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bitsandbobsandstuff · 5 years

Text

The (not naked) pin-up calendar

Summary: When you ask for a favor, Bucky (very) grudgingly agrees. What can you do to thank him? Return the favor, of course.

Characters: Bucky x Reader; a plethora of Avengers Warnings: Hardcore fluff. Soldiers wrestling like immature children. Steve being weirded out by nut sacks. Harry Potter references. A hint of naughty times at the end.

A/N: This is silly and fun and what can I say, writing sassy Bucky makes me happy. This is for @beckzorz 1k Writing Challenge (go follow this incredibly talented, beautiful lady), and my prompt was ‘Pin-up calendar’. Thanks a million for hosting Becca, I love you 3000! ♥️

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Overnight, the list gets tacked on the corkboard in the kitchen.

Bucky’s rummaging through the pantry, searching for his breakfast Doritos and a jar of salsa to dunk them in, when he glimpses his name from a distance. Snatching up a butter knife, he wanders over to the wall. When he sees the list header, he whirls around in a flurry of tangled hair and irrational grumpiness.

“What the hell is this?”

Bucky complaining first thing in the morning is par for the course, so both Sam and Steve, strolling in to search for breakfast, ignore him. Sam veers toward the sugary cereal cabinet, Steve heads for the oversize Ironman container housing granola, and Bucky stomps his foot like a toddler.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Steve says seconds later, through an overflowing mouthful of flaxseed and yogurt. “You already agreed. You’re not backing out.”

Bucky spins around and reads the flyer again.

---

“Avengers Calendar Shoot”

See below for your name and photo call timing.

Monday: Carol (10am), Wanda (2pm), Scott (6pm)

Tuesday: Rhodey (10am), Sam (2pm), Steve (6pm)

Wednesday: Tony (10am), Bruce (2pm), Natasha (6pm)

Thursday: Thor (10am), Clint (2pm), Bucky (6pm)

---

Stomping his foot again, Bucky stabs the flyer with the aforementioned butter knife.

“Someone better be yankin’ my dick right now,” he warns. “I definitely didn’t agree to bare my wrinkly nut sack for the whole fucking world to see.”

Sam dry heaves over his Lucky Charms.

Steve’s now filling his Black Widow coffee mug and rolling his eyes.

“What is it with you always trying to be naked? It’s not a naked thing, it’s a charity thing. Innocent children who don’t know what an asshole you are will see this, so you better be wearing clothes,” Steve gives his mug an annoying slurp. “Besides - you already agreed. No takebacks.”

“Steve,” Bucky crisply pivots, launching metaphorical murder darts from his eyes. “We’ve talked about this. Don’t tell me how to live my life.”

“Well it was your girl who convinced everyone to do it, so good luck telling her you’re a liar.” Instead of responding, Bucky holds up a Dorito in front of Steve and peers around the silhouette. Draws a few angles in his head. “What?” Steve asks brusquely.

“Nothing,” Bucky mutters. The chip cracks between his teeth with a puff of toxic orange. “Just makin’ an observation.”

“Just wear your scary leather bondage uniform with your scary mask and stand there all scary. You don’t even need to smile,” Sam says. Spooning cereal in with one hand, his other is attempting to worm its way into Bucky’s bag of chips. Cradling the Doritos under his arm, Bucky twists away, blocking the attack.

“Good way to lose a finger. Don’t touch my things.”

Sam swallows his cereal, ignores the lethal look in Bucky’s eyes, and tries again.

Steve joins in.

And so, when you roll into the kitchen a few minutes later, here’s what you find: three Avengers, three veteran soldiers, wrestling over a bag of Doritos. Bucky has Sam in a headlock, Sam is kicking Bucky’s shins and hitting him with a milky spoon, and for some reason, Steve is dancing around trying to tickle them both.

Clearing your throat, the trio freezes.

You smile.

“Gentlemen.”

Flailing arms and legs instantly break apart. Sam and Steve have the good grace to look chastened, both stammering embarrassed apologies. Bucky simply shoves a fistful of Doritos in his mouth and smiles triumphantly. Striding over to you, he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Babe, take my side here. You don’t want the whole world to see my nut sack, right?”

“Stop saying nut sack,” Steve hisses. “Nuts are gross.”

“Maybe your nuts are gross Steve,” Sam pipes up, rubbing his shirt with a wet rag, trying to clear away Bucky’s orange powder fingerprints, “but my nuts are awesome.” After a few harsh scrubs, he sees the futility and throws the rag in Bucky’s face. Stalking from the kitchen, he shouts something about laundry wheels and Oxyclean.

When you pluck the bag of Doritos from Bucky’s grubby hands, he releases them easily and grins at your exasperation. Sidling close, he rubs up against you like a needy kitten, so you hug him tight, dipping your fingers down to squeeze his butt.

