#the camera gotta be level with my mouth preferably eyes or higher like

[loverboybitch]

hair unironically stressing me out . like . what do i do with it.//.

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex/voyeurism/exhibitionism as usual, sub!jungkook, dom!reader, pegging, anal play, rimming, multiple orgasms, crying during sex, jk being a good good boy, dom!namjoon, sub!reader, bath sex, ageplay/DDlg, fingering, unprotected sex, pet names, spanking, creampie, aftercare in both cases

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and jk’s ass

DAY EIGHTEEN

All things considered; you were rather lucky to be sharing a room with Yoongi when you wake up that morning.

The second consciousness returns to you, it brings a feeling of nausea so abrupt that you’re careening off the bed and rushing to bed over the toilet without a second’s thought, body running on survival mode.

You’re not sure what wakes Yoongi - the sudden absence of pressure and heat against him, or the sound of you throwing up all the food and alcohol you’d consumed last night – but it takes mere moments before you feel him gently caressing your trembling body, lifting your tangled hair back off your face.

“Just let it out,” he coos softly as you bend over miserably, the sour taste on your tongue making your stomach turn again, “you’ll feel better after, I promise. That’s it.”

The moment you finally have nothing left to empty out, you collapse sideways onto the cool bathroom tile, hand curling over your stomach. Yoongi gets up to flush the toilet and gets out a spare toothbrush from under his sink, pressing it into your hand already prepped with toothpaste. “I’m sorry,” you mumble lowly, nose running slightly as you sniffle. “I think I drank too much. That green apple soju fucking sucks, too.”

The doctor has the good graces to smile at your attempt of lightening the mood, but it’s strained, waiting for you to begin brushing the acrid leftovers from your mouth before speaking. “You’d better have a light breakfast, okay? Some toast and maybe a cup of herbal tea to settle your stomach. Can you stand? I’ll get you some fresh clothes from your room while you take a shower here.”

Your heart warms at his endearing bedside manner. “I’ll be fine, Yoongi.”

“It’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid,” Yoongi says with a mock sigh. “Come on; you can wash your hair, too. Feeling nice and clean will help.”

Sniffing one last time, you give him an agreeing nod and hunker up on your knees, before standing. God, but why do you still feel so nauseous? That fucking soju. Yoongi must see the discomfort on your face, because he gives your shoulder a squeeze. “Not to worry, I’m sure I have something here you can take which will make you feel better. You aren’t the first person to not handle their liquor in the villa.”

You give him a questioning frown, your throat feeling raw as you clear it lightly. “What do you mean? Everyone seemed okay yesterday.”

“Hoseok texted me,” Yoongi answers with a shrug. “I didn’t see it ‘til after you fell asleep, but apparently poor Tae was curled up with a hot water bottle last night feeling rather sorry for himself. I think he got a little trigger-happy on his Sprite and soju mixers.”

Your brows furrow in concern, your own condition forgotten. “Is he alright?” You mentally kick yourself for not being more attentive to him. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel excluded now that he was voted out.

“He’s fine, I’m sure. Hoseokie and Jimin apparently actually spent the night in the bunk room with him, because both refused to leave. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

“Holy shit,” you muse. “If you weren’t so busy filling me like a cream puff maybe we could’ve witnessed that.”

Yoongi’s mouth gapes at your jibe, and you let out a hiccupping giggle when he rushes you, jabbing at your sides. “You little shit! That’s how you repay me after yesterday?”

You chuckle, feeling significantly more cheerful than when you woke up. “I gotta keep you humble, Doctor Min.”

His shoulders jump with a fond huff. “You’re impossible,” he gives in with a begrudging smile. “Now go; shower! I’ll be back.”

By the time you’re downstairs, enjoying some lightly buttered toast and an aromatic peachy-tasting tea - laughing with Taehyung who has slunk downstairs like a viscous goop, slumped on the table sucking on a vitamin table - any concerns or worries about your brief vomiting spell have entirely left your mind.

--

Jungkook is antsy.

He cycles madly between intense eye-contact and complete avoidance of your existence, looking for all intents and purposes like a deer in headlights. You imagine it’s because he wants to do his prompt today, and you certainly could dispel the awkward tension by just asking him if he wants to go upstairs or texting him to dig a little, but where would the fun in that be? You much prefer cuddling with Taehyung and a chunky blanket, pretending to watch The Voice of Korea while you really watch Jungkook squirm instead.

Taehyung sighs wistfully as a contestant finishes with a belted high note, all four judges slamming down their buttons and giving the cameras big reactions once they turn and catch a glimpse of the singer. “I wish I could be on the show,” the masseuse says with another slow sigh.

You grin, poking him in the cheek with a single finger. “Is our puppy a good singer, huh? Do you reckon you’d win?”

“What?” Taehyung asks distractedly, his eyes locked to the screen. “No, I wanna sit in those big chairs and spin around. It’d be so fun.”

Your surprised laugh makes Jungkook jump in his seat, even as he sits on the opposite couch to the two of you and glares intensely at the pages of a comic book he’d stolen from someone, spending far too long on one page to actually be reading it.

Hoseok, who sits completely silently next to Jungkook - extremely strange for the normally bubbly man - is even more suspicious. Every few seconds, he shoves his phone under Jungkook’s nose, before pulling it away and typing furiously.

You had no doubt in your mind that he was giving the youngest contestant salacious tips, instructions, or both, judging by the way Jungkook’s cheeks get hotter with every message.

A lazy day after the drunken entertainment from the day before, the four of you had chosen to collapse onto the couch and stay there, flicking between channels as you idly enjoyed each other’s company. Namjoon had texted the groupchat and put a note on his door warning people that he was studying for an exam for a summer course he’d signed up for. This was the first you’d heard of said course, but his messages had contained several exclamation points, so you knew it was serious.

Jimin was also making the most of his privacy. The only glimpse you’d seen of him at all today was while you and Taehyung were cleaning your dishes. He’d rushed down in a fluffy white bathrobe, covering his face with his sleeve, bemoaning the drinking that had done serious damage to his clear skin. When he dropped his sleeve to bundle some ice into a paper towel, it looked fine to you, albeit pinker in the cheeks and forehead than his bare face had been before, but he swore the two of you to silence and determined he was going to lock himself into his room until he no longer looked like “an evil stepmother.”

Jin and Yoongi were nowhere to be found, though most of the house were almost certain they’d become something akin to fuckbuddies considering how often they disappeared together, and how rampant and shameless their sexual tension was whenever they cooked together for the rest of you.

It had taken a while for Taehyung to bounce back from his hangover, Hoseok fussing over him like a child as Tae clung to you for some tactile comfort. Spending a day by yourself hadn’t really been an option when you’d been cuddling with him for hours, but you were far happier spending some quality time with the masseuse.

It takes no more than three new contestants on the TV show to have their moment in front of the judges for Jungkook to break. Hoseok’s given up on the phone messages, instead whispering directly Jungkook’s ear as the boy clutches the open comic book in front of his lap  so hard his knuckles go white.

Laughing at the flustered camboy, Hoseok loses all tact and stops damping his voice, his natural level loud enough that you can make it out over the garishly aggressive appliance store advertisement on the TV. “Come on, Kookie, it’ll be great!” he insists, Jungkook cringing at the volume. “Switching things up will help your chances for fan favourite too, and surely you’ve done-”

Jungkook stands up abruptly, comic book still propped up in front of his crotch as his cheeks and neck go bright red. “If you like pegging so much, why don’t you do it, then?” he blurts with a cry, before the realisation of what he said aloud hits him. Choking on air, he just about trips back onto the couch in his haste to leave, stomping upstairs like a wronged teenager.

Everyone goes silent, a cheery female voice announcing that Subway’s quality is higher than ever being the only sound in the room. Mouth open, you blink over to Hoseok. “Should I… go check on him?”

“Uh- Yeah, maybe,” he admits, a slight pained look of guilt flickering across his face before he brightens up. “But it’s dangerous; you should take a strap with you.”

You pause halfway through standing up, Taehyung letting go of you and curling deeper into the pile of blankets. “Have you no shame, Hoseok? You humiliated the poor kid!”

Hoseok grins broadly. “He only reacted that much because he liked the idea,” he protests, before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “And what about you, princess? Do you like the idea?”

You swallow, straightening up fully. “I haven’t really thought about it until now, I guess,” you offer up slowly. “I’m not- I’m not opposed.” But even as you say that, you begin to picture it. Jungkook on all fours in front of you, or perhaps spread out on his back, brows furrowed in pleasure, clingy and whiny. Though it was certainly new ground to you, most things were these days, and you’ve started craving fresh experiences, feeling more alive and excited about sex than you’ve ever really felt before.

A lightly huffed laugh leaves Hoseok’s lips. “I’d say you’re a little more than ambivalent, judging by that look on your face. Go upstairs now, princess; Jungkook’s ass needs you.”

You scoff, patting Taehyung’s cheek goodbye before leaving the way the maknae left earlier. Upstairs, Jungkook’s door is open the slightest sliver. A shy invitation.

You knock anyway, calling out his name. When his sullen voice invites you in, you slip inside and shut the door behind you. With his head hanging, shoulders slumped, poor Jungkook looks miserable. “Oh, Gukkie, baby, you’re okay,” you soothe, rushing to his side.

Folding his hands cutely over his crotch, he keeps his head down, but nuzzles against your stomach when you pull him into an embrace, running your hands through the long, heavy black locks of his hair. “‘M sorry,” he murmurs, lifting a single hand to ball his fist in the fabric of your shirt.

Your heart warms at the little action even as it aches for his sadness. “What are you sorry for? You don’t have to be sorry.”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you can just about hear the pout. “Embarrassed,” he explains shortly. “You probably think it’s gross.”

“Of course I don’t,” you deny in a soft yet firm voice, still stroking his hair. “Baby, if you want me to do it for you, I will.”

He looks up suddenly, chin propped up on your stomach. “Really?” he asks in hope, eyes glittering like entire galaxies.

You shrug. “I mean, I haven’t used a strap-on before, so it probably won’t be very good, but I wanna try if it’s something that would make you happy, you know?”

Jungkook’s mouth parts sweetly, before he lets out a dejected breath. “I don’t know,” he says with a sigh, letting his head drop off you again. “I still feel really embarrassed. Hobi-hyung was te-teasing me so much.”

You wince at the way his voice hitches and wobbles, like he’s on the verge of tears. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you coo. “I think he was just trying to encourage you. But if he made you uncomfortable, I can go down there right now and-”

As you start to shift away, a hand shoots out and latches onto your wrist, snagging you in place. “No,” Jungkook interrupts quickly, before turning sullen again, lifting up his head so that you can just barely see his eyes, gleaming with unshed tears. “Can you just stay with me?”

Reaching forward to cup his cheek and bring his gaze up, you send him your warmest smile. “I’ll stay,” you promise, “want me to help cheer you up? I don’t like seeing my Gukkie so sad.”

His bottom lip quivers as he nods, fingers tightening around your wrist, tugging you back to his side. “Yes, please,” he asks politely, voice still so hesitant as his gaze drops like he’s too shy to meet yours, face pressing into your palm. “Want you to make me feel better.”

Your breath hitches when his eyes dart up, just for a second, and reveal a glimmer that isn’t tears so much as mischief. You realise quickly that perhaps Jungkook is pulling on your heartstrings intentionally, luring you in just like he did the day after the fight, when everyone in the house bent over backwards to give him what he wanted. But you aren’t mad; truth be told, every second that passes, you grow more excited about what’s to come. “Of course I will,” you reply warmly. “Can I give you a kiss, baby?”

One thing you aren’t prepared for as you carefully straddle his lap and press your lips against his is just how differently he kisses when he’s in this submissive frame of mind. You’d associated Jungkook with hunger, fierce passion and need. This Jungkook was needy, but in a very different way. Lips parted, he tilts his chin and lets you take over, his fingers curling tightly in the fabric of your shirt, his long hair tickling against your cheeks.

And unlike the more dominant Jungkook that would kiss you until you couldn’t breathe, the camboy now seems impatient, hips shifting under you and whines leaving his throat as he breaks apart, lips swollen. “Will you fuck me, Y/n? I need you.”

Sucking in a breath, you’re nodding before you’ve even really processed his words. “How do I, uh, what should I-”

“The stuff’s in my nightstand drawer,” Jungkook offers up in explanation. The young man bites his lip, looking positively delectable. In a starch-white t-shirt that simultaneously swamps his figure but exposes his delicate collarbones with the v-neck, and his long locks tucked behind his ears, no imagination is required to see how easily he fits into this subby persona. Even as he’s physically much larger than you, and there’s no hiding his thick thighs and broad shoulders, his expression and posture alone convey plenty. “But, um… Could you- could you help prepare me first? I can if you’re uncomfortable, you know. No pressure.”

“I can,” you assure quickly, standing up when he wriggles meaningfully beneath you. “I mean, I want to. Is it, you know…?” You trail off, watching Jungkook scoot himself back so that his feet don’t quite touch the floor. He tilts his head in confusion. “Clean?” you hiss softly, cheeks flaming.

Jungkook freezes, eyes wide and mouth parted in a small o. “I- Yeah, it’s, uh, clean, I-”

“Sorry,” you grimace, “that totally ruined the mood, didn’t it? I’m new to this.”

“You don’t have to, honestly,” Jungkook says with a small voice, fiddling with the loose threads in the rips of his jeans. “I can do it.”

You’re really fucking this up, huh? “No, no, I want to, it’s fine!”

“I swear, I won’t be offended if it weirds you out-”

Without a pause to think, your lips are moving. “Pants off, Gukkie, I’m going to finger you,” you announce in a firm voice, chin jutting forward in your determination.

You hadn’t even intended to use it as power play, more so just insisting what you were okay with, but his reaction is undeniable. Jungkook visibly melts at your command, eyelids fluttering for a moment and shoulders going lax. Even his socked feet turn inwards, the complete posture of submission. The image of it sends heat through you, and you feel alive with it.

“Th-thank you,” Jungkook stutters, chest hitching. “How do you want me?”

