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minyoongees · 3 years

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comethru || myg

✧ pairing: manager!yoongi x worker!reader

✧ genre: slight angst? hurt/comfort, pathetic attempt at crack, barely there fluff

✧ word count: 2k

✧ summary: Yoongi saves you from heinous karens

✧ snip: "We have a coupon for a free meal at your restaurant and we demand you open it right now!!" this bitch—

✧ warnings: karens, oc gets all panicky, bubbling anxiety, rude af people, unhealthy relations with parents, unrequited love? (oc doesn’t really know)

This fic was genuinely fun to write! I know I did not do a very good job on this it’s lengthy with useless info but it just felt important. Let me know what you think of this!

Also, the title is inspired by Jeremy Zucker's comethru

As a new worker in a big restaurant, there are a few words one could dread to hear. For example, 'You're fired' sounds horrifying, gut wrenching, all your student loans flash before your eyes. It's scary, yes, but it's not as dreadful as the infamous —

"Can I see your manager?"

"Ma'am I already told you the restaurant opens at 11:30 am, and none of the staff arrives before 11, but I'd be happy to serve you at 11:30" you assured.

BANG!

One of the three ladies with a blonde bob cut hit at the door again.

"We don't talk to low class workers, call your manager!" Called out another from the group while the bangs continued. It was so loud you were almost afraid that they will tear this place down.

"Because of the unavailability of the manager, a low class worker is all you'll have to speak to for now," you spat, "but I'd be happiest if you don't speak to me at all"

Numerous loud gasps were heard. If the head chef heard you talking like this, you'll be out of the restaurant sooner than these karens can call your manager.

"HOW DARE YOU TALK LIKE THAT TO A CUSTOMER???"

"Ma'am since you have not walked into the restaurant yet, you are not our customer." you tried to explain, "The restaurant opens at 11:30 ma'am which is just in an hour and a half, I suggest you wait outside on one of the tables."

Even though it was kinda against the rules to sit on the tables unless you eat at the restaurant, but you desperately needed to get rid of the situation. The restaurant didn't even open yet, so what could be the big deal about them sitting on the benches outside. You were just hoping your manager would be understanding.

Anticipating another harsh string of words from them, the total silence that hit you surprised you. You pulled the blinds lower and peeked through them. The ladies were seated on the chairs outside, looking through their phones. Even though a bit shocked that they decided to do what you asked so easily, you didn't wanna jinx it. You thanked your lucky stars and moved on to getting the coffee machine started.

The day hasn't even started yet and the karens are here to disrupt the place already. Being the newbie, you have to come early to get this place started and on top of that, people like them are making it even harder. You clearly don't get paid enough for this.

Moving on to wiping all the tables, you were wishing that when your manger arrives, he'll understand the situation. To come to think of it, he's actually a good man and been nothing but nice to you since you joined here a month ago. He even covered up for you when you broke a plate. Another time he took the blame upon himself when you put a bit too much salt in of the dishes and a few people left unsatisfied. He's been sheltering you ever since you joined here and you've been enjoying this more than you should. Yet you still can't help but hope he handles it this time too and saves you from these heinous Karens.

brrring brrring brrring!!

The sounds catches you off guard not because of it's sudden penetration into the too good to be true silence, but because it shouldn't be ringing when it's the restaurant's hours closed. Nevertheless against your better judgement you pick it up and place the receiver between your ear and shoulder.

"Thanks for calling the Nile's! My name is y/n, how can I help you today?"

"We have a coupon for a free meal at your restaurant and we demand you open it right now!!"

this bitch—

"Ma'am as I explained already, the restaurant opens at 11:30 and if you walk in by then, I'll be happy to serve you and make use of your coupons too." Is it too early to quit?

"Am I talking to the manager?" she asked penetratingly.

"The manager is not here yet, but as soon as he arrives, I'll make sure you're the first person he talks to." you tried calmly hoping it would help.

The woman on the line took a deep breath but nothing could prepare you for the coming onslaught of distress.

"Missy you've been saying this to us since the morning and yet your manager isn't here. You should not open a restaurant when you do not know how to run it.”

She was so loud you couldn't even hear yourself losing the will to live.

"You do not know my husband. If he gets to know about the way you've treated me today, your restaurant will be closed forever." She threatened and you could hear her talking from the outside. Did she know that you did not own the restaurant?? "You should be grateful to me for not telling. Now open this damn door RIGHT NOW!!”

Another round of bangs started ringing and it echoed through the walls. They seemed louder than you know they should've been. And it was the trigger. The helplessness of the situation created panic. Your eyes unfocused, your stomach churned and your heartbeat escalated. You felt trapped.

Her shrill sound coming from the phone felt like it was piercing your ear drums and you could no longer understand what she was saying. So you slammed the receiver back into place, not knowing what to do anymore.

The grip on the cloth between your fingers seemed weak. You have always been a strong woman, dealing with irrational people all your life since you spent most of it around such people. But the karens have been tormenting you since the past 30 minutes and it was bound to get to you, sooner or later. Though you'd hoped for later rather than sooner. They way they started banging on the door while demanding something from you seemed so familiar to the way your parents banged on your bedroom door when you locked yourself in to save yourself from them.

Anywho, the situation is delayed for now and you have to calm down and start working again or you won't be done till the rest of the staff comes around. You don't know till when you'll be living under Yoongi's shadows and he'll be protecting you.

You put your hands on your face and let out a deep breath. Back to work bitches.

You started wiping the tables again, trying to think about something else. That 'something else' had a lot of options for you like, how are you going to repay your student loan that you took to go to college and didn't even help you land a decent job, or how your mom has been pestering you since months to get married and you haven't the found the best way to tell her yet that you wanna focus on your career for now and become a chef, or... well let's just say you had better things to worry about. But your train off thoughts was cut short when the phone rang again.

You already knew who was calling, so you decided against picking up. The ear splitting sound of the phone again echoed through the walls and it made you want to throw the phone against a wall. You know the restaurant phones should be loud enough to be heard by the staff even when the place is busy, but it did not help with the way it was making you feel.

After what seemed like forever, it stopped ringing and you went on to work again. The phone rang several times after that and with each ring, you felt your patience slipping farther away from you. You had half the mind to pick up the phone and tell them off, but you knew it would only anger them further. Yet you couldn't let this go on so after at least a dozen calls, you decided to pick it up.

"Thanks for calling at the Nile's! My name is y/n how can I help you today?" you spoke through a sigh.

"I'VE BEEN CALLING AT THIS DAMN RESTAURANT SINCE THE PAST 2 HOURS AND NOBODY HAS PICKED IT UP." she bellowed. If you thought she was loud and shrill earlier, you would change your mind now. Also, 2 hours????? you weren’t even here 2 hours ago!

"I HAVE GOT ALL THAT YOU HAVE DONE ON MY PHONE AND I WILL POST THIS ALL ON FACEBOOK THE WAY YOU HAVE TREATED ME IS NOT AT ALL A WAY TO TREAT A CUSTOMER." she didn't even pause for a breath "WAIT TILL MY HUSBAND HEARS ABOUT THIS."

You didn't dare say anything for the fear that anything that may come out of your mouth right now, may anger her further, considering, you were not the manager she hoped to talk to.

There was small hustle on the other end. You could hear the ladies outside arguing a little. After a short pause, someone spoke again.

"Am I talking to manager?" this was not the woman who yelled at you earlier but someone else.

"Yes you are, ma'am"

You let out a small shriek. Surprised to see the receiver that was in your hands a moment ago, placed against Yoongi's ear. When the hell did he get here and how did you not even realize?? Even so, a strange feeling of safety filled up your chest at the sight of him and you felt like you could breath again.

"No ma'am, we cannot do that for you. As y/n here explained to you, the restaurant opens at 11:30 and no exceptions will be made for anyone." he explained calmly and it had you hoping that they'd listen to him if not you.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience caused to you ma'am."

You just stood being a witness to one side of the conversation. You could hear someone talking outside the restaurant as well, but couldn't make out their exact words.

You admired his calm even in such a patronizing situation. At least to you, it was that way. In your eyes, he seemed so serene, his lips moved to utter the most calming sounds and you felt like you'd hand over your life to him if he asked you for it.

You really needed to practice professional work ethics when it came to him.

"Yes we will take care of this in the future, thank you for your suggestion."

"Ma'am we do not accept any kind of coupons for any of the meals provided here. Are you sure it is the same restaurant?"

Wait. But we do accept coupons here at the Nile's...

"No ma'am we cannot do that for you. There is no such policy, and we do not accept coupons."

"You can totally go ahead and call the police for yourself and we'll be sure to tell them how have harassed one of our workers over here." He said in an unbothered tone, gaze floating to you and you strangely found yourself looking away.

"Sure thing. Thank you for calling!"

And he placed the receiver back, as if job accomplished.

"Are you okay y/n?" He questioned. In his deep eyes, you saw genuine concern for yourself and you wanted to stay there for some while more. His voice was music to your ears and you did not want your own voice to taint the air around.

But he asked you something.

"Yeah." you said breathlessly and cleared your throat. "Yes, I'm fine, thanks for the help Yoongi"

It was something he insisted you call him even though the rules say he is your senior and should be addressed as so.

"Such people are so irritating and do not deserve to be let out of their homes. What kind of a husband would it be, huh!" he wondered, "though I question if there is any husband at all or she was just bluffing."

"Yeah I know right?" you didn't know what to say. "Though it was really impressive the way you handled them, I could never!"

He laughed at that. Sounded so heavenly, your knees kind of gave out.

And it was another day when he saved you. Why does he do that for you? Why was he here here so early? Why does he even try to get to close to you?

These are questions you do not have the answers to yet. You hope to get them someday. But you are happy they you are right now. Or maybe you are too afraid that the answers to these questions wouldn't be what you'd like to hear. Maybe he was just being nice and you being a horndog took the hint wrong way.

But for now, you have all the time (45 mins max before some other employee comes) to enjoy this moment with him alone in the closed restaurant, surrounded by the smell of food and his cologne and you have no idea which you like better. You wouldn't have it any other way.

masterlist | fin.

#yoongi #yoongi imagine #yoongi scenario #yoongi sfw #manager yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoonfi hurt/comfort #yoongi angst #yoongi fic

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jenliliscripts · 4 years

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Chapter 218

June’s POV

I prepared extra sets of clothes for us two since we're going to be out walking in the streets. It's better to be ready for anything. I know Jamie's going to come through with my request, but I can’t be complacent. I took the paper bag from the back and handed it to Lia.

"Here," I glanced at her. "Change into my clothes later before we go inside the ice cream parlor. I will too, after you. I just want to be careful. I don't want us to be in every news article tomorrow."

She tugged my arm towards her, then leaned on my shoulder. I instinctively drew closer, letting the side of my head rest on top of hers and began driving. It's a bit challenging to drive in this position, but I didn't want to break loose from her hold. It's just too comfortable, too warm—it's where I want to be.

"Junie…" her soft voice filling the void.

"Hmm?"

"If you could change something in your life, what would it be?"

The question caused me pause and think. The thought never crossed my mind because I was too caught up in my own bubble, stepping into my early 20s without a clear plan in mind, not taking the time to reflect on my past decisions. I used to say I knew what I wanted but they turned out to be empty words. I was chasing after temporary goals that would leave me unsatisfied after I've come to grasp them. I obviously didn't know what I wanted until I admitted that I'm in love with her. Loving her is the most certain thing I have ever felt in my entire life so if I could change anything in my life, I would want to meet her earlier.

"I wish I met you earlier, Lia," I said plainly.

"Why? That's so strange. There are many things you could change, but why that?"

"Ever since you came, life isn’t as dull as it was for me. How about you?"

She placed her other hand on top of our intertwined fingers. "I wish I wasn't afraid to explore the unknown. I wish I would just dive into things head first. Maybe I wouldn't be having a hard time sorting out some matters in my life."

"You know, that's what you told me that night."

Just like that, memories from that fateful night in Vegas flashed before my eyes. I could vividly remember everything that had happened despite my drunken state. Lia isn't really as much of a good drinker like me so she got wasted earlier than I did. I asked her questions that popped into my mind to keep the conversation going and prevent her from leaving. Looking back at it now, I think the real reason why I started latching onto her wasn't just because of wounded ego, but I was also smitten by her from the very beginning and I was quite late at acknowledging that.

Flashback: June 2019 at Las Vegas (June's POV)

She's onto her nth glass of vodka and she couldn't be stopped. I've already reprimanded her for being stubborn. Gosh, I don't want to carry her to her hotel room if she ends up passing out in here.

"Hey, J-june Tay…" she sighed rather audibly, visibly exasperated, probably because she has repeatedly failed to speak in coherent sentences. "June Taylor. Yes. Right that's your name."

"Yes, Miss Kim? You have any problem?"

She shook her head vigorously as she waved her hand. "No, no, no. Though I'm really frustrated with myself."

"For what reason may I ask?"

She pressed her index finger against her chest. "I always run back to my comfort zone when push comes to shove. I'm a competent person, but when shit hits the fan, I hide. I go back to the people and things that give me security."

"Isn't that normal? I think everyone has done that at some point in their life."

She closed her eyes, pouting her lips, showing her disagreement towards my answer. "I hate being a coward. I hate that I have to gather every bit of my strength to stop myself from getting back with my ex. It's tiring. But he feels familiar and he's all I know and I'm afraid he's all I'll ever know."

"He won't be the last, Lia," I told her, causing her eyes to open. She looked at me, bewildered because of my bold claim. "You'll meet more people along the way. Don't be scared of being alone. Actually, I think being alone is the best thing in the world. You get to do everything you want to do—fool around and not feel guilty after doing so."

"Ah! I don’t like being alone! Period!"

"Okay, fine. You don't like it. I respect that."

Squinting her eyes, she moved her face towards me. "You seem like a person who takes a lot of risks and hmm—a thrill seeker? Am I right?"

"I guess you could say that. Why?"

"I want to know—what's the most dangerous thing you've ever done?"

Her voice was noticeably sultry. Whether or not she had intended that, I am piqued by the sudden change in demeanor. I decided to ride along. "Having you here while you're drunk."

She smiled appeared on her lips, a mischievous one, exciting me further. "Why? Is there anything you want to do to me?"

I drew my face closer to her, straight up challenging her. She didn't flinch though, which is impressive if you ask me. My vision is a bit clouded, yet I didn't miss how her eyes sparkled as she fought off my stare. "I can do a lot of things to you right now. I'm just choosing not to."

She reached for my collar and tugged me towards her. Our faces were inches apart, the smell of vodka invading my nostrils as she breathed on my face. "How about we do something crazy? Help me break free from myself, will you?"

"How may I help you with that?"

"Marry me."

End of flashback

And I did marry her. Did I think it through? Nope. I immediately told her we should go to a private chapel and do it. As opposed to her reaction, I was exhilarated the morning after. But that time, my reasons were shallow. I saw Lia like some trophy that I could show my mom because she's so obsessed with marriage. Yeah, it was so immature of me. But now that feelings are involved, I'm genuinely happy by the fact that she is mine—at least on paper for now. It's impossible for her to find someone else while she's married to me. She'd think twice about going back to Tyler more so unless I file for divorce.

I haven't had the chance to ask the reason why marriage was her solution to the problem. Well, how could I ask when she couldn't even remember getting married?

Is it to prove that she can go on without Tyler or is it because she just wanted to do something she wouldn't imagine herself doing—marrying a girl? Maybe she wanted to defy her ideals and did something reckless, you know? There are quite a lot of reasons I could think of yet they remain as thoughts I won't be able to confirm.

"I haven't asked you in detail about what transpired that night," Lia said, momentarily glancing up at me before returning to her original position. "Who came up with the idea?"

"You," I answered, chuckling.

"I did?" Her voice resounded in the car, shock written all over her face.

"Yeah, Lia. It was you," I affirmed as I turned to the right. "You said you wanted to break free from yourself and suggested that marrying me was the way to achieve that."

She face palmed then made a loud squeaking sound, causing me to laugh. "I can't believe it. All along I thought you tricked me into it."

"The last thing I'll ever do is to deceive someone. I've told you before, I only lie when I have to."

"But how can you agree to an absurd idea? You should have stopped me."

"I kinda wanted it too even if it was very impulsive decision…" I confessed, my voice fading into the thin air.

"Wanted what? The marriage?"

"Yeah. And you. I wanted you."

She scoffed, completely in disbelief. "Me? Like you wanted to sleep with me or?"

"If I'm being honest, yeah. I wanted to sleep with you. But I realized something else a few months after. I didn't agree to marry you just because I wanted to get into your pants."

"Then what else?"

Does she really not know? I have never been good at hiding yet she couldn't see through my actions. Is she refusing to see and denying what's obvious?

"Later. We're here."

"Hi, uhm can I get a large cup of vanilla ice cream please and—" I looked over my shoulder. "Lili, do you want any toppings?"

"Nope," she replied, popping the 'p'. She was adorably bobbing her head to the music.

Turning back to the lady, I saw her jaw hanging slightly open. "A-are you June Taylor?"

I winked then pressed my index finger against my lips. "That will be our secret. Can you keep it for me?"

She nodded a few times then cleared her throat. "What else may I get you?"

"A cup of that cookie dough with chocolate sprinkles please."

"Is that girl your girl—" the lady cut herself off, realizing that she's overstepping. "I'm sorry."

A smile spread across my face as the thought came up. "She will be soon. I think I have a good shot at it."

"I'll keep that to myself. Yes, a cup of vanilla ice cream and one cookie dough with chocolate sprinkles coming right up, ma'am."

I served the ice cream then sat across Lia. "Here you go. Plain vanilla ice cream for you."

She grinned, snatching the cup from the tray then took a big scoop. As the ice cream melted in her mouth, she groaned in satisfaction. "Mmm, my favorite. I would never get tired of eating this."

Watching her from my seat, I also began eating my ice cream. Later on, I got a playful idea and just went with it. I stuck my finger into my cup and dabbed some on Lia's face. Her eyes widened, surprised by the rush of coldness that came into contact with her skin. "Hey!"

I pushed my chair back and dashed outside with my cup in hand. She followed me out, screaming at me while she took quick steps to catch up to me. "I'm competitive! I'll get back at you, June!"

My lungs were burning, but I was over the moon. Everything that has happened tonight is so liberating that I'm actually starting to believe we're different people, that this could go on forever. Am I selfish for wanting this so bad? For wanting Lia? And for possibly leaving her with no choice but to stay with me? I'm only holding on to a sliver of hope that she feels the same. However, the way she's acting tonight reinforces my belief that our feelings are mutual.

She disrupted my train of thoughts, jumping at me from behind, engulfing me in her arms. We were on the sidewalk, people walking past us like were nobodies. It felt great. It felt real. I wanted to stay in this moment for as long as I could. I don't want to take her home and deal with reality because I've made up my mind—I'm telling her the truth.

She forced me to turn around and smeared ice cream on my nose. "Now we're even."

I heaved and along with the heavy intakes of breath was the loud beating of my heart. Her other arm was still hooked around my back while I'm looking down at her, my eyes locked at her lips. I'm trying my very best not to kiss her here, but my mind couldn't go against my instincts. I leaned towards her and slowly closed my eyes, only to be stopped by the buzzing of my phone. Lia broke away, quickly retreating and avoided my gaze. I sighed, utterly disappointed by the ruined moment. It's Jamie's so I have no choice but to take the call.

"Yes Jay?"

"You have to go home now, June. Information got leaked. They know you're out. Not with Lia though. They just know you're wandering in the city. It won't be long until they find you."