“Please do it Bucky, I already told them you would. Wear anything you want, you don’t even have to smile,” you murmur in his ear, knowing precisely which buttons to push. “And besides, I bet I’m not the only one who wants to see those pretty blue eyes. Right?”

Bucky purses his lips. Wrinkles his nose. Grumbles under his breath.

And because you’re looking at him all wide-eyed and soft, he gives in.

Like he always does.

“Fine,” he huffs. “Fine. I’ll do it for you.”

“So much drama,” Steve mumbles through his granola. Bucky lunges for him, but Steve drops his bowl in the sink and skirts past, rushing for the door. Looking back, he throws Bucky a challenging smirk, before smacking into the doorframe. There’s a brief ricochet and then he’s scurrying down the hall, laughing as he goes.

“Idiot,” Bucky mutters.

Folding your fingers behind his neck, you turn his face back to you and kiss his stubbly cheek. “Thank you. Reason number one billion and two why I love you.”

At the brush of your lips, Bucky promptly grabs the back of your thighs and hoists you in the air. Spinning around, he shuffles over to the counter and drops you on top. Settling between your legs, hands flat on the counter boxing you in, his mouth finds the open space above your shirt collar and he proceeds to kiss every square inch.

“The things I do for you,” he breathes, sucking his favorite spot along your neck. It makes you shiver, that thing he does with his tongue. “You realize now I gotta go on a diet.”

“What? No, you don’t. You look perfect.”

Disappointingly, he stops that whole talented tongue thing and leans back. Grinding your heels into his butt, you kick him, urging him to stay put. Instead, he sighs in that tragic, pay attention to me way that only Bucky Barnes can do.

“Obviously I’m perfect, so are you by the way, but the camera adds five pounds. I have to preemptively lose it.” Crinkling up his now empty bag of Doritos, he throws it at the trash can and misses by a mile. He gives you a hangdog, pathetic sort of look. “This sucks.”

Bucky Barnes, ladies and gentlemen. The most dramatic human being on the planet.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t need to diet. You could weigh a thousand pounds and it wouldn’t matter, you don’t - “

“Maybe not, like, a thousand pounds,” Bucky interrupts. “That’d make sex super hard. And not good hard. Just awkward hard. You know? Like when Hagrid’s mom and dad had sex. Which I still don’t understand how that’s supposed to work and I’ve done a shitload of research on it, been on all kinds of forums and talked to some experts - there’s a guy at SHIELD who specializes in interplanetary species relationships, I don’t know if you knew that - but anyway it just makes no sense because she would have killed that little guy if he tried to bang her, and I’m sorry, that’s the tea and I’ll fucking fight anyone who disagrees.”

Pausing for breath, he looks so earnest you almost hate to stop him.

“Buck, maybe we try one day where you don’t reference Harry Potter? I know you’re a fan, but - “

“I drew some diagrams,” he continues. “Boning diagrams. But like, I still can’t get it to work.”

Staring into space, he lets his marvelous tactical brain run every scenario of sexual acrobatics required to establish the feasibility of human-giant sex.

This could go on forever. Once Bucky gets knee-deep in fan forum theories, hours will lapse before he swims up for air. Many a morning has found him still in his boxers, laptop on his knees while he smashes the keyboard, arguing with virtual enemies about the physical features of Hogwarts house founders or the complex nuances of international Wizarding trade law.

The truth is - Bucky Barnes is a god damn nerd.

Clapping your hands, you drag him back to real life.

“Focus please. You’re good to do this then? Without the diet?”

“I really really hate it,” he replies, matter of fact, “but I really really love you, so if you want me to, I guess I’m in. But I’m still losing five pounds.”

“You’re my favorite, you know that?” Slipping your hands up under his shirt, you massage the tight muscles alone his spine and he hums happily. Flashing a lazy grin, he boops your nose.

“You know what? I think you should do it too. Be so great to have a sexy poster of you for those long nights when I’m gone and can’t sleep,” he waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “If you know what I mean.”

“I’m going to pretend I don’t know what you mean.”

“Whatever. Like you don’t have a folder full of dick pics with my name on it,” he laughs.

“I wish you’d stop sending me those,” you say sternly. “You know this is my work phone.”

“So? You always need fresh material for your diddle box. Keeps the romance alive,” he says. Reaching up behind you, he tugs open the snack cabinet and rummages for a new bag of Doritos. The airtight blurp of a new jar of salsa follows.

“I’m sure I’ll regret this, but - what exactly is a diddle box?”

Massive Winter Soldier eye roll.

“All the pictures and videos and sexy shit you use to masturbate. Clearly.”

“Why do I ask you questions,” you sigh.

“I’m starting my diet tomorrow,” he answers instead, before dunking a fresh Dorito in the salsa.