Even though you don’t know the least about fingering or prepping, you’re quickly growing addicted to the way he responds to your authority, so you make a split second decision. “All fours, baby. And clothes off for me.”

Jungkook bites down a whine - how you wish he wouldn’t muffle himself - but obeys quickly, stripping all the way down to his socks, toeing them off hastily before getting on his knees. Clearly a position he’s used to, the camboy wastes no time in presenting himself, upper torso flat against the bed and back arched up to expose himself. With a cheek pressed against the mattress to look back at you, his hair slips over and covers his face.

Before he has the chance to huff, you reach forward and tuck it back behind his ear, tapping your finger once on his nose to make him scrunch it, a toothy grin on his face. “Y/n!” he protests with a hiccupy giggle.

“What?” you ask innocently. “I’m just trying to help out, baby. Can I ask you a favour?”

Jungkook’s grinning so widely that his eyes crinkle. “You’re the dom, Y/n, you don’t need to ask favours, you know?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right,” you muse. It’s so easy to forget that the control is yours, especially when you’re a bit out of your depth. Resolving yourself to be more authoritative, you clear your throat and school your expression. “Mouth open, Gukkie.”

Following your command so quickly that there’s an audible sound, Jungkook braces himself up a little with his forearms so that he can face you better with his jaw wide open and tongue lolled out on his bottom lip.

When you place your first two fingers of your dominant hand on that pretty pink tongue, you don’t even have to command him to suck before he’s wrapping his lips around them and hollowing his cheeks, blinking up at you for approval.

You try and use the past couple weeks of dirty talk from the guys to inspire you when talking to Jungkook, using your other hand to comb the hair back from his face again. “That’s it, baby,” you croon, “nice and wet; soak them for me. What a good boy.”

Keening under your praise, still bent over on his knees, Jungkook swirls his tongue and salivates over your digits diligently. It feels strange; the hot wet cavern, the muscle covering every inch of your skin. Your stomach flips in arousal when you begin to tug your fingers out and he pulls off them with a pop, drool on his chin and pupils blown wide.

“Alright, Gukkie, stay there,” you indicate, holding your spit-slicked fingers aloft as you get on the bed behind him. Cock dangling hard between his legs, he’s hunkered down, heels pressed against his upper thighs. You could easily reach him from here, but there’s something rising within you, an urge to play with him a little rougher.

He jumps and lets out a surprised cry when you rain down your other palm on his asscheek in a swift spank, head falling back to the mattress.

“Did I say you could lie down? Ass up, Gukkie,” you spit sharply, satisfaction curling around your ribs as he lifts his hips without delay, back arching beautifully to present himself once again. A roughly hand-shaped pink flush on his otherwise unblemished skin makes you bite your lip. “Colour?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, fingers fisting the sheets. You fear the worst for a second, but it seems like it just took him a second to comprehend you, because just as soon as the worry rises, he lets out a cute gasp of realisation and spreads his knees further. “Green, so green.”

“Good boy,” you praise, relief clear in your voice. “A single hair out of position without my permission and there’ll be more where that came from.” Though you secretly admit spanking the responsive boy feels good in some odd way, you’d feel a lot better knowing when he’d intentionally stepped out of line, and so giving him a specific avenue assuages some of your potential guilt over the impact play. He seems to understand too, nodding his head sweetly and visibly flexing this thighs to keep steady.

This isn’t usually an angle you’re used to seeing on a guy, but as you gently circle the tight muscle of his rim, you marvel at how Jungkook still makes it look good. Entirely free of hair, ass, thighs and back thick and sculpted, it’s clear the visual is an important thing, especially in his line of work.

You can feel his body go slightly stiff when he holds his breath, but the slightest pressure makes him tremble, his eyes loosely shut as he focuses on pure sensation. Wary of the spit drying off your fingers too soon, you swiftly but smoothly slide your first finger all the way inside of him. There’s resistance up until the first knuckle as he clenches, but once you reach a certain point it’s like his body is letting you in. So tight that you can feel his walls flex, it’s an odd sensation to get used to, but you know from experience that the first intrusion feels odd to receive, too, and that only building up stimulation helps get past it.

For that reason, you don’t pause much before you begin fucking your one finger into him, using your other hand to grasp the flesh of his ass and part him. “Doing so well, baby,” you compliment when Jungkook lets out a guttural, drawn-out whine. Minutely, you feel his hips rock, seeking stimulation in the right place. You know he’s probably aching for his prostate to be touched, but you haven’t the slightest clue on where to find it.

Instead, your next best option is external. Once you draw your first finger out and start to stretch his rim on two, you reach around and under him, hand wrapping around his cock.

Startled, Jungkook goes iron-tight around your two fingers and cries out. You freeze, worried you’ve done something wrong, but he rocks himself back, burying your fingers deeper inside him.

Even in your uncertainty on how to proceed, you know one thing: he’s actively chosen to move out of place.

This time when you drop his length and come back up to spank him, he moans, face going lax and dopey. “Fu-fuck, please,” he breathes, “I’m sorry, I need more.”

“You need more?” you ask, soothing a palm over the reddened skin. “I didn’t realise you were in any position to be making demands, baby.”

Jungkook swallows heavily. “Please give me more, I can take it, please.”

“That’s more like it,” you state proudly, before cringing at how cheesy the words sound to your own ears. Although taking control is fun, you don’t feel as at ease with a filthy tongue like you were used to the others being. Jungkook however, unable to see your reaction, just makes a needy noise in his throat, hotly anticipating your next move.

As you start to move your fingers again, however, they don’t glide like they did before. Unlike a proper lubricant, his saliva has evaporated away, and the dry friction certainly can’t be pleasant.

He’d said the supplies were in his nightstand, but that’s well out of your arm span, so, thinking quickly and not wanting Jungkook to feel uncomfortable, you pull your fingers out gingerly, bend down and spit directly onto his winking hole, some of it disappearing inside as the rest runs down to his balls.

Since he insisted he could take it, you hook three fingers inside him, his hole stretching around you as he groans. There’s so much pressure on your fingers as you plunge inside, the friction aided by your saliva, and you can feel the way he tries to relax himself, clenching periodically.

As much as the spit helped, you become paranoid that it’ll dry out again as you stretch him on your fingers. Still too far from the lube, the thought occurs to you that you could keep him wetter if you just used your mouth.

The thought isn’t entirely unappealing to you. Sure, he doesn’t have the same nerves that make you feel so good when someone goes down on you, but you’re sure he’d enjoy it, and you’re reassured that he’d cleaned himself.

The second your tongue traces his rim, pressing between the tight ring and your knuckles, Jungkook gasps, before letting out a moan so high and keening that you practically salivate.

With your free hand inching around to grip his thigh and steady yourself, you press your chin between his ass cheeks and lap at him, fingers speeding up now that they’re better lubricated.

His hips won’t stay still, but you can’t blame him. From the constant trail of cries and whimpers, there’s no doubt Jungkook is extremely sensitive. Slowly, the thought of stretching him out for a purpose leaves your mind, and you begin to take your time with him, enjoying the feeling and sound of him falling apart from your touch.

You could get used to this; the meaty thighs trembling, the heaving breaths, the moans of your name on his tongue. At one point, your middle finger grazes a slightly protruding spot inside him, a different texture to the rest of his walls. The second it does, he jumps like he’s been electrocuted. Aha.

“Oh, fuck, feels s-so good, please do that again, fuck,” Jungkook babbles hopelessly. Your grip on his thigh quickly morphs from steadying yourself to holding him steady, as he jerks with every repeated stroke of your finger against his prostate.

Unable to respond verbally, you stiffen your tongue and push it deeper inside him as your fingers speed up, all corkscrewing directly towards that sensitive spot.

So noisy that he buries his own face in the blankets, rocking back desperately onto your face and fingers, Jungkook’s pleading and praises are garbled, one long stream of need until he finally lets out one loud, sharp cry and paints the mattress white.

Lifting yourself up to watch him cum, you speed up your fingers to ride him through it, devouring the sight of his red, untouched cock twitching and shooting ropes of cum as his whole body shudders with it.

There’s the undeniable warmth of pride in your chest at watching him cum so beautifully, at hearing and seeing the pleasure you’ve given him. You’d give anything to make him cum at your hands over and over, and in the back of your mind you marvel at how so many things the guys did to you when they dommed you make sense now.

Slowly, he comes back down from his high, chest heaving rhythmically as he catches his breath, going slack. You guide him to roll over onto his back, avoiding the puddle of quickly-cooling cum, and sit beside him brushing back the hair that clings to his sweaty face.

A dopey smile puffing up his cheeks, and eyes hazy, he blinks up at you. “That was so good,” he breathes.

Keeping your voice sweet, you raise a brow. “Do you think we’re done just because you came, Gukkie? I don’t think so.”

His smile falters, eyes regaining some of their clarity. “I- Oh, you didn’t- Do you want me to...?” he trails off, eyes falling down to between your legs, still fully clothed.

Though you’d love for him to make you cum - truth be told, your nerves feel like they’re working doubletime right now, and you know it wouldn’t take much - you shake your head, standing up off the bed. Jungkook whines and sits up slightly as you pull away, but freezes once you begin to undress in front of him.

Unbuttoning your shirt, you feel his eyes follow your movements hungrily. “I never even gave you permission to cum, baby,” you point out. “I also didn’t ask you not to, so I won’t punish you. But you did ask for me to fuck you and make you feel better.” The fabric of your shirt falling to the floor, you leave your bra on and slip off your pants instead. “So I don’t care how sensitive you are or how many times you cum, I’m going to fuck you until you feel so good you cry. Is that understood?”

Where such vulgarity came from you don’t know, but it triggers the right reaction, Jungkook going limp against the bed, grabby hands flexing at the sheets as he nods as quick as he can, one drifting dangerously close to his still half-hard cock. “Please, I wan’ it. Yes.”

“Wait patiently, then,” you command in a cutting tone, discarding your underwear without ceremony, “and no touching.”

He lets out a quiet huff, leg kicking out and hand slipping under his back to stop temptation. You would laugh at the bratty display - or perhaps even punish him for the attitude - but you’re too focused on stepping into the black harness of the strap-on you got from  Jungkook’s nightstand, working out how to tighten the straps and sit it right.

It takes you a moment to get right, but it’s surprisingly comfortable once you get it into place - which probably is the point. Though it’s odd feeling weight extending from your pelvis, the dildo is supported by a leather belt-like strap that runs around your waist. Right on the outer line of each hip, adjacent straps run down, under the curve of your ass and connect to the central one that sits between your legs like panties, albeit narrow and stiffer than fabric.

You’d seen ones with a second dildo facing inwards to go inside the wearer as they fucked someone else, but this didn’t have one, so instead your only stimulation was the slight heat when the leather would drag against your swollen clit. Happy to forgo your own pleasure for the sake of pleasuring Jungkook, you reach in the nightstand drawer again to pull out the lube.

Unlike Hoseok’s travel-sized bottle, the base of the drawer is littered with sample size packets of multiple brands. Mixed in with foil condom packets, you spy oil-based lubes, water-based ones, some scented, self-heating, even one that claims to be strawberry flavoured. Reaching for a basic water-based one, you rip it open and use it to slick up the dildo.

Jungkook watches you raptly, hips wiggling against the bed either in impatience or the effort it takes not to touch himself. Hyper-aware of the appendage that dangles in front of you, and how slippery your hands currently are, you imagine hunkering on the bed without using your hands probably isn’t a very sexy look, so instead you stand to the side of the mattress and instruct him to come to you.

He does so with obvious enthusiasm and anticipation. The earlier haze of his orgasm dissipating, his eyes are alert and his lips are stretched in an unconscious grin. Splayed out on his back, legs dangling on either side of your hips, Jungkook looks so content to hand over his dominance to you that your heart swells slightly at the sentiment of it.

Clearly Jungkook isn’t feeling as soft as you. On the contrary, his cock looks so hard it must be physically hurting him, the tip weeping precum onto his belly as he arches his back to entice you. “Please, Y/n,” he whines, hitching a foot up onto the edge of the mattress to bare himself more fully. “Gukkie needs it.”

Though it’s more your own hesitation rather than any desire to make him beg for it, you can’t deny that the sweet entreating voice is music to your ears and core, and pushing aside all worries you find yourself guiding his opposite leg up with a slippery hand, before lining your synthetic cock against Jungkook’s rim.

Immediately, before you even enter him, he keens, and although you can’t literally feel him rocking back towards it, you watch it catch on the muscle and begin to slip inside, and the resistance can be felt as a pressure against your pelvis where the base of the dildo is fastened.

“De-deeper,” Jungkook makes out with a gasp, his fingers reaching up to clutch at your wrist, and you push past the resistance to drive the dildo inside him, slowly but smoothly. His breath hitches, back lifting off the bed as his body tries to process the intrusion, and instinctively - a word you wouldn’t typically associate with domming - you grip onto his waist to hold him still.

Though your palms and fingers are still slick with lube, you manage to keep them steady on his skin by slightly digging your nails in. Jungkook’s mouth parts in a gulped moan, and you feel the pressure in front of your crotch suddenly increase as he stiffens.

“Green?” you check in quickly, so quick to fear the worst.

Jungkook is even quicker to dispel your worries. “Green, fuck, harder, please,” he babbles, shifting as much as he can under you to spread his legs wider in invitation.

You let out a breath of relief but pair it with a snapped thrust to mask it as exertion. Jungkook lets out a cry of pleasure that sounds more like a hiccup, his body rocking on the bed with the force of it.

It’s hard to tell how intense or rough your thrusts are when all you have is his response and the feeling of the leather base pressing against you to go off, so once you start to fuck him in earnest, you’re sure to pay close attention to him.

Not that you’d otherwise be apathetic by any means. Whether his beautiful reactions are a skill learnt from camming or he began camming because of his reactions, you don’t know, but you think watching him like this could never get old.