"Got it. Thank you, Jay."

I terminated the call then turned to Lia. "I have to take you home now. It seems that the media has finally caught up."

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deadlygoddess85 · 4 years

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Rooftop intimacy

Pairing: Wooyoung x chubby reader (yes ‘cause F* your beauty standards)

Words: 1754

Genre: Smut , enemy to lover (kinda)

Song suggestion: Wicked Games - The Weeknd

No, no, no, no. This couldn’t be real.

You tried to turn the doorknob again. But it wouldn’t budge. You tried again and again. You started to bang on the door and scream for help, waving your hands at the windows on the other side of the street, in the hope someone would maybe see you.

“Stop, it’s useless!” the voice said visibly annoyed by your panic. You leaned your head on the metal door and sighed, of all the person in the world, you had to be stuck on this roof with him. Wooyoung!

“At least, I’m trying something.” You replied, giving him a quick glance. The young man, who was sitting on the floor, back against the parapet, his legs bent toward his chest, threw his hands in the hair, defeated by your stubbornness,

You tried again the same pattern, the doorknob, the banging, the screams, the waving. Then, you gave up. You leaned your back against the door and slid down on the floor.

“Fucking finally!” The young man exclaimed exasperated. You gave him a look.

“Oh, shut up, it’s your fault if we’re trap here” you shout at him.

“Hey, I didn’t know the door would close and lock itself.” He replied. You scoffed at his answer, it was basic knowledge to make sure a roof door wouldn’t close behind after you walked out, but you didn’t expect him to know, there was only his little person that was important to him.

“Why do you hate me so much anyway?” he asked. His question made you giggled.

“Wow! Where to start.” You replied.

“What? You don’t like that I’m popular now? We’re not in kindergarten anymore Y/N, grow up!”

You sneered at his remark “Don’t be so full of yourself,”

“What is it then? Oh right, you hate people. You’re all black and death now” he was referring to your gothic look, that you started to wear once you started College.

“I don’t hate people; I hate guys like you.”

“Well, that’s a shame. If you’d like us more, maybe you’d get laid and you wouldn’t be such a bitch. Oh, I forgot! No one would want to fuck a fat bitch like you.” He shouted but instantly regret it. He didn’t mean to say these words, but it was already too late.

His words pierced your heart, hurting you deep. You took a long breath, trying to retain the tears that were pooling in your eyes from falling.

“You’re an asshole Wooyoung.” You said before getting up to sit further from him. As soon as you sit back down on the ground, silent tears started to fall.

In all truth, you didn’t hate him that much, you were best friends before College after all. But you did hate the type of guy he was becoming. The perfect popular jock all the girls wanted to be with, and all the boys wanted to be like. And you hated that he preferred his popularity over your friendship.

The sun was setting, and the air got colder as the wind started to blow its brisk autumn breeze. You curled on yourself trying to warm up, but it was in vain. You started to shiver, mentally cursing at yourself for leaving your hoodie downstairs and deciding to wear a skirt in October.

Suddenly, you felt an unusual warmth on your shoulder.

“Here, take this.” Wooyoung said as he put his hoodie on you. A part of you wanted to take the piece of clothes off your body and throw it in his face, but you were too cold. You quickly thanked him before you warped yourself into the thick shirt. Woo’s warmth engulfed you with a strange comfort, the sent of his cologne tickled your nose and made you feel weirdly safe.

The young man sat next to you and he tried to put an arm around your shoulders to pull you to him. He scoffed and sighed heavily when he felt you resist,

“Oh, come on! I know you are cold. Come here!” he pulled you harder, wrapping an arm around your waist, nonchalantly resting it on your hip. The proximity and the familiarity of his touch made your inside twitch. You stayed like this, all snuggled up until his low voice broke the silence

“I-I’m sorry about what I said.” He started, his voice soft, almost like a whisper. “You’re not a fat bitch”

You chuckled, “Well, I am fat” you said grabbing the thick flesh of your thigh in your hand, pulling your skirt maybe a little too high, showing the curve of your butt. The young man looked at your curves and he swallowed deep.

“I-I think you’re sexy” he shrugged. “I always thought you were much sexier than any other girls at school” You looked at him surprised, not certain if you heard him well. He gave you one of his sexy smirks, making your arousal stained your underwear. You blushed, looking down, but he wrapped your chin in his fingers and lifted your head to look at you in the eyes. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, before he leaned in connecting your lips in a soft kiss.

“Woo…” you involuntarily moaned when his mouth moved to your neck, sucking sweet purple bruises on your sensitive skin. The young man swiftly pulled you over so you could straddle his hips. Wooyoung moved his hands pass the hem of your skirt, sliding up your thighs, to your supple ass, kneading it gently. You started to gently rock your hips. The feeling of the growing bulge against your dripping clothed core made you whimper. The flimsy material of your panties already soaked by your sweet arousal was slowly rubbing along your sensitive slit.

“You sound so pretty baby” he mumbled against your neck, he sank his teeth in the tender flesh of your shoulder, not too hard but with enough pressure to make you weep.

“I thought you hated me” you said panting, moving your hips a bit faster, adding more pressure with every move. Wooyoung was already so hard under you, you thought his dick would rip his pants.

“Oh Princess, I never hated you.” His lips found their way on your collarbone, earning another whimper from you.

Woo’s hands snaked up under the hem of your shirt his fingertips brushed the silky skin of your tummy and it quickly made you uncomfortable. You pushed his hands off and stopped moving. Surprise by the sudden change of mood, Wooyoung frowned,

“Is everything ok? Did I hurt you?”

You blushed covering your belly with your hands, “I’m fine, it’s just…”

Seeing you trying to cover yourself, Woo simply smirk. He moved your hands, putting them around his shoulder, his eyes looked deep in yours,

“Don’t cover yourself Princess.” he tugged your shirt over your head, tossing it beside him, revealing your gorgeous plump breast covered by a black lace bra. He bit his lips and hummed in appreciation, “You’re so sexy baby,” he said before he attacked the delicate skin of your breast with delicious nibbles and bites.

You didn’t mind the cold as Wooyoung had you wrapped in his arms, the warmth radiating from his body and the heat you were feeling from your make-out were enough to keep you warm.

Taken by a new confidence, one of your hand slid down to his crotch and gently massage his painfully hard length still covered by his pants. Woo moaned between your breast; his hips bucked up onto your hand to get more friction. Unsatisfied with the thick material of his jeans, you unzipped them, and pulled them down along with his boxer. Woo’s hard cock sprang on his stomach.

You stared at his hardness as you reached out and delicately wrapped your fingers around it. Woo felt the shiver of excitement run up his body the moment you touched him. You started moving your hand slowly up and down

The young man hissed at the feeling of your hand on him. He felt his face grow hot and his stomach begin to tingle, “I want you so bad Princess…”

His palms found your hips. You moved them at his touch, while you brought your face to his and kissed him again, deeply, passionately. You didn’t wait any longer as you placed your arm between your two bodies, pulling your soaked panties to the side and holding him in place. You maneuvered your hips to engulf him slowly. Your fingertips sank into his shoulder as you threw your head back,

“Oh, my god”

You’ve been with other guys before, but they were never as big as Woo. This felt amazingly good and you felt like you needed more. You kept your eyes on Woo’s as you began to move, rocking your hips slowly. He looked so pretty with his hooded eyes, mouth slightly agape and his small moans flowing off his lips. It was pure honey to your ears.

“You feel so good Princess, you’re taking me so well” his words came out as a whimper. They had the desired effect, nevertheless, making you clench your velvet walls around him. Encouraged by your sounds, Wooyoung began to thrust into you. His pace was steady and deep, hitting the right spot every time,

“Shit, Woo please, don’t stop please” That last ‘please’ was almost a whisper.

“You’re such a goddess!”

He kept his pace as he felt your body go tight, your core clenched hard around him. You continue to rock your hips on him, matching his rhythm, bringing you even closer to the edge of your high. He groaned as you moaned loudly and climaxed around him, latching yourself onto him.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna c-cum” he moaned

He felt himself build up very quickly and he groaned loudly as his arms wrapped around you tightly. He pushed in deep to release himself inside you, painting your silky walls with long string of white seeds.

When the moment of ecstasy passed, you both remained where you were, breathing heavily and your lips met once more with a greater passion for one another. Wooyoung leaned his forehead against yours, his fingertips slowly running on your back,

“That was a nice way to bury the hatchet.”

You giggled at his words and nodded.

“It sure was”

Wooyoung kept his arms wrapped around you, he smiled and wiggled his eyebrows while whispering in your ears,

“Seems like we are going to be stuck here for a while, what about second round, Princess?”

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

“I don’t know for you but I just love a good Wooyoung smut ;) “

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#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #wooyoung #wooyoung smut #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung angst #wooyoung x reader #smut #fluff #kpop #kpop smut #kpop fluff #kpop angst

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cassolotl · 5 years

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Coming off testosterone

I stopped taking testosterone on day 235, May 19th 2019 - 6 days ago, and after just under 8 months of low-dose testosterone. I had 1 pump of Tostran gel per day, which the medication leaflet says is 10mg of testosterone.

WHY DID I START TAKING LOW-DOSE TESTOSTERONE?

I’m nonbinary, and my goal was always to be androgynous. I started taking testosterone to deepen my voice, mainly, but the idea of a more masculine fat distribution on my body was appealing because I also have dysphoria about my hips and slim shoulders. “Passing” as nonbinary isn’t really a thing because most people don’t know that there are more than two genders, so the best I could really hope to achieve realistically was to confuse as many people about my gender as possible. 😈

Changes I wanted:

Deeper voice

Genital changes

Less feminine body fat distribution

Changes I didn’t want:

Facial hair

Hairline changes (but if it happens a little that’s okay)

Loss of hair on head

Body hair

A couple of years ago I had one session of voice therapy (NHS), which was fun and very interesting, but it taught me a couple of things. One was that finding my lower pitches and getting that low resonance by finding my chest voice was definitely helpful and relieved my voice dysphoria. The other was that there was no way I was going to be able to keep up with multiple voice exercises per day to keep it that way. I pretty much decided that day that testosterone was the most sensible option, and even though it was scary I would just have to find a way to deal with the negative effects.

My voice dysphoria was sort of disconnected from my idea of my gender. All I really knew was that my voice needed to be a lower pitch and more resonant. I felt that dysphoria especially when I was talking excitedly or when I was singing. But I also knew that I didn’t want people to mistake me for a man either, and since it’s a very long slow process and quite unpredictable I knew that I would need to be careful to keep track of things to make sure I didn’t start giving myself a new kind of gender dysphoria in the masculine direction!

It was another year or two before the stars aligned and I actually managed to get the can of Tostran into my hands (NHS).

HOW DID IT GO?

As I mentioned above, I was on a low dose, one pump of Tostran per day. One can lasted about 107 days. The endocrine nurse said I could reduce the dose to half if I squirted the gel onto my leg/stomach as usual and then wiped half the gel-dribble off with tissue and threw it in the bin before I rubbed it in, but I never did that. The two-month blood test put my levels at 9.7 nmol or something like that. (Female range is 3 or below, and male range is 10 or above, so I was very nearly almost at the male range.)

The first month I got that scratchy throat feeling, which I now know happens when my voice is deepening, and I noticed my voice getting a little lower. Also I was SO GREASY OH MY GOD, I had to shower twice as much, I had to get some high-powered anti-perspirant deodorant. It didn’t make me spotty, it was just disgusting! But it felt okay because I could tell it was affecting my voice. I also noticed that I smelled different, and that my bedroom acquired that delightful(??) teenage boy smell! Ew. This kicked in properly in under a week, and trailed off around month two, though I still needed to take more showers and wear hardcore deodorant and I was still more greasy for the entire time I was on T.

On day 26 I noticed that my... [flails around wildly for non-dysphoric word] pudendum had gotten a little bigger, and I regret not getting “before T” photos. The growth was fast and a lot more noticeable than I had expected, and it was extremely emotionally intense, because I hadn’t realised but I’d been sort of suppressing and dissociating from genital dysphoria for my whole life. I knew I had genital dysphoria, but not how much or how it was affecting me. I was completely unprepared, and it was overwhelming. (I am very lucky that I was able to access fortnightly gender-specialist talking therapy at Charing Cross GIC during this time.) A few weeks later I started looking into genital surgery options. I think my genitals haven’t changed much in the last 2 months, so I guess it took about 5-6 months to get to where they are now.

Here’s the graph the Voice Pitch Analyzer app [iOS/Android] makes:

And here’s the graph I made myself using data from the app:

In the second graph, the thing I notice right away is that my highest pitch now is lower than my lowest pitch pre-T.

My first month was rapid pitch drop, and then there were a couple of months of wibbling around on a plateau, and then after that things kicked off again, I had a few scattered days of scratchy throat and things started meandering downward. A common pattern was two to four weeks of wild fluctuation and no drop, followed by a sudden drop over a day or two. Sometimes my brain took a while to adjust to a drop in pitch, and I would tire myself out speaking with a higher pitch than my vocal chords really wanted to do.

In the last couple of months I got a lot worse at making the voice recordings, which in hindsight might be because I was less enamoured with being on testosterone, and it was maybe a sign that my testosterone advantages were sort of wrapping up and it was nearly time to stop.

No one who sees me regularly said unprompted that they could hear a difference in my voice. When I asked people if my voice sounded different, they said “ehhh, maybe kinda, yeah?” I learned that testosterone doesn’t make your voice sound different! It makes it feel different, to yourself and to other people. My therapist, who I see (approximately) fortnightly, said she couldn’t tell the difference at all, and when I played her my day 1 voice recording to compare it to my current voice (6 months or so) she was like 😮.

Strangers are still mostly gendering me female, as far as I can tell, but my appearance and my voice means that strangers gender me male a little more often than pre-T. I also get “sir, I mean ma’am, gosh I’m so sorry...” more often. It makes me uncomfortable to make people uncomfortable, so I just usually say “it’s okay, I’m nonbinary so I’m kind of both??”, which rarely makes them less flustered or less confused. I had some cards made years ago that have the nonbinary flag on one side and the definition of nonbinary on the other, which I should just start handing out whenever this happens!

My testosterone dose was too low to stop my menstrual cycle, but it did seem to mellow out the highs and lows. My PMS and menstrual symptoms are generally a nightmare even though I have no uterus to bleed from, so that was a nice relief. It was very strange to experience PMS and boy puberty simultaneously.

I kept records of my specific dysphoria feelings from about 3.5 months, thanks to prompting from my gender-specialist therapist at Charing Cross GIC in London:

The ideal outcome, which I was looking out for, was all of the lines meandering towards that horizontal line in the middle. That would mean the feminine dysphoria was reducing and the masculine dysphoria was reducing.

I am pretty lucky, in that most of the changes I wanted from testosterone are permanent and the changes I didn’t want are temporary or reversible. I made some lines on the graph more bold because those were the ones that I wanted to keep an eye on. Here are my thoughts on this graph:

Facial hair was impossible to score because it gave me both masculine and feminine dysphoria. Feminine because those dark fine hairs on my upper lip are most often seen on cis women, and masculine because they were caused by testosterone and male puberty.

When my pudendum started growing it also gave mixed signals. It was good because it was getting bigger, but as it grew it highlighted that there was a lot going on down there that made me feel feminine dysphoria (mainly labia around my pudendum, and sometimes that it was still relatively small).

I am not a very hairy person. I thought I wouldn’t like having more body hair, and for a few months when I scored my dysphoria I focused on specific patches of new hair and thought about whether I was dysphoric and thought that I wasn’t. After a few months I realised I was being too short-sighted. Yes, I can totally deal with these new fine hairs on my thighs. Yes, this darker and thicker hair on my shins is okay. Sure, these hairs around my belly button are no big thing. But when I took a step back and looked at the bigger picture, and saw the hair as a pattern, my whole brain recoiled. Yes, I am definitely dysphoric about masculine patterns of body hair on myself. :S

There was a trend of all types of dysphoria getting less over time - until month 7, when they all started getting worse except voice. It took a while to be sure it was a trend, but looking back on it, that was definitely a thing!

The ideal outcome would be all of those lines converging on the middle horizontal axis, and it hasn’t happened. There are no flawless solutions for nonbinary people at the moment. As things stand and with what’s available to me right now, I will probably always have gender dysphoria. But I’m pretty glad that I’ve done what I can and I will keep doing what I can, because it is all helping.

Unrelated to any gender stuff, I have put on weight and gone up a size or two in trousers and one size in t-shirts. It could just be that I’m in my 30s and my metabolism is slowing, which is what I assumed it was at first, but the weight has come on in quite a short space of time, so that made me think about what I’ve been eating and why. I noticed that I was craving carbs and sugar, eating it, and then feeling unsatisfied afterwards. The type of hunger I’ve been feeling lately feels the same as the type of hunger I had when I had Implanon, a three-year birth control implant. When I had that removed my appetite went back to normal. So this putting on weight feels a lot like a hormonal thing. I have mixed feelings about it! I strongly dislike my clothes feeling wrong and having to buy new clothes, but also bits of me are pleasingly wibbly and it’s fun to be able to rest my cup of tea on my stomach when I slouch. :D

Also unrelated to gender stuff, even on a low dose many of my EDS symptoms were noticeably reduced: fatigue, loose joints, joint pain, IBS, dysautonomia. (Joint pain and fatigue were still present, but not as bad after exertion.) I also noticed that the really vivid dreams and very emotional days that come with PMS mostly disappeared, which I was sad about.

HOW DID I KNOW TO STOP?

People gendering me in different ways has increased lately. Like, a few weeks ago me and @watchkeyphone were trundling about town, and one charity/religion street-hawker person asked if we were sisters, and then a hundred yards later their colleague called us “lads” or something.

A week or so ago, I realised that my voice was sounding and feeling resonant in my chest pretty much all the time and that felt pretty nice, but I was still scoring my voice as sounding feminine, and I wondered if that might be because the changes are so gradual that I just changed my idea of what feminine sounds like. I noticed that I was more comfortable recording my voice to put online for various reasons.

I don’t live in a culture where people go around saying “excuse me sir” or “hello madam”, we don’t routinely gender each other in a formal way. But also, either I don’t have enough casual contact with strangers to notice gendered familiar words like “mate” or “love”, or strangers just avoid using those kinds of words with me because I’m hella queer-looking. So I basically realised that I have no idea how strangers see me or hear my voice at all.

So, in approximately this order:

I put a recording of my voice on the internet and asked strangers to gender my voice. Most of them said androgynous, leaning a little masculine. One person said I sounded like Q, a computer-generated intentionally genderless voice!

I went to a queer social group, and when it came up in conversation naturally I complained about how hard it is to know when to stop testosterone because I can’t tell how my body and voice are gendered by other people, and a lot of people I see regularly still see me the same way as they saw me pre-T. A couple of people said, “actually, in the past couple of months I have really noticed the effects...” So that was reassuring!

I decided to notice how my pitch works in different situations compared to pre-T. After the queer social group we went down to the river and some people swam, and when they got into the water and it was very cold, some of us cheered supportively - and I tried to woo like the “woo girls”, and my voice just came out at a dude pitch instead...! I apparently can’t be high-pitched at high volumes any more.

I watched a video about gender and voice by someone I’ve met in person. When I met them I noticed that their voice was pretty androgynous, and I enjoyed it and thought about how nice it must be to have a voice that can’t be easily gendered by strangers. When I watched this video last week, in which their voice was exactly the same, I noticed that they sounded like me. That was the moment that I realised my voice was done!