*****

The next two weeks are spent with Bucky mostly eating raw vegetables and baked chicken breast and loudly commenting on the sorrows of dieting to everyone he encounters.

“You’re being ridiculous Bucky. No one told you to lose weight.”

“No,” he says glumly, crunching a celery stick with a martyred expression. “I need to be hot. Beauty is pain.”

“You are a pain.”

He sighs dramatically. Stares wistfully into the distance. Snaps a carrot in half.

“The things I do for you.”

“Jesus.”

*****

AVENGERS CALENDAR SHOOT THIS WEEK!

Remember to be on time, or we will choose the worst picture of you and print that.

We’re assholes that way.

Thanks,

Management

*****

MONDAY

(SEPTEMBER: Danvers, Carol; Captain Marvel)

Carol throws her bomber jacket over her red, blue, and gold uniform, and adds a sleek pair of vintage Ray Bans. Climbing into the cockpit of her fighter jet, she turns herself all glowy and golden, the color bouncing merrily off the control panel. Tipping her face down to the camera, she flashes the Shaka sign and gives the photographer a huge smile.

(FEBRUARY: Maximoff, Wanda; Scarlett Witch)

Wanda goes all out on all things red. Clad in a long red dress and long coat, surrounded by hundreds of red flowers - tulips and roses and carnations - she curls her fingers and everything around her begins to glow with a warm red light. When she smiles at the camera, her head tilts shyly.

(OCTOBER: Lang, Scott; Antman)

Is Scott actually in the picture or did someone spill coffee? The photographer sees a white sheet and a black spec, and scratches his head in confusion. Antman is kinda weird.

*****

TUESDAY

(NOVEMBER: Rhodes, James; War Machine)

Rhodey shows up dressed head to toe in gunmetal colored armor. When he snaps the faceplate down, the photographer timidly asks if maybe he wants to show his face. Rhodey flips the faceplate back up, reminds the photographer how badass this armor is, and says nope. He’s all good, thanks.

(APRIL: Wilson, Sam; Falcon)

Sam has spent the last few nights practicing his Zoolander pout in the bathroom mirror. He decides to wear a tight black t-shirt and comfortable jeans, with his wings spread wide, Redwing hovering beside him. At the last minute, his sultry pout melts into an animated belly laugh and they decide to use that one instead.

(JULY: Rogers, Steven; Captain America)

Steve goes back to his roots. Wearing a too small shirt and holey old jeans, he gazes pensively at the easel in front of him, glossy blond hair combed in a perfect wave. Fingers dusty with charcoal, he points to the picture he’s drawing and insists they capture it in the photo as well. They later realize he was drawing a picture of his own ass. That month gets labeled “Steve Rogers and America’s Ass”.

*****

WEDNESDAY

(MAY: Stark, Tony; Ironman)

Tony wears the bottom half of his suit and his favorite Black Sabbath t-shirt. Posing in his lab, he floats a few feet off the ground, crossing his arms and giving that trademark smirk. Scattered around him are random bits of technology and a few arc reactors, with Dum-E and a steaming platter of cheeseburgers in the background.

(JUNE: Banner, Bruce; Incredible Hulk)

Bruce looks a bit rumpled. The publicity shy scientist in him detests these things, but he’s a good sport for a good cause. Surrounded by microscopes and beakers of dazzling green liquids, he allows the teeniest quirk of his lips. Hands tucked in his pockets, messy curls fall over his forehead, and Bruce just feels happy to be included.

(JANUARY: Romanoff, Natasha; Black Widow)

Natasha asks for her photo in black and white. Dressed in shadows and tulle, she is nothing more than a dark figure against a white backdrop. On her feet, are a pair of ballet slippers, their satin ribbons looped and laced around her ankles. When she arches slowly up on pointe, her arms curve gracefully over her head and there’s an ethereal stillness about the image. Natasha is amazing.

*****

THURSDAY

(DECEMBER: Odinson, Thor; Thor)

Thor wears an enthusiastic smile when he arrives - and not much else. Dressed in a cherry red speedo, black boots, and his swirling red cape, he stands with one fist on his hip and Mjolnir held lovingly in the other. When the photographer asks about his outfit, Thor proudly describes something called “fan art” he saw online of himself wearing this outfit, mentioning how many “re-blogs” it had. He thinks he might wear this outfit more often, if that’s what the Midgardians want.

(AUGUST: Barton, Clint; Hawkeye)

Clint has a cup of coffee in one hand, a pot of coffee in the other. He wears purple sweatpants and a grey tank top and he yawns every five seconds. When asked what pose he’d like to use, he pretends his hearing-aids are broken. He lays down for a nap and the photographer goes with that.

(MARCH: Barnes, James “Bucky”; Winter Soldier)

Bucky leaves his leather bondage gear, his excessive collection of knives and guns, and his murder scowl at home. Instead, he arrives in black jeans and boots, a dark blue t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, his tousled hair brushing the collar of his jean jacket. Perched casually on the seat of his restored Harley, he looks carefree and sweet, offering that signature smile that always sets hearts aflutter.