His hair’s splayed back on the pale grey duvet like a dark halo, red hot streaks highlighting just how long the strands have gotten. His eyes, when he manages to open them, glitter like constellations and plead like puppy eyes. Though he has the bone definition of a god, gravity works against the strong lines and puffs up his cheeks instead, making him look small and sweet.

With lips so pretty and swollen, he pouts and whines and pleads, teeth poking out to nibble at the pinked flesh when the dildo hits his prostate and he muffles a whine.

It takes a surprisingly little amount of time to find a rhythm. Though you’re certainly inexperienced in the art of fucking someone else, it’s really a very natural motion to make your hips rock up against him. Albeit tiring, you find yourself able to pick up the pace until he’s writhing under your hands, his own nails scratching at the meat of his thighs with the restraint it takes not to touch himself.

Taking mercy on the poor thing, you lift one knee up on the bed to give yourself sufficient momentum to drop one of your hands from pinning him down and wrap it instead around his cock, doing your best to time your strokes together.

Jungkook lets out a low keen and goes stiff, back in a violent arch. “Fu-uck,” he cries, and his face would almost look scrunched up in pain if you didn’t know better, the poor camboy overwhelmed by finally being touched there.

“Does that feel good, Gukkie? Am I fucking you good?”

He nods hastily, bottom lip trembling as your thrusts don’t let up for a second. “Suh-so good to Gukkie,” he confirms in a wobbly voice, “please fuck Gukkie harder!”

Quickly tiring, you don’t know if you even can, but you engage your core like it’s a workout and speed up your hips, the insistent rub of the leather over your pussy lips and clit actually beginning to tighten a coil of pleasure low in your belly.

“Yes,” Jungkook wails when he feels the dildo spearing him quicker and quicker. You use your thumb to press at his slit, dripping precum in obscene amounts as he sobs and bucks between your hand and your fake cock.

Once his thighs start to tremble violently and he can’t seem to take in a full breath, you know he’s close. Steeling yourself for the final lap, you ignore the rub of the leather and the pressure of the dildo base against your pelvis, and focus fully on Jungkook and bringing him to a second powerful orgasm.

“Are you close, baby? I wanna see you cum again,” you request, punctuating it with a squeeze of his cock to make him cry out.

Such a polite boy, he composes himself enough to answer. “Baby’s so close,” he whines. “Gukkie can cum?”

You smile fondly even with gritted teeth from exertion, glad his eyes are scrunched shut with pleasure so he can’t see you melt for him. “Gukkie can cum, baby.”

You make good on your promise for him to feel so good he cries when he reaches that high shortly after receiving permission. Tears spilling over his cheeks, his moan comes out strangled but stuttered and airy at the same time, almost like he’s giggling at the feeling that overcomes him. Barely anything comes out of his cock, already milked from the first orgasm, but his body is wracked with sensation and his lips are stretched in a dopey grin, struggling to catch his breath.

If you were a meaner - or fitter - dom perhaps you’d fuck him past the point of oversensitivity, but as it is, you quite happily come to a stop buried deep inside him, lazily stroking his cock as it softens until he hisses at the contact.

Using the duvet to wipe away the last of the lube and cum off your hands, you lean forward and cup this cheeks to brush the tears away and press a kiss to the button of his nose.

He shivers happily, lashes fluttering, and lets out a hum. “Thank you for taking care of Gukkie,” he whispers, before wincing slightly and correcting- “taking care of me. Sorry, I tend to do that when I’m-”

“You don’t have to explain,” you reply easily, kissing each of his cheeks in turn, tasting the salt of his tears as he giggles again at the tickling feeling. “Did you enjoy it, baby?”

Jungkook lets out a breathless chuckle, chest still heaving. “Fuck, like you wouldn’t believe,” he jibes, throwing a hand over his eyes and heated cheeks when you pull away. “But really; thank you.”

You slip the dildo out of him carefully, hearing him make a low noise in his throat as his hole flutters, empty. Rubbing his thigh comfortingly with one hand - if you knew one thing from being on the show, it was that you needed to shower Jungkook in aftercare now - you unfasten the strap-on carefully with your other. “You don’t have to thank me. I had fun too.”

The crook of his elbow lifts just slightly to expose the glint of his eyes, disbelieving. “You did?”

You beam warmly. “Definitely. You’re so fun to play with, Gukkie,” you praise, “plus, I feel like getting a new perspective has been really enlightening, you know?”

“Ah,” he muses, “entertaining and educational. I’m glad my ass served you well.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of your throat; the quip a clear sign that Jungkook is returning from that hazy, contented plane of subspace you’ve grown used to. “Better put that on your CV.”

Jungkook sits up, affronted. Two fat drops of cum run down his stomach, quickly drying out once they spread over his skin. “My ass has been listed on my CV as a skill for years, Y/n, I’m not an amateur.”

“Oh, a professional ass man,” you tease, sighing at the release of pressure once the strap-on harness falls off your hips and to the ground, leaving your lower half bare. “Is that why you got on the show, huh?”

The camboy pouts. “I got on for many reasons,” he insists, “I’m very qualified, you know.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you return immediately, and pause. “Fuck. We were meant to be bantering but I’ve just been complimenting you, haven’t I?”

He nods like it was intentional. “Yet another one of my skills.”

“You’re impossible,” you sigh, but even when he convinces you to join him in the shower, the conversation between you flows without a hitch, and your fondness for the boy only grows.

--

In retrospect, you probably could’ve worked out Namjoon’s prompt based on how he treats you that dinner.

Subtlety isn’t his strong suit, but you’re so hungry from earlier that you barely notice the signs. It’s not uncommon for the guys to pile food on your plate, but Namjoon’s repeated insistence of feeding you directly perhaps should’ve been the first flag.

The way he fills your glass of water for you, ruffles your hair, continuously calls you little… Yeah, you blame Yoongi’s delicious fish cutlet and rice meal for not paying enough attention.

Luckily for you - or perhaps for him - an opening appears when you’re cleaning up the table with Taehyung and accidentally fumble a small dish of dipping sauce all over your hands and front.

Immediately, Namjoon as at your side, taking the ceramics out of your hand and tsking gently. “Oh, love, that’s no good,” he coos in a low timbre, “you’ve gotten yourself all dirty.”

You could just offer to go rinse your hands off in the sink and change shirts, but you’re wired up from fucking Jungkook without your own release - the camboy was so chipper at dinner that everyone had surely cottoned on - and so a better idea comes to mind. “It’s running down my sleeve,” you offer with a faux pout, “I’ll probably need a shower to get it all off. Care to join me?”

Namjoon’s brows lift as he surreptitiously ensures no one else is in earshot. With a hand on the small of your back, he leans in and presses his lips against your ear. “How about Daddy gives you a bath, baby girl?”

You suck in a breath, nerves alighting. Oh. You can work with this. Straightening up, you latch onto his shirt sleeve near the cuff and soften your eyes. “Only if you take one with me,” you bargain, “I’m only little, Daddy.”

He pulls back quickly, and were it not for the hot flares of lust in his eyes, it would almost seem like he’d been shocked. “Go to your bedroom then, love,” he instructs, “and no running on the stairs.”

Of course you aren’t really an impulsive child but, as it is, his command  is actually difficult to follow. The urge to clamber up them as fast as you can, knowing you’re finally going to get fucked good, is hard to suppress.

You manage, however, and soon enough Namjoon’s in the bathroom with you, filling the tub. As you wait, toes wiggling against the cool tile in excitement, he unbuttons his cuff and rolls up the sleeve.

“Okay, clothes off, kitten,” he instructs, hunkering over the edge of the tub to dip a hand in up to the forearm, checking the temperature and stirring up the water, “it’s just about ready.”

You obey, tossing your clothes in a growing pile in the corner. Though it’s no bubble bath, he has drizzled some body wash in to give it a comforting scent, floral and sleepy like ylang ylang. When he pulls his arm out, there’s a ring of suds, and spots of water have already gotten onto his shirt. “You’ve gotta hop in too, Daddy,” you point out, smirking when Namjoon visibly falters at the title.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he confirms, shucking off his shirt and pants, “get in first, kitten, it’s all ready.”

The water is divine, a blooming heat that seeps down to your bones, warming you to the core. You immediately see your skin start to pinken, but the water isn’t unbearably hot, and it’s a pleasant flush.

The heat below contrasts with the cool air on your upper back and shoulders, causing you to shiver, but before you can complain you feel the water level rise, Namjoon’s arms wrapping around you from behind.

As you let him lean you back against his chest, you feel his hardness, but neither of you feel the need to comment on it. This is a porn show, and you’re going to fuck soon, sure, but for now there’s nothing better than a hot bath.

“Give me your hand, let’s clean this sticky sauce up, huh?” It isn’t until Namjoon begins to soap up a loofah and delicately scrub away at the black trails of dipping sauce that have run down your arms that you realise just how fantastic this prompt is. If you played your cards right, Namjoon would take care of you and pamper you all evening, fuck you silly, and then presumably put you to bed like a good Daddy. Holding your hands out obediently, you’re quite content to oblige.

“Sit up, kitten,” the academic commands softly with a press to your shoulder. Once the skin of your arms is unmarred again, Namjoon dips the loofah in the chest-level water, pulls it out dripping suds and water, and laves it over your back, making you sigh at the warmth. “Feels nice, hm?”

Your lips stretch in a lazy smile as you recall asking that very question yourself just earlier today. As much as you had fun domming Jungkook, and wouldn’t be averse to switching things up - quite literally - again, there’s no denying that your soul really sings when you’re the one being taken care of, played with, and pleasured. “Really nice, Daddy.”

The loofah gets dipped again, this time sliding over your chest and stomach. Letting your eyes slip shut at the relaxing treatment, Namjoon’s low timbre washes over you just like the aromatic suds of body wash. “I’m glad,” he coos, “I like taking care of you. You’re too little to do it all yourself, aren’t you? Need Daddy’s help?”

“Too little,” you parrot sleepily, “need Daddy.” With every word, with every touch of his large hands on you, you truly begin to feel little. Curling your toes against the base of the tub, you make a low noise in your throat and lean back against his chest again, head lolling back over his shoulder. “Will you give me a kiss, Daddy?”

He smiles at your entreating plea and wide eyes, eyes like crescent moons as he dips his head and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “All better now?” he checks as he sits the sopping loofah on the side of the bath.

You bite your lip and shake your head. “I’m not all clean yet, Daddy.”

“You aren’t?” he asks with mock surprise, dimple deepening and brows lifting. “Well, that’s no good, is my kitten still dirty somewhere?”

With a single decisive nod, you grab his hand and lead it down until the tips of his fingers brush your folds. “Daddy didn’t clean here, ‘s still dirty.”

You let out a blissful sigh when he cups you, middle finger curling up to barely dip inside you. Namjoon grins. “In here?” Rather than wait for your answer, he smoothly pushes it deeper, massaging at your inner walls. “Alright, kitten, just close your eyes and let Daddy finish cleaning you up.”

A smile graces your lips as your eyes flutter shut again, head comfy in the crook of his neck and shoulder. You could get used to this.

He doesn’t tease you, but nor does he fingerfuck you with intensity or vigor. It’s methodical and diligent, like he really is cleaning you out. One finger quickly becomes two, and his other arm winds around your waist on the other side to roll your sensitive clit, making you moan softly.

Raring to go from unfulfilled pleasure that morning, your nerves go into overdrive, a building wave growing quickly in your belly. When Namjoon adds a third finger, crooking them inside you thoroughly to stroke your g-spot, it takes less than a minute for you to fall apart, thighs clenching tight around his hands.

He works you through it, only stopping when you whimper from oversensitivity, but that doesn’t stop you from whimpering unhappily again when he pulls his fingers out and you’re left empty.

“You’re all clean now, kitten,” Namjoon states, running his palms over your inner thighs to relax them. “Time to get out.”

You sit up suddenly with a pout. “But Daddy!”

Narrowing his brows, you don’t miss the slight twitch of Namjoon’s lips at your sudden outburst. “No buts,” he reproaches, “I don’t want you pruning up.”

You huff, scowling when he deftly tugs out the plug and the water level steadily sinks. “You haven’t even fucked me yet, Da-mmf!”

Namjoon sends you a cutting glare, his strong hand cupped over your mouth. “I should wash your mouth out with soap for using that language, little one,” he warns, “now out of the bath.”

You whine behind his hand, but once he drops it you obey and scramble out of the quickly-draining tub. Your body feels heavier without the buoyancy of water, and you’re dripping onto the bathmat like a drowned rat, but Namjoon pays it no mind, getting out himself with powerful thighs and a heavy cock dangling between them, passing you a towel wordlessly.

You dry yourself off, pout never leaving your face. He’s really just gonna stay hard like that and not fuck you? “Daddy…”

“One more protest and I’m taking you over my knee,” Namjoon says with a sharp tone. “I thought my kitten was better behaved than this.”

You open and close your mouth, unsure how you can get what you want without using vulgar words. Then again, perhaps making him punish you would rile him up enough to fuck you, and you certainly weren’t against some spanking. Sucking a breath in to establish some resolve, you stomp your foot on the bathmat. “You’re so mean, Daddy!”

Namjoon gapes at you, the way you’re bundled in a towel from your chin to your knees, scowling at him. “You want it, don’t you?” he mutters quietly, receiving a small nod in return. Relaxing for a moment, he slips easily back into that position of authority. “That’s it,” he spits, taking you firmly by the wrist and leading you - still naked himself - into your bedroom, “I gave you plenty of warnings but you still won’t listen.”

You squeak as he rips the towel from you and tugs you onto his lap on the edge of the bed. Adjusting you so that your crotch is right above his aching erection, his legs are so long that your toes barely brush on the carpet, all your balance resting on him. This had been the roughest he’d ever been with you, or at least the most domineering, and your mind whirls with how much he’s coming into his element with this prompt.

He gives you no warning before he’s laying his hands on your ass, small pats to warm up the skin before a sudden, stinging strike laces your nerves. You cry out, wriggling in his grip, but he uses one broad hand to link your wrists together in the small of your back, your face pressed onto the mattress as you’re held up fully by him.