I spoke to my PA about it. I played my pre-T voice to her and her face was A Picture, she could not even. She then said that she has quite a feminine voice, and she suggested we each make a recording of our voices reading a paragraph of the book on the table, and then compare to her partner’s voice in a recording. My voice sounded more like her male partner’s voice than like hers.

I can now speak with a comically low deep resonant voice if I want to, and I can also speak with a high cutesy voice in order to address my cat, provided I am warmed up a bit.

HOW DID STOPPING GO?

On the day that I posted the voice file online, when strangers started saying I sounded masculine, I was honestly pretty surprised. In my head strangers in person were still mostly gendering me female, but when I really thought about it people hadn’t actually been gendering me much at all. I think I had been assuming strangers were hearing a woman’s voice because the change had been so gradual that I hadn’t had a moment where I could “update” my own gendering of my voice. I didn’t wake up one day and go “wow I sound like a dude” or whatever, so there was just nothing to update.

So, as soon as there was an indication that I might sound like a man soon, my gut said “NOPE” and I worried a little bit about going too far in the masc direction. If I keep taking T then I will sound more masculine and I might regret it, but if I stop and find that my voice dysphoria could be relieved with a little more testosterone I can start again in a few months, right? So I decided to not take it that day unless I learned/felt something that indicated I should put the gel on, and... I didn’t.

The first couple of days were pretty uneventful. Around day 4 I started to feel really run-down and chronic joint pain from EDS was flaring up, so I cancelled near-future plans. Yesterday was like the worst of my (uterusless) periods, I was in a lot of abdominal and lower back pain and then last night I slept for 11 hours... And today, also typical of my uterusless periods, it feels like a storm has blown over and I feel like a new human.

So what I’ve concluded is, coming off T triggered a very, very bad period.

Also, the past couple of days I have once again been SO GREASY, and I got spots yesterday, which is unusual in itself, but these are striking because they are WEIRDLY HUGE?? One of them is on my jaw and has caused a very noticeable swelling, so I’ve named it Balthazar.

(From “Brooklyn Nine-Nine” S03E12: Nine Days.)

WHAT NEXT?

It’s only been a week, so I’m assuming more weirdness is coming, but it’s all going to be ovary-hormone-related silliness so I’m pretty much used to it and I’m not too worried.

I am sad that I will probably slip back towards feminine body fat distribution. I will probably lose some of the weight that testosterone brought with it, but the remaining weight will probably end up on my hips again. I am really not looking forward to dissociating my hips again but I don’t know what I can do about it except have liposuction every few years?! (I will not do that.)

I am also sad that the bad bits of my menstrual cycle will go back to Full Force, and that my EDS symptoms will worsen again.

I am very much looking forward to my body hair getting finer and lighter, and maybe my upper lip hair will fade a bit too. If not I will probably have to get it painfully removed.

I want a metoidioplasty. Unlike many trans guys, I want no testicular prostheses, no vaginectomy, no phalloplasty, no new urethra. The clinicians at Charing Cross are aware that I want to have a metoidioplasty, because I included it in a letter when I wrote to the endo about a blood test, to make sure my surgery needs are documented in my medical records from the earliest date possible. I did that because they have minimum-time requirements for a bunch of diagnoses and referrals (like, two appointments before hormone treatment recommendation), which you can sometimes get around by providing reasonable counter-arguments. One of their requirements for referring for genital surgery is being on testosterone for at least a year where clinically indicated, so since testosterone has done its job now that means I’m not clinically indicated for testosterone any more, and I’m hoping that being on T for only 8 months shouldn’t be an issue. I also found a blog by a trans guy who had a simple metoidioplasty like the one I want, and his blog posts are really helpful and informative and have good quality non-porn photos (so rare omg), and his junk and my junk are extremely similar in size and appearance. (Here are his before and after pics.) So, fingers crossed the docs will consider that I have been on T for long enough and my pudendum is developed enough that surgery is an option.

I’ve written to the endocrinologist to say that I’ve stopped putting on the Tostran gel, and to ask if I still need to have those blood tests I’m meant to be having. I’m due to see him on 1st July anyway, a little over a month from now, and no doubt I will have saved up a list of questions for him!

CONCLUSION

Testosterone works.

#original posts #cassian's transition #cassian's hormones #low dose testosterone #testosterone

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maximumsnow · 5 years

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Idk what this even is but take it. It’s like a Schrodinger’s Fanfic because i couldn’t decide if I wanted this to be fanfic, or if the characters were so ooc that I should just make them ocs. If you can guess what this is based off of, you get an internet cookie.

If you were to ask Alex how he got sandwiched between three people who would probably kill him if they knew who he was, he would not be able to give a good answer. All he knew was that one day, he had to fix a generator, and then he got dragged into this group for survival. Honestly, he needed them far more than they needed him. Sure, he could fix generators so they could have electricity and water pumps so they could get water more easily, but given the hell he had caused them (not necessarily on purpose), they would likely prefer living without those commodities. Meanwhile Pi and Charlie had literally saved his life several times by fighting off threats, and Lucky was the glue that held them together. Thankfully, they didn't question why he never took off the ski goggles. He guessed that that was due their own eccentricities or paranoia. He had a vague suspicion that Lucky knew who he was, but so far, the strange person never called him out on it. However, it did keep him from talking to the other two out of fear that they would recognize his voice. Normally, they all split up at night, picking rooms to sleep in, and recharge for the next day. This allowed any tensions to ease so that they didn't snap at each other when they couldn't afford to. It also allowed Alex time to breathe and take those uncomfortable goggles off from time to time. Tonight, however, the winter wind was harsher than expected, and Pi was adamant about it bringing a blizzard. He wasn't wrong, surprisingly. Their current shelter didn’t have the benefit of windows, and the holes in the ceiling let far too much snow in most of the rooms. Because of this, they all had to hole up in the center room. Which was still freezing. Lucky had long claimed the bed, but they seemed unsatisfied since they kept sitting up and looking at the others. Pi, Charlie, and himself had basically claimed corners of the room and set up their various sleeping paraphernalia. Charlie had a sleeping bag that had seen better days, but it rolled up neatly. Alex guessed it was a leftover from his job as a tour guide of the wilderness. Pi had a blanket and pillow that were likely scavenged that day. Meanwhile, he had his backpack doubling as a pillow and that was about it. He arguably had the warmest coat of them all, but he was still freezing. The others were too, based on how much they kept shifting around. Alex nearly cursed when he saw the lightbulb go off in Lucky's head; not because he thought it would be stupid, but because he knew there wouldn't be an argument for it. "What are you doing? I thought you were going to join me in bed?" Wait what? They had expected that? Pi immediately jumped up and all but dove into the bed and curled up next to Lucky. He sent a pointed glare at Charlie who rolled his eyes and snipped, "You said you'd ban us if we tried, yesterday." "That was yesterday. Today Jack Frost is trying to kick the door down!" They waved their hand in a dismissive way. "Now come over here before you turn into a Charlie-cicle." Charlie grumbled before turning towards where Alex had frozen. "Come on, you're going in the middle." He couldn't stop himself before the word stumbled out, "Wh-what?" Dammit, Alex, you're trying to keep talking to a minimum. "One: Pi might kill me if I'm next to him, and two: No offense, but if something gets in, you're not much of a fighter." "..." Alex couldn't argue that. Goggles firmly on, he nervously stood up and went over to the bed. Pi's glare softened a little, and he patted the spot next to him. Not able to put it off any longer, Alex finally sat on the edge of the bed and brought his feet up so he could lay down near the center. Pi rolled onto his side so that his back was facing Alex and threw an arm around Lucky. Alex looked up at Charlie, and even though the goggles blocked most of his face, his nervousness must have been obvious. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to get that close,” Charlie said as he nodded towards the cuddly Pi. Without warning, Charlie hopped onto the bed, forcing Alex to scoot almost on top of Pi to keep from touching Charlie. “Jeez, I’m not contagious, I promise,” Charlie said with a laugh as he plopped down and rolled over so that he faced the doorway. He probably had his gun laying by the bed.

Alex had chosen to lay on his back, and while he had to admit that he was significantly warmer, he felt trapped. The feeling wasn’t helped when Lucky suddenly pulled a comforter out of nowhere and threw it on all of them. Where was this earlier???

Charlie had a similar thought and voiced the question. Lucky just laughed and told everyone goodnight. Alex felt more than heard Charlie sigh, and he could just imagine the eyeroll that accompanied it.

Despite the nagging fears, he was out like a light within a few minutes.

When he woke the next morning, he was surprisingly comfortable, and his hazy mind was content to simply enjoy the warmth. It wasn’t until he felt something under his arm move that several things clicked into place. One, he had shifted during the night and was now lying on his side. Two, he had apparently thrown his arm over the person in front of him. Three, the person was Charlie, who was trying to get up.

He all but snatched his arm back and tried to scoot away from the ex-tour guide, but he was halted when he felt Pi’s still sleeping form shifting around. Dammit

“Oh sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Charlie whispered in apology. The tired blue eyes were so sincere, and that kindness burned Alex. “I’ll be back in a bit. Gotta check on something.” Charlie’s eyes wandered to the two who were still sleeping for a few seconds before focusing on Alex.

Alex simply nodded in response, glad that the fact that he had an excuse to stay quiet. Charlie already had his rifle in hand, and he teased the only door open, slipped through, and closed it again.

Alex wasn’t sure what was so important that Charlie had to leave right then, and his active imagination kicked into high gear. Sleep was now out of the question. If Charlie couldn’t handle it, Alex sure as hell couldn’t. He contemplated waking up Lucky and Pi, but the more logical side of him knew that they would just get aggravated if he woke them up for nothing. Which he desperately didn’t want to do.

He tried to focus his mind on literally anything else, but the next thing it did was notice that he felt colder without the fourth person there. Not liking where that was going, he sat up so he could see the only exit better.

It felt like hours, but Alex knew it could only have been a few minutes before the door quietly creaked again. He couldn’t contain the sudden gasp of breath he made at the sudden sound, and Charlie was quick to assure, “It’s just me, I promise.”

Alex hated how much Charlie’s voice calmed him down. It didn’t feel right.

When Charlie made it back to the bed, Alex could hear him drop his weapon before he plopped onto the edge of the bed. Lucky nor Pi were disturbed by this, and Alex seriously wondered at how deep their sleep was.

Charlie lied down, and Alex was envious at how quickly his breathing deepened. Charlie could just get up, deal with something potentially dangerous, and drop right back to sleep whereas Alex often had to trick his mind that they were safe enough to sleep. He didn’t want to think on the implications that he hadn’t needed to do that earlier that night.

With all three of his companions sleeping soundly, Alex again found himself musing on his life leading up to this and what would happen if they found out. He was pretty sure that the best case scenario would involve them just splitting paths at the most convenient moment, and he did not put much stock that they would be that peaceful. He had seen Charlie and Pi take out their fair share of bandits and mutants, and Lucky had his ways of inflicting misery on those he disliked.

It was in the middle of this thought when he heard Charlie make a sound not unlike a whine and he rolled over to face Alex. Alex couldn’t really see Charlie’s face, and it took him a few seconds to realize that Charlie was still asleep. The thing that really got his attention was the fact that the quiet sounds continued.

He sounded distressed.

Probably a nightmare.

Alex wasn’t sure how to handle that. On one hand, it wasn’t like Charlie was awake and would know Alex didn’t help, but on the other hand, Alex kinda felt like he should. This lead to Alex awkwardly whispering, “Hey, it’s okay, I’m here...” He followed his words up with an even more awkward pat on Charlie’s arm.

The fact that this seemed to calm Charlie startled Alex, so he continued his actions until Charlie stopped whimpering and stilled. What startled Alex even more is that Charlie then threw an arm around him and pulled him closer.

Alex knew he was stuck when Charlie’s breathing completely evened out, and despite his guilt, he didn’t hate it. In fact, he was getting sleepy again...

#My writing #This basically amounts to the trope BUT THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED and I'm not sorry #4 idiots of the apocalypse

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douxreviews · 6 years

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Star Trek: Discovery - ‘Point of Light’ Review

Burnham: "Show me a teenage girl who's never cried. You can't. I should know, I'm a xenoanthropologist."

By nature I love brevity: After last week's primarily standalone 'New Eden,' 'Point of Light' jumps right back into the season's arcs, developing some stories and beginning others. Most of it works, but a few slight issues remain. All in all, a strong episode.

The Klingons last season were very divisive. Though some appreciated the differences because they helped the Klingons feel alien again, others hated the very different general look of a race that has been a Star Trek staple since TOS. Specifically, a few things bothered fans. The Klingons' lack of hair was one; likewise the differently designed ships (especially one that was called the D7 but looked nothing like the TOS design) were hard to get over. The sequences that took place entirely in Klingon with subtitles got very tedious after a little while, as well; it's much easier to follow when you're able to understand what they're saying.

The Klingon portions of 'Point of Light' felt like an extremely overt attempt at correcting these issues. From the very beginning with the D7 to the deliberate switch from Klingon to English in the final scene, the whole thing appeared to be designed for the purpose of showing fans that the show would be doing something different. And each change, such as the hair on the Klingons' heads, was pointed out deliberately to the audience through lines like 'So the Klingons are growing their hair again post-war?' While I appreciate the modifications, and the explanations mostly make sense, it was at times a little too on-the-nose. I like that they're going out of their way to fix the problems of Season One, but every time they point to their solutions and say, 'See? We know you didn't like it and it's all better now!' it somehow feels both cheap and heavy-handed at the same time.

As far as the other half of the episode goes, three of this season's primary storylines progressed, some of them substantially. The first story that got some progress here is that of the red bursts and the Red Angel. The only thing that we really learned here is that Spock really has been seeing the Red Angel since childhood, and that it helped him save Michael. At first glance, this seems like more of the same, but when you think about it it's actually quite revealing. The fact that Spock saw visions of the Angel that were clear enough for him to get a message is interesting enough, but the fact that that message resulted in Burnham's life being saved is remarkable. This means two things. First, it reinforces that the Angel is not some vague presence, but that it actually intervenes actively in people's lives. Secondly, and I think more importantly, this is the second time that an appearance of the Angel has coincided with the rescue of Michael Burnham. The first was in the pilot, when Pike saved her, and here it was Spock saving her. It says to me that the Angel has a specific interest in Burnham and her life, which may be very interesting to watch considering Burnham's reservations about believing in a sort of higher power.

The appearance of Amanda also led to revelations about the Spock storyline. We learned that his condition has developed to the extent that Starfleet is keeping it classified at the highest level. It's telling that Pike tries to follow the rules, but is all too happy to break them when the need arises. This simply further cements him as a classic starship Captain, perhaps even too classic. One thing you could never say about Lorca is that we've seen Captains like him before. He was new and different; Pike is not. While this may not necessarily be a bad thing for the show at this point, I hope Pike is given distinguishing traits that will give his character more depth. The other tidbit of information we learned was that Burnham hurt Spock intentionally and for his safety. One can very easily see a young Spock, curious about humanity and unsatisfied by the intentionally reserved side of his mother, following Burnham around and wanting to be involved in her life. It would be appropriately devastating to have a childhood idol such as that hurt you deeply and intentionally. I only hope the final reveal of what Burnham did to him measure up to what they've built. The other thing is that the Federation believes Spock murdered three of his doctors. Burnham and Amanda aren't certain, which is pretty scary.

The last storyline that gets developed, and this one much more than the others combined, is Tilly's Seeing Dead People plot. Over the course of this single episode, we learn that May's appearance is connected to the green spore that landed on Tilly's shoulder at the end of last season, discover that May is a parasite who needs Tilly for something and calls Stamets the Captain, and pull the parasite off of Tilly in a bit of a cliffhanger ending. While it does feel a tiny bit rushed, I'm glad they aren't dragging this out. There are a limited number of episodes this season, and if they have to drag out a storyline to fill some time, they definitely don't have enough story to write for it. The other thing is that the way it would be dragged out would be more scenes where Tilly looks crazy to everyone around her when she talks to someone they can't see. Scenes like this are very hard to watch, and they get progressively more annoying the more of them there are. Moving on right to fighting the parasite means that we have less of these scenes to sit through. I have to applaud Bahia Watson for her great performance here; after playing 'unsettling, but not aggressively so' last episode, Watson suddenly turns the creep factor up to eleven in a way that both shocks me with its suddenness and at the same time feels like a natural and not-at-all rushed progression of the character. It will be interesting to see what I can only assume to be the finale of this storyline next episode.

All in all, I liked this episode a great deal. Several of the reveals surprised me (L'Rell and TyVoq's baby; the new information about the Red Angel), and I liked the way that Mirror Georgiou is being used to bring TyVoq back into the story. Though some of the Klingon bits made me roll my eyes at their blatant 'we're fixing what you didn't like' tone, on the whole this was a good episode. It's a bit hard to judge the developments of the ongoing stories until they come to full fruition, but 'Point of Light' seems like a good arc progression.

Strange New Worlds: Q'o'nos doesn't count as a new planet, so we didn't go anywhere new this time.

New Life and New Civilizations: We learned this week that May is a new type of life form that we haven't seen before.

Pensees:

-I really liked Burnham and Tilly's relationship in this one. It really felt like a strong, healthy friendship, and the way Burnham solved the problem made sense.

-One of my friends is really turned off by the invasions of Spock's privacy this season. First Burnham entered his quarters, and now they're breaking into his medical files.

-Another director's credit for Olatunde Osunsamni. She did a fine job with this one.

-They're calling Lt. Owosekun 'Owo' now. Was that an intentional cultural reference? I bet it was.

-The reveal of Amanda worked well. If I hadn't known she'd be in the episode, I would have been surprised.

-I like the idea of using the D7 as a way to unite the Klingon houses. If we go with the Season One idea that the houses have been split and in disarray, which explains the vastly different ships we saw that season, the one standardized design works well.

-Kolsha, Kol's father, was played by Kenneth Mitchell. He played his own character's father, which works, I guess.

-Spock's been taking EQ tests. It's good to see EQ being used as an accepted practice in the future, even if it is a fictional future.

-I liked the use of the split-screen effect when Burnham and Tyler were talking. It helped sell their emotional distance.

-It appears Tilly is prone to both giving up and making rash decisions when she's stressed or embarrassed. That's a good trait to give a character.

-Why the heck does Georgiou need the holographic face disguiser AND the Black Manta mask?

-Severed heads, especially severed baby heads, even if they are fake, is darker than Star Trek's been before.

-The new Section 31 starship looks kinda neat. I like the multi-level bridge.

-Tyler sent the baby to Boreth, which is the only connection to this episode's title. The legend believed by the monks of Boreth relates Kahless' promise that he will return 'on one of those points of light,' referring to the stars.

-So, uh... I know why Tyler isn't shocked by Georgiou, but wasn't she, well, dinner last time L'Rell saw her? Just sayin'.

-I don't think Javid Iqbal Shazad Latif quite got the memo about the less stilted, more natural dialogue this season.

Quotes:

Burnham: "You didn't betray your friend, Captain. You followed protocol." Pike: "That's easier to say than to believe."

L'Rell, to TyVoq: "You should not care what everyone sees when they look at you."

Georgiou: "The freaks are more fun."

4.5 out of 6 unnecessary Black Manta masks.

CoramDeo is climbing a mountain. Why is he climbing a mountain?