*****

When the final photo is taken, Bucky ambles over to where you stand with the photographer, reviewing proofs. Snuggling up beside you, he moves in for a kiss and stops in surprise.

“What’s with the lipstick?” he asks, bemused. “That’s new.”

You seem momentarily flustered by the question, stuttering something about losing your chapstick and trying new things. Bucky shrugs and dives in anyway. It makes no difference to him. Painted red or completely bare, your lips are always his favorite flavor.

*****

“They’re here!”

The box of calendars lands with a thump on the kitchen counter.

“Excellent. Are we hot?” Steve asks, his mouth full of cheesy pizza.

“I’m always hot,” Sam answers, ripping into the box. “Yesterday I saw a Buzzfeed post about how hot I am, and it said 11/10 recommend.” Yanking out the pile of calendars, he throws one to Steve. “That means more than 100% would recommend. I’m beloved.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a national treasure,” Steve argues. Reaching for a calendar, he flicks impatiently until he finds himself.

Leaving the team to laugh and bicker and poke fun of each other, you grab your bag (and another small package), heading off to search for your favorite assassin slash model.

His door is cracked when you reach it, low music in the background. Knocking lightly, you push it open.

“Hey Buck. Are you busy?”

Surrounded a chaos of metal, Bucky sits cross-legged on his bedroom floor. A tin of gun oil lays open beside him, a shredded old t-shirt in hand, while he cleans and reassembles his guns. This particular task has taken him literally all day, because Bucky Barnes has yet to meet a gun he doesn’t need.

(Seriously. He needs them. All of them. Stop questioning him, Steve.)

At your voice, an adorable smile scrunches up his face. Bouncing to his feet, he leaps gracefully from the middle of the mess and scoops you up, twirling in a circle and stealing your breath with a warm kiss.

“Hey sweetheart, what’re you doin’ here?”

“Something arrived. Thought you might like to see.”

Handing over the calendar, Bucky wipes his hands on his jeans. A nervous energy makes his fingers fumble when he riffles through the pages.

He stops abruptly at March.

“Huh,” he says, observing his portrait from every angle. Turns it sideways, upside down, pinches his lip. Squints a little. Finally, he nods. “Yeah. Okay, yeah. I look pretty great. I think? Right? I don’t know, what do you think?”

It’s funny.

Sometimes, you hold your breath when you watch at him. There are these little things. The bright excitement in his eyes maybe, or the way he scratches his jaw when he gets nervous, or the absentminded way he tucks his hair behind his ear.

It does things to your heart.

“Yeah,” you say, mesmerized by those little things, “you really do.”

Bucky looks up. Sees your face and breaks into a wide grin. He loves when you look at him like this, like he’s the only thing that matters. Like he’s your whole world. Like you love him.

It does things to his heart.

Snapping the calendar shut, he flings it on his bed. Blue eyes rake you up and down and he pokes his lip out in an exaggerated pout.

“Still think you should’ve done it too,” he says. “Bet you would’a looked so hot.”

At his comment, you reach into your bag and pull something free. Silently, you hand over a second square, this one wrapped in black paper, a silver bow taped along the edge.

“What’s this?” he asks curiously.

Shrugging, your expression stays neutral.

“Open it and see.”

Like a kid on Christmas morning, he rips the paper away.

He freezes.

Blinking rapidly, he looks up. Silver fingers delicately trace the shiny picture and he swallows hard.

“Honey, is this - did you do this for me?” he asks softly. Flipping gently through each page of this special, one-of-a-kind calendar, he shakes his head in slow disbelief.

Because there you are.

Posing in March, holding his favorite confetti cupcakes adorned with birthday candles in front of your naked breasts.

Posing in July, dressed in a vintage red, white, and blue USO uniform, white boots on your feet and crackling sparklers in your hands.

Posing again in October, wearing a slutty pumpkin dress with cut-outs revealing slivers of your sweet, sexy assets.

Each picture is incredible. Full of vivid colors and your sunny smile. No air-brushing, no fake poses, just you. Indescribable and undeniably beautiful, bursting with love.

All for him.

Bucky rubs his chest absently, feeling his heart thumping with every turn of the page. And then he reaches the last month, and there’s a strangled squeak. He stares intently at the page. Looks up at you. Back to the page. Back up at you. Closes his eyes briefly.

This is it, this is his favorite, his absolute fucking favorite thing of all time, the image instantly wiping all other thoughts from his proverbial spank bank.

There.

You.

Are.

Damn.

Tacked above you is a sprig of mistletoe, a concession to the holiday theme. But it’s the outfit that does it. Black combat boots, lacy red lingerie, deep red lipstick, and an empty thigh holster. You’re pointing one of his favorite guns at the camera and giving a sly wink.