He’s carefully merciless, spanking you hard enough that it burns, tears pricking your eyes and lip swollen from when you bite it, but whenever your cries of pain and pleasure turn too much to genuine discomfort, you notice he gives you an extra second of reprieve and swaps out to lighter hits.

“Apologise to Daddy,” he commands gruffly as you sob beneath him, swatting you without pause.

You sniff and swallow before you can compose yourself enough to reply in a wobbly cry, knees buckling and trembling. “Suh-sorry, Daddy, I’m so sorry, I learnt my lesson, ple-ease!”

You could cry when you feel his hand land on you one last time, soft and soothing the stinging flesh. Namjoon shifts, and then you feel light kisses being pressed all the way from your reddened ass up your spine, making you shiver. “Thank you, kitten,” he murmurs in your ear, and gently sits you up, lying you on the mattress.

You hiss when you feel the fabric scratch at your skin, but it’s cool and soothing if you stay still, so you take deep breaths and feel your heart slowly return to normal, Namjoon running his fingers over your now-dry body.

Blinking up at him with what you hope are sweet puppy-dog eyes, you call his name softly to bring his attention to your face. “Are you really not gonna, you know…?”

He grins fondly at your attempt to evade the word fuck, silver hair flopping over his brow as he leans over you. “You took your punishment so well kitten, I think you deserve a reward, hm? Some special time with Daddy?”

You light up, sucking on your lower lip as you spread your legs to bare yourself shamelessly, hooking one foot around his waist so he’s between them. “Extra special time with Daddy,” you insist in a small voice, lip curling now that you’re finally going to get what you want.

With a light laugh, Namjoon centres himself so that he’s facing you head-on, your legs comfortably resting aside his hips. Stroking himself a few times, he taps his hard length against your already-swollen pussy lips. “Relax for me, kitten,” he guides, and you keen as you feel him begin to push inside you.

You try to stop yourself from clenching around him, but it’s been a while since you’ve fucked him, and as usual the biggest cock in the house takes getting used to. “So big, Daddy,” you breathe with a groan, brows pinched together at the stretch.

“You can take it, kitten, you’re doing so well for me,” Namjoon promises, holding you steady and open with a hand hooking your knee up high by his chest.

By the time he’s bottomed out, hips flush against your still-stinging ass, you feel so deliciously full that you can’t breathe. You lay back, eyes scrunched, and focus entirely on the feeling of his girth stretching you open.

“Feels good?” Namjoon checks in, and you nod, wriggling your hips against him to indicate he can move. “Hold on tight, then.”

Even though it’s barely been a day since you were last fucked, it feels like so much longer, and having Namjoon fill you up over and over is so satisfying on a deep level, that you don’t bother muffling your moans, letting yourself clutch at his arms and enjoy the ride.

While Namjoon certainly isn’t the most lithe or experienced member, his cock is a force of nature in and of itself, and this time, with the heat of desperation and the excitement of your altered dynamic getting to him, he fucks you without holding back.

If he’s like this on his third time, you think, he’ll be a beast before the show ends, but then the head of his cock strikes right against your g-spot, and the thought shatters as a cry is ripped from your throat.

“Oh! Daddy, yes, right there!”

He obliges you by adjusting his hips so that every stroke rubs against you just right, and your mind melts, colours and sounds and sensation blurring together in one full note of all-encompassing pleasure.

You cum without warning, not expecting it yourself, and Namjoon curses lowly in his throat as you clench around him. The orgasm is powerful enough to leave you shuddering hopelessly on the bed before going fully slack, drained.

Warm, fuzzy tingles settle in your fingers and toes and chest in the aftermath as Namjoon fucks you through it, not taking long himself to spill inside you. He drops your leg to the side and leans in, pressing slightly ticklish kisses to your neck and collarbone, hands on either side of your chest to keep his weight off you.

“So good to me,” he breathes out lowly, nuzzling your chin up to give him a better angle to sweetly kiss you on the lips, languid and unhurried as he slowly comes down from his own high.

This time when he pulls out of you and you’re left empty again, you don’t complain, too thoroughly fucked to do anything but let out a contented sigh. Namjoon cleans you up, apologising when oversensitivity makes you twitch at the slightest contact, and then washes up himself.

Just as you feel your mind lifting out of that mental space of feeling little, sitting up a bit on his bed and trying to work out if you’d be able to make it to your dresser to put on some pyjamas, Namjoon returns and does it for you, helping you slip into a baggy t-shirt that you like to use as a nightie.

“Are you going to stay?” you ask softly as he lowers the hem over your head, arms slotting through the holes.

“Do you want me to?” Namjoon counters with an edge of hesitation, scratching lightly at his opposite arm, still naked.

You nod, patting the bed beside you. “If you don’t mind.”

Namjoon gathers his clothes and slips them on, not really appropriate for sleeping. Once he sees your look of confusion, he tilts his head towards your bedroom door. “I’m just going to duck out for some comfier clothes for sleeping, are you going to be alright for a moment?”

By the time he’s come back, you’ve already quickly brushed your teeth - hobbling to and from your bathroom like a newborn deer - and slipped under the covers, getting comfortable. Namjoon returns in grey striped pyjama pants and a white shirt, but he has something in his hands.

“You might think it’s silly,” he offers by way of explanation, the mattress springs squeaking as he gets on beside you, “but I like reading before bed, and I thought maybe you’d find it calming.”

With a dubious smile, you look at the book in his hands. It has the clean edges of a cared-for book, with the creases in the spine of a well-read one. On the cover, golden embossed stars and swooping font read The Little Prince. “You want me to read it?”

Namjoon returns your smile, warm and dimpled. “I want to read to you.”

The two of you cuddle together without words, one of his arms wrapped around your back as you lean on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Propping the small novel up on his stomach, he peers over your head to read.

“Once when I was six years old,” he begins, “I saw a magnificent picture in a book called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing.” He pauses, tapping you twice on the crown of your head to indicate you should look. “In the book it said…”

As he recites the novel aloud, you feel more than hear his voice, a low rumble in your ear like a rushing river or a slow-moving thunderstorm. It’s soothing, lulling you into sleep. His voice wraps around every word like a hug, enunciating each syllable with such care and colour and love, and always pausing when there were photos, even when your eyes slip shut and you begin to drift off.

Slowly, everything fades away. All sound is reduced to that regular heartbeat and warm rumble; all sensations are narrowed down to just the heat of his skin where it meets yours, his fingers lazily swirling patterns on your scalp. All thoughts simplify, the last six words in your brain, I could get used to this, before they wink out to nothing at all, and you sleep.

[petite-ely]

Afraid // JJ Maybank

three - family heirloom

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: cursing and other sorts of bad language, mention of a dead body, underage drinking, idk if there’s something else besides some typos

Description: a fun trip to a thrashy motel leads to many discoveries for the pogues (buckle up buckaroos this one’s a bit long) (also I’m very sorry for not putting a read more thingy but I really don’t know how, sorry :(

Previously next

Afraid Masterlist

Song recommendation:

gif found on pinterest all credits to owner

When John B fell into the the water, the anchor held against his chest, y/n didn’t expect him to come back with anything valuable. Maybe something that would have revealed the identity of whoever owned this boat, but nothing really big. So she was very surprised when he came back with a motel key in his hand. It was not much, as expected but the pogues knew what to do.

The little group had tried to report their findings to the authorities, in hope of receiving some kind of reward. Unfortunately, the plan had failed. Because of the hurricane, the coasts guards were so busy they couldn’t even spare one minute for them.

Instead, they all agreed to go investigate the hotel room. Y/n had been reluctant at first, but her curiosity took the lead, so she agreed. How could she not?

“I thought the château looked bad.”

“This place is a shitshow.”

“Motel or meth lab?”

Y/n’s face scrunched up in a grossed out expression at the sight in front of her eyes, plugging her nose as she caught the horrible smell that went with it. The motel itself wasn’t that bad. Except maybe for the roof, and the window and probably also some kind of hygiene issue. The yard was the worst part. It was filled with debris brought by the storm and it was covered with a bunch of old mattresses. It was not a pretty sight to see.

“Y/n are you staying with me and Pope or..” kie wondered as they landed.

The Routledges exchanged a look. John B didn’t show it a lot, but he was very protective of his sister. He preferred to have her by his side at all times, where he could protect her and assure that she was always safe. It was his way of showing he cared.

“Nah,” she jumped off the boat, her feet joined together, “someone has to look after these two knuckleheads.”

JJ laughed at her words. “Knuckleheads, who even says that.” “Dude I was talking about you.”

“What.” She rolled her eyes.

“Hey,” Pope addressed the girl “don’t let him do anything stupid.” He pointed to JJ.

“Oh, we will.”

“I can’t make any promises.”

Kie handed the key to John B. “Be careful, okay. I mean it.” Y/n grinned at her friend’s words.

The trio then headed towards the direction of the room. Somehow y/n ended up taking the lead, with the two boys walking behind her. She felt a pair of eyes looking at her.

“JJ I know you’re looking at my ass, stop that right now,” she warned. “Dude!” John B slapped him on the chest.

“Um for your information I was looking at the bruise on your thigh.” “Yeah right.”

(He was actually really looking at the bruise. He hated to know she was hurt in any kind of way, it pained him)

“And even if I was, whatcha gonna do about it? Beat me up?” “Don’t underestimate me Maybank, I could easily take you down.” JJ scoffed. “Pfft as if.”

He left her side to go join John B, who had voluntarily distanced himself from their bickering. The blonde grasped his friend’s shoulder. “Just be so careful, John,” he said, imitating Kiara.

John B pushed him off. “God, you’re so weird.” “Dude, what the heck was that all about.” “I don’t know, I guess she wants us to be careful.”

Y/n now walked alone behind, kicking a small pebble whilst silently listening to the conversation.

“Since she heard you’re being threatened with exile, she’s just been like ‘oh! Be so careful John B’” “Get off” “just give me that John D already.”

“Like, when are you gonna swoop on that, man?”

y/n cringed at his words. “Ew, don’t sexualize her like that, it’s gross, j”

“Bro, you know the rule. No pogue on pogue macking.”

Stupid rule. It was the only reason why y/n had never admitted her feelings to JJ. That and her fear of being humiliated ( and the fact he would never feel the same way).

“Besides you’re the one always hitting on her.” Y/n scoffed.

“That doesn’t mean anything, JJ hits on every girl he ever sees.” JJ frowned at her words. “He would hit on a plant if it even slightly ressembled the body of a girl.”

“Hey, that’s not true,” he defended himself. “I don’t hit on you all the time.”

“Says the guys who was just looking at my ass five minutes ago.” “No, I wasn’t.” “You so were!”

“Hey guys, I hate to break up your little fight but uh,” he pointed the door in front of him “this is us. 29.”

JJ knocked on the door. “Housekeeping,” he said, his voice pitched way higher than normal, making both his friends laugh at his actions.

“Should we try it?” Questioned John B. “No power- no security camera. No one’s gonna know.”

The door opened with a small creaking noise. It was a small dark room with two beds. The trio looked around for clues. They still didn’t know who owned the boat nor what they were doing out in the middle of a hurricane. They were hoping for some answers.

“Check the bag, see if there’s a name on there.” “Gotta a jacket-“ “Denim slides-“ “No name on the jacket. It’s a nice jacket though.” “Definitely over 50 he’s got new balances.”

“Yo, dude come here.” JJ found some papers and books stacked on the night table between the two beds. He pointed to a map. “Maybe this is where they were fishing.” “ let me see.” “Right there.”

Y/n peeked over their shoulder, standing on the tip of her toes, to try to see what they were talking about. “Nah, that’s off the continental shelf. Big swell, no one fishes there.”

Abandoning her previous idea, she crouched down and flashed her light under the first bed. “Nothing over here.” She turned to the other bed. Her eyes caught a strange shape, on the opposite corner. “Wait.” She slipped underneath and crawled to the object. “Ah ha!”

“What? You found anything?”

Disappointment filled the girl’s mind as she noticed it was only a shirt, grey and smelly. “Uh, not really. I thought I did but it’s only a dirty shirt.”

“Ew there was a spider on it.” She brushed the bug away as she got up. She turned towards John B, noticing he had successfully opened the safe. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

The words left her mouth without her noticing. She was just too astonished. The safe was filled with multiple stacks of money and well, a gun. There was so much of it, it’s like she didn’t know where to look.

“Uh, JJ, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

JJ’s eyes doubled in size as he noticed the firearm in the safe. He immediately picked it up. “You grabbed the gun,” John B sighed.

“This is a SIG Sauer.” He was swinging it in the air, playing with it as though it was just a toy. “JJ put the fucking gun down, you’re gonna hurt someone,” y/n hissed at him.

“Put the gun back, JJ.” “This is a fucking spendy gatt, man, just.” He pretended to shoot someone in the distance. “Bam! Bam!”

“JJ, this is not a toy you can just play with, put it back!” Y/n’a voice was louder now, angrier and harsher too. “Just take a pic of me.”

“You want me to take a picture of you?” “Yeah dude, like-” JJ struck a pose, the gun in one hand, his flashlight in the other. “Make our own incriminating evidence is that what your talking about?”

Y/n’s attention drifted away as she heard the sound of something hitting the window. She spun around and drew the blinds open, only to find Kie and Pope jumping up down. “What?”

There were clearly trying to warn her about something but she couldn’t hear what they were saying through the thick glass that separated them. She lifted the window slightly. A single word left their mouth in a loud whisper. “Cops!”

“Fuck.”

“What is it?” Y/n turned her body to the two boys. She opened her mouth, about to reveal what danger would soon fall upon them when a knock came from the door.

“Kildare county, sheriff department,” a stern voice announced.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

The girl yanked the rest of the window open. By chance, there was a small step, a ledge, where they could stand and hide from the police officers.

Y/n’a hand flew to her neck, as she noticed the necklace she always wore wasn’t on her neck anymore. “Fuck!” It was very precious to her, leaving it there was not an option.