#Star Trek #Star Trek Discovery #Michael Burnham #Saru #Sylvia Tilly #Paul Stamets #Ash Tyler #Philippa Georgiou #Christopher Pike #Disco #Star Trek Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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theclaravoyant · 6 years

Text

It’s alright (it’s just the end of the world) - Elena-centric 5x18 Coda

AN ~ Working through some of my own thoughts and feelings about this whole “grey morality” thing I ended up with this fic and it turned out quite well, if I do say so myself (although I will warn you, it’s kinda angsty. no MCD I promise). Enjoy!

Elena reflects on her decision in 5x18 and what it means for herself, her loved ones and the future of the world. Elena-centric, Mackelena, Angst (but a little bit of hurt/comfort, I’m not *completely* merciless), Rated T. Mentions of Ruby, Fitz & Daisy including a brief 5x14 reference (all non graphic / non descriptive).

(If you want to know any more about the contents of my fic before reading it, feel free to shoot me a message.)

Title and quote taken from “Preaching the End of the World” by Chris Cornell.

Read on AO3 (~1600wd).

It’s alright (it’s just the end of the world)

Elena watched the tiny crucifix dangling from her mechanical fingers. It glinted like a tiny golden star in the dim light, but still she felt lost in a fog, unable to read its guiding signs. It felt wrong, holding it like this: without its shape against her skin, without the cool metal, warming at her touch.

Truth be told, though, there was not much else that Elena missed about her arms – her new ones could do most of what they had been able to, and they were stronger, faster. They made her better. Even though they still didn’t quite feel part of her yet, she’d found them easier to accept, knowing she still had the parts that mattered. What was the body, after all, if not a tool for the soul and the heart and the mind to work their purpose? Now, though, she no longer knew if she had even that.

It was not so much that she hated killing. She did, of course, but sometimes it was necessary. Sometimes, in this violent world, it could even be for the best. She had thought that was going to be the story of today, but the long – and tense – flight back to base had given her a little too much time to think over it.

She’d killed a scared young woman today. Not a little girl, not quite, but still that’s what it felt like as her memory played it back over and over. She’s a kid. Ruby had been crying out for her mother, begging for help. That was not the way of a ruthless murderer and, whether she had saved the world or not, what she’d done – that split-second decision – was only growing harder and harder to face. Harder still as, from the way Daisy had been climbing the walls of the Zephyr, and from the hushed conversations between her and May, Elena had gathered that Ruby’s story hit a little closer to home than usual. It had started Elena thinking: what if she’d just stopped another Daisy from growing up? What if she’d killed a scared young woman for no reason? Or worse – what if this was all mapped out already, every action and reaction, and Ruby’s violent death and the blood on her own hands had been set in stone long ago?

It was Fitz who’d blurted out on the way here – somehow in Daisy’s defense, though they were in the middle of a fight themselves as well – that Elena hadn’t saved the world. That she couldn’t have. That Ruby hadn’t been the Destroyer of Worlds, Daisy had. That time was an illusion, and our choices all pre-made. He’d gotten very quiet after that, and so had Daisy. So had everybody on the plane. The air had grown thick and heavy and dark with the terrible thought. Was it better to believe you’d chosen, of your own free will, to torture and traumatize a dear friend for the sake of strangers? Or was it, somehow, better to believe you’d been destined to do it, from before you’d even met?

Elena did not envy Fitz his dilemma – nor Daisy, who was in the somehow even more unfortunate position of experiencing it from the other side – and yet she found herself staring down the barrel of the very same gun. Saving the world was a messy affair, this she had always known, but now more than ever Elena found herself wishing that she could do more than just pray that’s what they were doing. Especially since she knew - she more than anyone else – that there’d be more lives on the line before the end.

She clutched the crucifix to her heart, and that helped. The feeling of her own metal fingers against her skin was new and strange but when she closed her eyes, she could seek out that old, familiar shape. This was not the original, of course – that was drifting around in space somewhere, with the body of another brave man lost to the world too soon. But Mack had gone out of his way to find one just like it, and to always make sure it came back to her, and through the love imbued in his efforts, and her own, the most important memories remained. She could recall her mother giving it to her for her quinceañera; the warm embrace of her family; the familiar feeling of her old church and the quiet welcome of a new one in the States. She could recall, though it felt something of a distant memory now, the comfort of knowing that God was watching over her, giving her the gifts to do good in the world, and the passion and the intuition to know what that was. She longed for that same passion, that intuition again… and if she could not have that, then at least the comfort, or something, to soothe this lonely, grieving ache that was, in a truer sense than most living humans had ever experienced, the weight of the world.

“Please,” she whispered, into the heavy air, squeezing the crucifix as tightly as she dared without crumpling it like al-foil. “Tell me, am I doing the right thing?”

As if in answer, there was a soft click as the door pushed open. Mack hesitated in the doorway, but stepped in and closed the door behind him.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice soft and low as if trying even now not to interrupt. “The others told me what happened. Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the question that did it, maybe something about the tone of his voice, but all of a sudden Elena felt the tears come at her in a rush. They were bitter tears – anger at not being able to defend herself against Daisy’s accusations; fear that she might after all be right; grief for the soul that was lost today. The soul she took. They were tears of frustration, of loss, and she held them back as best she could, feeling a little breathless with the effort.

“Do you think I did the right thing?” she asked.

“I don’t know if I can answer that,” Mack replied – reluctant, sympathetic. “I wasn’t there.”

There was no scolding to his voice, although there could have been. Perhaps there should have been. But it was not needed; Elena felt appropriately scolded nonetheless. She hung her head – and, seeing how lost she was, Mack offered;

“As long as you didn’t do it out of anger, or vengeance..?”

That’s the girl who took my arms.

Elena’s eyes snapped up to his face. Had they told him that part? Did it matter? That’s not why she did it, the timing was wrong, the feelings – all the feelings – She stood up from the bed, begging him to see.

“No,” she insisted, shaking her head, as much to keep that little worm of doubt from her own mind as from his. “No, I didn’t, I swear. I-”

“I believe you,” he promised her steadily, a little taken aback by the force of her desperation. He opened his arms, gentle and accepting, and Elena felt a little of that panic drain away. She pressed herself gratefully against his chest and he closed his arms, enveloping her and humming, a soothing and tuneless sound.

“Mi amor,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I can’t do more for you right now, but… for what it’s worth, I don’t think we can ever truly know if we’re doing the right thing. We don’t know the consequences of our actions, or the consequences of those, or the consequences of those… We were never meant to know. You acted on what you thought was right in the moment. That’s all anyone could have done.”

Elena shook her head. “But- it didn’t achieve anything. Daisy’s the Destroyer, not Ruby. If I’d known that…”

“You would have what? Killed Daisy?” Mack pulled back from her a little, to look her in the eyes. “Elena. There are hundreds of thousands of choices between now and tomorrow, let alone now and fifty years’ time. Some of those are going to be hard. Some of them are probably going to be wrong. But who’s to say which? I know I can’t. Daisy can’t. Fitz can’t. Who’s to say that Ruby wouldn’t have been the Destroyer if you hadn’t done what you did? Changing the future and saving the world might not be mutually exclusive, you know.”

“I know.” Elena sighed, an unsatisfied sigh, and Mack pulled her back into his embrace.

“I know,” he repeated, in as much of a reassuring tone as he could. For all that he wished otherwise, Mack knew there was no truly comforting way to have this conversation, because for every reason such a thing might have been the right thing to do, there was a reason for it to be wrong. He knew that Elena knew more than she was saying about the future, but if her own knowledge wasn’t helping her then sharing it probably wouldn’t either, so he didn’t ask. He had faith in Elena, even if he couldn’t explain it, and even if she couldn’t see it herself. She would soon, he was sure, and if he had to he’d just hold her until that moment. Already, she was breathing easier, and that went a long way to soothing his aching heart.

Elena, meanwhile, laid her ear against Mack’s chest. She no longer felt as lost, or as guilt-ridden, as she had done while stranded alone with her thoughts, but there was still a nagging sensation of dread that would not leave. Knowing that Ruby’s death was not the end kept her on edge, and though she longed for nothing more in this moment than to lose herself in Mack’s embrace, she couldn’t help thinking about how every one of those strong and steady heartbeats, might still be bringing him closer and closer to his last.

#elena rodriguez #mackelena #yoyomack #yoyomacknet #aosficnet #aos fic #clara's fic tag #yo yo rodriguez #aos 5x18 #aos s5 #aos spoilers

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jinjikook · 7 years

Text

pocket change | 1 | (m)

word count: 7.5k

genre: smut; supernatural AU + demon!yoongi

pairing: reader/yoongi

summary: yoongi is supposed to be exactly what you need to save your family; unfortunately, he’s a demon and you have some conditions to go through before anything can be done. fortunately? temptation isn’t that bad of a consequence, as long as it’s with the aforementioned demon.

warning(s): mentions of domestic abuse, rough oral sex, lots of sexual tension, dirty talk, fingering, marking kink, use of petnames, come eating, sex-pollen sort of situation (not exactly but that’s the closest warning i think fits the situation)

special thanks to: @honeyheonie for being a wonderful beta ♡

masterlist

Was this really what it had come to?

You shivered for the umpteenth time in what felt like an eternity but you knew it had only been about 10 minutes.

He told you to you could find him here. Namjoon said it himself that when he needed “special help”, this was the place to go.

But outside a shitty laundromat?

The back alley of one to be specific. It was sketchy enough as is, let alone adding along the element that you were here to meet someone you had never met or seen, a complete and utter stranger. All under the pretenses that he could help you out with your little “problem”, as Namjoon aptly put it.

You clutched your arms towards your body in a tight hug, the chilling wind cutting through your clothes and biting at your skin. The cold nipped at your heels and made you tremble like a leaf in the gallant winds. Another ten minutes, that’s all you’ll wait before deciding that this ‘Yoongi’ guy doesn’t even exist and all of this was either an elaborate prank or a set-up from the get go.

Checking your phone, you squinted at the too-bright light that shone from the screen as it illuminated your features in the dimly-lit and sort of musty alley. A black cat passed by, a fleeting shadow, and you snuck a glance in its direction before refocusing on your phone.

You [10:14 PM]: joon, what the fuck?

You [10:14 PM]: is this guy a no show or what

JoonBug [10:15 PM]: You gotta be patient Y/N, he kinda runs on his own schedule.

JoonBug [10:15 PM]: It’s worth it though, the things he can do.

You [10:16 PM]: you make it out like he’s a whore or something

You [10:16 PM]: namjoon please tell me i’m not meeting with a prostitute.

Before Namjoon could reply to your text, you felt a sudden chill slowly climb up the notches of your spine like a ladder, all the way to the nape of your neck where the hairs stood up from the sensation alone. You suppressed a deep shudder, not knowing what had come over you. Shaking your head free of the nervous thoughts that clung onto your psyche for the time being, you were about to text Namjoon that you were just gonna call it a night and leave.

Ahem.

A throat cleared from behind you and you swear you’ve never whipped around so fast in your entire life.

“You rang?” A low and admittedly pretty bored voice rasped between the two of you, the other person being a new addition to the scene. He was small, not shorter than you but still definitely shorter than Namjoon. His inky black hair shone with the neon lights of one of the adjacent stores, the red EXIT letters leaving a scarlet hue over both his head and his face. It was ominous almost, adding in an eerie element of surprise along with how cold it suddenly turned.

How did he sneak up on you so quietly?

Stuttering your words, either from the fact you could barely stifle your chattering teeth at this point or from the shock that still washed over you in waves and tendrils, you greeted the other.

“Yoongi, is it?” He nodded smugly, but his face still seemed to have an aura of ‘I’d rather be anywhere but here’ sinking into his features. His really, really pretty features, you came to realize.

“I’m assuming you’re in need of some help? As is my specialty,” He gestured to the backdoor of the laundromat, sending you to enter from where you stepped out from almost an entire hour ago.

As you two walked the dark corridor that led to the cheaply-furnished quarter fueled laundromat, Yoongi began to ask questions, not even allowing you to probe more about him or how he could ever help you. “So what is it exactly that you need from me?”

“Well, not from you per se. You see, it’s my father. He’s—“

“Sick? Dying? Missing? All of the above?”

“No, actually.” You gave him a weird look. Who had he been dealing with before that made those were his automatic answers? “I’m not sure how you could actually help, but Namjoon says you’re some type of miracle worker of sorts. Like, for almost any situation. Which is weird and really creepy but… I’m desperate.” Your voice slowly wavered at the end of your sentence, eyes downcast and mind already boggling with what you were going to ask of this strange man.

Finally reaching the actual store, Yoongi immediately turned on heel to the half-stocked vending machines that were haphazardly stationed in the back corner, past all the washers and dryers. He stood in front of the machine, the graphic of the yellow M&M guy on the side flickering and making you wonder if the machine even properly dispenses food anymore. You could already see several packs of snack foods still stuck between the prongs and the glass, a dim reminder of those who went hungry after spending a dollar on lost hope.

It was almost symbolic, in a way. How in this store, where you had to use your pocket change to fulfill a necessity, people would instead use it to try and stave off their hunger, cravings and desires. Only for it all to be an illusion, a siren’s song off the deep end—their money wasted and desires unsatisfied.

Yoongi tightened his lips in a manner to show he was seriously considering what he wanted to consume today.

If only you knew what he was really craving, you’d be running for the hills already.

“Um, I don’t know how much time you think I have—especially after having to wait so long for you in the first place—but can we just get to the point? My dad has been abusing my mother and little sister. He beats them, and I can’t do anything about it. I was able to get out of it all, moving out to live with a good friend of mine, but I want them out too. The police can’t help because, ironically enough, my father is the police chief and an ‘outstanding citizen’, according to the public.”

Yoongi hadn’t even looked in your direction throughout your entire story, eyes still scanning for the meager choices he had, between rotten apple slices, crumbled cheddar crackers and rock hard granola bars.

“Like I said, I don’t really get how you could ever help but, Namjoon swears you can so… will you help me?” Yoongi spared you a glance, a millisecond of eye contact before he dragged his eyes back to the machine.

“Change?”

“I’m… sorry?” Yoongi looked exasperated, despite barely speaking between the two of you. Hardly enough to be frustrated over.

“Change, for the machine? I know what I want.”

You furrowed your brows. Was he just a beggar, trying to cheat you out of both your money and time? He simply raised his own eyebrows, hand outstretched as he awaited the seventy-five cents he needed for those nasty looking apple slices in the package with the faded orange (it probably used to be red a millennia ago) apple character smiling out into the free world.

Digging into your purse, you managed to find two quarters, a dime and a couple of nickels. Handing them all over, you watched as Yoongi counted them and dropped them one by one into the machine. It felt like you were throwing the money away, but you still watched as the inevitable happened.

He punched in the numbers and the machine roared to life, the rusty spirals turning and creaking as they moved for probably the first time in years. Who actually ever buys the healthy shit in these things? Yoongi apparently.

The bag slowly whirred out until, of course, the top of it leaned forward and got caught on the glass, trapping it in between it and the swirl of silverish-copper coils. It now matched the several other snack foods that met the same fate at one point or another.

“I could’ve told you that was gonna happen,” Rolling your eyes, you grew impatient at how little help Yoongi had turned out to be so far.

“Just wait my dear, patience is key.”

Quizzically watching, you realized how… normal Yoongi looked. He was wearing a maroon hoodie, the thing clearly a size or two bigger than him, hanging off of his frame and covering over the highest parts of his thighs, which were tightly bound in ripped, stark black jeans. The tears were all along the meat of his thighs and on his knees, revealing milky smooth skin there, sans a mole or two. He was wearing sneakers, raggedy, old and a little worn down.

He looked like a regular college student, no one special and certainly not like the miracle worker Namjoon painted him to be.

“How is any of this gonna help me? You know what, fuck it, ‘Joon totally messed with me. Nice meeting you Yoongs, or whatever the hell your name was. Thanks for the false hope, keep the stale apple slices. That is, if you ever get them out of the damn—“

You locked eyes onto where the packet of apples were stuck just seconds ago, only to see nothing there. Yoongi hadn’t moved, not even an inch, and you certainly hadn’t heard or seen anything fall down into the basket below. But when your now slightly wider eyes trailed down, you saw the baggie in Yoongi’s hands, his veiny and admittedly, fairly attractive hands.

“You… How—wait… I don’t understand.”

“You think I’m like you, fleshy and weak. But your eyes deceive you, sweetheart. There’s more to me, a part that can help you with your problem. But I’m not sure if I want to work with someone with such an… attitude problem.”

You quickly shook your hands in front of you, hoping you could backtrack from your earlier outburst. “No, no! Wait, I’m really sorry! What… what are you?” Mind still warping and trying to wrap around this entire situation, Yoongi could literally hear cogs turning in your head as you continued to flicker between the bag of sour apples and Yoongi’s face.

He chuckled, used to seeing all shades of emotions from when people wondered and discovered what he is.

“Simply put, I’m a demon,” Nearly breaking the already cracked tile under your feet with the sheer force of your jaw dropping, you squinted at Yoongi. Was this all a trick, a joke?

Demons weren’t real, just a figment of people’s imaginations and delusions. Nothing but lore in shitty leather bound books and even shittier television.

“It’s a lot more complicated than just a title, but to one-track minded people like you, it’s just easier to stick with Demon. Otherwise, I might just tangle you up and lose you along the way, and you’re just too pretty to lose.”

Not sure if you should be flattered or offended, you slowly backed away from Yoongi, who was smiling almost… warmly? His gums showed, due to his slightly shorter teeth, and while on an everyday encounter, you’d find that adorably cute and probably attractive enough to make you want to approach him with sweet syllables to try and entice him into a deep conversation, you couldn’t help but imagine the malice behind such a sickeningly sweet smirk.

“I don’t want to hurt you Y/N, just want to help. That is why you asked for me, right?” You could only nod, but then it occurred to you.

“H-How do you know my name? I never told you, and I’m sure Namjoon didn’t either.” He only smiled, gesturing to himself, probably trying to say ‘Hellllooooooo? Demon?’ sarcastically.

At that point, your heart was beating erratically out of your chest, probably visible over your clothes and it suddenly hurt everywhere. Your brain was pounding, eyes suddenly all-too sensitive against the overhead lights and the washers that were previously humming lowly in the background are now banging raucously, making it feel like the water and suds that are swirling inside their heavy tin bins were instead behind your eyes, water logging your thoughts to the point where you saw spots of white dotting along your blurred vision.

Next thing you know, there’s cold fingers holding your hips as everything goes black.

The pounding and banging lowered to a murmured hum, buzzing along your eardrums and down to your fingertips. It felt like there was an energy being transferred in your body, all your nerves coming untangled as you got drained of the nervous tick that twinged in your stomach. Slowly, but effortlessly, the shivers dissipated along with the goosebumps that rose along the skin of your exposed arms.

“Y/N? Are you with me?” A voice murmured, a gentle rumble that sounded like dripping chocolate and gold. He spoke in even more hushed tones, more to himself as it was hard to pick up in your hazy semi-conscious state. “Damn it, why do I always get the ones that pass out? This shit never happens to Tae. Then again, the prick seduces people with his dick first and then seals the deal.”

“Who’s Tae?” You mumble, eyes prying open a smidgen to see that the lights weren’t as bright as they were before. It took a moment before you realized you were laying on the ground, a balled up jacket underneath your head—Yoongi’s jacket to be exact.