Mind-blowingly, devastatingly, breathtakingly gorgeous.

Bucky awkwardly adjusts the rising situation in his pants, raising lust-blown eyes to yours. Licking your lips, you give him a hesitant smile.

“Do you - um, do you like them?”

It makes you panic when he says nothing. He simply stares. But then he sets the calendar carefully, reverently, aside. Slipping a hand behind your neck, he hustles you backward until you bump the door, slamming it shut. His warm mouth slants over yours, that talented tongue returning to sweep over your lips. The kiss is hot and frantic, tinged with an edge of wild excitement. When he finally breaks away, his voice is low, dark gravel in your ear.

“Listen. I’m gonna need you to get all those outfits and put on every,” he kisses your throat, “single,” he trails his lips up to your jawline, “one,” and now he’s panting in your ear, “and then I wanna take pictures of me taking everything off, before I fuck you so damn good. How’s that sound?”

Sliding a hand between his legs, your answer makes him tremble.

“Sounds like a deal.”

*****

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #beccas1kwritingchallenge #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bitsmasterlist #bucky barnes

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teawithkpop · 5 years

Text

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 3

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 8.8k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: none for this chapter?? other than a boatload of angst and feelings and ahhhh holy shit wtf is going on

thank you all for being patient! ^^ I had a couple hiccups while writing this part, but thankfully I think everything is heading in the right direction now hehe~ hope you enjoy!

“I think we should go out there, and I should kiss you senseless, sweetheart.”

You stare at Namjoon, trying to calm your racing heart. He’s joking, right? He has got to be joking. Doling out kissing privileges is what got you into this mess in the first place. Stirring more jealousy into the pot probably won’t help things.

It takes a count of three before he laughs. “I’m kidding. Obviously.”

You squint at him. He didn’t sound like he was kidding. You glance down to button his jacket around you and notice that there’s a prominent tent in his pants.

Oh...

You smirk. “You sure you didn’t have any ulterior motives for that plan, Master Kim?” You tease him with the title and are pleased to see his cheeks flush when your head inclines ever so slightly towards his lap.

He coughs, clears his throat, straightens his tie. “Of course not.”

You can’t contain the grin on your face. “Really? Not a single, rock hard, reason?”

He readjusts his position, crossing his legs to hide the evidence of his arousal. “Nope.”

You laugh, and catch him grinning too.

“Okay, so maybe... it wasn’t the most objective plan,” he admits with a chuckle. If he’s trying to cheer you up, it’s working. You start to giggle and have to hold your sides as the laughter spills out, quickly turning delirious. A boner is such a preposterous thing to pretend to hide for the sake of manners when it’s your job to sexually satisfy them. Something about it just tickles an exhausted funny bone in you. “Sorry-” You burst into another fit of giggles, trying to catch your breath.

“Don’t apologize.” Namjoon says, his eyes smiling as few laughs slip out of him as well. He pets your hair while you catch your breath, his hand falling to your cheek, his eyes tender. “You look so sweet when you laugh.”

Your heart flutters. Kim Namjoon has the charm and charisma of a diplomat, but the kindness and consideration of a humanitarian. You don’t know how he manages to balance his professionalism with his personability, but he sure as hell manages it somehow. Your hand slips onto his knee and his thumb brushes your cheek, laughter still on the tips of your tongues. You feel like you're two kids on prom night, that same sort of silly sexual tension lingering between you.

He leans in, and your heart stops for a second, but his lips merely graze your forehead. He pulls back, his gaze clouded with something you can’t quite identify. “If you ever decide to add kissing to your list of services,” he says quietly, his gaze traveling over your face and down to your lips. “I’d like to be the first to know.”

You swallow. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you aren’t tempted to add it today, right now in fact, and plant one on him. But that would defeat the whole purpose of this discussion, so you somehow manage to resist the temptation.

His hand finds its way to your thigh, his eyes swirling with that indiscernible emotion, and you have to wonder if you're not the only one having to restrain yourself here.

"You'll be the first," you answer quietly, trapped under his mesmerizing gaze.

After a few agonizing moments of silence, he nods almost imperceptibly and pulls back with a smile, his hand retreating from your leg.

“Honestly,” he says, folding his hands in his lap. “I think the best solution is to talk it out with them.” It takes you a moment to realize he's returned to the matter at hand, talk of kissing you seemingly forgotten. “If you want me there, I’d be more than happy to mediate,” he offers, giving you a sidelong glance. “But if that doesn’t work, then maybe they’re not mature enough for the privilege of having you as a PhysCom.”

He shrugs, his tone and expression practical and professional. “I would recommend a suspension of your services for a few days. Remind them how much they really appreciate the work you do.”

You laugh at this option. “You want me to blue ball them?”