Her father had actually given it to her on her 14th birthday. It belonged to his mother and her mother before her. It was a family heirloom and the only thing she had left of her father. She always wore it, even to bed.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing?”

She scanned the room quickly, her stress level growing as she heard the door rattling. Her eyes finally landed on the shining necklace, tangled under the first bed.

“My necklace fell off!” she whispered-shout. “There’s no time!”

Luckily for her living on the cut had taught her to move quickly, without being seen. She swiftly slid under the bed, grabbed the golden chain and slipped out of the window, all before the door opened.

“That was close,” JJ whispered softly.

Y/n removed one of her hand from the wall to place her index finger against her lip motioning for JJ to stay silent. They both turned their attention back to the room, observing the cops as they entered.

There was two of them. Shoupe and a woman y/n didn’t know the name of. They were looking around for clues just as the three kids had done minutes earlier. Shoupe opened the door of the safe. Y/n’s eyes followed as he handed the other officer some evidences. He then handed her a stack of money, which she put in her pocket.

“The fuck?” the girl whispered, glancing at her brother on the other side. JB looked at her with wide eyes, he was just as shocked as she was.

She lost her balance for a quick second, her foot sliding down, making the loudest noise ever made. JJ’s hand caught her before she fell, bringing her body closer to his. She heard footsteps getting closer. She could feel and hear JJ’s breath getting heavier by the second, her heart pounding in her chest. She scooted even closer to him, her hand gripping at the back of his shirt so she wouldn’t fall once more.

“All right, let’s go. No one’s here.” Shoupe said from inside.

A heavy sigh left her lips as she heard the door close behind them. “That was so fucking close.”

“Jesus Christ, y/n what was that all about, you almost got us caught!” John B snapped.

“My necklace fell off, I couldn’t just leave it there. It’s the only thing I have left of dad! Plus they would’ve known I was there, it would’ve got us caught!”

John’s face fell slightly, she was right. Still he couldn’t help but worry at the thought of her getting caught. He was her brother, it was normal for him to want to protect her form getting hurt. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to yell at you, I was just, I was just worried okay? I don’t want to lose you too, y/n/n.”

“I’m not going anywhere, bird.”

>>

After the little trip to the motel, and almost getting caught by the cops, the group had decided to head back to the château. Y/n let out a sigh of exasperation. She was, once again, seated on the dirty sofa on the porch. This time her head was hanging upside down, her shoeless feet rested against the window. She was exhausted. This day had been filled with nothing but surprises, following one another without getting a chance to take a breath. And the day wasn’t over yet.

First there was their discovery of the boat in the marsh, then John risking his life for a motel key (okay maybe risking his life was a bit of a stretch but yeah, y/n still thought it was dangerous). And then they tried to report the boat but failed, so they went to the motel and we’re almost caught by Shoupe (and saw him stealing money) and stupid JJ who stole the goddamn gun.

And that wasn’t even the most shocking surprise of the day. The body of Scooter Grubbs was also found (and y/n really wish she could erase that image out of her memory) and shocker, he was the owner of the Grady-White. So the marsh was closed until the authorities would find the boat.

“Ugh,” y/n rubbed her tired eyes, feeling a headache coming as the blood rushed to her head.

“You’re gonna get brain damage if you stay like that for too long,” John B said motioning to his sister’s position. “Can’t be worse than it already is,” she shrugged, moving herself so her head now rested on Kiara’s lap.

Pope came rushing, the screen door slamming behind him. “So, um we didn’t see anything, we don’t know anything.” He was still slightly panting, and he seemed very stressed, anxious even. “We need to have complete and total amnesia.”

“Actually, Pope’s right. For once.” y/n scooted closer to Kie to make room for Pope to sit and turned her head back to JJ who was getting up from his seat. “See I agree with you sometimes,” he pointed his index finger on each of his friends. “Deny, deny, deny.”

“Guys we can’t keep that money.” “Not all of us have unlimited data plans, Kiara.”

Y/n frowned at JJ’s words. That was low of him. The Carreras might hav been a lot richer than the average pogue, but they weren’t kook rich either. Business was hard for everyone and The Wreck wasn’t spared of the occasional struggle that went with it.

“Well I hate to be a party pooper but she’s right. It’s not our money, it wouldn’t be right for us to keep it.” declared the Routledge girl. “Yup, we have to pass that money off to Lana Grubbs. Otherwise it’s bad karma.”

“It bad karma to be implicated in a felony too,” added Pope. “We gotta go dark.” “If that means we get to keep the money then I agree.”

John B gave a small pat on JJ’s shoulder. “I don’t agree.” “What, why?”

“Just think about it, this is Scooter Grubbs we’re talking about,” he started. “Same dude that’s buying individual cigarettes at the porthole. Shit, one time I saw him begging for change in the save-a-lot parking lot because he needed gas. We’re talking about a dirtbag marina rat who’s never had more than 40 bucks in his pockets and all of the sudden he’s got a Grady-White? Just saying..”

John B was right. It was indeed kind of shady. Square groupers? Smuggling? Contraband? Y/n had no idea what she was getting herself into. It was a strange situation and she had no idea what to do about it, so she followed her friends ideas. They all agreed to lay low and act normal, which could only mean one thing. There was going to be a kick ass kegger on the boneyard. And y/n couldn’t be more glad.

Taglist:

@drewswannabegirl @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @poguestyle17 @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifliwtd @kitty084

this means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you :(

If you wanna be added or removed just tell me!!

[nightswithkookmin]

Hey! So in your latest post you mentioned something about the instinctive reactions that Jikook have towards each other as a sign of intimacy between them. Being a multishipper, I can say that I have noticed the same between Taekook, too. It's almost the same as it is in Jikook. Like during Fake Love Era, when Tae came around to hug JK but stopped himself. I have seen the same happening with Taekook a lot, too. Especially Tae. He seems to be controlling himself a lot around JK. Same goes for +

Hmmmm.....

You really sound like this one tuktukker in my DMs who won't stop trying to convince me Taekook is real.👀 You are not the one, are you? Lol.

And I'm not sure how I feel about this ask...

On one hand, I love the topic about intimacy and even comparing and contrasting Jikook's intimacy with that of the other pairs within the group. I think it makes for an interesting conversation.

But on the other hand too, it feels as if you are asking me to prove to you my opinion and perspective on the topic, and convince you that Jikook is in fact real? I don't gotta do that. Lol.

That sits on the same table as that whole 'what are you seeing that I am not' conversation and I don't feel comfortable with those kinds of debates. It's unhealthy and doesn't flow from a good place.

I don't enjoy pointless competitive and argumentative conversations of that nature especially when it's one person's point of view versus another's point of view- not when Jikook haven't officially stated their sexual preference or that they are an actual couple. It's pointless.

Mine is just to share my thoughts on a subject, nothing more. Chileee, You are allowed to believe whatever you want about these boys and their ships but please don't disguise skepticism as objectivity when it comes to Jikook.

On the topic of intimacy- yea, you piqued my interest in that. Can't help myself. *rolling my eyes. Lol.

I think I have said several times now that BTS in general are a pretty intimate group of friends and as such it is reasonable to expect a certain level of intimacy between them- all of them not just Jikook.

I mean how close do you think Namkook need to be for JK to try and eat food from his mouth? How close does he need to be with Jin for Jin to wake him up by squeezing his nipples or for JK to be kissing Jin's calf or for him to take 'naked' shirtless selfies with him?

When it comes to Taekook, I have said I think they are or used to be one of the closest pairs within the group. How close do you think two people need to be for one of them to strip the other naked to the D to take a shower with?

Tae played a huge role, just as much as Jimin did in their earlier dynamics, in helping JK break out of his shell as the quiet shy boy he used to be in their trainee days.

I mean they both pretty much acknowledged this fact in their conversation in Soop.

But nothing about these interactions outlined above, as 'intimate' as they may seem on the surface, is in any way romantic or indicative of a romantic relationship.

But you are right, when it comes to the metrics for determining whether a ship in BTS is real within BTS, that a clear distinction ought to be made between the kind of intimacy characteristic of romance and the kind of intimacy that flows from close friendships.

There is just a certain degree of interaction that cannot ensue between two people unless those two people are very close to each other. And that intimacy between them often would flow from how close they are with eachother both physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, intellectually and sexually.

Most of these interactions between them are often influenced by each individuals unique personality too. JK is touchy, when he touches Jin or Jimin or Tae there is a higher chance he is just being himself.

Jimin is affectionate and a bit flirty by nature, if you see him being affectionate and flirty with any member there is a higher chance he is just being himself.

Tae is equally very touchy, affectionate and flirty all at the same damn time. Lol. So often when he is being touchy, affectionate and flirty with any member in there, there is a higher chance he is just being himself too.

We ought to make all these deductions and subtract them from the equation. And on that note, skinship would have to be the first to go simply because it is much closer to and contingent on the personality tangent and very far removed from the romantic intimacy spectrum.

What I mean is, a person's comfortableness with skinship depends much on their personality- Some people like it, some don't.

And while we are at it, I think we have to draw the distinction between physical affection and skinship- those two are not the same.

When JK is kissing Jin's leg there is nothing affectionate about that. When he is trying to zap food from RM's mouth- ain't nothing affectionate about that either. If anything at all it's just gross. Boys can be gross sometimes. Lol.

But these actions in no way communicate RM's affections for JK or JK's affection for RM. It just shows they are comfortable around eachother.

I think RM watching JK on the screen with pride and fondness written all over his face during their LGO reaction VLive conveys his love and affections for Kook more just as Kook kissing the top of his head- forehead or whatever, shows his love and affection for RM.

Physical affection is a variant of intimacy and conveys a person's love and fondness of another person but it in no way, by itself, is indicative of a sexual and romantic relationship.

A classic example of this distinction would be the September 1st BB Vlive held on JK's birthday this year. Tae reached for JK and squished his cheeks. It was a cute interaction, true. But was it intimate? If you say yes, I'm smacking the back of your head. Lol.

No, but seriously. Let's look beyond the cuteness of that moment for a second here. Do you think that moment speaks to how intimate they actually are with eachother even as friends off camera?

You said yes, didn't you? I-swear- to-God! Lmho.

It doesn't. It's not. It in no way is a reflection of the level of intimacy between them. What it shows is Tae's fondness of JK that's all. It sits right with the Namkook examples I gave above.

Now juxtapose that moment with Tae Kook's interactions in Run 116. Which of these two moments would you refer to as intimate? Do you see what I mean?

There wasn't much loud skinship going on between Tae kook in that Run episode yet it was the most intimate I had seen them be in a long time- especially the moments of them sitting together on the couch. It made me weak just watching that bit. I won't lie- God was it beautiful. Woo!

But what sets these two moments apart? I don't know about you but to me it's the vulnerability- that's what did me in.

This may be debatable but JK seemed very vulnerable with Tae to me in those moments in Run 116 as compared to the Tae Kook moments in that BB reaction VLive.

Tae seemed very nurturing of JK and his presence and close proximity to JK seemed to provide some sort of comfort for JK.

Vulnerability is a key determinant of emotional intimacy, in my opinion. And I think emotional intimacy sits high in determining if two people are in a romantic relationship.

So forgive me, but all these secret boy with love signs you mention- where is the emotional intimacy and vulnerability in that? How is that physically affectionate and as such such proof that two people are real? Chilee.

Jikook do that too and more but I don't even regard that. Lmho. Those things are cute and beautiful and I uWu at it too- but make no mistakes, it proofs nothing. Lol.

Taekook do that, Jikook do that, Taejin do that- wait a damn minute! You is a tradshipper ain't you? 🧐

Backing away slowly. You sonova bish! lol. You almost fooled me with the whole multishipper bit. Chileee. So sneaky- I like that. Lmho.

Anywho, as I keep saying, I believe Jk is the most emotionally closed off within the group- oh did you read his Weverse magazine interview? Him talking about wanting to have a solo stage someday to try and perform on his own without the members? This is where I regurgitate my slogan for Jikook in 2020- 'Jikook have been asserting themselves against eachother and against the group.' Lmho.

Totally unrelated, but just wanted to point it out to all the PJMs who come for me when I say JM is more emotionally attached to the group than JK and that JK has the most emotional boundaries within the group.

I mean from their interview, JM was the one who expressed the sentiment of wanting to be with the members forever while JK expressed a desire to pursue a 'solo stage. Just as a disclaimer, as JK said, I am not saying he is trying to go solo or leave BTS. Just read his interview for yourself and see what I mean please.

They both love the group and are attached to it but this goes to show who is the most emotionally attached to the group- It's not important, let's just move on. Lol.

I value Jk's emotional vulnerability because unlike Tae or Jimin, who are both naturally affectionate and as such emotionally open to others, I believe JK is a bit picky about who he decides to be emotionally vulnerable with or emotionally dependent on.

In Jikook's 2014 magazine interview about their friendship, JK expressed and conveyed his emotional dependency on Jimin when he whined about Jimin not waking him up that morning.

He wasn't just being emotionally vulnerable with JM in that moment, in my opinion. I think he was also expressing his emotional needs and wants to Jimin. He was communicating the way in which he wanted to be nurtured by Jimin- He wanted Jimin to wake him up every morning just as he had been doing.

He expressed similar vulnerability with Jimin in their New Jersey VLive when he whined and complained about Jimin not letting him in on their JinMin VLive or even during their Rain fight when he literally cried on the phone with Jimin- please, I'm soft. Don't touch me. Lol.

And when you contrast these moments with even the Tae Kook conversation in Soop which was supposed to be a vulnerable moment between them, you could see JK wasn't as emotionally vulnerable in that conversation- He don switched off his humanity on Tae. chileee. What a man gotta do JK? Lmho

He seemed emotionally closed off to Tae even though Tae was being vulnerable with him. Allow me to regurgitate again- if Tae kook is real it's one sided. Ok that's wrong of me. Lol.

I honestly don't think Tae is in love with JK. He is very fond of JK and he loves him just as much as he loves everyone in the group. I see a similarity between him and Jimin in that regard- except Jimin is throwing it back for his dongsaeng at night. Chileee. Lmho.