“Oh look, Sleeping Beauty’s finally up,” Yoongi reached to brush your hair away from your forehead, letting you see him better. He was wearing a short sleeved white t-shirt, slightly sweaty to the point where the shirt wasn’t as fully opaque as it should be. His black hair stuck to his own forehead in chunks and strands, not necessarily soaked from the perspiration but more so that it clung to his slightly dewy skin and made it look much wetter than it actually was. “You doing okay?” His voice was still low, the timbre almost to the point of a raspy growl. It was pretty hot, if your slurring brain had to say so.

Nodding slightly, Yoongi licked his lips once before kneeling more comfortably by your body while you tried to sit up on your forearms.

“I’m gonna make this quick because, while I was trying to teach you a lesson about patience and waiting and all that kind of shit, we actually lost a lot of time in-between your little temper tantrum and black out session. Basically, yes I’m a demon and I can do all kinds of dangerous and illegal shit that shouldn’t be real but it is. No I don’t have a tail and my eyes don’t go fully black, my irises just change color based on certain feelings and emotions and I can control when they do or don’t. I’m not going to ask for your soul or make you sign a contract, but there are rules and things we have to go over because, while yes I am going to help you with your problem, it just isn’t as easy as they make it out to be on TV.”

Your mind felt like mush and suddenly everything was too much for you to handle again, the familiar darkness seeping into your line of sight again as you felt your body give out once more.

“Son of a bitch! What the fuck, are you anemic or something?” Yoongi spat, mostly out of frustration because he couldn’t keep you conscious now but he was also concerned, never having seen someone so out of it like this before in all his hundreds of years being a demon.

He let his fingers rest on your temples as he tried to focus all his energy on keeping you conscious, desperate to complete this conversation without rendering you lifeless.

“Y/N, I need you to just stay awake for a little while longer, I can’t fucking stay here forever.” Yoongi picked up your body and surged enough energy in you to at least make you sit upright. Nausea tugged at your body along with Yoongi doing literally just that, pulling you up to stand and then promptly dragging you out of the shitty laundromat out to where you had initially waited for him. The night progressed to get even darker, matching the stark hues and values that Yoongi held in his hair and in his eyes.

The fresh air did you some good, along with whatever mojo Yoongi had shot into you. You could breathe a little easier, the heave that was once there slowly easing off your chest and giving your lungs room to expand. The ground felt sturdier under your feet, the pavement no longer making you feel topsy-turvy and upside down, your stomach finally calming down enough to the point where you were sure you wouldn’t release your dinner on the ground in front of you.

“Watch me, keep your eyes on me.” Yoongi whispered, barely making it past your ears as you finally focused your blurring vision on the figure in front of you. Yoongi’s face came into focus, crystal clear and crisp at the edges, in high definition. His cheekbones gleamed with the light that shone from the backdoor of another store, white bouncing off his skin like glistening marble.

Yoongi’s eyes were gray, nearly white. Specifically, his irises were values of monochrome muted grays, as if they were a life like drawing with the eyes only shaded in graphite and charcoal.

His breathing was fast, eyes darting over you cautiously. He looked over his shoulder once, twice, before finally pushing you against the brick wall that adorned the outside of the laundromat. He tugs out the apple slices where he had stashed them in his pocket.

“Are you gonna feed me 3-year old apple slices from a vending machine? Because that sounds like something only a demon from Hell would do, so I totally believe you at this point.” You managed to gain control of your numb tongue, finally speaking well enough. Apparently with enough cognitive sense to be sarcastic to someone who could probably end your life right then and there.

Yoongi laughed–legitimately laughed–and you felt the tension melt from your bones as his energy seeped it all out of you in one solid go. It felt like a gulp of fresh air, filling your lungs to capacity and letting your brain finally circulate enough blood to appreciate how close Yoongi was to you at the moment.

“Good to know you’re back with me Y/N. Now, watch. I don’t have a lot of time but we need to do this now if you want me to be able to come back and help you,” Yoongi tears open the package and pulls the slices all out. He arranges them in the shape of a standing apple, as best as he could with how mushy and rotten they were. You subconsciously wondered if this was a metaphor for something but you didn’t have time to consider it before the apple became whole right before your very eyes. It plumped with life, suddenly shiny and red and healthy beyond compare.

Your eyes were probably bugging out of your skull and your mouth gaped open and closed like a goldfish gasping for air. Yoongi smirked at your reaction, taking pride whenever he rendered a client speechless, and then mouthed at you to watch.

“This,” He gestures to the apple, “is temptation. Much like the Garden of Eden, the apple represents temptation and sin. Once you take a bite of it, there’s no going back. You have full reign of me until our deal is up, and as wonderful as that seems, you’ll learn fairly quickly that a demon is not something you want to have chained around you for very long. Because wherever we go, trouble is sure to follow. There will never be temptation without consequence, so prepare yourself Y/N. Are you still willing to proceed? We can discuss the matters of your father and family later, but I need to tether myself to you before my time here is up.” Yoongi’s ice-cold gaze bore into your eyes, your breath catching in your throat.

You didn’t have much of a choice, knowing that you just had to help your mother and sister; they deserved as much. You promised them you’d come back, kicking and screaming if it had to be that way.

Nodding timidly, you watched as the scarlet apple in Yoongi’s lovely hands as it slowly morphed into a black tube, with a band of gold wrapped around the middle. He reached with his other hand to tug at it, uncapping and slowly pushing up the product inside.

“Lipstick? Temptation is… a tube of berry red lipstick?” Musing as he finished bringing the color to full view, his lithe fingers holding it steady.

“Wine red, more like it. The apple will change depending on what your greatest temptation is; you won’t be able to deny the cravings you’ll have as long as you’re with me, are you aware of that?” Yoongi looked you dead in the eyes, conveying just how heavy the consequences were of what you were going through with.

The next moment went by almost in a blur, snatching the tube from Yoongi’s palm to turn and face the dirty metal gutter pipe that was a few feet from where you stood outside, the biting chill now faded as you slowly applied the deep red to your lips. As you made each pass, the color deepened and darkened, along with the buzzing in your brain and the hum in your veins. It felt like you got hotter the more opaque the color got, the inky red seeping into your irises as your pupils swelled with a newfound intensity that should’ve terrified you.

Instead, all you could focus on was how warm it began to feel. Tugging at every article of clothing you had on, you turned to face Yoongi and the sight nearly took your breath away.

Had he been this attractive when you first laid eyes on him?

Maybe it was because he was no longer wearing his loose hoodie, instead donning a matching loose t-shirt, the crisp white contrasting with the jet black of his hair, or maybe it was how smooth and pink his lips looked in the warm red hue of the emergency exit sign. Something about him was suddenly so enticing.

So… tempting.

In a way you just couldn’t resist, a metal wire tugging at the bottom of your stomach and making you lurch forward to be chest-to-chest with him. He didn’t seem to mind, not the least bit surprised by your suddenly bold move.

It felt like his scent was swirling around you in the aura of a temptress, calling you hither to be as close as you could possibly be with him. He invited you in, his palms grazing along your sides and smoothing the wrinkles that formed in your shirt. Every brush of his fingers brought static shocks to the surface, slowly seeping down to make your bones itch to be sore and broken by the demon’s hands.

“Take whatever you want, dear. Let it consume you, as it should.” Yoongi murmured, his breath fanning over your cheekbone and making you tilt your head to meet his longing gaze. It was matching in darkness with the rest of his attire, but something there reflected more than just the surrounding lights. Something more base and predator-like.

It made you ache.

“This,” Yoongi paused, breath fanning over your lips as he spoke, “is your temptation. Lust will consume you should you not fulfill your tasks and complete the deal with me. Now, do what you want, while we still can.” Your head felt fuzzy, stuffed with cotton as the world around you blurred and muffled in comparison to how loud, clear and crisp you could hear and see Yoongi. He was all you could focus on, the feel of his palms etching searing burns into your sides, his dark eyes swirling with hues of reds and pinks, almost unnoticeable in the low lighting of where you still were.

Everything became watered down; blending like wet gouache and turning the primary colors around you into muddled browns and tertiaries.

It was your lips on his or his on yours, you couldn’t really tell or care in that moment. All you knew was that Yoongi’s tongue was already playing at the seam of your mouth, prodding for entrance and you willingly gave it to him. He was dominant, no doubt, but you were desperate. Your hands scrabbled for purchase on the front of his shirt, surely stretching the neckline out with how hard you were balling it up in your fists. Yoongi’s own hands took a harsh grip on your hips, the gentle slide along your sides gone now with the new change of atmosphere.

Back against the dirty brick wall, you let Yoongi’s tongue take control of the kiss, your eagerness being overshadowed with just how much power and fervor Yoongi had in his mouth alone. His hands roamed, reaching back and groping your ass to bring your hips flush with his, feeling just how affected he was by the kissing.

You gasped into his mouth, relishing in just how hard Yoongi felt against your stomach, the denim doing him no justice. He nipped into your mouth, leaving sore bites along your lips that were probably going to swell slightly in the next few minutes and make it impossible to hide what you were up to.

Yoongi pulled back, allowing you to breathe, despite it being heavy and still inches from his mouth, you snapped your eyes down at his talented lips. You saw peppered and smeared tracks of red, forgetting that you had applied the lipstick beforehand.

“The lipstick looks good on you,” You murmured, mindlessly bringing your hand up from his probably destroyed t-shirt to graze your thumb across his mouth. Yoongi breathlessly chuckled, the hot air puffing against you and his grip tightened on your ass, his palms wide across the meat of it.

“If you think it looks good here, imagine somewhere else…” He trailed off, letting his eyes rake down your body before looking down at himself. You instantly caught onto what he was saying and the mere thought alone of your lipstick marks across his length made you drop to your knees, all protests gone from your conscious mind as you fought to keep sane in the heated and heady haze of lust.

Yoongi groaned from the sight of you on your knees, hands already pawing at his belt and tugging down his zipper. His cock jumped from inside his underwear, eager to have your hot and wet mouth on him already. You couldn’t wait to get him out from the confines of his clothes, stopping to mouth along his briefs, soaking the fabric with your tongue and leaving trailing dark marks of the lipstick on the navy blue fabric. Finally reaching to tug down his waistband, you pulled out Yoongi’s hard and leaking length, not missing how lean and heavy it felt in your grip while you stroked the very prominent vein that ran on the underside of it with your thumb.

“Wait, wait,” Yoongi panted, obviously affected by your ministrations on him thus far. You patiently waited on bated breath, watching as Yoongi reached for the abandoned tube of lipstick that had toppled out of your hand and rolled unceremoniously on the ground near his feet. He uncapped the product, once more rolling the color to the top. He reached for your chin, your only thought being to obey to his willing touch. The demon gripped your face gently but still firm, holding you steady as he reapplied to color to your lips, newfound intensity burning into your veins once more.

It made you clench your fingers in anticipation, dying to get your hands and mouth on Yoongi already. His cock was still out, standing tall and a stark contrast to the black ensemble he had on. You had to wait until Yoongi deemed you perfect with a whispered breath, his words slurring with the heat that surrounded the two of you.

“Now, you may give into temptation.” You didn’t hesitate a moment longer, his grip coming off your face and you went straight to jerking him in long, languid pumps. The slick that beaded at the top glistened as it grew with every upward stroke, tempting you to reach forward and lap it clean but you decided to pass your thumb over it instead, digging into the slit and making Yoongi growl.

It had to be much later than when you first arrived, if the cold that was settling around your bubble of lust-induced heat was anything to go by. As Yoongi breathed heavily, his breath came out in white puffs of smoke, the biting autumn air coming to nip at his lips.

You drank in the sight of the demon in front of you, in control yet completely at the mercy of your hands. It was a sense of power you never thought you’d ever have possessed but it was honestly such a trip, the burning need in your veins making your confidence swell and grow as you continued to work Yoongi at such a slow pace it made him mad.

“I thought you were going to put that mouth to use, otherwise I wouldn’t have wasted all that pretty lipstick.” Yoongi breathed out, hand coming to thread into your locks and tighten there, thought it felt more like he was grounding himself rather than trying to control you.

You huffed out a laugh, dark and nothing like you’ve ever sounded like before. Something inside you wrenched, its ugly face coming to rear as you finally let your temptation win. You leaned forward, ignoring the minute voice inside your head begging you to turn back, to stop while you still could. But you honestly couldn’t now, even if you wanted to.

Which you really didn’t want to anyways.

Taking the swollen head into your mouth, you gave it a hard suck, sure to press your lips into a circle around the bulb to imprint the color on the skin there. Yoongi bucked his hips against your mouth, meeting the resistance of your tongue pushing up against him. He gripped your hair tighter, trying to move you from the spot you were suctioned onto. Your eyes slid up, slithering like a smooth and slick snake coiling its way up Yoongi’s bones and settling deep in his nerves–in the pit of his stomach where he felt his resolve tightening and dissipating with every ebb and flow of your tongue on him.

Establishing eye contact, you smirked as best as you could around his cock before you decided to move down his length, sure to suck hard enough to smear your lipstick as you bobbed slowly. “Finally,” Yoongi breathed out, his grip faltering slightly on your hair. You indulged the demon, giving him the base pleasure that you needed just as badly for yourself.

One hand stayed curled around his base, sure to pump whatever your mouth couldn’t reach with the slick of the spit that slid down as you moved. Yoongi’s head rolled back, his breaths coming out in short, harsh pants that painted the air around him in spools of white cotton. Flattening your tongue on the vein that you just wanted to suck dry, you felt more than heard Yoongi’s sharp intake of breath, his hands holding a death grip on you now that you had him in the palm of your hands. Or the base of your tongue, same deal.

Your name rolled off his tongue sinfully, in ways you couldn’t even imagine in your wettest, filthiest dreams. He couldn’t help himself as he let his hips take over, rolling into you and making your mouth squelch loudly from how he fucked into it, the head bulbing out many times against the side of your cheeks.

“So fucking good–absolutely made for this baby…” Yoongi drawled, his head finally coming down to latch his inky eyes back onto your own. You had to close your own pair from the sheer intensity of his gaze; the mixture of that visual along with the feeling of his length twitching inside your mouth had you feeling ethereal, on cloud nine in some twisted sense. You knew he was approaching his climax when Yoongi began to go a little rougher, less caution for the sake of your throat as he gagged you occasionally every couple of pumps.

You let one hand travel to his balls, massaging them in tandem with his thrusts to hopefully speed up him impending orgasm. The added stimulation made Yoongi groan, a tad more vocal than he had been so far. He swiftly pulled himself out from your velvety mouth, the sound as he popped out being the epitome of lewd.

He took his length in his long digits, grip never faltering as he jerked himself off to completion into your open mouth. He watched as the white fluid coated your tongue, its watery substance causing some to slip and drip right off the tip of the pink muscle. His hand dragged with small amounts of resistance, realizing that the waxy imprint of your lips all over his cock made the slide a little tougher than normal. He rubbed his thumb and index finger in circles around the head, right by the leaking slit as he eased out the last of his come.

As he finished, you took the opportunity to pop open the button of your own jeans, wanting to relieve yourself as well. Yoongi didn’t seem to appreciate that however, growling low in his throat at the sight of you touching yourself.

“You asked for me for a reason, doll. Now let me do my damn job,” He rasped before tugging you up off your knees. He pushed you back against the wall he had you up against earlier when you were making out heavily. He watched you with hungry eyes, your heartrate rabbiting at the sudden change of control, the shift turning the world from black to white as his eyes gleamed brightly with a tone of orange, almost dandelion from how intense the color blended into the blacks of his pupils.

Yoongi tucked himself back into his underwear, not going as far as zipping up his jeans or anything else. Pushing up against you, he crashed his lips into yours and the earlier passion and turn of control was gone, Yoongi overtaking the entire kiss with anger and determination, his teeth hitting yours as he tried to consume you whole with the kiss alone.

One palm circled your waist to spread over one cheek, fingers digging into the denim of your jeans as the other wasted no time and slipped past the front waistband of your pants and underwear, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he reached where you needed him most.

His digits were skilled, expertly rubbing against your folds and spreading your slick across your molten core. He pushed you against his hand harder with the hand on your ass, forcing you to take the slight burn as he began to fuck you with two of his fingers, his index and middle fingers prodding at the bundle of nerves inside you. You tried to bite down on his tongue, hoping you could keep quiet but a harsh muffled slap on your ass made you jerk forward on Yoongi’s fingers and you cried out, head dropping to Yoongi’s disheveled shoulder.

He whispered for you to refrain from keeping your beautiful sounds to yourself, driving the point home with yet another smack to your ass. All you could do was whine at the mercy of Yoongi’s deft digits delving in deeper inside you, taking fingering to a whole new level and making you see colors just from his hand alone. You’d never felt such pleasure before, feeling like Yoongi literally had you cradled in the palm of his hand as your legs slowly turned to putty underneath you.

You gripped his shirt once more, not caring just how ruined it was from your incessant tugging alone, because you just desperately needed something, anything, to anchor you because you had never felt so much energy running through your body before and it honestly felt like you were going to either pass out or collapse at any moment from the sheer pleasure. Yoongi seemed to sense this—or maybe it was a recurring theme with his partners, he could possibly be just that good—and he used the palm on your ass to slowly slide up and cradle the small of your back, pushing you up against his body to stay upright long enough for him to plunge his fingers even harder inside you.

Panting hotly against his neck, you realized just how unmarked and unmarred Yoongi’s neck was, everything inside you screaming for you to claim him properly. After all, he was yours, in some twisted sense. You owned Yoongi, for the time being at least. So what if you left a hickey or two, it wasn’t like you weren’t leaving here a changed woman either.

Murmuring a low fuck it to which you swore you heard Yoongi chuckle to in response, you ignored the vibrations of his low growls in the pit of his throat to latch onto there and suckle wetly on the creamy column of skin, loving the slight tang of sweat that dotted your taste buds with every sweep of your tongue. You tried to focus on marking him as best as you could but you were already so close to coming, the edge drawing nearer when Yoongi did some sort of magical move where he made your insides quiver around his fingers.

“Gonna make you come so hard baby,” He rasped into your hair, taking notice how your mouth was no longer actively working his neck but instead just openly panting on the skin there, far too affected by Yoongi’s hand to think about anything else. “That’s it, come for me doll.” Yoongi’s voice drawled so slowly, feeling it was dragging up the expanse of your body, slowly and almost painfully like the rasp of a cat’s tongue on your skin.

You couldn’t contain your desperate whimpers as he practically pulled your orgasm out of you with his own hand, making you shake in his hold against the wall as your teeth chattered; though that might’ve been more so from the cold of the late night encounter more than anything else.

Yoongi encouraged you to brace yourself against him as he milked you for all you were worth, sure to drag every needy whine out of you as his fingers didn’t stop the assault on your still clenching walls. The sensitivity began to hurt, making you wince as his fingers continued to brush where you felt him the most. Shaking your head, Yoongi caught the message and kissed your hair, murmuring soft words and slowly withdrawing his fingers from inside you. The sound was wet, slick with your release and you felt Yoongi’s other hand come up to grip your chin, forcing your head up and eyes to meet with Yoongi’s own—sans color as the brownish-black that originally tinted his irises returned to replace where it was once lit with embers of a slowly stoking fire.

“Watch.” He whispered, the ghost of his breath over your cheeks making you shiver as you let your lazy, half-lidded gaze observe him take the fingers he had inside you and suck them into his slightly red-tinged mouth, tongue darting out to separate the two and clean them thoroughly of your come.

Your mouth gaped open as you watched Yoongi’s eyes shut, savoring the sweet flavor of you against his tongue.