He chuckles wryly. “Well… consider it like discipline. If a kid isn’t treating their toys with respect, what do you do? You take away the toy and give them time to think about what they did.”

You look at him askance, surprised by his wisdom on the topic. “Since when did you know so much about raising kids?”

“I read a lot,” he replies cheekily. “Anyway, we’d better get back out there before they start to speculate.” Namjoon stands, offering you a hand.

You take it, stand up, and start to shed his jacket, but he stops you. “Keep it on. It’s alright.” He moves the fabric back over your shoulders, his fingertips brushing your skin.

“Are you sure?” Your eyes meet his, and you can feel the tension in his gaze, ready to snap from the slightest tug.

He meets your eyes without hesitation. “I’m positive.” His gaze lingers on your lips again, and his hand brushes up from the jacket's collar to cup your neck. His thumb brushes softly along your jaw before he seems to remember himself. He pulls away with noticeable reluctance and goes to open the door. “Ladies first.”

You snort. “I’m not exactly a lady,” you reply, looking down at your nearly naked form, but you don’t argue with him and take the lead. He follows you out, shutting the door behind him.

------

The scene you return to in the dining room is unexpected. The dim, sensual lighting has been ruined by the regular lamps turned on in the corners of the room. Butlers and maids are cleaning up the table, and you count three less clients milling around than before.

It would seem the banquet is over.

"What happened?" You ask, hurrying over to Seokjin. "Where is everyone?"

He sighs and flashes you a weary smile. "I had to send Taehyung and Jimin to their rooms. They were... getting out of hand."

Yoongi snorts from across the table. "That's an understatement. Nearly started brawling. Don't know what the hell got into them."

Seokjin shoots him a warning glace. “Anyway, I thought it would be best to wrap things up for the evening.”

Your gaze darts around, checking who's still here. Jungkook, Yoongi, Seokjin, Namjoon, and... Hoseok? He's missing. "What about Master Jung?"

Yoongi's smirk fades and he looks down. "He said he wasn't feeling well. Asked to be excused."

Your stomach sinks. This is definitely your fault. Fuck, poor Hoseok. He’d been the one fucking you when you called your safe word, and you’d hate for him to think it was because of something he did. You want to run and go talk things out with him - with all of them, per Namjoon's suggestion, but your eyes catch on Jin again. His face is cast downward, a small frown on his face as he rolls a rose stem between his fingers forlornly.

You feel impossibly worse. Everything’s gone wrong. This was supposed to be his night to have you however he wants, and now the party's over before he even got to fuck you.

"Master Kim." You walk up beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling his attention away from the flower. "We can… take things back to your suite, if you wish." You look up at him sweetly, hoping you can at least try to make things right.

Jin shakes his head with a thin smile. "No, pet. You've been through enough tonight." He pets your hair and heaves another sigh. “You should get some rest.”

You look down to his pants and see a tent there similar to Namjoon’s. You touch his chest, sliding your hand down his stomach and towards his crotch. “But you-”

“No.” He takes a hold of your wrist before you can make contact where he needs it most. He takes a moment to breathe, the conflict of his wants and needs clear on his face. “No, you need some rest, my pet. It’s been a very busy evening.” He brings your hand up and holds it against his cheek instead. “You shouldn’t tax yourself.”

Your heart feels like it’s sunk below the floorboards, and you can’t keep the worry out of your eyes. None of them have ever turned you down like this before. Not when they’re hard. Not when this is your job.

“Master, I’m fine to do it, honestly. Besides... I can’t just leave you like this.” You say meaningfully, knowing that he would get in trouble if he takes care of the problem himself. He seems like he’s about to assure you when Yoongi pipes up again.

“Don’t worry about him. Another slut will take care of it tonight.”

What?

Seokjin’s jaw twitches and you sense he’s restraining himself from saying something. Did they talk about this while you were gone? “He’s right, darling.”

What the fuck.

“That’s what they’re there for, after all.”

What the fuck is happening.

“Don’t worry about me, just get some beauty sleep.”

What the actual fuck?

“You’ll feel better in the morning.”

You wrench yourself out of Jin’s grasp, unable to believe what you’re hearing. Your head is spinning, lungs suddenly short of breath. This can’t be happening. Your career, your livelihood, their favoritism… all gone in one night. It’s only a matter of time now. The more they play with the other PhysComs - the fucking Secondaries - the less special you are in their eyes.

In one evening, you’ve become… exchangeable.

You grip the edge of the table, hands shaking as you start to see red.

“Darling?” Seokjin places a hand on your back, his eyes wide with concern. “Do you need some water? Some air?”

You jerk away from him, your despair turning to rage. “I’m not some fucking flower! Okay? I said I’m fine!”

Jin looks startled. Namjoon comes over, his voice soothing. "Everything's alright, sweetheart. Let's get you to bed, okay?"