Listen, I'm gonna state my opinion as fact here: Taekook is not real. Their ship is not the standard for ascertaining Jikook. Any ship involving JK and JM besides Jikook is null and void and utterly invalid in the grand scheme of things.

There is just a certain degree of emotional depth to Jikook's dynamics that is just absent in all these other tradships involving Kook and Jimin in BTS.

And I think the one thing most tradshippers don't realise about Tae Kook is that their dynamic is more similar to VMin and not Jikook. Tae is to JK what Jimin is to Tae- close friends. And if Taekook is real then VMin ought to be real too. In my opinion.

There is a deep connection between Tae and Kook just as much as there is between Tae and Jimin. The only difference between those two ships is that Jimin nurtures his connection with Tae, just as Tae nurtures his connection with Jimin and so their bond very often is consistent and fully nourished.

But in Tae Kook, for whatever reason, JK stopped nurturing their connection. Over the years, it's always been Tae complaining about JK not doing this or that- Jk ignoring him, excluding him in the VMinKook dynamics, keeping Jimin to himself and from their conversation in Soop, it seemed when Tae tried to tell JK his emotional need in order to nurture their connection JK put a barrier there too. Claiming he didn't want to treat Tae as a friend because because that would have led to them fighting a lot. And Tae said, fighting is something that would have brought them together- This is the missing depth, I'm talking about. Taekook lacks a certain degree of depth in their connection.

So yes, I expect Tae to hug JK when he is excited. I expect him to squish his cheeks like a baby, I expect Tae to sit on JK's laps and bounce up and down. But these are just interactions and they may come across as intimate to some but they in no way carry romantic subtexts.

I mean Trad jokers do that shit with Jikook too most times- but that is not why Jikook is real.

These moments only go to show how close these boys are to one another and as I prefaced earlier- they are all pretty close.

So if Tae is trying to hug JK when he is happy, it is not really a tell. I think it shows how comfortable and close he is with JK. If Jikook or any other ship hugged too, it wouldn't mean that much either. Not to me.

However, why he hesitated to hug JK in the moment you mentioned would be something I would place much value on. Usually, BTS are very comfortable hugging each other and showing skinship. So if suddenly one of them is hesitating to do that with another member then brows ought to be raised.

There could be a myriad of reasons for why they would hesitate to do skinship in a moment but just a few of those reasons would be suggestive of something suspicious going on between the boys.

I mean RM tried to hold Hobi, was it? He wanted to hold his suit or something at an award but seemed to hesitate there for a sec. I think it used to be a meme? Lol.

Then there is JK trying to put his hands around Jimin and hesitating too- I mean all the times he's hesitated when he's tried to touch Jimin...

What these are are just stress marks. It merely shows the wants of whoever was hesitating to engage in the act. RM wanted to touch Hobi's suit, JK wanted to touch Jimin. Tae wanted to hug JK. It's not that deep. Lol.

The act itself they wanted to carry out needs to be taken into consideration just as much as the why they were hesitating in those moments.

I don't think RM was hesitating to touch Hobi's suit because he had a crush on Hobi's suit. That would be- disturbing, even by my standards. Lol.

I don't think JK was hesitating to put his hands around Jimin in the earlier days because he was shy of the cameras in the way he was conscious of the cameras in Soop.

Jk's hesitation in Soop was because he was censoring himself in order not to expose their dynamics. I think.

I guess what I'm trying to say is you gotta find out why Tae hesitated in that moment with Kook. I don't think it was because he was trying not to expose their nonexistent relationship dynamics. Chileeee.

Jimin trying to kiss Kook and stopping himself is different from him trying to hug Kook and stopping himself. Why? Because the former exposes their relationship dynamics while the latter don't.

Sometimes, it's just the cameras that stop them. Other times, like Jikook in Run 116, it's just one of them putting up boundaries with the other- for reasons I've speculated on.

To sum everything up, I guess what I'm saying is, when you notice someone hesitating and exhibiting these instinctual reactions check to see the context- don't just say it's an instinctual reaction and go. Lol.

Consider if it's happening in a vulnerable moment, the history between those two individuals- whether the action in question is something they do a lot with eachother, whether it's an expression of affection or skinship, whether the action they were going for exposes their dynamics, the setting within which that happens and most importantly why that person is hesitating.

Tae going for a hug and hesitating in no way exposes their dynamics, to me, because we see them hug all the time. If he is hesitating to hug JK it's just a sign something is stressing their dynamics and perhaps you have to strap on your tinfoil hat and look into that? Lol.

Chileee, Anon. I feel used and bamboozled by you. Disguising these tradship insecurities as legitimate shipping concerns- Strike one. Lol.

I think if you are looking for ships with similar dynamics in BTS to compare, you should look more into VMin vs Taekook because they are relatively the most similar ship dynamics in BTS as far as ships and friendships go.

But even that, you don't need me to tell you VMin pulls weight over Tae Kook. I think Tae Kook could use some nurturing in their dynamics like VMin do in theirs- more cuddling, more teasing, more I miss you's. Oh love letters would be great too!

They should just spend more time together and nurture their bond. If they start spending time together it will show in their bond and chemistry.

As beautiful as these tradships are, none of them is a competition for Jikook. Jikook is in a league of it's own. They are an Altship. And there is only one of that in BTS.

Signed,

GOLDY

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Emotional Support, $500/hour

Alastor hires Angel for his services. No, not those services. The "provide sympathy and advice for some poor loser who's found himself unwillingly stuck in a soap opera" services. Although Angel would far rather do it as a friend rather than for pay.

Tumble mobile is a piece of crap that won't let me post an entire chat log in one post, and I don't want to wait eight hours to post this when I get home, so gonna post this in two chunks. Part one:

Alastor

A text arrives at one of the numbers written up on the walls around Pentagram City:

"Is this Angel Dust's business line?"

Hella formal.

Angel

An identifying ring sounded from Angel's drawer. Not the type that'd fire warning bells in his head, but the sort he preferred to hear from his hotel room.

Time to go to work.

[ The one and only, Toots! 💋 What can I do ya for? 💕 ]

Alastor

"What are your rates just for private conversation? Nothing sexual. I need somebody to talk to."

Angel

Angel reread the message. Once. Twice. A couple more times. Usually he didn't get this type of request on this number, but a part of him was relieved.

[ Ya talkin' companion rates, Babe? I typically run that 500 by the hour, but dependin' on the kinda secrets I'm gonna be keepin', I could drop or ask fa a tip. It's a pretty accurate ballpark, though. Have I lost ya? ]

Alastor

There’s a longer pause before the next reply.

(The pause is for Alastor to go “Five hundred dollars?! FIVE HUNdred DOL*LARS*?! *FIVE—*”)

“I can manage that.”

It’s not going to be *his* money.

Angel

[ Sounds good! Where ya gonna be wantin' me, Sweetheart? Just so ya know, I'm gonna need those bills in my hands before we get down to any business. ]

Alastor

“I’ll have them. The hotel just outside Cannibal Colony’s northern entrance. I’ll let you know the room number.”

It’s a middling sort of hotel. It’s alright.

Angel

[ Alright, I know the area. I'll be there in about fifteen. ]

He didn't know the area. But Angel couldn't let an unknown client know that. Furthermore, last he was there he had himself QUITE THE WELCOMING. So by his better judgement, he asked Bel for directions without running the risk of getting shot this time. He'd find his way.

Alastor

And Alastor is gonna spend the next fifteen minutes cordially threatening the first people he sees who look well-dressed and stupid enough to be carrying around several hundred dollars, and then bolting for the hotel.

He’s settling down on the room’s couch and texting Angel the number at about the same time Angel probably ought to be walking in the front door.

Angel

_Rap rap._ He's not the police, so he saves announcing himself. Nonetheless his senses are alert, his limbs folded deceptively casual before his torso. Anxieties aside, he's expecting an easy job. As soon as he can confirm it's a real job and not a hold up.

Alastor

Alastor’s shadow opens the door for him.

He glances over from the couch. “Right on time.” He gestures to an arm chair across from the couch. Surprise!

Angel

Angel looks at his phone. The room number. His phone again. They surely match up exactly, don't they? A rather robotic wave to Alastor's shadow, just to be polite, before he pokes his head in without crossing the doorframe.

_" ... What. Am I bein' punk'd 'ere!? "_ Arms flail wildly as his eyes dart about the room in search of clues he might not get from the real deal on the couch. " THIS where ya been holdin' the crock pot hostage?? "

Alastor

“Do come in and shut the door before you start shouting, would you? I *am* trying to be discreet, here.” Proof of that claim: he’s actually using an indoor voice for once.

There’s no crock pot. No nothing else, either—he got the room less than five minutes ago just for this, he hasn’t touched a thing and he didn’t bring any personal effects. Just him, sitting cross-armed on the couch.

He uncrosses his arms, fishes a wallet out of his pocket, and slides several bills half out. See? He’s legit. “I have enough here for—let’s see—about three hours and twenty-five minutes. Hopefully I won’t need that much, but.” A jerky shrug.

Angel

His face fell and stiffened into a vague sternness. Wordlessly he stepped around the shade and soundlessly shut the door. This energy was too weird. He didn't trust it. He didn't like it. Either he or Alastor was running the risk of being made a bigger fool than Narcissus in the pond. Fittingly, neither one of them would risk their egos for something so trivial.

He was MORE than serious.

Angel passed the arm chair, instead taking a knee before him and lowering a hand over the wallet. " I'm not takin' ya money, Al. The fuck's goin' on? "

Alastor

“Oh, don’t worry about *that,* it’s not my money. It properly belongs to...” He pulls a card out of the wallet and squints at it. “Mr. Bee. Ironically, he looked more like a parrot.”

But he doubts that’s going to satisfy Angel. “I’m not talking to you as a friend. I’m hiring your services as a professional. I need your expert advice on a matter. And if I’m asking you to do your job, I *am* going to pay you for it.”

Angel

Angel rose a brow higher than his last hit. At the very least he could relax, but he was still dumbfounded -

_... as a friend?_ If he weren't a professional, he'd be asking him as a friend? The corner of his mouth twitched. It seemed more likely that he wouldn't be asking him at ALL if he weren't professional.

Regardless, he was wasting his energy trying to figure him out on his own. " What in the Nine's could ya be askin' _me_ for? " A short exhale before shifting his back against the armchair. " Save fa givin' yaself a day coma, I thought ya... pretty good at keepin' ya shit together... "

Alastor

Alastor rifled through the wallet to see if Mr. Bee had any interesting membership cards worth stealing—museums, day spas, secret societies, etc.—before sitting forward and holding the wallet out to Angel. “Are you taking it? Because I’m not telling you why I’m asking you unless you’re on the clock.”

Angel

" Alright alright, lemme see, " Angel lied with little to no intention of sitting on it. He flipped through the bills and counted them off by the hour before placing them on the table beside him. " ...120, 180, remainder a 25. 205 minutes of complete and undivided attention, in part or in full. You're set, Smiles. "

Alastor

Alastor watched as Angel counted. “All right.” He took a deep breath, let it all out. His gaze didn’t move from the table to Angel. “I could use—relationship advice.”

Angel

He could BURST with the sheer force of that bombshell, but Angel kept his cool as he made his sprawl of limbs comfortable from the floor. " Ya... gotta secret squeeze around 'ere or somethin? Cannibal gal ya came out t' see? "

Alastor

Alastor laughed ruefully. Wouldn’t that be convenient—some cute little lady to have a predictably heterosexual little afterlife with, sharing all of his shallow surface-level preferences—home era, musical theater, cannibalism—he could pick from any of a dozen ladies he’d passed since arriving in the Cannibal Colony that afternoon who would leap at the chance.

“Not a squeeze,” he said. “Not a gal, either.”

Angel

Well, he was _laughing,_ but it wasn't the good kind. Angel leaned an elbow over a seat of the sofa, keeping all signs of his own personal glee from his face.

Most of it.

" Do tell. "

Alastor

By this point, he wasn’t looking anywhere near Angel. Okay. Now or never. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, twisting his laced hands together. “Advice.” Like saying it again would keep this to some emotionally neutral info-gathering consultation. “What do you—How should one handle it, if... one has... sentiments, for one’s best friend, that he doesn’t reciprocate.” His stomach churned. “Andhe’s found out.”

He had very few people he publicly acknowledged as friends, particularly not somewhere Angel would have seen it. Only one of them was a man. He braced himself for an outburst of shock/amusement as Angel worked out who he was talking about.

Angel

Oh this was FAR from strictly transactional. They all pretty much lived together. Their interpersonal lives would be intertwined for the unspecified future. Said best friend was ENGAGED... to Angel's own best friend.

Again, Angel's eyes flickered about the room. This wasn't a Lifetime movie. This wasn't a hidden camera show. This was gonna be their life now and he'd be DAMNED if that sort of mess could be sorted by a few hundred dollars or so.

He just took a deep breath and stated the facts. Any generic advice he had on hand wouldn't be helpful. " You're his best man, Al. _What_ were ya thinkin'? "

Alastor

He squeezed his eyes shut as if Angel had just reared back to sock him in the face. He would have preferred amusement. “*I didn’t want him to kn—*”

He choked on his own static. He took a shuddering breath. “I don’t want—They make him happy, *that’s* what I want. Him happy. I don’t want to interfere, I just—“ He had to stop again. Unprofessional. Management would’ve given him a stern talking to after a performance like this.

He lifted his laced hands, pressing the knuckles of his thumbs to his eyelids. “I didn’t tell him. He figured it out.”

Angel

Angel expected defensiveness from trying to pry some more from him, to pass an air of judgement for the sake of pulling out whatever emotions he was trying so hard to hide beneath professionalism. He thought Alastor would HANDLE IT.

Not fall into whatever _this_ was. The Alastor he knew was nothing short of _UNBREAKABLE._ It was as surreal as it was painful to witness. _What could be possibly offer him?_ A simple question suddenly felt loaded and heavy.