“Do you want a taste too baby?” Yoongi asked, his eyes still shut and you nodded slowly, before realizing he couldn’t see you and you had to be vocal about what you wanted. You whispered a yes, the sound foreign to your own ears with how weak and broken it sounded. Yoongi took pride in destroying you so well, opening his eyes slowly to reveal the wine-red that swirled in his irises now, resembling the color of the lipstick you had on earlier.

The hand that was holding your chin guided you to his mouth, an agonizingly slow kiss between the two of you allowed Yoongi to slide his tongue over yours, over and over again until you were able to decipher just exactly what you tasted like in comparison to the natural taste of Yoongi’s mouth; his cheeks tasting faintly like mint and cherries, creamy and delectable like a fine wine.

When you opened your eyes, not even realizing that you had closed them to truly appreciate the collage of flavors that burst on your tongue, you were caught off guard with just how light-headed you felt. Suddenly your body felt drained, empty of any of the energy that previous thrummed loudly in your bloodstream. You registered Yoongi’s hands firm on your waist but other than that, everything was dark and you couldn’t make out anything other than a slightly bitter scent in the air, something akin to ashes and dust.

You awoke in your own bed, fluffy sheets cradling you as if you had returned home like any other night. The only indicator that last night went any differently than usual being that you saw the tube of lipstick—Temptation, you remembered—standing tall on your nightstand, next to your alarm clock that read 9:37 AM.

You jolted up, realizing you were late for work and had only a few minutes to get ready before you’d get shit from your boss for the third time that month.

After getting dressed hurriedly, you ran out into your apartment’s living room and nearly screamed at the sight of another person in the flat, sleeping soundly on your couch.

Yoongi’s eyes opened slowly, groggily almost before he squinted at you trying to worm your shoes on as you stood. He chuckled breathily, the sound a reminder of last night and it made chills run down your spine.

“So um… do you just stay with me now? Like a pet?” You asked, voice weak from how your nerves caught up with the situation you tangled yourself in last night.

Laughing, he sat up and stretched his arms above his head, revealing a small strip of skin of his stomach that you couldn’t help but peek at, for reasons unbeknownst to you. “We don’t like being called pets, but I’m a realist and I know that we’re basically like that. Minus the collar and leash, unless you’re into that Y/N.” He smirked at your anxious figure, shifting your weight between your two legs as you tried to comprehend everything with a sleep addled mind.

“Aren’t you going to be late? Bogum is gonna have your ass if you show up late one more time.”

“How do you know my boss’s name?” You eyed Yoongi warily, afraid to leave this stranger alone in your home, where you were supposed to feel safe.

“He’s one of us, living amongst the humans. It’s not usual for a demon to willingly choose a domestic life, but he liked the idea of causing an everyday hell, not so big on the whole ‘making deals and being a slave’ thing.” Your eyebrows shot up into your hairline as you drank in what Yoongi was telling you, how you’d been in such close proximity to one of his kind all this time and not even known it.

“That explains a lot, actually…” You grumbled under your breath, recalling how many times Bogum had treated you like shit and made you do terrible things for no reason whatsoever. Yoongi actually laughed out loud this time, his gums showing and reminding you just how cute he would be if he wasn’t a supernatural creature from Hell.

This was something straight out of a sitcom, and you were waiting for someone to hop out and yell “Fooled ya!” and toss confetti and for the studio audience to laugh from wherever they were hiding. But none of that happened as Yoongi motioned to the clock that was hanging and turned the hands back about fifteen minutes with a flick of his fingers, the motion making you both afraid of the power he had in those digits and aroused from how capable he’s shown they were so far.

“I’d hurry up, doll. Bogum isn’t the waiting type.” He winked at you before pushing past and heading to the direction of your bathroom.

There was still the matters of figuring out just how exactly a demon was supposed to help you with your family’s situation and how any of this was actually real. But for right now, you had been given a second chance at keeping your job with a different demon altogether and you just didn’t have the time to wrap your mind around that concept any more at the moment.

You just wanted to get this day over with, not knowing how to handle the headache that you knew was inevitably waiting for you when you had to come back home later that evening.

648 notes · View notes

strigops · 8 years

Note

bc i share at least one fandom: life is strange

time to tear apart my favorite video game

the dialogue. like i do enjoy some goofy and cheesy dialogue here and there, but it’s just so bad man. it does get better as the episodes go on, but for the first few i just want to pull dontnod through my screen and tell them that teenagers don’t actually talk like that.

THE ENTIRE GAME MECHANIC FOR FOCUSING ON PHOTOS. i don’t know if it’s easier on consoles and if it was just a pc issue (or a me-being-dumb issue), but it took an agonizing amount of time to get through every photo because i just wasn’t getting it. i still don’t get it, im so glad they added the auto focus on to the last episode.

honestly the not-so-great lip syncing drives me nuts.

i really wished they would have tied up more of the loose ends? like i realize that a lot of the extra plotlines were probably there just to throw us off and keep us guessing, but things got so convoluted so fast that there was no way they could end everything neatly in one episode. i felt like they bit off a bit more than they could chew (though im glad they did cause chasing those dead ends was fun while it lasted).

the ending. i know everyone has some issue with it, but the reason i was so disappointed in it was that i saw it coming. i’d seen multiple people predict that exact ending from around when episode two came out, so i guess i was kind of unsatisfied because up until that time it had been pretty hard to tell what was going to happen next, and nobody expected the ending that we’d already been talking about since the beginning of the game. it kinda felt underwhelming. and i just felt both endings were a bit too open ended and sudden. but most of this is just nit-picking.

#basicallybeetles #this got long but i have some Opinions #and i didn't know you liked lis :0

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aeroflow-blog1 · 8 years

Text

You Took My Heart Away: A NaLu One shot

Author's Note:

Okay. Let's be honest here. This my first one shot and fanfiction that I wrote/type in tumbler. So,I basically want to tell you that this fanfic might be written horribly. Oh! Criticism is allowed so that I might be able to improve my uuhhh… writing skills.

Disclaimer:

Hiro Mashima is the one who made Fairy Tail and I, my reader's loyal servant, am the one who thought about this plot.

Summary:

This is just like the other 'Lucy realizes that she likes Natsu as more than a friend' fanfic. ( This happened after they returned from Tenroujima Island, when Lucy heard that her father died. )

Lucy's P.O.V.

“( sigh ),” I sighed as I looked at the full moon shining brightly above the sky since there were no clouds that night.

This week is a very stressful week. I just found out that we were trapped in an island for 7 years. When we returned, the guild was under a huge amount of debt and we became the most weakest guild over the years we were gone. After all the commotions( A.K.A. the old guild members who was not trapped in an island, celebrated our return. ), I went back to my apartment to rest. But then, my land lady was near the door step.WEARING.MY.CLOTHES! My eye twitched at the sight. My land lady noticed me and start walking towards me like she doesn't know that she's wearing somebody else clothes and that somebody was infront of her. She handed out a letter to me and I begin panicking, thinking that the letter contains the words I don't want to hear, well in this case see. I gulped. She opens her mouth to say something but I cut her off.

“ Ummm… We can talk about this. You see, I was trapped in an island for sevn years and then I didn't kow that. We just arrived today so please, give me a chance, ma'am. I promise I will pay my rent, just don't throw me out of my apartment. I beg you! And I will do-,” I said. I know I was rambling but who cares about that when you have you're apartment to save. As I was muttering words of apology, this time, she was the who cut me off.

“ Your rent is already paid. And if you just read this letter,” she said while holding a piece of envelope,”you will suerely know the answer to your questions,” the land lady said giving me the letter.

“ Well then, I must be going. I have somewhere to go to. Take care, Lucy,” The land lady said as she is waliking but all of the sudden, she stopped.

“ Oh and by the way, welcome back,” as she continued walking. Even though I'm confused, I smiled at her comment.

I went inside my bedroom and that's when I noticed my bed was almost covered with boxes. Not just any boxes but birthday gift. I read the letter before I opened the boxes.

My eyes were red and puffy when I finished reading the letter. At that moment, I decided to visit my father tomorrow noon. I opened the presents one by one, careful not to rip it off. When I went back to the guild the following morning, I tried my best not to show my sadness for I know that it will ruin the happy atmosphere. But Natsu being Natsu, noticed these things I'm trying to hide. He kept pestering me and so I decided to tell Natsu what happened and he also suggested the same thing. And then one thing led to another, here I am in my room sulking for two days.

Anyways, talking about Natsu, he is always their for me. Even in my hardest moment, he is their encouraging me. Before I joined Fairy Tail, I was always travelling alone. I was afraid of trusting people for they might tell my father where I am. Tht's the readon why I don't say my last name when I introduced myself to complete strangers. But when Natsu took my hand that one time, saying he will take me to Fairy Tail, I immediately said 'yes'. I don't know why but when I first met Natsu, I felt the sense of peace and comfort that I haven't felt for a long time, as cliché as it sounds. And I never imagined that with that single decision, my life will change forever in a way I can't imagine, which is really weird since I'm an author and all.

Natsu's the one who taught me how to trust, again. How to face troubles heads on and not running away like I did a few years ago. He broke down the wall I've built around myself for a long time without him or me knowing. Because of that, I will always be enternally greatful to him, even if he intrudes inside my apartment all the time through the window.

I silently chuckled. Yep and I'm pretty sure he won't stop that habit of his. I mean, he won't be Natsu if he does. Natsu is just Natsu after all.

Just then, I heard a creak outside my window. Having a good guess to who it is, I pretend to sleep and wait for the 'intruder' to come in. My guess was right when I felt something or should I say someone sliding into my bed. I bit a gasp when he put an arm around my waist. He dragged me closer to his chest where I felt warm air vibrations. I'm now confuse as to why I am feeling this way. It's totally an unfmiliar feeling. My chest kinda warms up you know. It's not the usual butterfly feeling, it's just…strange.

While I was thinking this thoughts, their was one story story that suddenly popped into my mind. Without thinking, I shot up from bed and blinked rapidly. All a while my mouth was open wide. I would have screamed if Natsu didn't tap my shoulder lightly. I faced him and saw the worry clearly evident in his eyes.

“ Are you okay, Luce? Did you have a nightmare?,” Natsu asked worriedly. I gulped lightly and shook my head as an indication of me saying no.

“ Are you sure? You know you can tell me anything, right?,” Natsu said as he was holding both of my shoulders. My eyes widened at the close proximity. I pushed him away slowly and answered, trying to convince him,

“ I'm okay, Natsu. I was just thinking about something. It's nothing serious, really,”

“ Okay. If you say so,” he answered me hesistantly and I know that he doesn't believe my reason. Damn. Seriously, this guy knows me way too much. I tried my best not to cringe.

I almost breathe a sigh of relief when he decided to drop the topic.

“ Let's just go back to sleep, Luce. I'm pretty tired,” He yawned. I nodded and we went back to bed. We went to the same position we were earlier. My heart begins to warm up and I think I could use to this type of feeling.

After all, he’s the meaning of my life, as cliché it may sound, when I didn't notice.

Author's note:

When I re-read this one shot after I finished it, I was totally unsatisfied. But since it's really late in the evening, let's just leave it at that. Please tell me what you think and remember, criticisms are allowed.

#fanfic #nalu #nalu fanfiction #fairy tail nalu

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 9.8k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, sex toys, bondage, blindfolds, use of safeword (yellow, not red), aftercare, pet names, praising, degradation, controlled orgasm - delay/denial/forced, oral (m receiving), masturbation, face fucking, loss of virginity (wink wonk it’s our namjoonie), however not full sex just a bj

DAY FIVE

“Going outside again today, Namjoonie?” Yoongi questions with a teasing grin.

Namjoon sighs morosely at the thunderous downpour of rain visible through the kitchen windows. “It’s over for me,” he announces sullenly. “I’ve lost.”

You pause, spoonful of rice hovering in front of your open mouth. “So your prompt was ‘the outdoors’, huh?”

A miserable cry leaves his throat before he buries his face in his arms, slumped at the dining table where a few of you have gathered for breakfast. “Damn it,” he whines, muffled by the thick cable knit sweater he’s wearing.

You’d woken up early to a crack of thunder; the weekend storm apparently descending upon the villa earlier than expected. For once, you’d had to help Jungkook work out the heating system, cranking it up until you could smell the quickly-heating dust that had gathered from lack of use.

Yoongi, also an early riser, had announced that a day like today required a hot breakfast, and you’d helped him prepare a basic stew and some steamed rice as you were gradually joined by Namjoon, Jin and Hoseok. You’d waited a bit for the remaining two contestants, but the wafting aroma of beef and potato quickly broke your patience.

You finish your mouthful with a chuckle, leaning over to rub his back. “But now that you’re already going to get the penalty, you may as well do whatever you want.”

Namjoon’s body is still for a few moments as he considers this, before the faded purple of his hair jostles with a nod. “I guess so,” is the reply that comes from the crook of his arm.

You grin. “It’s okay, it’s not like you’re the last one. Hoseok hasn’t gone yet, and I swear Jimin doesn’t even wake up before midday.”

Hoseok narrows his eyes at you challengingly but before he can retort, the youngest makes a noise of disagreement in his throat.

“Oh, he’s not sleeping,” Jungkook answers breezily between cheeks stuffed with rice. “What? Yesterday I wanted to ask if I could borrow one of his shirts for my stream this week - you know, that see-through pink one he wore over a white shirt? - and he didn’t answer when I knocked so I opened the door-”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi and Jin cut in simultaneously, faces turned down in disappointment.

“Wait!” Jungkook protests. “It’s not as bad as it sounds! I just stuck my head in the door and he was in the bathtub-”

“He gets a bath and I don’t?” Hoseok asks incredulously.

“Hobi-hyung, please,” Jungkook whines. “Not the point. So like, his hair was covered in white stuff and he had this bright green clay mask on his face and a black one all over his hands and the water was like pink, but still see-through and I could kinda smell rose and maybe tea tree oil but then he was yelling at me to get out and then I got a text saying if I told anyone he’d-” Jungkook pauses, his excitement fizzing out suddenly, replaced by a look of pure fear. “Oh, I probably shouldn’t have said all that. Let’s pretend that never happened.”

Jin looks like he wants to ask for more information, but Hoseok huffs, shuffling in his seat impatiently. “Who cares,” he spits petulantly. “He isn’t fucking Edward Cullen; just because he’s mysterious doesn’t make him hot. I can be mysterious.”

Yoongi gasps, pointing at Hoseok’s feet wordlessly. That alone is enough for the younger man to let out a pealing yelp, stumbling up out of his chair and jumping on his feet, frantically patting himself down as he wide-eyes the floor. Yoongi begins chuckling, a dry cackle that spreads to the others at the table, and Hoseok deflates, sending him a withering gaze.

Sitting back down in defeat, though not without glancing down one last time cautiously, Hoseok huffs at Yoongi, mouth sticking out in a pout. “You’re lucky I’ve already found my arch nemesis or it would be you, Yoongi-hyung.”

“What a relief,” Yoongi replies in sarcastic monotone.

Hoseok frowns, before cheering up again to send you a bright grin. “Hey, Y/n, are you gonna go out to the confessional booth today?”

“Real subtle,” Yoongi murmurs lowly.

Ignoring him, you shake your head. “It’s raining,” you reply, “I’ll get wet.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Hoseok tuts, the dull thud of his foot stomping making Yoongi fight to prevent a smile. “Stop it, hyung! You’ll give it away!”

“It’s okay, Hoseok,” you assure, “it doesn’t really matter if you lose. The penalty is just spending the week in the bunk room. If you think about it, it’s like a sleepover.”

The doms eyes slide back and forth as he considers this. “Okay!” he announces cheerily. “My prompt is the confessional booth! If everyone else says theirs, we can all hang out together!”

You swear you could hear a pin drop. Namjoon looks like he’s feeling sorry for himself again, Jungkook and Jin are both avoiding his entreating gaze, and Yoongi just stares at Hoseok unabashed, smirk deepening as the silence stretches out.

After a minute of dead air, Hoseok frowns. “Fuck you guys. I wanted to sleep on the bunk beds anyway.”

Feeling bad for him, you stand up, collecting the empty bowls around the table and taking them out to the kitchen. “It’s okay, Hobi,” you chime, “if everyone else succeeds for theirs then I can keep you company.”

Hoseok’s eyes go wide, before he turns to Namjoon. “Buddy, you gotta fuck her outside. Let me have this.”

Namjoon pales, staring at the rain outside which continues to bucket down. “We’ll catch a cold.”

“Fine, I’ll just make sure I don’t lose,” Hoseok insists, standing up himself.

You walk back towards the dining room. “What are you gonna do, ma-Hobi!” You squeal as your body is suddenly lifted, swung over a shoulder.

“Woah, hyung, you’re strong!” you hear Jungkook gush as Hoseok carries you without so much as a grunt. “That’s so cool!”

“Hey!” you try to snap, but with your body folded over a bony shoulder and hair dangling on end, you can’t imagine the heat of your comment is felt by anyone. “This is kidnapping!”

“Not really,” Jin calls out in a bright tone, “he’s not taking you off the property.”

You kick your legs in the air in frustration, blood rushing to your head. “Fuck you! You can go fuck Yoongi without me next time!”

“As far as threats go, that’s not strong,” Jin retorts, his voice carrying over the three shocked parties. “Fucking Yoongi would be a pleasure.”

“Thanks, Jin-hyung.”

“No problem.”

You feel your cheeks heat up with the added blood and your eyes ache, so you give up the fight, instead batting your fists against Hoseok’s ass in protest. “Hurry up, John Cena,” you grumble. “Either let me down or take me to the confessional room before I pass out.”

“So demanding,” Hoseok tuts, but before you know it you’re shifting, getting tugged down and up and sideways, vision spinning sickly until you’re resting, bridal style, in Hoseok’s arms.

You pout up at the dark-haired man. “Hobi, I feel seasick now.”

He grins, lips quirking into a heart shape. “Are you that wet already?”

Your head lolls back as you kick your legs weakly in his hold. “Stop it,” you whine. “Being mean.”

“Poor baby,” he jibes, and calls out a cheery goodbye to the others, walking you out to the outside dining area where you’d spent that first night, and following the house around until you arrive at the garden shed that houses the confessional room. Once he lets you down, he checks his phone, wincing at what he sees. “Shit. Producer Shin is getting impatient.”

Even with all the excess blood in your head, you pale at the thought of the friendly middle-aged man that operated the camera in the room. “He’s not waiting there, is he?”

“No,” Hoseok dismisses distractedly, typing out a reply, “I exiled him to Sejin’s caravan out front. He just doesn’t like leaving his post for too long in case others want to film.” After he pockets his phone, he glances up at you, a strange dark flicker in his eyes. “Get inside and sit on the stool. Wait for me.”

Your mouth drops at the sudden change in his tone, his demeanor. “Why should I have to wait?” you protest. “You’re the one that wants me in-”

You jump when a sudden smacking noise rings in your ears, sharp and thin. In front of you, Hoseok has simply clapped his hands together once, but the fright as well as his sudden seriousness has your words dying in your throat.

“I don’t appreciate subs that talk back,” he says slowly, each word enunciated and clear, like he’s reciting an important law. “So go inside, sit on the stool, and wait.”

“Yes, sir.” The honorific is meant to be a final sarcastic sign of defiance, but you find yourself meaning it as you say it. This isn’t Hobi that you can joke and laugh with. This is a glimpse of what he’s like at his job at the dungeon. Of what he’s like when he’s Master.

His back straightens and his face clears in approval, but he doesn’t praise you for it, simply standing in stoic expectation for you to follow his order.

When you get inside, you feel his eyes on your back like two hot pinpricks, but you don’t dare look back, leaving the door open a crack as you sit on the stool.