You wrench away from him too, stumbling back. "No! It's not fucking alright!" A heavy silence follows your outburst. All you can hear is your own labored breath. All their eyes are on you, wide with concern, and fear, and… pity.

You can't stand it, can't stand the way they're looking at you. Like their fuck toy is malfunctioning… You turn on your heel and dash out of the room, knocking into Jungkook in your haste. You push him aside, but not before your eyes meet and he can see the tears streaming down your cheeks.

You ignore them as they call after you, and you escape to your room for the second time that day.

-------

As you slam your door shut, you run over and flop onto the bed to cry into your pillow. Dramatic? Sure. Do you care? Not particularly. It’s not like anyone’s here to judge you and your pity party anyway.

Fuck, this is all wrong. How could things have gone so wrong so quickly?

This whole day has been a complete and utter mess, from the moment Taehyung had tried to kiss you. Or… maybe from the moment you let it happen.

You squeeze your eyes shut, replaying every agonizing moment up until now. The kissing, the feelings, the tension at dinner, the moment you broke... fuck, that one hurt.

But being replaced... that hurts even more.

You sob for a good long while, not caring if anyone could hear you. You just need to get it out, god you haven’t cried in so long. Once it’s out of your system, you’ll be back to normal, ready to fuck at a moment’s notice like always.

But then again, you’ve only been employed for six months. Is this just what happens after a while? Do PhysComs just… break? Is that why the job has such a high turnover?

Well, if that’s the case, then you’re screwed. You might as well start begging on the street now. Sure the money you’ve earned so far is enough to float you through for a little while, but without another job to replace this one, it won’t last for very long.

Being a PhysCom is everything you’ve trained for, everything you’ve ever wanted. Without it, you’re nothing. You have no identity outside of your training, no skill set outside of pleasuring others, no prospects… no hope.

Would your family take you back in?

You know the answer immediately. No, no they wouldn’t. Not after what you did to them.

You have no friends aside from the other people you trained with, but you’ve long since lost contact with them, any ties to them were cut once you were hired and shipped off here.

Could you get another job? Highly unlikely.

Once someone becomes a PhysCom, the position is recorded on their government file, branding them for life as a personal sex worker. Random day jobs don’t hire people who were previously fuck toys, it reflects badly on their brand. New employers for PhysComs scrutinize previous positions mercilessly. Any criticism or stain on your performance record will put you out of the running in favor of someone just out of training. No one wants to take leftovers when there’s so much fresh meat on the market.

You have no plan B. Your life is ruined, crumbling apart before your very eyes.

Your ComGear buzzes incessantly, but you ignore it. They can message you all you want, you’re done for today. If they want to get off so badly, they can go find some Secondaries. Clearly, that’s the best solution while you’re here agonizing over your career and ‘getting some beauty sleep’, as Seokijn put it. Ugh.

Now would be the perfect time to masturbate and relieve some of this anger and stress. If only you could actually orgasm.

It’s only then that you see the envelope sitting at the bottom of your door. You hadn’t noticed it before, someone must have slipped it inside at some point.

You crawl off your bed with a sniff, your eyes still puffy from crying so much. It’s a small yellow envelope with your name on it. You open it, unfolding a piece of paper, creased in half to fit inside.

I’m sorry things got out of hand. I hope you can forgive me. - Hoseok ♡

The fact that he sent you a note instead of a text makes your heart feel funny. God, the world doesn’t deserve someone as good as Hoseok.

That’s it. Fuck your beauty sleep. You’ve made up your mind. You’re going to set at least one thing right from this trainwreck of an evening, and you won’t sleep until you do.

You throw on a bathrobe and peek out into the hallway outside your room, but thankfully you see no one. It doesn’t take you long to tiptoe to Hoseok’s room, and before long, you’re knocking softly on his door, the note clutched in your hand.

There’s no answer, and you worry for a moment that he might have already gone to bed. But soon the door creaks open, and Hoseok peers out. He looks awful, hair a wreck, dress shirt rumpled with a few buttons undone, and his eyes are puffy. Had he been crying, too?

“Oh,” He looks both panicked and relieved to see you. “Hi... um, listen about earlier-”

You shake your head and give him a half-smile, holding up the note as evidence. “You already apologized.”

“No, but I-” He stops, sighs, and opens his door all the way, rubbing the back of his neck. “Here, come inside. I want to talk to you.”

“Me too.” You fold your arms around yourself and go in, looking at him imploringly as he shuts the door behind you. “Master Jung, I didn’t use my safe word tonight because of anything you did. I want you to know that.”

He shakes his head, showing you a sad smile. “You don’t have to lie to me. I was the only one doing anything to you.”

Your eyebrows knit together in concern. Fuck. He does blame himself.