" _Hey hey hey._ " Angel rose from the floor and perched upon the sofa facing him. " He's a smart guy. You're expressive as shit. Even performin's got... some of ya in it... Ya can't help ALL OF IT. " He leaned forward, just enough to duck below Alastor's falling level. " ... What he... have t' say about it...? "

Alastor

In a week, maybe he could have been calm and collected and above it all. But it was yesterday. It felt like it was an hour ago. The wounds were still raw, literally.

A sharp nod. “It was unavoidable.” He’d realized that the moment it happened. He still hated, hated, hated it.

“Oh, you know.” Another humorless laugh. He dropped his hands and stared tiredly down at them. “He’s furious, he feels betrayed, he feels used... he believes he still wants to be my friend but if he so much as *looks* at me before he’s ready for it he’ll hate me forever...” He shrugged wearily.

Angel

" That's why ya out here, " he stated with a toss of an arm over the backrest, " I DON'T know. How's he feelin' used? Ya never... did anythin' to 'im, did ya? I mean, since you was tryin' so hard to just keep it in, I can't imagine you HAVE. " Angel racked his memories a moment, but drew blanks. He couldn't think of any reason, for both not knowing enough and such a notion conflicting his own direct experience.

" It's... YOU hurtin' 'ere, from what I see. He's got Valera, they gonna be tyin' the knot soon. You've been... " He swallowed thickly. " There fa him. Tell me why. There's - " Words caught in his throat. Words that may have saved him from damnation had they been said to him when he needed to hear them. " Ain't nothin' wrong... wit' feelin' what ya feelin'. "

Alastor

A nod. That’s why he’s out here.

“Because any time we interacted, there was more to it—more than he was bargaining for. More than he knew about.” He had himself back under control, but his tone was subdued. Almost emotionless. Not very Radio Demon. “We hugged, we cuddled. Napped together.” And was he justified in feeling used over that? All Alastor could say was that he’d felt guilty about it the entire time—that he’d dreaded that maybe he *was* using him. “I *tried* to make sure he was always the one who initiated. It didn’t always end up that way.” He remembered holding him in his arms when he’d fainted, telling himself it was justified because he was just supporting him until he woke back up. He’d been *unconscious.* “He said he couldn’t really consent to anything we did because he didn’t know what he was consenting to.”

Angel

" And he's puttin' that on you? Smiles, ya owed 'im nothin' more than ya wanted 'im knowin'. It didn't change nothin'. Ya still gave him everything he wanted and needed from ya. You think ya owe him a reengineerin' of the parts a ya you can't change, too? He may... own ya... but he can't... change ya. Not like that. "

Realizing he may have been projecting a little too much, Angel cleared his throat. " Lovin' 'im a lil' different don't take away from everythin' ya already had. I dunno why he'd feel so... THREATENED by ya unless he... ain't cool wit' you bein' a guy, but any guy who's that comfy wit' his friends can't be straight 'imself, ah? " He forced a chuckle, but he knew that wasn't the point.

" Ya still... didn't have motives, Al, ya didn't take advantage of him. Ya didn't go underminin' everything he's workin' for. Right? No matter how you was feelin'... he still came first. Now if ya ask me, that's PRETTY FUCKIN' STUPID. But he has ya. Had ya. Whatever happens. He's got it all an' then some just t' kick ya to the curb... " Angel crossed his arms. " Ya don't deserve that. He's got some apologizin' t' do to you. I'd drag ya back to the hotel an' give 'im a piece a my mind right NOW... but y'ain't gonna want that, huh? "

Alastor

*He may own you.* Something inside Alastor twisted in pain and boiled up in fury—because it was true. Some part of him had been seized away and he was never getting it back, and that was the *worst* part of this. He muttered, “I wish I could reengineer it. Not for *him* but for *me.* I don’t want this.”

He shook his head. “It’s not because I’m a man, that never came into it. He isn’t straight.” He says this with the confidence of somebody who definitely absolutely totally knows that this is a fact, despite the fact that he has not, actually, been told so.

No, of course he’d never undermined him, he would never—but that didn’t necessarily mean he hadn’t, at the same time, taken advantage. Taken liberties he shouldn’t have, here and there. The idea that *he* might be owed an apology was laughable. Alastor wasn’t laughing. “No, absolutely not, don’t say a *single* word to him. As soon as this conversation ends, I never told you anything and you don’t know any of it.”

Angel

" Didn't think so. " Angel dropped his cheek into his hand and studied him. Something changed. He was being short with him. He perused his words, robotic and unnatural, searching for what did it. It was the price he paid for rambling.

" But ya _do,_ want it. You'd want it if things were different, if he felt the same about you. Tell me I'm wrong an' I'll eat my words wit' a side a fries. " He closed his eyes and hummed into his palm. " Whatever closure ya needin' ya gotta find it. " Angel hesitated to volley ideas, as he knew they'd be leaving his mouth astronomically hypocritical. But he wasn't being paid to play by example, was he? " Ya can count on Penny t' come around and give it to ya, but if ya do that you could be fuckin' exiled forever an' give up the front seat to watchin' Charlie's redemption plans go to shits. Sure it's a lotta fun out 'ere, but it ain't no 1929 fun. "

" Or, ya can wipe ya face. Get off ya ass. Make sure ya got all that's goin' on outta ya system. An' find somethin' new to pour yaself into that's got nothin' t' do with him. And keep doin' it until he's got less an' less a hold on ya until... you're feelin' free an' yourself, again. An' he'll just 'ave to deal with whatever that means if he wants to be stayin' friends with ya. 'Cause ya done ENOUGH. "

Alastor

"You *are* wrong." There's an edge of desperation in his voice. "If he said he felt the same and he made me that offer—yes, I'd take it. But if I could actually choose, if I was given a *real* choice? Between being with him and—and having this taken out of me and being *free?* I'd want to be free! I'd choose that in a heartbeat! I'd rather be his friend!"

And he *knew* that was what he'd choose because he *had* chosen it. Back before he realized that freedom was no longer an option. He'd lost a piece of his heart he was never getting back.

He listened to Angel's suggestions. Let out a long, slow sigh. And asked tiredly, "Is that it?"

Angel

" Then ya gonna have to prove it to yourself first babe 'cause ya ain't soundin' convincin'. " Angel ducked below his line of sight again as if it'd grant him a different perspective. " If this sorta thing had a magical fix, you'd know a lot better than me. But it don't. Ya just gotta... "

He frowned. He wouldn't be able to keep the promise of pretending this never happened. " ... keep at it... keep talkin'... maybe you'll wake up tomorrow feelin' inspired. Maybe you'll wish ya never woke up at all, but... it's all ya can do, Smiles. It's gonna take time. " Angel didn't like leaving it at this, but he found himself unsure. With other clients, he could leave them with the best and never hear of the results. So long as he stayed at the hotel, _he was going to end up WATCHING HIM every step of the way._

But he still didn't know how he needed to be taken care of. If Alastor knew himself, he wouldn't have solicited. " Good thing we got all the time in the world down 'ere to find new things to fuck ourselves up with, ah? " He reached out and gently pat the sofa cushion in place of his knee, in place of taking his hand. " You'll... get there. You're the fuckin' Radio Demon. I dunno how ya do half the shit ya do but this is gonna be one a them things. Say it. "

Alastor

"Would it sound more convincing to you if I destroyed everything he'd ever worked for *just* to ensure we could never have a life together? Would that be convincing enough for you?" Alastor snapped. "*Because I did.*"

He shoved himself off the couch to start pacing. "I've *tried* pouring myself into something new to keep him off my mind. I've *been* trying it for the last *fifty-four years.* That's why I'm at the hotel in the first place! It's why I know *how long* you can *kill yourself* with a bottle of 190 proof booze!" He flung his hands up in despair. "I've been trying to *feel like myself* again since 1966, and all I can do is—distract myself! Distract myself and suppress it until the next time I'm reminded of him!" He let out a brittle laugh, "And smear what I feel for him around to all of his duplicates!"

He rounded on Angel. "I've joined musicals, worked in restaurants, moved to a cultish commune, been an alcoholic, gone to therapy, traveled the nine circles, signed onto every harebrained scheme and plot in Hell—including the hotel!—and more things I can't even remember off the top of my head, and on top of *that* put over half a century between me and him, *and he's still stuck in my heart.* I've tried every piece of advice I've ever heard for how to fall out of love and they *haven't worked!* So give me something *new!* Give me something I *haven't tried!* You're the professional!"

He collapsed onto the armchair Angel hadn't taken. He wasn't sure if getting all that out of his system had really helped. He kind of felt like he'd just projectile vomited.

Angel

" Dupli-? ... _Fuck..._ " Angel dropped his cheek into his palm with the rest of his body taking up the empty space on the sofa. This ran much deeper than he thought. The root of his issues didn't even have anything to DO with the Pentious he knew. Likely beyond anything he could possibly say. Hadn't Alastor been so sweepingly BROAD when he came in, he could've been more careful, but- _ah seemed like he tired himself out._

**_Ya DONE?_**

" That kinda miracle workin' ain't on my resume, " he said bleakly with a broad sweep of an arm, " Ya called me fa someone to talk to, not t' be the answer to all ya problems. " As much time as he spent hearing out the woes of the damned, usually all that was really wanted from him was a crank. An easy enough temporary fix. Not here.

He stood up now. Trying to build him up from below didn't seem to be working. Alastor responded only when he called him out, questioned the half-hearted assertions playing from his mouth like a weathered record. Was that what he needed? To be spiritually disemboweled until he purged all the poison from his soul onto the tarp? He didn't like this. He didn't like it at all. He wanted to call the job off. He couldn't do it. This was too personal and psychologically visceral.

But even moreso, he couldn't give up on and leave him there for much of the same reason he couldn't leave him at the bar. Self destruction was a BITCH to be going through alone. And at the root of it all, Alastor made it clear enough he didn't want to be alone by calling him there.

Angel braced a long arm over the back of his chair so he could drill him in the eye. " Believe me, if I had it all I'd give it to ya, but all I got is this. If ya want ya stolen money back, fine, Al. If ya wanna keep yellin', 'ave at it, Al. Lay out all the shit that's been dry doggin' ya since '66. So I can get it. REALLY GET IT. 'Cause ya holdin' out on me. An' if ya really wanna get the most outta ya hours. Ya gotta keep goin'. "

Alastor

A corner of his mouth twitched. Miracle working. "Of course. Of course, you're right—I'm not expecting a miracle. Not in Hell."

He slouched forward, elbows on his knees again, running one hand through his hair—it was still partially stiff with the hair gel he hadn't managed to shower out at Rosie's, he hadn't bothered to restyle it.

He hadn't liked... that. He still felt sick. "No, I don't want a refund," he said. "I—don't think I want to keep yelling, either." He was silent a moment, trying to figure out what he *did* want from all the things he didn't want, mentally chasing something elusive. It had made perfect sense when he'd tracked down Angel's number—talk to a professional, someone whose job was all about desire and attraction, someone who'd probably dealt with thousands of broken-hearted clients; while Alastor's had only broken once, and just never been put back together.

And now that they were talking Alastor couldn't quite figure out what he wanted. Maybe he really had been hoping for a miracle.

*Ya gotta keep goin'.* All right. "I don't particularly want to talk about '66, either—but..." He took a deep breath. "There was a day when I had a choice—happily ever after with him; or run for the hills, toss aside those emotions, and go back to being who I'd been before I—fell. I chose to run. Destroy everything and run. So—when I *say* that I'd choose freedom over requited feelings... even if it doesn't sound convincing to you, I need you to know that I'm telling the truth. Because I *did* choose it. Or—tried." He looked at Angel, waiting for his reaction—waiting to see if he was believed. Because he needed to be believed. Everyone else in the world only said they didn't want love when they couldn't make it work out—and if Angel lumped Alastor in with them, then... then they would be speaking two different languages that had the same words but different meanings, never actually communicating. If Alastor couldn't make himself understood, he was still alone.

Angel

Angel took a deep breath before sinking to the floor again. " I believe ya. Just gotta say it with conviction, ah? " he said heavily with a fold of his arms over the armrest. As Alastor spoke, he tried to put himself in his place. When he was posed with as monumental a choice, he made the opposite decision. And regretted it with everything he had. Not only was there no miracle working in Hell: there were no choices for the better, either. You were damned whether or not you believed something was too good to be true or fell into the trap. Angel had dived headfirst when he should've trusted that he knew himself better than to believe it'd end well for him.

" How'd it fall through? " he posed with a drop of his chin into his arms, " He bait ya back? " Angel found himself listening with new acoustics. They'd both been in ruins for decades for strikingly similar reasons: trapped by the clutches of toxic loves neither of them want, when they never felt anything of the sort prior. A tragic First they were still fighting. Perhaps he had something to offer him afterall. Perhaps he could support him in a way only few could. He could only hope it'd be enough.

Alastor

“No.” Alastor slid off his chair, too; it didn’t feel right, sitting higher. They should be on eye level with each other. “No, that was—that was why I destroyed everything before I left. To ensure he *wouldn’t* try to bait me back. To make sure he wouldn’t want to. And he didn’t want to. He hasn’t.” Huff. “You saw him on my first day at the hotel! And that’s the longest conversation we’ve had since I left. No, he didn’t do anything. It just...” He shrugged helplessly. “Didn’t fade for me. It’s *supposed* to fade, everyone tells you it’s supposed to fade. It never did.”

Angel

" Oh. That was. " _Let's just pretend he knew from the beginning that they weren't the same demon._ Angel darted his eyes to the corner of the room as he slinked off the armrest. _Yeah. TOTALLY KNEW,_ he lied to himself as he faced Alastor and made himself comfortable. Odd of him to follow his habit. " ... him. " He then cleared his throat. " Yeah, it... doesn't... really... " Angel echoed with a perch of his arms over his ankles. " So... what's ya plan...? Ya gonna just... camp out 'ere 'till ya figure it out? "

Alastor

“That was him,” Alastor said grimly. “My *ex.*” The word was sour on his tongue. Such a fitting word. “And what did I do, I immediately blew up his ship again. Terrific work on my part. Well done.”