The room itself is cramped, with just enough room for the stool, the camera, and a seat behind it, empty for the first time since you’ve arrived. You’re used to seeing a producer sitting behind it, open from eight in the morning until midnight; Producer Shin doing the early half and Producer Kang in the evening. Both were friendly, middle-aged men. Shin was divorced and Kang was happily married with two kids in primary school, and after you’d gone through whatever thoughts were on your mind and whatever questions fans had sent in, both men would often switch off the camera and chat with you about whatever topic felt interesting at the time.

Though it wasn’t broadcasted like your interactions with the other guys, you really had found good company in the two of them, as well as Sejin. On the Tuesday after Namjoon had walked out on you, you’d even gone out the front door to the caravan where Sejin resided, joined by Shin as the two ate dinner. While the two of them, Sejin especially, preferred not to know any extra information about the game just to maintain a professional distance, but that didn’t mean they didn’t give you a hot cup of tea and a portion of the Chinese food they’d ordered in and distract you with chatter about a k-drama Sejin was watching.

Used to them, it feels strangely empty in the confessional room with that empty chair, more so now that you’re restless with anticipation, eyes straining to see outside the sliver of door you left open.

He leaves you for a long time. Whether it’s on purpose or not, or whether you’re just feeling the drag as you wait, you don’t know, but it seems like hours of being on full alert before the sudden metallic screech of the door opening gives you a fright, heart racing as he steps inside.

You gape as he casually steps behind you, a hand on the back of your head locking you in place when you try and look back at him. The glimpse you got was enough to see that he’d changed clothes slightly; bright yellow sweater replaced with a black leather jacket open over a see-through black shirt. The sight of him in your mind flashes every time you blink like an afterimage. Beyond the all-black ensemble, the tight ripped jeans and the heavy boots, perhaps the picture that stays behind your eyelids the longest is that of his hands. You didn’t have enough time to see, but he was holding what looked like a small rucksack, like the kind you’d take swimming or to play tennis. Somehow, you imagine what it contains isn’t so innocent.

You swallow as his fingers press on your scalp, splayed out. “Face the front,” he commands, and his voice brooks no protest. Once his hand leaves you, you remain still; hyper aware of the effort it takes to keep your eyes ahead, staring at the wall behind the Producer’s chair. “Arms.”

Pausing, you stare dumbly down at them as they rest on your lap. “What?”

Hoseok lets out a light sigh, like he’s exercising great patience, and taps your elbow. “Behind your back. Both of them.”

You follow his order, a shiver running through you when his hands, calloused but limber, grasp your wrists tightly. He ties you up in silence, the cool caress of silk making your eyes slip shut in bliss. While you definitely have an interest in it, your experience in bondage isn’t particularly vast, and you marvel at how such a simple tie changes you. With every swish of fabric against the delicate skin of your wrists, your nerves all over your body sing out, need pooling between your legs. Your shoulder blades are tucked back, opening out your chest, and even in a thick hoodie and leggings, you feel deliciously exposed. Your forearms are crossed over in the hollow of your back so that the tie binds your wrists together. Instinctively, your fingers wrap around your opposite forearm for support, and knowing that there’s no back to the chair, that you’re now open on all sides, has your heart-rate picking up.

You feel your arms tugged as he tightens the knot with a flourish, before slipping two fingers under.

“Wiggle your fingers,” he instructs, and you obey. “Try to get out.” You pause for a moment, but then pull in opposite directions, attempting to wiggle yourself out, but to no avail. “Good.”

You swallow again, fighting against the dryness of your mouth. “What are you-” Your eyes fly open wide as his hand claps over your mouth, pulling your head back to rest against his chest as he looks down at you. You make a noise of protest, but he shushes you, brows in a straight line of disapproval.

“I ask the questions, princess. You see that chair?” He points ahead, and you try to nod but fail as his hand keeps you still, your breath coming hot through your nose. “That’s where the producer sits and asks you questions. So the only thing I want to hear from you are the answers to my questions, and your safewords if you need them. Understood?”

You try and nod again; this time, he unwraps his fingers from over your mouth and lets you catch your breath. “Yes, sir,” you confirm, voice small.

“Do you remember your colours, princess? Can you tell me?”

You lick your lips where they’ve gone dry. “Green for go, yellow for slow down and red for stop... Sir.”

If he catches the pause where you almost forgot to say his title, he lets it slide. “Good. Let’s begin.”

You’re left dazed when he lets go of you and steps away in one swift motion, stepping to the side. You force yourself to keep your gaze ahead, unsure if the command from earlier is still in effect, but your eyes strain to make out the peripheral of him bending over the rucksack, rifling deep inside it. Your stomach curls at the sounds that emanate; the soft thuds of glass and silicone, the jangle of metal, the rustle of fabric.

Finally, he stretches up again, and you suck in a breath when his hand finds its way to your mouth again, this time wrapping tightly around your jaw and turning your face to look up at him, at the small device he’s wiggling in his fingers.

“Do you know what this is, princess?” Hoseok grins, and your eyes focus in on the small metal object. It’s short, a stubby cylinder. On closer inspection you notice a small remote tucked in his palm. A remote-controlled bullet vibrator. You nod as much as you can in his iron grip, and his eyes twinkle. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me and let me put it in?”

Your heart stops, blood rushing south as your desire skyrockets. “Yes, sir,” you gasp needily, unable to help yourself rocking your hips against the smoothed top of the wooden stool.

Hoseok tuts at your movements. “Good girls stay still,” he chastises, and you freeze, feeling your jaw ache once he lets go.

As it turns out, ‘in’ doesn’t mean inside of you, but rather in your panties. Your fingernails dig into your forearms with the effort to not move, biting down hard on your tongue. He steps in front of you, hands dipping shamelessly to the front of your leggings, fingers tugging at the elastic and releasing, letting it snap onto your front. You hiss in a breath through your nose but don’t speak, remembering his rule. Going back, this time his hand slips under both layers, and you can’t help the whine that comes out when you feel cold metal against the heat of your core, sliding over your clit. Frustratingly, he himself doesn’t touch you, only placing the vibe before removing his hand, patting over your crotch where you can see the obscene bulge, straight down the middle.

You let out a breath, brows furrowing with want, but he simply walks away, leaving you tied up and waiting as he sits behind the camera.

He looks entirely in his element, legs spread and leaning back in the chair, fingers running over the control in his hands. In front of him, slightly to the right so his face isn’t blocked, is the camera. It’s still set up, black lens staring you down from its position on the tripod. You watch with baited breath as he leans over and turns it on with a little electronic beep, Your pussy clenches at the thought of him filming this, not for the show but for himself.

How he’d take it to his room, booting up his laptop and locking his door. He probably sat much like he is now when he jerked off; legs wide to make room for his hands. Watching you moan and writhe, hands trapped behind you and chest pressed out as the metallic whine of the vibrations is just barely audible through his speakers. Would he drag it out, wanting to savour every last minute of the video, stroking himself slowly so as not to cum too soon, or would he be frantic, desperate, panting alone in his room as he tries to orgasm in time with you, spilling all over himse-

An unbidden cry leaps from your throat as you’re taken off-guard by the sudden voltage between your legs. Your thighs snap shut but the pleasure continues, Hoseok watching raptly as your shoulders twist, the instinct to pull your arms forward even as soft silk holds firm. “Hobi,” you whine imploringly.

He ignores you, ramping the vibrations up enough that the noise fills the room; a constant high-pitched whirring that rings in your ears even as you clench your thighs around it. Though you’d enjoyed the odd vibrator yourself, you were sure Hoseok knew full well that there were always a few high settings that were quite simply too much. It overstimulates you before you’ve even orgasmed, so much you can’t take it.

“Hobi!” you cry, curling over yourself as if you can escape it. Belatedly, in your electrified brain, a puzzle piece clicks into place. “Sir! Sir, please, turn it off! It hurts, please!”

You go lax, shuddering when it stops suddenly; the only sound in the confessional room coming from your heavy breathing.

“Oh, princess,” he soothes in a warm voice, “don’t worry. Sir will help you learn. Think of this as training, hm? I want our time together to be enjoyable, but it’s important that you know how to behave. Sir would rather reward you than punish you. That’s fair, don’t you think?”

You straighten up awkwardly, the weight of your arms crossed over your back making it difficult. He’s patient, smiling once you face him upright again. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

His eyes glimmer at that, and your core clenches, all too aware of the powerful motor resting over your clit. You wanted him to be happy with you, not just because you want a reward, but because you know just how unbearable his punishment would be. “Here’s the plan: I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them. If I don’t like your answer, you know what happens. Understood?”

You feel your arms and thighs break out in goosebumps at the thinly veiled threat. “Understood, sir.”

“Then let’s begin. We’ll start with an easy one, hm? How do you address me?”

“Sir.”

“Correct. When should you speak?”

“When spoken to,” you answer automatically, but his head cocks to the side, raising the remote meaningfully. Your mind scrambles. “Wait! And if I have to use the safewords, sir.”

The hand holding the remote lowers again as he nods. “That’s right. I can punish you for forgetting the other rules and move on, but if you ignore that then we can’t play at all, princess.” Hoseok smiles placidly. “Those are the ones we’ve already learnt. Let’s see how good your instincts are.”

You take in a deep breath, eying up the remote warily. This was uncharted territory, so the chance of you making a mistake just went right up. Rather than making any comment, you bite your tongue and wait for him to address you.

“When do you get to cum?” Hoseok asks in an authorial tone.

You pause for a moment, not wanting to blurt out something wrong. “When Sir gives me permission?”

He smiles placidly. “Good. Now; normally with my subs, they come only by my say-so. But I know for you, that isn’t reasonable given you have to play with the others. However there is still something I expect to have control over. Think for a bit; I’ll give you time. What can you not do without my permission?”

You stare at him imploringly but he just waits for your answer. You rack your mind for some clue, running over his words. He only wanted you to cum with his permission, but he was saying sex with the others was fine. So it wasn’t like you couldn’t cum at all without him around... You blink, feeling cold dread settle down your back as you come up blank. “I don’t get it, sir, I’m sorry.”

“That’s disappointing.” Even as you brace yourself, the powerful vibrations shock you to your core, more intense than you remember them. Hoseok’s eyes remain on you as you rock your hips and wiggle your torso, body trying to escape the overwhelming sensations even as you know you can’t. He holds you like that for what feels like an eternity, though it can’t be more than a minute or two. Finally, just as you feel like you’re going to fall apart, he takes mercy, and the vibrations cease, leaving you gasping.

“The answer I was looking for,” Hoseok explains coolly, “is masturbate. You are not allowed to masturbate as long as I am in the show. If you want that release, you’re to come to me, and I’ll decide if you’ve earned it. Is that clear?”

You open your mouth for a disingenuous yes, but he beats you to the bunch.

“And if you break that rule, don't think I won’t notice. I have mercy for mistakes but I don’t take well to direct disobedience.”

You deflate, lips turning down in a frown. It takes you a moment to commit. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” His eyes glint proudly at the power you’ve handed over to him, and you clench your thighs together, not wanting to admit just how much that look affects you. “I have one last question for you. What would you like from me?”

This feels like a question with no right answer, but still you hesitate. Ask for too much and he might chastise you. “A kiss, please, sir,” you try tentatively.

Hoseok’s eyes crinkle slowly as he smiles, standing up. “How romantic, princess.” You turn your chin up in anticipation, toes curling as he sidesteps the camera and moves closer, leather jacket shifting to reveal tantalising slips of skin, covered by the black sheer mesh. Once in front of you, he bends down painfully slowly, close enough that your eyes slip shut, the lightest brush of his lips on yours and-

He chuckles above you as the vibrations reappear with a vengeance, making you jerk violently and curse.

“Sir! Please!” you cry. Each time the vibrations come, they’re more insufferable, like they’re breaking down your defenses one pulse at a time. “Sir, please stop it, it’s too mu-uch!”

Hoseok turns it down, but not off, so that a gentle thrumming keeps you shuddering. He reaches behind you to tug your hair, pulling your head up to face him as he stands above you, tutting. “Why would I give you what you want?” he asks rhetorically. “You didn’t answer all my questions correctly. Maybe next time, hm?”

The vibrations are now the exact opposite of before - too low to bring you close to your high. “Hobi, plea- Sir, please, make me cum! I tried my best!” You round your eyes and pout, trying to plead with him.

Though he tries to hide it, his poker face falters for just a second. Just a twitch of his eye, a softening of his jaw, but you know you have him.

You let your voice soften even more, the sweetest begging. “I’ll be good for you, sir. Please just let me cum.”

Hoseok lets out a sigh, eyes melting. “Just this once, princess,” he allows, “Sir will go easy on you since you’re just learning.” He smiles at the way you moan in relief once the vibrations pick up again, the divine middle ground between too much and not enough. With your senses so heightened, it’s no surprise to feel the coil in your stomach quickly tightening, egged on by the fond way he strokes your hair, brushing it off your face to drink in your reactions. “Are you going to cum for me?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you breathe, hips rocking as much as you can without compromising your balance. It’s an overwhelming feeling having your arms still tied behind you. The thought that you aren’t in control of your own pleasure. Considering his prior rule, it doesn’t surprise you that he started with a scene where you didn’t even have the choice to cum without permission. Every time the silk tugs at your wrists or the metal vibe slides slightly with your grinding, it just reminds you of how you’re fully at his mercy, and you can’t wait to feel what that’s like once you finally cum. It’s not quite enough though; so wet, the metal slips more than you’d like and it frustrates you when the pressure isn’t enough, or is in the wrong place. You hiccup a sob when he turns the vibrations up just one more level, so close to your edge you could cry. “Ho-hobi, please, I need more.” You sniff at the way his brows tick. “Sir,” you cry desperately, legs widening in invitation.

Hoseok lets out a low grumble as his jaw flexes. “You’re lucky I’m going easy on you,” he announces, before dropping a hand down and cupping it over your center, pressing the vibrator right over your clit. “You better cum now, princess, I’m getting impatient. You wouldn’t want Producer Shin to walk in right now, hm? Poor man just wants to do his job, not deal with whiny little girls like you who just want to cum. Do you know why I’m not fucking you right now, princess? Because I know you couldn’t help yourself from making a mess. I bet you’re sopping wet in those panties of yours.”

With every sentence, Hoseok grinds the heel of his palm over you, jostling the vibrator against your swollen clit and before you know it, you’re cumming, leaning forward and burying your head in his chest as you latch your thighs around his hand, cresting the high.

He holds you there the whole time, vibrator jumping up another level to make you let out a squeal. As your vision begins to clear and your body returns to normal, the vibrations make you jump and whimper against him, arms flexing aggressively as you fail to pull your hands in front of you, no way of stopping the assault of sensation- unless; “Sir! Turn it off, sir, please!”

Hoseok takes mercy on you and the vibrations cease. As you gasp for breath, the sheer fabric of his shirt itching your cheek, you feel his palms slide over your shoulders and down your back, warm even through your hoodie, and reach for the length of silk. You make a low noise of disapproval at the feeling of being untied, not wanting the scene to be over, but he just shushes you gently, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

Your shoulders twinge once your hands fall to your sides, and you follow his instructions to roll them out as he massages the muscles. While his fingers aren’t as heavenly as Taehyung’s, it does ease the ache, and you let him sit you up as he fishes the slick metal bullet out from between your legs, smirking at the way you shudder when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit.

“Now, princess,” he announces lowly, “Shin will be coming back soon, so we need to head out. But I still have one last lesson for you. Are you able to keep going? It’s nothing too crazy, I promise.”

You swallow the dryness in your throat that’s come from your heavy breaths and nod, a soft smile gracing your face with the satisfaction of a good orgasm.

Hoseok hums, pleased, and pats your cheeks warmly before holding up the black silk. “One of the most important things in a scene,” he explains, brushing your hair back with his free hand, his knuckles light against the sensitive skin of your neck, “is trust. So we’re going to take a walk back to the house together, princess. Only you’ll be wearing this.”

Your breath hitches as the silk comes over your eyes, cool on your lids and temples as he ties it in a knot at the back, tight enough that it won’t slip but making sure it isn’t catching your hair or digging in. It’s a new kind of vulnerability, having your hands free but your sight prohibited, and you find your head tilting up blindly, seeking him out in the void.

“Oh, Y/n,” you hear him chant in a whisper, “you have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

You shiver, hands clutching at him, slippery fabric and sharp teeth of a zip scratching your palms. “Sir,” you say, no words coming to mind but his title as his hands grasp your sides, lifting you off the stool. You stumble a but, hands flying out to steady yourself in the darkness. Your heart races when you realise your hands are empty, and as you wave them around, it’s all open air, feeling deep like a crevasse. “Hobi?”

Hoseok ignores the slip, his voice coming slightly to your right, but at a distance. “Follow my voice, princess. I’ll keep you safe. Come.”

Your mouth hangs open and your feet feel leadened to the floor. As fear begins to roil in your chest, you slide your feet forward, shuffling closer, hands scanning the air in front of you. With no sight, every inch feels like walking up to the edge of a cliff, hands grasping for contact that never comes. Your breath hitches, lungs not expanding fully. “H-hoseok, yellow,” you gasp, eyes tearing at the fear that grips your heart. “I don’t like it.”

“Okay, shh, you’re alright, I’m here,” Hoseok comforts, his voice closer, and you let out a sob of relief when your hands touch the mesh of his shirt, elbows buckling as he pulls you into a tight hug. The restriction on your ribs falls away the moment his chin rests on the crown of your head and his hands rub soothingly at your back. “I’m so sorry, princess,” he murmurs gently, “too far, hm? Are you still okay with the blindfold?”

You sniff and nod, bottom lip trembling so much that you don’t dare speak.

“So not being able to touch me was too much? That’s okay, don’t get upset, we don’t have to do that. Do you think you could walk to the house with me if I hold your hand? Would you like to try that instead?”

As he speaks, he slips a hand into yours, squeezing tightly. You take a steadying breath, feeling those sickly stresses fade away. “I wanna try, Sir,” you decide, voice only wobbling a little.

“Are you sure?” You hum in confirmation, and he rewards you with another soft kiss to your forehead. “Then let’s go, princess. Walk this way with me.”

It’s still scary stepping out blindly, but Hoseok reassures you every few moments, and his hand is like an anchor in the black ocean, keeping you steady. His hands are surprisingly slender, but they just fit into yours all the better, warm and strong and tugging you along slowly.

The first thing you feel once you leave the shed is the spots of rain on your cheeks, air fresh with moisture. Rather than be a negative, however, the lighter downpour soothes you, as well as gives you an incentive to walk faster.

There’s a slight lip where the patio begins, and once Hoseok guides you to step up on it, the rain ceases to hit you, now a soothing patter against the eaves of the house and the roof over the outdoor dining area. The swish of a glass sliding door, and finally you’re led inside, Hoseok warning you about furniture you’re close to so that you don’t trip.

Even as it gets easier with time, you still let out a heavy breath of relief once he slides back a chair at the table and helps you sit, unwinding the knot and baring your eyes to the world once more.

You blink, wincing at the bright lights of the kitchen and dining room, feeling Hoseok’s hands on you, warm voice praising you. Strangely, your mind feels more fuzzy now that it’s over, and you tell Hoseok, rubbing your eyes to try and get your vision to focus on his face.

