intimate mean feelings get a little mixed up?

Chapter 8

Everyone had told you there was nothing to worry about. The embryo implantation was one of the easiest parts of the whole surrogacy process. No harder than a pap smear and there was nothing you needed to really worry about doing differently. You just had to wait and see if it worked. Yet, as you say in the chair with your feet in stirrups and the doctor crouched between your legs you were filled with intense anxiety.

It was strange really. Natasha seemed to have deployed the self-preservation technique of expecting the worst so she wouldn't be hurt when the worst happened. She'd gone in to have her eggs harvested saying there probably wouldn't be any. When she was told they were happy with the number they harvested, she decided that none would become viable embryos and when she was told they had at least five good looking embryos to implant, she decided that none of the three they were using would take. You assumed that if they did take she'd start saying there would be a miscarriage just to prepare herself for the potentially bad news.

Clint on the other hand seemed to be cheerily optimistic about it. You weren't sure if that was just his way of trying to balance Natasha out. He had his moments where he was so sure it was going to work that he'd start freaking out about the idea of being anyone's dad that seemed genuine. Otherwise, it did just seem like he was trying to get Natasha's head out of the dark cloud that was surrounding her.

You knew it was going to work. It had to. Everything made sense and this was going to happen and they were going to be parents and you were going to give that to them. You knew it was the truth, right down to your core. Yet, as you sat in the chair as vulnerable as you’ve ever been, you couldn’t help but think; what if you were wrong?

You clung to Natasha’s hand and she held it close to her chest as Clint stood with his arm wrapped around her waist, his eyes darting everywhere like he was trying not to look directly at your vag on display, as if he hadn’t been all up in it before.

“Okay,” the doctor said, pulling the catheter and then speculum out. “All done. You can get redressed. You don’t have to do anything special today. Take it easy but you shouldn’t just go home and get into bed. Get up. Walk around. Watch TV. Use the bathroom if you need to. Just no vigorous exercise.”

“Are you sure? There’s nothing we can do to increase the odds?” Clint asked.

She shook her head as she began to clean up. “Now it’s just a waiting game. But you’ll be back in two days for a blood test and we’ll know if it worked, so this stress of the unknown you’re all feeling will be over soon and you can hopefully have the stress of preparing for a baby instead.”

Clint laughed. “Yeah, that’s much better, isn’t it, Nat?”

Natasha forced a smile and you got up. “Make an appointment for two weeks for a blood test and when we know the result we’ll work out what appointment to make next.”

“Will, do,” Clint said. “Thanks, doc.”

I went and redressed and met Clint and Natasha out in the waiting room. “Alright?” Clint said.

“Yep,” you agreed.

“We made an appointment for two weeks,” Natasha said. The way she spoke was stiff and forced. Almost as if she was afraid that saying too much would cause the embryos to fail their implantation.

“Great,” you said, with a nod.

Clint slung his arm around your shoulders and pulled Natasha close. “Can I tell you both a secret?” He whispered conspiratorially as the three of you headed out to the hospital parking lot.

“What is it?” You asked.

“I hate being the together one,” he said. “Come on you two, let’s try not to think about it, and in two days we’ll know right?”

You nodded. “I just… I know this is going to work. This is what I do. But if I’m wrong, I don’t want to hurt either of you.”

“Oh, babe,” Clint sighed.

Natasha stopped walking and stepped in front of you, she looked directly into your eyes. The green of eyes seemed to pierce right into you. “If this doesn’t work, it’s not your fault. I’m not going to pretend it won’t hurt, because it will. But I will always be grateful that you even gave it a go. This is our only chance to have kids, and the fact you were willing to give it to us, however small it is, is the greatest gift anyone has ever given to me.”

By the time she had finished talking you were weeping. She pulled you into her arms and you buried your face in her neck. You felt an overwhelming urge to tell her you loved her but the fact you didn’t even know what that meant right now made you hold it back. Maybe it was just that you loved her because she was your best friend, but the more time you spent with her and Clint the more you felt it wasn’t just friends.

“Alright,” Clint said, rubbing both of your backs. “Let’s get easy-bake back home, we’ve got doctor's orders sloth happening. We don’t want to waste it.”

You spent the next couple of days taking it easy. You had taken the week off because of the doctor’s appointments taking up so much time. So you just caught up with tv shows and ate food that was probably very bad for you.

Two days later Clint and Natasha took you in for the blood test, and then you just went back to work as usual. Not that there was a lot going on. There were a few agents out in deep cover and Steve and Tony had some appearances to make. So for you, it was just honing your skills.

You were on the firing ranging trying to improve your accuracy with a handgun when you felt your phone vibrate. You flicked the safety on your gun and holstered it before answering. Unfortunately, the room was still full of the sound of gunfire and it wasn't until you got into the armory that you could hear the other person on the line.

“Shit, sorry,” you apologized. “Noisy room.”

The woman on the other end told you she was from the doctor's office and confirmed it was you as you bounce nervously from foot to foot and went about the procedure for locking your weapon back up while juggling your phone.

“We have the results of your pregnancy test,” the woman said.

“Yes,” you replied. “What…? Is it…? Am I…?”

“The results are positive,” she said. “Congratulations…”

The receptionist kept talking but you didn't hear anything past that point. It was all white noise as your excitement took you over and all you could think about was putting the god damned gun away so you could tell your best friends they were going to be parents.

“Sorry,” you said, quickly. “Sorry, what was that?”

“You were transferring your care to… Uh… The Avengers facility?” She repeated.

“Yes, right,” you said. “In-house.”

“Okay, well we’ll forward all the records on to them. You should have your first appointment in four weeks with an ultrasound. Then they'll go from there.”

“Thank you,” you babbled. “Yeah, thank you very much. I'll go speak to them.”

“You're very welcome,” she said. “Congratulations again.”

You disconnected the call and shoved your phone in your pocket as you hurriedly locked the gun back up and dashed out of the armory.

“FRIDAY,” you said as you sped out of the hallway and across the grounds. “Where are Natasha and Clint?”

“Agent Barton is training behind building C with Miss Bishop,” the AI replied. “And Agent Romanoff is in combat room three with Miss Maximoff.”

“Ah, shit,” you cursed, stopping dead in your tracks. They were in two different directions and if you went and collected Clint before you went to get Natasha, which would be the most logical thing to do, he'd just bug you for the results the whole way. “Tell them to come to the function room.”

You changed direction and headed to the main building. The top floor was a function room that was primarily where parties were held and contained a full bar. You took the elevator up and took out a bottle of champagne and hid it so it was sitting in the sink under a dish towel the foil already removed so you could easily pop the cork, and quickly poured yourself a drink that would look like a cocktail without being one using grenadine and orange juice.

You were sipping on the slightly too sweet drink when Natasha rushed into the room and stopped dead. Her eyes darted from your face to the drink in your hand and her face fell. Right away you regretted the ruse. “No, no, no,” you babbled, putting the glass down. Clint skidded into the room behind Natasha and stopped dead.

“What? What's going on? You got the results?” He asked looking around the room for some clue as to whether you were pregnant or not.

“I did,” you said, quickly trying to waylay the sadness that had struck Natasha so suddenly. “I am. Pregnant that is. You're going to be parents.”

“What?” Natasha said, blinking at you. “But the drink…?”

“It's orange juice and grenadine,” you said, getting out the champagne from the sink. “I got this out for the two of you to celebrate.”

“Oh my god!” Natasha exclaimed. “You little… I'm gonna kill you!”

“After the baby’s born right?” You asked as she and Clint approached you.