A shrug. “Wait at Rosie’s until either he comes calling or I decide he never will, I suppose, and then figure out what to do from there. The—the new ‘he,’ I mean. The one I’m friends with now.” He paused, considering that. “Was friends with.”

Angel

" I'll say. " Blowing up an exe's property sounded perfectly justifiable to him, and it wasn't just Cherri's influence. But he guessed if Alastor felt bad about it that only meant he preferred other ways of moving on.

" Rosie... she... busy a lot? Ya got enough company out 'ere? "

Alastor

“Oh, everyone loves me in the Cannibal Colony. All the ladies swoon and all the men beg me to come over for dinner. I can’t go half a block without getting roped into small talk and dance numbers.” He didn’t sound terribly enthusiastic about it. But he added, “I have better company here than I do anywhere else in Hell,” and *that* was completely true.

Angel

" Well... sounds like a good place fa ya to be... " Angel pondered some. Of course Cannibal Colony was his personal wonderland. But there must be something missing for him to leave, he figured. " Pause the clock for a sec, " he said with a clear of his throat, " Rosie got room fa one more? "

Alastor

“I don’t want a roommate.” He gave the answer immediately; and then, after a moment, grudgingly, asked, “Are you trying to get away from the hotel?”

Angel

" I ain't askin' t' be ya roommate, " he growled, " YOU'RE the one turnin' tail 'ere. " With that, Angel snapped his fingers. " Clock's back on. I ain't ya friend no more. "

Alastor

Alastor stared at him, lost. “Th—No, pause the clock—Then what *are* you asking?”

Angel

He crossed his arms and eyed him sternly. " If ya... " A sigh. He already knew the answer. " If ya need a friend, Al. Ya gonna be out 'ere for fuckall knows how long. Ya goin' through it. Would be much easier if all I had to do was turn a corner instead a hikin' all the way over whenever ya felt like stealin' a wallet. "

Alastor

All right, that was what he’d originally thought. He didn’t know why Angel got *offended* that Alastor hadn’t wanted a favor that had been offered for Alastor’s benefit—but then it wasn’t the first time, was it? “I don’t want a friend nearby. I don’t want to be *watched* while I’m... thinking things over. I need to have that distance.” He unconsciously glanced toward the wallet as he said the last word.

Angel

" That mean ya done? " he asked with a toss of his chin down Alastor's line of sight.

Alastor

He snapped his gaze back to Angel. “No. No, just—have to look somewhere, don’t I?” Deep breath. “Sorry. Distracted. Where were we?”

Angel

He actually pulled him back. Color Angel surprised. " Ya blew up his shit, it didn't do ya no good, ya made a mean jambalaya... "

Alastor

“*Right.* Yes. That’s not the one I wanted to talk about. *He’s* not the one I wanted to talk about. I just—needed you to know the context, but... The one I’m friends with now. That one.”

Angel

" Yeah. The one who kicked ya to the curb after ya tore yourself the fuck apart tryin' to be who he wanted ya to be instead a seein' an' appreciatin' ya fa who you are, " he stated matter of factly with a moderate sweep of his arm, " _That one._ Pen. "

Alastor

It stung to hear. Another little needle jammed into his heart, right alongside all the others already buried in. "If I was tearing myself apart to be who he wanted, then he *couldn't* see who I really was, could he? I've been more or less lying to him as long as he's known me. He's got every right to distrust me."

Angel

" More or less, " Angel echoed, " So ya _not_ entirely convinced you were completely in the wrong. " His eyes challenged him. Though the secondary six didn't have pupils, an eerie weight carried through. " It's 'cause you're not. "

Alastor

"I *meant* in the sense that even when I wasn't *actively* lying, I was lying by omission." He shook his head. "Even if I... It's nothing I don't deserve anyway—in general, in a... you know, a karmic sense. Years ago, I stabbed a version of him in the heart; now he stabs me in the heart. He was probably... *selected,* on some celestial level, to be my punishment." He'd been doing a valiant job of keeping at least a ghost of a smile on his face, but it was starting to waver now. "I knew this wasn't going to work. Of course we couldn't be friends—he was just thrown in my path to rip open the wounds I'd gotten too good at ignoring. If it had a chance of working, we wouldn't have been allowed to meet."

Angel

" What's the point a harpin' on about what ya do an' don't deserve if there ain't no redemption to be had? That cross on ya chest ain't ever gonna flip. " _Catholic,_ he heard Alastor's voice echo in his head. How he _loathed_ those places of worship. Even before being damned his skin burned with rancor every time he crossed an altar. And he did so many times with and without a Colt tucked into his coat. " What'cha expectin' to be comin' outta sufferin' like a good lil' sinner? 'Cause no matter how many times I dunked my wank hand into the holy water, " he said curtly as he signed himself, " I kept missin' the memo. " Intentionally. But he could play dumb for now if it helped him drag some religious trauma out of him.

Alastor

"I don't expect anything to come out of it but more suffering. I don't expect a reward, redemption, or respite. But—and here's the key part—I don't expect anything to come out of denial and resistance, either. Either way, I'm going to suffer and nothing's going to improve. Because this is *Hell,* and *nothing* gets better, and only a *damn fool* tries to improve his lot. Even if he succeeds, it's only because Hell is letting him set himself up for an even greater fall." He crossed his legs loosely, propping his elbow on a knee and his chin in his hand, letting his fingers half cover his mouth. "This situation is just further proof of that."

Angel

" So ya called me just so you can fuck yourself over a lil' more? Ya " damn fool " ? 'Cause if ya lookin' to get fucked UP an' do it RIGHT, that's up my alley, too. " Angel flashed a crooked smirk and waved a his hand. He wasn't serious. However, he _did_ fundementally disagree. " I'm kiddin'. Kiddin'. But ya know. So long as we're stuck kickin' around, sufferin', may as well keep things interestin', " he droned with a shift to his knees so he could reach Alastor's shoulder, " Keep takin' chances. Keep chasin' the next best thing. Keep doin' what'cha do. It ain't gonna matter an' it's always gonna suck, but at least ya get ya kicks outta watchin' other demons handle it a lot worse than you, ah? "

Alastor

He laughed weakly. "I've tried getting f#%ked up." A muffled beep obscured most of the word. "Funny thing though, once you get tired of that, you still have to pick up the pieces. And I never have liked cleaning up messes."

A lump formed in his throat when Angel touched his shoulder. "Next best thing," he muttered. "That's what I've been doing. All this time." He could hear his voice trembling, but he couldn't stop it. "If I can't be *happy*, at least I can be *entertained.* Ha! I just w—!" He couldn't finish the sentence. He slid his hand up to fully cover his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut.

Angel

Angel chuckled in time with his laugh. Was that part of his act? Was the bleep conscious? He had so many jokes at the ready. He was MORE than ready to start trying to make him laugh...

... but instead, Alastor shattered like glass. Just a touch of a hand was all it took? He always took extra care to respect his space after their first conversation. Right now he was just leading him by example, showing rather than just telling him to take chances.

_" ... Al... "_ He thought he should pull back. Maybe it was a bad call. But if he let go, there'd be nothing there to catch his pieces. _And Alastor surely didn't like cleaning up messes._ Angel took a short breath before raising another hand. He gently squared his shoulders towards him. _" Hey... You ok there buddy? "_

Alastor

He shook his head. But he also didn't pull back. Just this once, apparently, this was what he needed.

Angel

Angel almost felt like he'd be more comfortable holding a hornet's nest, but at least providing this sort of comfort was more his speed. " C'mere. " Cautiously, he slid his arms past Alastor to angle his head over his shoulder and avoid a pair of antlers to the throat. In the same motion, he slipped beside him to support any weight that would fall. _Was it too much?_ He kept his secondary arms on the floor for now, a small crunch of product in his ear as his cheek tilted into his hair.

Alastor

Yes, that *was* what he needed. He'd be surprised at himself if he wasn't trying so hard to hold himself together. He leaned his weight into Angel, pulled his knees up to his chest, and covered his face entirely, one hand over his mouth and one hand over his eyes.

Voice cracking, choking on every few words, he said, "I just—wish—I could stop—dragging him into it. I don't want to be the—the one assigned to—make him suffer. That would be enough."

Angel

_You're NOT..._ Angel took a deep breath and pulled him closer, all arms around him now, a couple subtly rubbing his back. This wasn't a point of argument he could win. He couldn't contest or even tell him it'd be ok. So every time he choked, he gave a little squeeze. Every time he cracked he gave a more deliberate stroke. He could cry into his fluff. It'd be ok. He wouldn't look. Instead of protest, he affirmatively hummed along.

Alastor

He couldn't quite bring himself to cry into the fluff, that was a step too far. That would be the point where chronic touch aversion won out over acute touch starvation again.

But he *was* willing to press his forehead into the fluff—oh wow that was really soft. That was. Insanely soft. Holy shit. It lived up to the advertising.

Angel

He seemed to still. That was good. Angel brought a hand to the top of his head to gauge where the antlers were again, but _god_ was his hair a mess. Roots showing, old pomade... at least it didn't feel an awful brand. Keeping his chin up, he relaxed his hold on him and stayed put, listening closely for potentially muffled words.

Alastor

Just one word for the moment, croaked out from beneath a hand and a wall of fluff: "Thanks." He'll work a few more out, just—give him a moment first. It's been a long time since he's let himself be touched by anyone but the person he's currently a wreck over.

Angel

" Yeah... I won't mention it, " he said quietly before brushing a thumb over the base of his ear. Alongside the softness, it was almost en_deer_ing how small he managed to make himself. But he was a broken man. Angel hoped he'd never have to see this side of Alastor again regardless of how used to his frame he was getting. Less a hornet's nest, more a vulnerable demon just like any other.

Alastor

And Alastor sincerely hoped to never be seen like this again; but that wasn't totally in his control, was it?

He took several deep breaths, white noise hisses; and then asked, "Should I—even try again? Being friends? Or would we both be better off to—not?"

He desperately wanted a *yes, try again.* But he couldn't give himself one. He'd been trying, for days; all his excuses and rationalizations rang false. They all sounded selfish and naive.

Angel

Angel bit his lip. _No,_ he wanted to say, _Not if ya gonna keep runnin' yourself into the ground. Not if you're gonna cling to this idea of suffering._

_Ya just gonna be back 'ere again._

But so would he, wouldn't he? Angel already decided. He wasn't going back to the studio. If nowhere else... he was going to be here. Playing redemption.

" ... He. Should try, " he said sternly as he traced waves, " You don't do a fuckdamn THING to get in his good graces until he makes it up to ya. That's the only way this could work. Ya gave 'im everythin'. It's his turn. "

Alastor

Alastor's throat tightened. He didn't like that answer. "But being loved by a friend is *horrible.*" Voice of experience. "He didn't *want* everything from me. I can't blame him for being upset at having so much shoved onto him. How could I?"

Angel

Angel sighed heavily. Temporary fluff suffocation. You'll survive, Alastor. " I ain't sayin' ya gotta do that. Just that he should f'give ya some. Y'ain't no scarlet fuckin' letter. Just a guy. Wit' a complicated past. Wit' some complicated feelin's. If he's gonna be givin' any bit of a damn about you, he's gonna have to wade through some of it without judgin' ya or blamin' ya. It's what friends do. "

Alastor

That's fine, breathing is optional. He can wait.

"Oh, no? If I had a big red letter pinned to me, are you sure you could tell? B for backstabber." He sighed. "Right—of course. If he doesn't decide to forgive me, there's nothing else I can do. It's out of my hands until then."

Angel

" You'll be _fine,_ " he relented with a sink of his chin onto his head and a wide circle over Alastor's back, " You'll get along again. You'll get over y'selves. Even if ya don't, you'll still be fine. "

Alastor

They'll get along again. They'll be fine. His throat squeezed shut. He doubted Angel had any real way of knowing that was true, but he clung to it anyway.

He tried to nod, found he was buried too deep in fluff to complete the movement, and instead managed a garbled, "*Mhm.*"

Angel

" Mhm, " he echoed affirmatively, fingering a wayward curl back into place. At least as close a place he could figure. Angel then squeezed him tight around the shoulders before loosening into casual sweeps. " ... ... Ya smilin'? "

Alastor

He doubted it, but he prodded his cheek with the fingertips of the hand still over his mouth to check. "Mm-mm." That's a negative.

Angel

His lashes fluttered. He wasn't actually expecting him to say no. " Ok... I'll stay here, long as ya need to. If ya comfortable bein' a lil' ball. "

Alastor

"Mhm." Just a few more minutes. In a few more minutes he'd be able to collect himself. They'd get along again and they'd be fine, and if they didn't—if they didn't he'd face that when he had to.

Angel

" Mhm. " He wanted to chuckle. _Grunt after grunt._ Should he feel guilty about how _funny_ he found this? Probably. Only for the next few minutes as he cycled through the usual motions: playing with his hair, ears, rubbing his back, shoulders, the typical things clients found soothing before and after. Alastor had yet to protest, so he felt certain enough to venture he wasn't _bothered._ Nonetheless, they remained light, idle, all but absent minded. Working, but for a friend.

Alastor

He stayed there for several more minutes, until the idle background sensation of disembodied touches on his back and head slowly returned to what they usually were: prickly, uncomfortable reminders of another thinking feeling person pressed up against his body. He felt his shoulders start to tense and he pulled back a bit from the fluff. "Okay, that's—that's all I can handle."

Angel

" Handle? " Angel questioned as his arms dropped from Alastor's person in favor of leaning back on them, so he could remove himself on his own accord. " Interestin'... choice a words, there. " He tipped his sights to the corner of the room for a spell as he thought. " You ok? "

Alastor

He drew back and started straightening his clothes and brushing himself off—he had a smile back on, but God was it a tired-looking one. Dryly, he asked, “In what sense?”

Angel

" Er... relative sense. " Angel then cautiously leaned into the empty space. " Whataya mean, all ya can handle? "

Alastor

“My personal space bubble turned back on.” He stood up and continued tidying himself, brushing off his pants.