“Probably subspace,” he answers, taking the chair next to you and holding out his hands, palms up. You frown blearily at him and he just laughs, reaching out for your wrists. You look down and let out a noise of surprise. All your struggling has left harsh red lines circling your wrists, and you hiss as Hoseok gently rubs them, pressing in an almost clinical manner like he’s making sure you haven’t hurt yourself. “Typically the trust exercise alone wouldn’t make someone fall that much, but I suspect cumming first had gotten you halfway there.”

“Okay,” you answer dumbly, making his lips quirk in a smile, letting your wrists down.

“I’m going to get you a drink of water and something sugary and then we’re going to sit down at the couch and watch a movie together, okay?”

“Okay,” you say again, head feeling heavy. Perhaps you’d lie rather than sit on the couch, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You did so well for me today, princess,” he praises. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” you slur happily, waiting for him to duck into the kitchen and retrieve the supplies.

And so for the rest of the morning, the two of you curl up together on the couch, gradually joined by the others, until all eight of you are watching Paddington 2, Jungkook furiously playing a game on his phone to hide the fact that he’s tearing up at one of the climaxes.

It’s easy to let time pass like this; long after you feel fully clear and coherent again, you remain safe in Hoseok’s lazy embrace, his head resting against yours and his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Jin and Yoongi bicker about the movie choices as the day goes on, and Taehyung demolishes enough snacks to clear the pantry, but you and Hoseok just relax, enjoying the mutual comfort after your scene.

In fact, you barely notice the afternoon drifting by until Jin stands up and announces you order in some dinner, because it was too late to cook. True to his word, it was almost 8pm, and you didn’t fancy waiting until 10 or later to eat.

It’s not you, or even Jin or Yoongi, but Jimin that notices Namjoon’s change in demeanour. The eight of you are crowded around the coffee table cross-legged (or, like Taehyung, lying on his stomach) in an uncommon silence founded by the delicious food you’re all stuffing into your mouths.

Not all, apparently, as Jimin’s voice breaks the silence. “Namjoon-ah, why aren’t you eating?”

The silence changes, then. No longer the contented hush of eating, but the frozen uncertainty of a social faux pas. You’d only known each other five days and already Jimin was using a very familiar term, one that normally you wouldn’t dare use to someone older than you. Namjoon, however, doesn’t seem offended, but rather sends the younger man a grateful look.

“I’m just not hungry,” he weakly explains, staring mournfully at the steaming dishes in front of him.

“You didn’t eat lunch either,” Jimin points out, making you raise your brows. You’d seen on many occasions that Jimin was an observer - the memory of his hand around your throat still makes you shiver - but to hear it directed at someone else’s wellbeing impressed you.

Namjoon just shrugs. “I wasn’t hungry then.”

Abandoning his own meal and ignoring the gawking stares from the others at the table, Jimin reaches out with his chopsticks, piling food from all of the dishes into Namjoon’s bowl. “You’re going to sit here and eat with us, Namjoon, and then you’re going to tell whoever you feel comfortable telling why you’re upset.”

Namjoon’s face falls, guilty. His fingers fiddle with the hair tucked behind his ears as he watches his portion grow. “I don’t want to be a burden,” he mutters softly.

“You aren’t a burden,” Jimin says firmly, sending him a firm look and sliding a set of chopsticks his way. “Just say thank you and eat.”

“Thank you, Jimin,” Namjoon says in a small voice, grabbing a piece of pork cutlet first, biting into the crunchy crumb.

With a quiet smile, Jimin turns back to his own food, continuing to dig in. As if that’s the signal for the rest of you, the group returns to their bowls, a satisfied silence falling once again.

After a few mouthfuls, Jin sets his cutlery down, wiping his mouth on a stray napkin. “I think all of us are probably facing some challenges in this situation. No matter who gets voted out and when, we’re the only ones we have right now, so let’s be honest with each other and support each other. We shouldn’t expect Namjoon to be vulnerable with us without being able to do the same. So I’ll start; one thing I’ve been worrying about is that I’ll get my own feelings in the way - whether that’s affection or jealously or competitiveness - and not be able to give you all objective advice. I want you all to see me as a person you can talk to and a shoulder to lean on, so I’m worried if I get too in the game I may no longer be able to do that.”

Finished, Jin returns calmly to eating, pulling a long trail of cheese ramen into from the bowl into his waiting mouth. To your surprise, it’s Jungkook that speaks up next; the boy having kept quiet this whole time.

“I’m worried-” he begins, before his nose twitches violently like he’s fighting the urge to tear up. “I’m worried that I’ll miss you guys. If I get voted out or any of you get voted out. Like; once the competition is over we can still hang out at stuff sometimes, and we can still talk, but it won’t be the same.”

You coo as he presses the back of his hand to his nose, blinking hard. Sitting beside him, you leave your own food and wrap your arms around him in a sideways hug, resting your head on his shoulder. He sniffs, but his head tips to the side to lean against yours, and you feel his body relax into the embrace.

“I worry about that too, Jungkookie,” you admit. “Though my biggest fear is that whoever I vote out each time will hate me for it. I know it’s hard not to take things personal. It’s going to be an impossible decision every week, and I don’t think I could handle it if you got angry and didn’t want to speak to me again.”

“That won’t happen,” Taehyung answers certainly. “You’re so cool, Y/n, and getting a bunch of hot people to fuck you every week is the dream, but I would never want to be in your decision. We all know it’ll suck more for you than it does for us.”

You smile as the other guys at the table nod in agreement, letting out a low hum as Jungkook’s shoulder jostles beneath your head, the boy reaching forward to grab his bowl. As he lifts a hunk of white rice to his mouth, you poke him in the ribs, opening your own lips.

Though you can’t see his face, Jungkook scoffs and you can picture the reluctant grin he must sport as he changes angles, lowering it to your mouth instead. You hum happily once the warm rice fills your mouth, but it soon turns into an indignant squeak as Jungkook pulls out a cut of cooked pork with his chopsticks, eating the much better morsel. He chuckles, feeding you the next strip, and the two of you sit contentedly like that, feeding each other as the conversation continues.

It seems like it’s Hoseok’s turn. He has his gaze internal, biting at his lip. “I’m terrified that I’m gonna fuck up and say something wrong or do something wrong and then people at my work will think I’m a bad dom. I swear I’ve read Y/n’s limit sheet a million times but I still messed up today.”

“Hobi,” you sigh, voice soft with empathy, “that wasn’t your fault. And you handled it perfectly. Please don’t feel bad.”

Though you know the others have questions - Jimin especially is staring hard at Hoseok, not angry but burning with curiosity - nobody asks, simply letting things move on. Yoongi pats Hoseok on the back from beside him and looks towards the center of the room.

“My concern is with the editing team,” Yoongi explains. “We don’t really have any way of knowing how much is going to be shown in the episodes on the website, and I don’t want people to watch this and get altered perceptions of things. I’m sure it can’t be avoided, but I do sometimes wonder how much the audience even sees.”

“I bet if one of us takes our clothes off, they’ll air this part,” Jin offers between mouthfuls of meat. “If you ever want to make sure something gets on the show, just remember it’s a porn website. I bet I could get five minutes of me talking about the economic state of Poland on the show if someone was going down on me at the time.”

Namjoon chokes on a sip of his water and you laugh heartily at the satisfied grin on Jin’s face. Always one to lighten the mood, the eldest seemed relieved at the way Namjoon blushes, but still chuckles, looking less anxious.

“Alright, then,” the virgin announces shyly. “I’ll get it off my chest. I’ve wanted to make my move this whole week but I keep chickening out. I’m worried that I’ll get to Sunday and not have done anything.”

You straighten up off of Jungkook. “That’s easy, Namjoonie. I’ll just make a move for you. After dinner, let’s go to your room.”

He chuckles nervously, but the whole room burst into a joyous cheer when he nods at you.

“Namjoonie, you casanova!” Hoseok jokes, but you can see how his eyes glimmer with pride, all the guys genuinely happy for him.

Namjoon senses it too, and some of his nerves seem to dissipate. He laughs, rocking his fist like a small punch of victory, and sends you a grateful smile. “Anyway,” he says once the celebration calms down, “we still have Taehyungie and Jimin to hear from.”

“I’ll go first,” Taehyung insists, jumping up from his spot lying on the floor to sit instead, placing his hands palms-down on the table like he’s divulging state secrets. His eyes narrow, his voice lowers. “My deepest, darkest fear is that either I or Jimin-hyung will get voted out before I get the chance to give him a massage.”

Jimin rolls his eyes as everyone oohs at the confession, but he can’t hide the upwards twitch of his lips. “Go on, then,” he allows, cheeks plumped as they fight to hold back his grin. “I need to be loosened up to admit my feelings anyway.”

Taehyung hoots, springing up and stepping around limbs and bodies until he’s sitting on the couch behind Jimin, legs on either side of the older man’s body. “You’ll have to take off your sweater,” Taehyung announces, fingering the cream-coloured fabric around his shoulders, “it’s too thick.”

Once again Jimin surprises you by actually removing his sweater, delicately slipping the ends of the sleeves over his wrists before lifting it up. He’s not shirtless - underneath the sweater is a thin cotton tank, tucked into his white jeans - but it’s the most skin you’ve seen on him, and you gape at his bare arms, lithe and pale.

The atmosphere in the room has changed very suddenly, everyone’s eyes on the pair as Taehyung rubs his palms together, warming them before laying them over Jimin’s shoulders with an excited grin. Jimin sighs almost inaudibly, lips parting as Taehyung begins to work his magic.

“Tell us then, hyung,” the masseuse requests, “what’s eating Park Jimin?”

Jimin’s lids flutter, the tension returning to his face with a frown. “That none of you would like me. That I’d get voted off just to make things less awkward for the rest of you.”

Taehyung’s hands freeze, his face falling. “We love having you here, hyung,” he insists lowly. “You’re a tough egg to crack, but I bet you’re a softie deep down. We’ll get there.”

“Thank you,” Jimin replies shortly, feeling considerably uncomfortable with the eyes on him for once. “I do hope that wasn’t the end of the massage, Tae, you barely sat down.” His tone is flat, but he lifts his head up to send the younger boy a sidelong grin.

Taehyung winks back at him, gently turning Jimin’s head back to face the front. “Of course, not, that was just the warm-up. You’ll be so relaxed when I’m done, you won’t be able to walk up to your room.”

Jimin lets out a little laugh as Taehyung begins pressing his fingers in more deeply, the flesh rippling beneath his touch. The masseuse, however, glances up to the rest of you, jerking his chin away like he’s asking you all to leave. Privacy, he mouths, and you fight the urge to nod in understanding.

Jimin probably wouldn’t let himself relax like that if all of you were just sitting there staring at him; you can see the way he nibbles lightly on his bottom lip that he feels out of his comfort zone.

Jin takes the first iniative, letting out a satisfied sigh and standing up. “I’m full,” he announces, “who’s gonna come help me do the dishes?”

And like that, you all clear out and leave Taehyung and Jimin behind, Jimin’s shoulders dropping in relief when he thinks nobody can see. Instead of helping clear up, Jin tells you to take Namjoon upstairs, and before you can really comprehend it, the two of you are sitting on the end of his bed in his room, kicking your legs out awkwardly.

“Well,” you say after a moment, Namjoon jumping slightly like he hadn’t expected you to speak, “how would you like to do this, Namjoonie? Lying down, sitting up, standing?”

He swallows, fiddling with the ends of his hair. “I think sitting,” he answers. “Could we, um, do it under the covers?”

“The blowjob?” you ask in surprise, and Namjoon nods, cheeks bright red.

“Nobody’s seen me naked before, and it doesn’t matter if I get disqualified for not showing everything because I’m going to get the penalty anyway for not doing it outside.”

“That’s fine,” you coo, “whatever makes you comfortable. How about I turn away while you get undressed?”

He nods, and you face the wall, listening to the sound of him hastily undressing, like he was worried you’d get impatient and turn around.

“You do realise I’m going to see you naked anyway?” you call out. “I can’t suck your dick with my eyes shut. Well-” Your voice lifts up as you consider it. “I suppose I could.”

Namjoon laughs, and you let yourself smile proudly at the sound. “You can turn around now,” he instructs, and you do, smile widening at the way he sits up in bed, pulling the covers up over his chest cutely.

“Namjoonie,” you sigh, stepping over to perch on the side of the bed, “I don’t want to push you if you aren’t ready. Are you sure about this? I don’t mind waiting.”

He mulls it over for a moment, chin pressing out as he tenses his jaw. “I think I’ll be fine once we get into it, you know? I’m ready.”

“Then let’s get into it,” you announce, fishing out your phone.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Namjoon’s shoulders deflate. “What are you doing?”

You smile softly, selecting a romantic playlist to set the tone a little; a slow, soothing guitar and husky male vocals emanating from your phone. “Setting the mood,” you answer, placing it on his nightstand and turning to him. “You’ve kissed before, yeah?”

Namjoon nods, his eyes widening once you stand up, shimmying out of your clothes. “I- y- mhm. Oh, god.”

“What?” you ask innocently, like you didn’t just get naked in front of him. This whole ‘being filmed 24/7’ thing had done wonders for your body confidence, and so you boldly straddle him, the duvet being the only thing that separates you. “We’ll just start with something you know, then.”

He makes a little muffled squeak of surprise when you press your mouth to his, but it shocks you just how quickly he seems to calm down and kiss you back. Perhaps he was a natural, or he had more experience than he’d let on, but in few short moments he begins to take control of it, deepening it and making your mind hazy with slips of his tongue.

“Wow,” you gasp out between kisses, “how did you learn to - mmph! - kiss like this?”

“Sorry,” he replies, voice already husky with arousal, “I’m excited.”

“Good,” you chime with a light giggle, “are you excited all over?”

“N- Yes,” Namjoon admits, stricken.

“So soon?” you question teasingly.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, pulling away and clenching his eyes shut like it pains him. “You’re really pretty.”

To hide your blush, you slide a hand down his chest and stomach. “Do you want me to touch you now?”

He nods quickly, jerky motions as his hands fist at his sides. “Shit, can you- This duvet was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have-”

“Hey,” you interrupt softly, standing up off him. He makes a low noise of loss and opens his eyes, widening when he’s visually reminded of just how naked you are. “We can take the duvet off, don’t worry. It’s easier this way, too.”

Once he nods his consent, you flip the covers back, revealing his naked body.

Your mouth drops open. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Namjoon frowns, brows knitting together. “That’s not a good reaction,” he says unsurely, hands tucking over his hardness. He’s huge - big enough to rival Seokjin’s - and he’s practically leaking precum like a faucet, his tip looking so red it must be painful.

“Oh, I can assure you it most definitely is,” you gush. “God, I’m so lucky. How did I get this lucky?” you ask yourself in wonder, stradding him again. This time, you sit lower so that you can bend over and take him in your hand, marvelling at the weight of it.

With that simple touch, Namjoon’s head falls back and knocks loudly on the headboard, making him hiss. “Y/n, if you don’t put your mouth on me now, I swear...”

Your eyes widen, mouth in question falling open in shock. “So Namjoon’s a baby dom, hm?”

He lifts his head off the wall, staring at you like he can’t believe the words that came from his own lips. “Sorry, was that rude? I’m going crazy, I want you so bad.”

“Don’t apologise,” you croon, running a single nail lightly up his side, “I like it. I’m going to suck you off now, okay? Tell me what feels good.”

He nods, a small amount of his prior nerves returning, but before they can take over, you dip your head, wrapping your lips around his tip and simply sucking off the precum that pools there.

“Fuck! God, oh my god,” Namjoon all-but shouts, and you can’t help but chuckle around him. “Don’t laugh,” he chastises, a hand winding its way in your hair to pull it back from your face.

You glance up at him, lips still on him, and slowly sink down, letting his hardness fill your mouth all the way to the back. He’s barely halfway in, but when you flick your tongue against one of the veins on his underside, it looks like he’s reached nirvana. You pull up, licking your lips, and use your hand to spread the wetness around his length. “Good?”

“Good, just keep - fuck - keep going.” You grin when his lips press together and he visibly forces himself from saying please, now that you’ve said you liked his dominant streak.

Always one to please, you drop your mouth onto him again, this time building up into a bobbing rhythm, a salty tang hitting your tongue as sweat and precum mingle. As you jerk off what can’t fit in your mouth, Namjoon curses lowly and his hips rise off the bed, pushing himself deeper so that his tip begins to breach your throat. You gag in shock, but he just groans louder at the obscene noise.

Expecting him to do it again, you try and relax your throat, but instead you feel tugging on your scalp as he pulls you up by your hair. He’s still slow enough to be painless, but he seems more comfortable taking some control and it makes you grin when you get pulled up off him, sucking air into your lungs.

“I want to try something,” Namjoon admits with wide, lust-ridden eyes. “I won’t push if you don’t want to.” He swallows, fingers tightening in your hair. “Can I fuck your face?”

Your mouth drops open even more, but your grin only broadens. “Fuck, yes,” you enthuse. “Is like this okay, or do you wanna change positions?”

“Like this,” he says, and his other arm moves down so that he can hold your head with both hands, fingers brushing back the hair that’s fallen in your face. “Just hit me if it’s too much?”

Your heart warms at the thought of him worrying about your safety, and you nod, taking the initiative to lean down, opening your mouth to rest his tip on your tongue, glancing up at him.

“Okay,” he breathes, and begins.

Rather than fucking up into you, he first starts by guiding you up and down on his cock with his grip on your head, each time a little lower, a little deeper down the back of your throat like he’s readying you. After only a few pulls up and down, his head tips back again, smacking noisily against the headboard as he speeds up, eyes shutting in pleasure.

It’s only once his eyes have closed that his hips begin to thrust up too. Like he’s letting himself get lost in the pleasure and just feel. You get lost in it, too. It’s easy to go passive like a doll, just focusing on the way he fills your throat. The way he hisses when you gag, and moans when you swirl your tongue in time with his thrusts.

Your eyes tear up with the intensity of it, breathing through your nose and trying not to cough on him, but you’re in heaven, a hand slipping down between your legs to give yourself some much-needed friction.

It’s once you start touching yourself that everything suddenly happens much faster. The rush of pleasure makes you moan around him, which makes him open his eyes blearily to look down at you, slowling his thrusts when he sees your hand between your legs. Once he realises what you’re doing, he curses again, and his hips pick up their speed, surpassing it until you’re gagging on every thrust, your jaw aching and tears streaming, but still you rock against your hand and moan onto him, caught in the pleasure of feeling, watching, and hearing him fall apart as you fall apart yourself.

As you grow close, a hair’s breadth away from orgasm, you reach your free hand between his legs and cup his balls, softly rolling them in your grasp.

Namjoon shouts as he reaches his orgasm, and suddenly he’s pressing you still against him, cumming down your throat with a stream of intense groans, thighs shaking.

You can’t catch your breath; his cock triggering your gag reflex but staying deep inside you, and it’s that desperation, that lack of control that brings you over the edge yourself, soaking your hand and the sheets below it with the force of your orgasm. He lifts you up as you’re riding your high, spent himself, but the sudden rush of oxygen to your lungs only heightens your pleasure, and you collapse, face pressed against his stomach as you cum and suck in air and cum some more.

Your own legs are shaking by the time you finish, core throbbing with aftershocks, and it takes all of your energy to push yourself up beside him so that you can lie against his bare chest again.

The room is filled with nothing but panting for a few moments, your fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest as his arm wraps around you, holding you tight.

Namjoon is the first to speak, his voice low even in the silence of his bedroom. “Will you stay?”

You swallow back the hoarseness in your throat, using your foot to hook the duvet back up and over your lower halves, snuggling closer to him. “I’ll stay.”

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