“Immediately after,” she said, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you close. Clint wrapped his arms around both of you and squeezed you both into a huge bearhug.

“Congratulations, guys,” you said, softly. “You're gonna be parents.”

“Thank you,” Natasha whispered.

The three of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity before slowly pulling apart. Clint kept his hands on Natasha’s hips and you popped the cork on the champagne. “You guys should celebrate.”

Natasha looked up into Clint’s blue eyes and smiled. “Hey, Nat,” Clint said. “You're gonna be a mommy.”

Natasha made a soft sound and he leaned in and kissed her. You grabbed two glasses and poured the drink. Even though this was their moment and you planned to leave them to it, you couldn't remember ever feeling this happy before.

// NEXT

#natasha romanoff #clint barton #natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x reader #clint barton x natasha romanoff #clint barton x natasha romanoff x reader #clintasha #clintasha x reader #black widow #hawkeye #black widow fanfic #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #pregnancy #the surrogate

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icyharrington · 5 years

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Is It Wrong?- The Epilogue (Michael Langdon X Reader)

HELLO ALL!!! here is the long-awaited epilogue to finally finish the is it wrong series. i sincerely hope y’all enjoy this, and i am SO sorry for taking forever to write this!! i had some kind of mental block stopping me, but i finally forced myself to sit down and JUST DO IT. i wanna thank every last one of you who’ve supported this series of filth, especially the ones who’ve been here since the beginning. when i published that first chapter, i never realized just how much joy this fucked up little story would bring into my life. y’all are the best.

plot: it’s been 5 years since your whirlwind fuckfest-turned-romance with your stepbrother, michael langdon, came to its angst-filled end. life is good, but there’s just one thing missing.

warnings: fuckboy michael, fem!Reader, post-high school au, fluff, some angst, cursing/talk of sexual shit/yanno the deal lmao. no smut..... IM SORRY LOL IT JUST DIDN’T FIT INTO WHAT I HAD PLANNED!!! but i hope y’all still like it regardless lmao

word count: 4k

tag list*: @alicecooper19 @wroteclassicaly @ritualmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @trelaney @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @kissydevil @sloppy-wrist @michael-langdon-appreciation @ccodyfern @sojournmichael @starwlkers @theinevitableprophecy @divinelangdon @maso-xchrist @space-princesssss @ahslangdon101 @isabellaserpentiawesson @stupidocupido @bademliimagnum @nana15774 @urlocalgothb @hexqueensupreme @gold-dragon-slayer @pr1ncessd1e @langdonsboots @langdonstrash @isoldedax @fckinsupreme @hisgirlwonder @venusxxlangdon @obsessivenostalgicbaby @noelle525 @kleinegamerin @lambofcairo @kiiteiru @littledemondani @beriveri @dcvilrising @grossgayartist @featherpool-852 @discocalico @cryptid-coalition @nu-tt @diamcndscarred @chocolateandhorror @michaelsfrenchtoast @ms-mead @sarcasticbxtch20 @ringpop-poppy @coollangdon @s7venwonders @imjustasadhoe @melodylangdon @bahsasblog @codycrazy @sojournmichael @perfect-ginger-maniac @baphomet-wears-gucci @bigstudentpatrolbonk @langdonsgothgf @jazzcowgirl @a-n-t-s @blind-daydream @langdonsblood @ritualmichael @myluciferiscody @fentycoven @gracebtw @bongwaternation @fckinsupreme @thewalkingtrenchcoats @king-of-mischief-and-bitchez @hoseokchild @witchywcmans @satanicbimbo @mallorys-winter @langdonskillerqueen @anantarora @aradevil @anemia-doll @muralskins @funtomimagines @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes @our-mrlangdon @lotsofhunny @sevenwonderwitch @horrorstreet @kpopmademedo-it @naughtygranger @codyshands @krazycags01 @skullag

*if you asked to be tagged but aren’t on my tag list, i apologize!!! some blogs just can’t be tagged for some reason :(

You looked out the window and onto the rain-slick city streets, captivated by the way the rows of glowing neon signs reflected in the puddles, and you smiled.

Everything was as it should be.

Sandwiched between your two best friends in the back of the Uber, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride at the thought that you’d made it. You’d graduated college, managed to land your dream job, and, most recently, you’d finally been able to get yourself a spacious apartment in the city you loved most. It was the first time in your life that you’d ever felt truly in control of things.

Tonight was a celebration of those accomplishments; you and your friends had arranged to go to the bars by your new apartment that night and get shitfaced like you were college freshmen again, just enjoying each other’s company. You could already feel the warmth of the shots of Fireball you’d pregamed with earlier that night, cheeks flushed and rosy. Life was good.

The Uber screeched to a halt in front of the bar, your friends’ resulting drunken squeals drowning out the rap song that drifted loudly through the speakers. You grinned, waving a quick goodbye to the bored-looking driver before dispensing onto the street with your group, one by one.

Through the glass windows, you saw a lively scene; it seemed as though you’d chosen the perfect night to go out. The bar was dim, lit with overhead lights that shifted from color to color, a band stationed at the stage in full action. People danced, drank, sang; you could see couples making out sloppily in booths. This was going to be a fun night.

Outside the bar stood two skinny boys, dressed casually in ripped jeans and band t-shirts, who you were nearly certain were underage. They chatted as they smoked cigarettes, seemingly unfazed by the chilly breeze and light drizzle coming down over their mops of overgrown hair. One of them, the lighter-haired one of the pair, almost reminded you of…

“Hey ladies,” said one, blowing cigarette smoke from the corner of his mouth with a smirk. You could feel his alcohol-glossed eyes travel up and down your body, drinking in your fishnet-clad legs and prominent curves, accentuated in a maroon leather miniskirt. “You trying to have some fun?”

At this, you and your friends erupted into giggles, long fingernails gripping at each other’s forearms as you fought to balance yourselves.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” your friend said, resulting in a fresh wave of laughter.

Ignoring the boys’ scowls, you continued inside, sighing in relief at the warmth, which was only reinstated by the slew of sweaty bodies flowing throughout the building. The music was loud- perhaps not the most accurate in terms of pitch, but it was certainly good enough to dance to, and, luckily, you were in a dancing mood.

“You shoulda gave them your number,” your friend joked as you made your way to the bar, her voice raised so you could hear her above the noise. “When’s the last time you’ve gotten laid?”

You rolled your eyes. Ever since you’d broken up with your ex a year before, your friends had been nagging you to engage in causal hookups to help you get over him- they’d tried setting you up with any single man they could get their hands on, and had even gone as far as creating a Tinder page in your name. In all honesty, you had no interest in men at the moment; you were far more focused on your career, which was your top priority for now. Sure, you got horny sometimes, but wasn’t that what vibrators were made for? You were twenty-two. You had your whole life ahead of you to find some good dick.

Besides, most men you’d been with in the past could hardly satisfy you, so it seemed almost better to do things on your own. The only man you’d ever actually enjoyed being with was…

You flinched, pained by your second reminder of a certain blond-haired fuckboy that night. Even now, nearly five years since the last time you’d seen him, it hurt to think of his name.

“Three Sex on the Beaches, please,” your friend said to the bartender, before turning back to look at you. “Sounds like something you’re in need of.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, drumming your fingers on the wooden surface as you turned to watch the band, which seemed to be some kind of punk-pop-rock hybrid, the members decked in leather and chains.

“You know I’m right,” your friend shouted, running her manicured fingernails through her hair as she craned her neck to look at the bartender over her shoulder. “Hey, the bartender’s pretty cute. And he even kind of seems like your type.”

You glanced back disinterestedly, hardly breaking your attention from the band to look at the man in question. Right now his back was to you, and he appeared to be talking to some drunk girls as he fixed your drinks; his blond hair was slightly outgrown, fraying out in unkempt curls at the base of his neck, toned bicep flexing under the thin shield of his form-fitting white t-shirt as he reached for a bottle of peach schnapps.

From what you could see, he did seem like your type- almost too much so, it almost starting to creep you out how similar this guy looked to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You looked away.

“Oh yeah, he is cute,” your other friend said, leaning her elbows back on the bar. “(Y/n), you should pull some moves on him.”

You groaned. “Why are you guys so obsessed with getting me fucked?”

“Because, (y/n). You’re gonna get cobwebs down there if you don’t get your shit clapped soon. Eventually you’re just gonna forget how to fuck altogether,” your friend said, her voice earnest.

“Yeah,” agreed your other friend. “Your vag is gonna close up like a pierced ear when you forget to put in earrings for too long.”

“Three sex on the beaches?” came an amused-sounding voice from behind you, and within the first few syllables of the man’s sentence, you could feel your throat start to close up. You knew that voice anywhere, raspy and rich and warm, even five years since you’d last heard it. But… how? Michael was in California. It had to be some kind of doppleganger working behind the bar. But damn, that was uncanny…

You were almost afraid to turn around, doing so reluctantly, too nervous to care about the fact that you were gnawing all your vampy lipstick off your bottom lip.

“Yeah, that’s ours,” said your friend brightly, accepting her glass, and you decided to rip the band-aid off, forcing your body to turn all the way around.

“So you ladies like sex on the be- (Y/N)?”

Holy ever loving mother of christ. It was him. It was actually. Fucking. Him.

There behind the bar, with plump lips agape and saucer-wide baby-blue eyes, was Michael Langdon, looking almost exactly the same as you remembered. Now, though, most of the baby fat had gone from his face, with one silver earring dangling from his left ear and stubble shadowing his even-more-defined (if that was even possible) jawline. Your mouth went dry, opening and closing as you racked your brain for something to say, heart racing so quickly in your chest you thought you might drop dead at any moment.

“You guys know each other?” your friend asked after several seconds of silence, stretching past you to exchange a glance with your other friend, an immaculately-drawn eyebrow poised in concern.

“Uh- yeah. We, um. Michael, why are you here?” The words didn’t come out exactly the way you’d planned for them to, but his presence had you tongue-tied. In a matter of seconds, you felt like you were eighteen again, broken-hearted and in love and overflowing with red-hot hormones all at once.

“I- (y/n), why are you here?” You could tell that Michael’s lips were beginning to creep into a smirk, and your stomach dipped.

“I just moved to the city,” you said, gripping the edge of the bar and breathing slowly to try and calm yourself. You’d fantasized about finding yourself in this very situation so many sleepless nights before (not that you’d ever admit it), but never had you really expected for something like this to happen. This had to be some sort of profound universe-aligning moment of fate or something, because this was all way too fucking weird to be a coincidence. “I got a job near here. I thought you were in California?”

Michael shook his head with a shrug, sliding your drink across the bar towards you as your friends watched on with quiet fascination. “Haven’t lived there since- damn, has it been three years now? Yeah, I kind of dropped out of college.”

Not really surprising, you thought, relaxing a bit as you lifted your drink to your lips. Michael never had really struck you as a college type.

“So how’d you end up here?” you asked through a wince. The taste of vodka was strong on your tongue even despite the compensating ingredients of your drink, and you still hadn’t managed to get used to the taste of hard liquor even after four years of college.

“Well, I ended up meeting this girl at a party and we became like, boyfriend and girlfriend or whatever,” he said with a half eye-roll, as if he was too cool to admit to something as sensitive as being in a relationship. “But she was in college and I was like, in a band, which didn’t really end up working out, and then she graduated and got a job offer here in the city.”

You licked your lips, picturing Michael as the front man of a rock band, pushing sweaty strands of blond hair back from his forehead as he gripped a microphone with one calloused hand. If only he’d had the talent to match with the look.

“So I was still living with my mom and I needed an excuse to move out, so… I moved with her.” He gave a nonchalant shrug, shirt pulling up slightly at the hem and exposing a sliver of his smooth, firm torso; you were almost ashamed that your mouth began to water.

You tried to ignore the inkling of- jealousy, was it? No, not jealousy, that word was far too harsh for what you were feeling- surrounding the idea that Michael had moved here for a girl, and you went to wash it away with another sip of alcohol. It’d been years. You needed to get over yourself.

“So you live with her now?” you asked coolly, or as coolly as you could manage, looking down into the muddy-organgey abyss of your Sex on the Beach. Your friends, having apparently picked up on the fact that you were in the middle of a very important conversation with a very important person, had taken it upon themselves to join the small crowd surrounding the stage, leaving the two of you alone.

“Fuck no. She ended up fucking my best friend. But I already had this job and I liked the scenery so I stuck around. Wasn’t like there was anything better waiting for me in California.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Now you know how I felt when you fucked (b/f/n).”

“Oh come on, give me a break. I was eighteen. And she had great tits.” He was leaning forward on his elbow now, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and grinning at you. “Admit it. You were just mad ‘cause you wanted to be the one to get the pipe.”

You snorted, trying not to think too deep into the warm, fuzzy feeling that was starting to flourish in the pit of your stomach and travel up towards your fluttering heart. “Oh, please. I used to fucking hate you.”

“Yeah, but you definitely didn’t hate fucking me,” he said with a wink, pink tongue darting out to wet his full bottom lip. “Though I definitely don’t blame you. I was a huge fuckboy.”

“Was?” you joked, taking another sip. Your eyes fell to a small tattoo on his inner forearm- a simple four-leafed clover, which you secretly thought looked sexy on him.

“Still got that smart mouth, I see,” Michael said, pale eyes glinting with a familiar mischievousness that you hadn’t realized you’d missed until right then. “There must be a lucky guy on the receiving end of all that attitude.”

“Nope,” you said flatly, flipping your hair over your shoulder and leaning forward, perhaps subconsciously hoping for your cleavage to become a bit more pronounced. “Men bore me these days.”

“Men? Or just all men who aren’t me?” He flashed you a devious sideways grin, and your mouth fell open at his boldness. “You’re looking pretty good tonight, baby sis.”

“Hmm. I don’t think that title is quite accurate anymore,” you retorted, hoping he couldn’t tell how flustered his usage of the old pet name had gotten you- apparently he still had that particular talent intact. “But you don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Yeah?” He glanced down at his shirt, which you only just now noticed was stained with some kind of brown liquor. “Not exactly the kind of thing you’d want to be wearing when running into your first love.”

Your heart stirred in your chest, and you could see Michael’s cool smile fade into a panicked wince. First love. You were Michael’s first love.

“First love, huh?” you said softly, tilting your head to one side to regard all of Michael’s handsome features at once. There’d always been some semblance of hope, deep in your belly, that Michael’s feelings for you all those years ago had surpassed simple lust and teenage hormones, but you’d of course had your doubts.

“Well, I mean. Not love, but like. You know.” Michael lifted one hand to scratch the back of his neck, and you could almost swear you saw a dusting of pink cross his porcelain cheeks. “Actually, I mean, yeah. You kind of were my first love. Kinda fucked up that my first love was my stepsister, but…”

“Well, you were my first love too. Unfortunately. You put me through hell, you know that?” You were only half-joking, idly twirling a strand of (h/c) hair around your finger, shifting your weight onto one leg to jut out your hip.

“God, yeah. I know. I suck.” He shook his head, loose waves falling to obscure his hooded eyes, and quickly he tucked it back behind his ears. “I really am sorry, you know.”

You shrugged. “We were just stupid, horny teenagers. It’s all good.”

“Yeah, I mean, but I never really stopped feeling guilty about the way I treated you. You gave me so many chances that I never deserved,” he said, leaning in close so he didn’t have to scream for you to hear him. “You were the perfect girl for me and I took you for granted.”

“Well, like I said…” you paused to take a swig of your drink, nursing your light intoxication, which had affected you to the point where the flavor of alcohol no longer made you cringe. “We were stupid teenagers. And I was very stupid to keep taking you back. Especially after that god awful Applebee’s date.”

He laughed, and your insides warmed at the sound, a light giggle that you only ever reserved for crushes unintentionally passing your lips. Why did this all feel so right?

“Look, I was broke, okay?” He moved in a little closer, crystal blue eyes locked with yours, and for a fleeting moment you thought- or, rather, hoped- that maybe he’d kiss you. Of course, you knew that such a prospect was only wishful thinking, but still you felt a sting of disappointment when he didn’t. “But I can promise you that if I took you out now, it wouldn’t be to Applebee’s.”

You took a second to respond, your clouded mind trying to figure whether or not that’d just been a proposition of sorts. Fuck it. “You might just have to prove that to me.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiled, this time a little softer than his usual devilish smirk. “A girl like you really wants some loser bartender to take her out?”

You cocked your head. “A girl like me?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, look at you.” He sighed, dragging his gaze up and down your body, which you had to admit looked pretty bangin’ in the outfit you’d chosen for tonight. “I mean, it goes without saying that you’re a fuckin’ ten. But you’re also smart. And successful.”

“How do you know I’m successful?” There was a tiny part of you that was eating this up, having the once-big-and-bad Michael Langdon practically crawl at your feet. “I never even told you what I do for a living.”

“I just assumed, since you said you just moved here, and we both know this city ain’t cheap. But I always knew you’d be successful. I mean, you’ve always known how to go after what you want.” he said. “Plus that outfit looks expensive as hell.”

At this, you struck a dramatic pose, having drank enough that you didn’t really care about making yourself look stupid. “Well, I wouldn’t say it was expensive as hell, but it definitely was worth a few paychecks.”

Michael clicked his tongue but chuckled, a longing expression apparent on his sculpted face. “You’re out of my league.”

You scoffed, slurping up the last of your drink. “I don’t believe in leagues. I mean, I pulled you when we were in high school, didn’t I?”

“You were out of my league then, too.”

“Oh, please.” Such a statement was enough to make you laugh out loud, perhaps a bit too loudly, but you thought that might’ve been propelled by the fact that you were pretty damn drunk now. You shoved the now-empty glass towards Michael, settling your hands on your hips. “You were like, the hottest guy in school.”

He raised a brow, a cocky half-smile stretching across his lips. “Oh yeah?”

You hiccuped (you always had been a lightweight). “Duh.”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, picking up your glass and bringing it off to the side to be cleaned. When he returned, he was brandishing a bottle of Windex and a stained washcloth, which was draped effortlessly over one broad shoulder. For a reason that could not, for the life of you, be explained, this view of Michael compelled you to squeeze your thighs together.

“You know,” said Michael slowly, spraying the wooden surface of the bar with chemical blue, “it’s kind of creeping me out how weird this all is. Like, us both ending up here. After five years.”

“I know, right?” Your eyes fell onto Michael’s veined hand, gripping the cloth that was now being used to rub down the bar, and you fought back the sudden urge to run your fingers over it. “I mean, it’s like, everything is aligning so perfectly. It has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

“Didn’t we say that to each other? That night on the beach right before our parents split? That if things were meant to work out, they would one day.” He sucked his lips into his mouth, taking in a sharp inhale and letting his head fall back towards the ceiling.

“It’s like everything’s finally fallen into place.” You breathed, allowing the amalgamated scent of liquor and cigarettes and cleaning chemicals to consume you, hips swaying back and forth to the mellow cover song the band was playing, imperfect but beautiful. “We’d be stupid not to try things again.”

“We would, wouldn’t we?” Michael said, tossing the rag off to the side once he’d finished his cleaning, the surface of the bar now so shiny you could practically see your reflection in it. “I promise this time, if you really want to give me a second chance, I won’t fuck things up. I’ll treat you how you should’ve always been treated.”

There was something about the look in his eyes that made you believe him.

From the crowd by the stage came a chorus of voices, most off-key, as they began to sing along to the band’s cover song, which you were certain you’d heard before, but couldn’t quite place when.

And all that is now

“Hey, I love this song,” Michael said suddenly, as if it hadn’t just been playing for the last several minutes, “fuck, this brings me back to high school.”

You wondered if he still chewed cinnamon gum, remembering the sweet spicy scent of his hot breath on your throat, late at night in the back of his cluttered sports car, the dashboard lights illuminating your half-dressed bodies. You wondered if he still played video games with those ridiculous oversize headphones, if he still liked to take midday naps, if he still fell asleep to South Park reruns.

Most of all, though, you wondered about the things you’d never witnessed, all the things you’d missed over the past five years.

And all that is gone

“Do you still chew cinnamon gum?” you asked abruptly, too drunk to worry about whether or not such a question was weird to ask.

He wiggled his eyebrows, reaching into the back pocket of his torn black skinny jeans (god, he’d always looked so good in those) to retrieve a crushed pack of gum, CINNAMON printed in red lettering across the front.

“Hell yeah,” he said, pulling out a piece and tossing it to you. “That shit beats mint by far.”

You unwrapped the gum and popped it in your mouth, immediately flooded with memories the moment you began working into it with your back teeth.

And all that’s to come

He reached out to flip the foil wrapper over, smoothing out its creases before grabbing a black pen from next to the register. You watched through your dreamlike haze as he jotted down a series of numbers in crooked, loopy handwriting, his tongue poking from the corner of his mouth in concentration. Underneath the phone number he wrote something else, in bold capitals, turning the paper around and sliding it towards you with a wry grin.

666-425-0493

LET’S TRY THIS AGAIN

You took the paper, folding it up and shoving it deep into your skirt pocket, inadvertently sinking your teeth into your lower lip. “Maybe I’ll call you sometime, big bro.”

For a fraction of a second, he landed a glance on your chest, lips twitching upwards just slightly at the corners. “Oh, I’ll be posted up until you do.”

“How about another Sex on the Beach?” you said, even though you were drunk enough on Michael’s presence as it was; it felt like you were floating in the blackness of outer space all while rolling with the soft, turning waves of the ocean, and you couldn’t help but want to feel this way forever.

And everything under the sun is in tune

“Coming right up, ma’am,” came Michael’s teasing reply, making you squirm; your eyes fell shut as you allowed the band’s blaring drum and bass to swallow you whole, swaying aimlessly to the rhythm, your head lolling back and forth.

The music was loud enough to drown out your thoughts, and the sound only increased as the song came to its powerful end, your teeth chattering with adrenaline as an electric chill made its way up your spine.

But the sun is eclipsed by the moon

When you opened your eyes, Michael was back in front of you, and all but the colorful overhead lights had dimmed; the entire bar was potent with color, Michael’s angular features appearing so much softer now, cast with bright purple, then blue, then a shade of pink so vivid it looked almost otherworldly.

Your eyes connected with his for what must’ve been the thousandth time in all the months you’d known him, but you felt, deep in your bones, that this was really only the first.

You had a good feeling about this.

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon smut #cody fern #american horror stoy #ahs apocalypse #apocalypse #high school au #ahs smut #ahs fanfic #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon fanfic #ahs fanfiction #mine

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dragonshoard · 4 years

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Don’t Leave Me (With a Smile) Chapter 1

Charlastor 1920s AU AO3 Link

Summary: New Orleans, 1926. Charlie Magne was the daughter of old money. From the city to the stock market her family had their hands in every pot. In her parent’s ideal world, she was to marry into a wealthy family for connections and continue her mother’s work with the city’s richest, but Charlie never wanted that. Her father was a reasonable man, she could make him see things her way... maybe (though her time was ticking).

Alistair was a coincidence, a happy happenstance. And her way out. She shouldn’t have been surprised when she fell in love with him. Before, it had been enough to know that he had loved her.

(If you could call the dark, twisted thing in his chest love)

i’m sorry for any typos ahh

--x--x--x--x--

From the glittering skyline to the bustling streets, New Orleans was truly the place to be if you were anybody. Jazz was the city’s lifeblood and the nightlife was flooded with the clarinets and trumpets playing in tune, drawing in people from miles away.

Men and women dressed to the nines walked the streets, laughing and sometimes dancing their way to their destinations whether it be to another club or the coffee shop still open down the block.

Similarly, a small group consisting of one man and two women, just at the start of adulthood, barely squeezed their way past the door of a small cafe into the winter air, clutching onto their hats and fur coats respectively.

“I don’t know why we don’t do this more often!” The blonde with a brilliantly powdered face smiled through the cold, viciously happy to be surrounded by friends and free of the demands of her parents, however temporary it may have been.

Her clothing was, perhaps, slightly too conservative to have someone call her a “flapper”, but was well within the style. She was fitted in a gorgeous black dress with golden accents and embroidery in a geometric pattern that shimmered in the streetlight. It covered her arms with sheer golden lace and came up to cover her collar bone. The signature sequin tassels swayed at the cut off just below her knees. Covering it was a beige fur coat that screamed wealth.

Perhaps she was a bit sheltered, but it had yet to cause any issues. Well, besides the teasing from her friends that ranged from funny to rather ruthless at times.

“You want me to answer that or ya wanna keep walking, Charlie?” The laugh that followed was loud enough to turn heads.

The young man in question was visibly taller than most people, in general. He was roughly a head taller than his companions. White hairs artfully laced through his slicked back brown hair despite his obvious youth. His eyes were a warm brown, complementing the slightly tanned skin.

“I know I don’t get out a lot, but things are changin’, Angel! Daddy’s been getting more clients downtown, so he doesn’t come home as much as he used to… Mama’s been really busy too but she’s also willing to give me some leeway…” The girl directed her beaming smile at him as she hurried along down the sidewalk, nearly running into a pole when she turned back around.

“Careful! You don’t need a bump on the head to ruin your night! And, honestly, do we have to call you that Martin?”

‘Angel’ gave her a sharp smile, looking every bit the shark that many had claimed him to be. Charlie was, of course, aware but chose to redirect the two of them to other topics. Even if it meant drawing attention back to herself.

“I’m fine, Vaggie! You worry too much!” Charlie smiled down brightly at the dark haired woman who had pulled her away from what may have resulted in a very tedious evening. Vaggie had sun-kissed skin with dark eyes that looked nearly black in the low lighting. She had been her first (and at times her only) friend that her father had approved of.

“Says the one who tried to slip in past the broads that you know you couldn’t have fit a quarter in between the three they were so close together.” Angel smiled even wider, before looking over to the side and waving at a group of people across the street.

Charlie’s smile dimmed to a more mute, yet still appropriately impish, grin before she tucked into Vaggie’s side. “It’s just - I’m so excited! Can you blame me?”

The answer differed from the faces her two friends made at her. One entirely endearing while the other was more… over it, for lack of better words. Charlie frowned a bit, mostly for show.

She tried to justify herself. “Lights, crowds of dancers, and all the latest music.” She popped up, almost twirling in place. “It’s just so glamorous, and Daddy has been home for days now, and you know how he is,” she drawled, smirking almost innocently up at the tall “Angel”.

When “Lucifer” (as many of his business partners had taken to calling him) was home, he preferred older tunes that practically put Charlie to sleep. She could barely find moments where she could put in her records or turn on the radio to listen in without her Daddy hollering for her to turn that trash off.

Charlie’s father was a charming and charismatic man, when he wanted to be. He treated his daughter as if she was the most precious object in the entire universe. The amount of photos stuffed in nearly ten photo albums from ages zero to three showed the dedication he had towards his little girl.

And perhaps that was the reason it had become a problem, especially as of lately. The only good thing that came out of the attention these days was that it extended the time she spent in the house and not out finding a husband. Even now, he was hesitant about giving her away and having her no longer in his sights (perhaps that was why he was looking so meticulously, to find someone that may easily fit under his thumb).

“If you ask me, your pops has got a few screws loose up in his noggin. I mean, come on, you’re twenty-one! Practically an old maid, and he hasn’t even let you go out on a date!” He laughed, hand casually hooking her away from Vaggie and into his side, squashing her into his fashionably striped suit.

They were nearing the club, the music growing audibly louder from the sidewalk.

“I’ve been on dates before!”

“Honey, being chaperoned by Daddy dearest who makes it a point to play with the steak knife ain’t exactly what I would call a date.” He flipped his hair up, tilting his head down so Charlie could see the near mocking grin painted across his features.

“Lay off her, Angel. I don’t see anyone coming to ask to date you.” Vaggie put a protective hand on Charlie’s shoulder and practically yanked her away from him.

“Aw come on; don’t be such a tart, I didn’t mean any harm by it! I’m just saying that’s it’s not natural. She should be goin’ out! Having the time of her life! Not sitting home all day doin’ whatever her ‘daddy’ wants her doin’,” he made a derisive hand motion, rolling his eyes.

A sly grin took over and Charlie knew exactly what he was going to say.

“If you’d just let me introduce you to some of my friends - “

“You mean some of your family, Matra - “

“Shhush!” He nearly jumped over them to cover both of their mouths, regardless of the fact that Charlie wasn’t even saying anything to begin with. It drew a few lingering eyes to their party. “You want me to get ganked? You can’t say that type of shit in these parts.”

Vaggie didn’t look particularly apologetic and simply shrugged him off, opting to pull Charlie along with her. She gave him a smug look as they stepped up to doors that barely seemed to contain the music inside.

“‘K, but seriously toots. I got a cousin that goes by Arlo. He’s a bit of a sap, but he’d treat you right.”

“None of you would get Daddy’s money if he didn’t approve, and I’m not so sure he’d be happy getting involved with your family.”

New Orleans wasn’t as bad as, say, Chicago or New York when it came to gang or mafioso violence, but it wasn’t the cleanest either. A politician had been mysteriously “removed” when he’d attempted to go after one of the organized crime rings.

Angel pouted at that, “Come on, you’ve known me for ages! You think I’d set you up just for the money?”

They both looked at him with the most unimpressed face they could individually pull. Charlie was the first to let up and laughed as she waited for the entryway to clear.

A man smoking against the wall gave Charlie a second glance, confused but with a look of vague recognition crossing his features. He opened his mouth, likely to ask if they’d met before, only to be cut off by the tall mafioso whose eyes felt like daggers going into his skin.

The man quickly turned away and Angel seemed to do a one-eighty, once again smiling at his friends as they were finally able to push open the doors.

“Welcome to the Lodge! It’s been open for a few years but they added a few ah features that made it more popular over the last couple months.”

Charlie’s eyes seemed to glimmer as she took in the large space, absentmindedly taking off her coat and hanging it to the side. The Lodge was absolutely luxurious, from the wallpaper to the nearly reflective wood flooring. The band was booming, but not loud enough to drown out the laughter and chatter that was a testament to the hall’s popularity.

“Oh my - “ Charlie was practically hopping in place, excitement practically vibrating off of her.

“Hey! Careful, lets not get separated, okay?” Vaggie, being the voice of reason and caution, was quick to hook elbows with Charlie, the only thing that had kept the girl from shooting off into the crowd.

“Aw, come on, there’s a ton of people here! Not to mention the bulls in literally every corner.” Angel discreetly let his eyes wander around the room as he leaned against a pillar.

If anyone were to pay close attention, they would notice the men in unremarkable suits lingering near the bar and every little hideyhole you could think of. It made Charlie shift, unsure of how to feel about the knowledge and and slightly concerned. If any of them were in her father’s pockets she was so dead. She ducked her head at the thought, almost attempting to hide via Vaggie despite their height difference.

“Speaking of the ‘bulls’, should we be concerned,” Vaggie questioned. “I’d rather not get arrested or hauled away in a cab tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it! They’re the reason the club gets to keep their juice.” Angel was quick to get distracted by a handsome fellow on the other side of the club. “I hate to cut this gaggle short, but I got some tail to catch, if you get my drift. See ya ladies later!” And with that he was off in the other direction.

Vaggie was thoroughly unimpressed and neither of them looked surprised. Charlie couldn’t help but shake her head. It was a common trick he pulled after they’d all been to a few places; always looking for a guy to end the night with. Charlie admired his boldness; however, couldn’t imagine herself dating so many men, much less having sex with them.

And it wasn’t like she was there for any of that nonsense to begin with. She was there to dance.

“Come on, Vaggie!”

The look of sheer panic on her friends face was telling, but it didn’t stop Charlie from dragging her to the packed dance floor. Charlie knew that her dancing was a bit intense for her friend’s (most people, really) liking, which is why she usually ended up dancing solo, but it didn’t mean that she couldn’t make them try for a while before they wore out.

Charlie tapped her slight heels to the dance floor, tuning into the beat and began shimmying sideways until her hip bumped Vaggie’s. Her glittering smile almost effortlessly brought her friend out of the doom and gloom the thought of dancing with Charlie had put Vaggie in. There was some exasperation, but it was mostly fond. Charlie would take what she got.

Giggling, she did a small spin. Her feet followed the basic steps of the Charleston to warm up, surprisingly considerate of her reluctant dance partner. Charlie gave Vaggie a mischievous smile that Vaggie had come to know as the turning of the tide against her favor.

Heart pounding already as Charlie began to speed up, smiling so wide that her face was beginning to hurt: one foot to the side, back and forward. The music seemed louder like this, as if it had drowned out everything else: from the slight static of the stereo someone seemed to be playing in the background to the dancers who seemed to have begun to back away.

So engrossed in her own movements, she didn’t notice when Vaggie tapped out, unwilling to try and compete with her. And even had she been paying attention, she wouldn’t have noticed that she had caught someone’s eye in a unique way.

A man, who had taken the invitation for a night on the town by a fellow colleague and had been regretting it deeply, was watching her with the hungriest gaze anyone on that side of New Orleans had ever seen. A tall man with slicked back dark brown hair in a fairly tailored pinstripe suit with a burgundy tie to match similarly colored dress pants. His eyes looked nearly red in a certain light, pulling the look together flawlessly.

A few years ago, no one would have noticed him, but these days he was too public for at least a few people to recognize the voice of the Alistair Trahan.

He watched as she pulled up her dress every now and then to perform a kick or jump. His grin grew in glee as she practically leaped across the dance floor, feigning falling a few times only to skip and tap away unscathed. The grace in her movements was uncanny.

She teetered in between stages of nearly falling and stability so often, he wondered how she hadn’t become dizzy from the whiplash. Perhaps it was the danger that bid her to prefer the dance style (or maybe she just enjoyed it).

Her energy was something he had rarely seen before. What made it even more energizing was how she never stopped smiling no matter how her dress clung from the sweat that must have been pouring off her in waves or how those heels must have been a pain to dance in.

She caught his gaze for a split second and those eyes. Dark and piercing as they were compared to his own dreadful gaze. He imagined what it would be like to have those eyes on him and only him.

He raised a hand to his face, surprising himself when he noticed how flushed he was. He was brought back to reality when he noticed that the band had stopped playing. She was practically glowing as she panted, looking victorious in her stance (and a part of him imagined it as a form of armor, and he wondered what she would look like bound in steel).

It would be a pleasure to pull apart that cheerful manner and see what was underneath it; see if she was just as golden inside as she was out.

His mood dimmed slightly (though his smile didn’t show it) when he noticed that another woman had tucked herself into the personified sunshine’s side.

It seemed there were obstacles that needed to be removed.

#origin #charlastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin alastor #20sAU #its a little different from the au not much though #hazbin fic #1920sAU

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theparanormalperiodical · 4 years

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Paranormal Activity (2007) - The True Story Behind The Franchise, And The 5 Other Demonic Hauntings You Need To Know About

What does the election of Margaret Thatcher, the industrialisation of Europe, and a shitty found footage film have in common?

They all changed the world.

Sure, Paranormal Activity (2007) may have not brought about the socio-economic changes created by the Iron Lady, nor that of the Industrial Revolution.

But there’s doubt about it: it defined a new era of horror films.

“Whoa whoa whoa - what about The Blair Witch Project?”

Okay, fine, The Blair B*tch Project is an icon that I supernaturally-stan. But it was the chaotic web of films that made up the Paranormal Activity franchise that set off a new focus on real stories, on real hauntings we can see and hear and film and photograph.

Type ‘ghosts’ into YouTube. Go on, do it.

With enough 10 minute videos clogged with adverts, cheap jumpscares, and a nightvision overlay that would resurrect Paris Hilton’s career, these films tapped into what’s happening right here, right now.

Thanks to the rise of social media and the phones we use to update them, ‘evidence’ of the paranormal is now scattered across the internet. Paranormal Activity tapped into that, providing us innocent viewers with a terrifying movie that would span 5 more films.

(Oh, and it turns out another one is set for release in 2021! Which isn’t unnecessary at all. Nope. Definitely not unneeded.)

But what’s really scary isn’t the film itself.

Oh, no.

It’s the fact that it’s all based on true stories.

Today’s post is going to recap the Paranormal Activity films, explain the true stories of demonic hauntings it’s based on, and go through the 5 other demonic hauntings you need to know about.

Let’s get spooky.

First, Let’s Recap The Paranormal Activity Franchise

With 7 films under its belt (you can’t forget the spinoff set in Japan!), this saga takes a detour around the core of the franchise and the explanation of the activity.

The franchise centres around a coven of witches who sacrifice first born boys to demons in exchange for money and success. Some first born boys are also used to create a demonic army to protect the coven.

Most of the films follow one family who experiences the actions of the coven - The Midwives - firsthand. One of the two daughters is kidnapped by her grandmother, a member of the coven, and prepared for the day that she will fulfill her womanly duties:

That’s right, she’s gonna give birth to a demon.

And yes, you are invited to the baby shower!

The films start in the present with one of the daughters beginning to experience traces of paranormal activity which evolves into a full on demonic haunting. It is then revealed in scraps of conversation - and then embellished in later films - that weird paranormal stuff happened when they were kids.

We then jump back and forth between past ‘n present until the whole witchy-shebang is revealed.

Here’s the film-by-film summary:

Paranormal Activity: Katie and bae Micah witness paranormal activity in their home and decide to film the mysterious things that happen at night - less sex tape, more supernatural. The activity becomes more intense and is revealed to be demonic, focusing on Katie and eventually possessing her. She kills Micah in full demonic-mode, and goes missing.

Paranormal Activity 2: Katie’s sister, Kristi, and her family set up cameras in their house following a burglary (spoiler alert - it ain’t no burglary). Activity escalates, and the daughter of the family, Ali, works out that this is a demonic haunting and that humans made deals with demons by forfeiting the soul of a first born son. Kristi’s son, Hunter, is the first boy born in their family since the 1930s. Kristi is eventually possessed and subsequently exorcised to protect her and the family. They do this by passing the demon onto Katie by burning a photograph. Katie then rocks up in demonic-mode and kidnaps Hunter.

Paranormal Activity 3: Before Hunter was born, Katie gave some old videotapes to her sister, Kristi, which contains footage of their childhood - and the paranormal activity that occurred within it. The activity offers up strange symbols, invisible figures, and the emergence of the coven, The Midwives. Tobi the demon also rocks up for the first time. We also find out what the coven does and that their grandmother, Lois, is one of these witches. Their parents are killed, and Katie and Kristi are told to ‘get ready’.

Paranormal Activity 4: A new famalam are busy living a non-demonic life when a neighbour falls ill. The neighbour’s child, Wyatt (pssst - it’s Hunter! And the neighbour’s Katie omgggggg) goes to live with them. Their non-demonic life then becomes demonic. Spooky shenanigans ensue, we see the coven, Katie kills people… On reflection, this film didn’t need to be made. But oh well.

Paranormal Activity 5: The Marked Ones: Lovable high school grad, Jesse, is living his non-demonic life above his totally-demonic neighbour, Ana. Turns out she’s a witch in the coven. One of his classmates is also demonic, and is seen doing demonic shit as a result of Ana. It is then revealed that some first born sons are recruited into this demonic army. Jesse is one of them, and begins to exhibit strange behaviour - he has been ‘marked’. Jesse’s friend and rag-tag group of anti-demonic people investigate and rock up at witch-HQ. His friend is then chased into a door which is revealed to be a portal from which he goes into the kitchen of Katie and Micah. Katie screams and thinks he’s an intruder who Micah tackles. Katie then kills Micah - this is the last scene of the first Paranormal Activity.

Paranormal Activity 6: The Ghost Dimension: In this film we see snapshots of young Katie and Kristi being taught to unleash their demonicy powers, as well as a new family living on the property where they used to live. The young daughter, Leila is seen talking to and interacting with a dark figure. It is then discovered Leila was born on the same day as hunter, and that Leila has gone through a portal into another world. A priest attempts to cleanse the house, Tobi goes cray-cray and kills someone. Leila flees through the portal and the mother follows. They rock up at Katie and Kristi’s house and meet young Katie and Kristi. The mother is killed, and Leila and Tobi walk off into the sunset.

Confused?

Me too.

Sure, it is a thin plot that’s been stretched across far too many flicks, but it’s the frightening filler that really defines the franchise.

Doors moving, earthquakes, dark figures appearing and moving, footsteps seen and heard, strange symbols appearing....

It all ties together to make an iconic set of films.

Are they going to be remembered for being great?

No.

Do I care?

Hell to the nah!

But what I do care about is the true story the franchise is based on.

So, What Is The True Story Behind Paranormal Activity?

Okay, fine, I told a lie: they’re actually based on multiple stories of demonic and other paranormal hauntings.

Yes, that is worse.

I’ve dissected 3 components of the films that I’ve traced back to real paranormal theories and stories.

Demonic hauntings

Animal and children interaction with paranormal activity

And the coven

Let’s Start With The Demonic Hauntings

If there’s one thing that Paranormal Activity gets right, it’s the paranormal activity.

With minimal discussion of what the shit is actually going on - particularly in the first movie - it truly lives up to its name of just being pure spooks. Now, in case you’re new to this blog, you probably won’t be as versed as I am in everything-spooky.

*flips hair*

Things like objects and furniture moving are just a few components of paranormal activity, as is lights flickering, for example; this all features as the beginning of the films’ activity, similar to that of real cases of spirit and demonic hauntings.

But the films then go on to capture what makes hauntings truly demonic:

Growling noises, people in trances or acting strange, and aggressive supernatural activity - all build up to the inevitable possession of a character which happens in every single film.

And it hits possession like a nail on the head.

It follows historic theories closely, focusing only on female possession. According to medieval theories, women were more likely to be possessed as they were deemed weaker, and thus more vulnerable to demons and spirits wanting to control their bodies.

Young girls? Magnets for Satan.

So, given the centrality of the young girls to the film who are besties with and apparently shit out a demon via the vag, this is pretty accurate.

Which, you know, is fine, this is fine.

Another key component of the demonic haunting we need to discuss rocks up in the first film, setting alight the curiosity that had us humble viewers coming back to every following film:

It’s the burnt photo of Katie as a child.

Burnt photos - or just destroyed photos - figure as key milestones of a demonic haunting. And smashed photo frames, scratched pictures all feature in this franchise.

In the films, it is eventually deduced that the burnt photo is used to transfer a demon to someone else. That explains why later in the film, the demon goes on to possess Katie.

In terms of paranormal cases, photos being used for ritualistic purposes is well documented in cases of witchcraft. One example of this is from the mysterious death of Estefanía Gutiérrez Lázaro, a story immortalised in the horror hit, Veronica.

At one point during the real case of Estefania, her picture burns spontaneously in front of her family around the time of her death.

In fact, burning items in general is a classic ritual related to unleashing demons. Fancy getting rid of your Ouija board? Don’t burn it - as hell is, uh, hot, demons can be released. Or they’re trapped in the board itself and by destroying it, they can escape.

Burning is also used in invocation, a ritual used in demonolatry, the worship of demons.

Next Up Is The Interactions Between Animals, Children, And The Paranormal

All horror films tend to start with the same thing:

The doggo starts acting weird.

In The Conjuring, the dog dies. In The Woman In Black, the dog draws attention to the dark figure approaching Harry Potter Daniel Radcliffe. And in Paranormal Activity 2, the doggo barks at invisible figures and gets hurt by the demon.

Question is, does this actually happen?

Yep.

Apparently, dogs and cats are highly susceptible to the supernatural. With their proved heightened senses - and some folklore to back it up - animals are considered one of the first signs of something paranormal.

And kids?

It’s the same thing. Remember what I said about young girls being really vulnerable ‘cause all women are weak? Children were considered to be on that same level of ‘open-to-demon-ness’ as women, so it follows that they’d be equally aware of the paranormal.

Enter the imaginary friend, Tobi. You know - the demon.

Imaginary friends bulk out most creepypastas, as well as the true ghost stories littering the internet. So unfortunately, Tobi is far more common than we’d like to think.

Yay.

Let’s Talk About The Coven, The Midwives

The underlying plot of the films - aside from being about cupboards opening all by themselves - is about the puppet-like control of the family by The Midwives.

And there are 3 things which directly link to real cases of covens and witchcraft.

However, when I started my research, I immediately ran into a problem: covens worshipping demons they want to bring back to earth and take over the world aren’t exactly shouting about their activities.

There’s no Twitter account posting memes about kidnapping kids. There’s no YouTube channel devoted to altar hauls. And there’s no crowdfunding to raise money for the indoctrination of women as they sacrifice their kids to demons.

But I did want to pull apart a few things like the symbol of the Midwives, their obsession with first born boys, and the confusing plotline of time travel.

First, we have their motives for their worship and sacrifice: its to gain money and success. This is a well documented component of black magic and demonolatry, a motive we can trace back to concepts from the medieval era.

Next is the symbol.

Despite looking like they copied and pasted it from Harry Potter, symbols containing a triangle and circle frequent literature documenting witchcraft. Specifically, this symbol is close to that of Soloman’s Seal, or the Triple Tale.

The latter represents gates, or spiritual manifestations.

That’s pretty fecking close to the plot of the movie!

Following up from your next tramp stamp tat is their obsession with first born boys.

“It’s the patriarchy!”

Hell fucking yeah, it is.

These witches are seriously behind the times, and stick to biblical notions of magic, deducing their obsession from the value appointed to first born boys in the biblical era. This is especially true given that the sacrifice of a first born son often crops up or is referred to in this bestselling book.

Finally, we have to discuss the time travel.

The franchise ties all the films together by using time travel to…

Look, I have no fucking clue why or how or for what reason. But What I do know is that there are these portals that can take people back to key plot moments of extreme witchy-demony-stuff.

Take the first time we see one of these portals: during the 5th movie we see a character stuck in Witch-HQ, looking for a way to escape. He decides to go through a door covered in strange symbols cause that’s not gonna be witchy at all.

He walks through, and enters a kitchen. He then sees Katie, the lass from the first movie walk down the stairs, and scream for Micah, her boyfriend.

That’s right - we witness the moment she becomes possessed, suggesting the witches had some direct hand in that moment.

The circle is complete! I think, I don’t know, I’m still confused...

Unfortunately, these portals end the series. In the last film, a new family rock up in a house built on the property where the young girls kidnapped by the coven used to live, and the kid of the new family ends up time travelling to when they used to live there, even though that house burnt down.

“So, is it based on paranormal theories?”

No.

Sure, some witchcraft does mention travelling to other plains - see astral projection and Insidious - but, like my coven research, witches ain’t posting their time travels on insta.

That being said, I would love to see that classic hand holding/leading shot as a witch takes bae into another dimension...

Paranormal Activity may be the cinematic representative for a jumpscare-binge, but the film goes much deeper than a demon throwing a tantrum and slamming a door cause nobody understands him.

(Dammit, Tobi.)

Fact is, Paranormal Activity isn’t just ‘based on a true story’. It’s an accurate representation of a demonic haunting.

The 5 Demonic Haunted Houses You Need To Know About

Let me guess:

You’re currently hiding under a quilt and watching Gordon-Ramsay-Getting-Hella-Angry compilations on YouTube to try and calm down.

If so, you’re gonna want to stay under there - It’s time to discuss the other demonic hauntings that are similar to the Paranormal Activity franchise.

Uncomfortably similar, that is.

Fantastic.

#1 - The Demon House

Topping our list is a house which clearly fits the topic of this post by its name alone.

Bob Cranmer, former resident of this Pittsburgh house, claims he lived in a house that was haunted by a demon for 18 years. Why did he stay in this house for 18 years if this was in fact also home to a demon?

*shrug*

Either way, before a demon was cast out by an exorcism in the mid-noughties, the haunting manifested in hands pushing and slapping family members, you know, the usual escalation of violent attacks…

Oh, and Cranmer also saw blood dripping from the walls.

But it’s the backstory to the property that really makes things terrifying. It was discovered that the Demon House was built upon a site from which Native Americans were murdered by European settlers. On top of that, a builder cursed the land during construction.

Also, a former tenant of the house is believed to have been an illegal abortionist who performed hundreds of these operations in the house. Well, depending on what you believe, this supposedly brought forward a demon.

(It’s at this point that I would think “oh I should be neutral” but nah fuck that #prochoice)

Anyway.

According to Cranmer’s investigation - from which he even churned out a book on the house - the name of the demon is Moloch, a god mentioned in the Old Testament. By researching the old tenants of the house, he discovered that some were actually worshippers of this demon.

And considering Moloch’s love for child sacrifices, Cranmer connected some dots regarding the illegal abortionist that once lived there.

Regardless of my disagreements with this verdict, there is no doubt that this be a spooky house.

#2 - The Smurl Family House

You know shit’s spooky when Ed and Lorraine Warren rock up at your house.

For a period of 13 years, the Smurl family of Pennsylvania was tormented by a demon which smothered them with an abundance of supernatural activity.

Toilets flushing by themselves, electronic devices failing to work, and awful odours passing through the house was just a few components of the activity faced. This escalated into arguably more violent activity synonymous with demonic hauntings:

Claw marks appeared in various rooms, full bodied apparitions would appear over beds, and a demon they named ‘Old Hag’ became a permanent resident.

Whether ‘Old Hag’ was passing through walls, or sexually assaulting the human residents, there was no doubt that the Smurls were witnessing an intense level of activity.

50 exorcisms were used to cleanse the house, but to no avail; the assaults didn’t stop until the Smurls moved out, giving further evidence to support the skeptics that this demonic haunting was no haunting at all.

#3 - The Bean’s Family House

It’s the 1970s. We are in Baltimore, in a quiet suburb crammed full of all-american families.

Unfortunately, there was no Tracy Turnblad around to brighten up this ranch style house. This home was cursed with a negative energy that was soon determined to be the result of a demonic presence.

This demonic haunting manifested in cold hands touching and grabbing family members, reenacting all the ways someone could be murdered. It even transformed itself into a human draped in a black suit!

With fierce black eyes giving away its true identity, the demon was ascertained as the cause of the activity, and the Bean family fled in the 1980s.

Question is, what was the root of this demon?

The former residents claim it was extra-terrestrial contact, with strange pictures supporting their claims.

#4 - The Haunting of Latoya Ammons

There’s a ghost making your TV turn on and off… And then there’s mysterious occurrences so intense the local police are involved.

This case is the latter.

It all started in 2011, shortly after a small family moved into their new home in Indiana. Large black flies began to swarm their front porch, and the frequent sound of footsteps began to trouble the family.

Shadowy figures also began to emerge, and would become the centre of the haunting. Alongside this, Ammons claimed she also witnessed her daughter levitating above her bed, sparking the need for supernatural support. Mediums were called, and they deduced that 200 demons haunted their house.

Following an exorcism, the family decided to leave the house as it failed to rid the house of its paranormal residents. Not convinced? Here’s the iconic picture believed to show a demon standing at the window of the house:

#5 - The Sallie House

Considered one of the most famous haunted houses in the world, this home is the residence of a young girl named Sallie. Oh, and she’s dead. It is believed that she was a victim of a lobotomy in the early 20th century, and attacks any men who enter the house in vengeance of her doctor.

But what really made this house famous was the investigation by a TV crew who experienced scratches and bruises from unseen forces in real time. Such violent assaults are a trademark of demonic hauntings.

Other visitors have also cited apparitions, floating objects, and animal noises, confirming that this house features something that we simply cannot explain. .

When mediums rocked up to deduce the centre of this haunting, they determined that that little girl was a magnet for darker, demonic forces that have entered the house.

I told you - young girls are magnets for Satan.

So - what’s your verdict?

Do you think these houses are haunted?

And who’s ready for a sleepover in one of them?

(not me)

Be sure to let me know in a comment.

And don’t forget to hit follow for a spook every single day.

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