“Honestly, I was just… distracted. I’ve had a lot on my mind recently, so I wasn’t-”

“That’s exactly the problem.” He interrupts you with a stormy expression, and your eyes widen. He huffs. “I wasn’t considering your feelings.”

You blink in surprise. Your what now?

“I just… didn’t question Jin-hyung’s orders. Even though Jimin was reluctant to do it. I should’ve realized something wasn’t right, that you weren’t feeling up to it. I shouldn’t have let my dick do the thinking.” He looks to the floor, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I’m really sorry.”

Your mouth hangs agape. He’s talking as if this is about your whims. As if you have a say in the work you’ve already signed up for, as stated by your contract. Like having sex is negotiable.

“Hoseok…” You say his name without thinking, and his wide-eyed gaze snaps up to meet yours. “I think there’s a misunderstanding here.”

He nods. “Yeah, there is. A big fucking misunderstanding,” he laughs ruefully. “I misunderstood your place here with us. I realized tonight that… I had started seeing you as just a sex toy.”

You simply state the truth. “But that’s what I am.”

“No! You’re not!” You flinch as he shouts, his hands flying into the air. He grabs you by the arms, his eyes full of despair and regret. “You’re a human being, with thoughts and emotions and…” He realizes that he’s gripping you and hastily releases his hold. “Sorry.” He murmurs, sighing as he goes to sit down on his bed, head in his hands.

You’re a little shaken up by his passion. Why does he suddenly care about your thoughts and emotions? He should care about your feelings about as much as he cares about the feelings of their toaster oven. By the industries standards, you’re a fuck doll, nothing more. You’re not even supposed to have feelings, at least not when you’re on the job.

But… technically, right now… you’re done for the day. Off the clock.

You feel bad letting him stew in his little pit of blame, and you join him on the bed, sitting beside him. “It’s not your fault,” you reiterate. “If I really wasn’t feeling up to it, I should have taken the evening off."

Although you would never willingly do such a thing, it’s not uncommon for three or four PhysComs to be on the job for a group simultaneously, in case any of them are under the weather, or too tired to perform well.

Yours is a unique case, tackling all seven members’ pleasure single-handedly. You wouldn’t have been permitted to take on such a challenge had you not received such glowing reviews from your trainers. You’ve finally achieved what you had been working towards all that time.

Of course, now you might be at risk of losing everything.

“It was all a… stupid accident.” You might be thinking of more than just what happened at dinner, but Hoseok doesn’t need to know that.

He glances at you, still looking remorseful.

You get an idea. Why not play to your strengths? It can only benefit you to remind as many members as possible why you’re their Primary.

“You know, they say the best way to get over an accident… is to get back in the saddle.” You murmur, reaching your fingers out to graze his thigh. “Do you want to have a do-over, cowboy?”

His expression grows more concerned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Fuck no. But you’re not sure of anything recently. “It can’t hurt, right?”

Hoseok looks conflicted. He doesn’t take your hand off his leg, but you aren’t about to advance further without confirmation. He studies your face, searching for something. “Do you even want to?”

You blink. Why is everyone suddenly asking for your consent? It’s implied. You signed a contract. That’s like asking to eat the food on your plate. “It doesn’t matter what I want, master.”

“Well, it matters to me.” His voice wavers as he reaches up to touch your cheek. “Your feelings matter to me. I don’t want to think of you as some mindless sex doll, because you’re not.”

His unexpected words strike right through your heart, leaving you raw and vulnerable.

“You may act like one, but you’re not. You’re a person.” He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you, and I don’t ever want you to be uncomfortable again.”

You stare at him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. What the hell is he saying?

“Starting now, I will never have sex with you unless you want to, okay? That’s a promise.” His eyes are like melted caramel, soft and warm and sweet, as he leans closer and starts kissing your neck. His lips are soft, apologetic. Whispering praises and apologies while his hand caresses your waist.

The stutter in your heartbeat means nothing. His words mean nothing. They don’t make any sense. Your pleasure doesn’t factor into the equation.

He can’t just do this, can’t just treat you like he cares about more than your body. He can’t cater to your deepest fantasies like this. It’s cruel.

“Hoseok,” your breath catches as he nips gently at your neck. “Master Jung-”

“I like Hoseok better. Or Hobi…” he murmurs, pulling the collar of your bathrobe aside to trail kisses along your shoulder.

“Hoseok,” you try again, a little more strength in your tone, despite how weak you feel with his lips on you like this. “This isn’t right.”

“Do you want me to stop? I will,” he says, lips hovering just above your skin.

No. No, you don’t want him to stop, says a part of your brain, the part that’s been dreaming about situations like this. Being held, being kissed, being loved… But the rest of your brain knows that you can’t risk it.

“You can do whatever you want to me. That’s the point,” you reply feebly. You’re not sure how else to get your message across, since he seems to have batted away your usual arguments. “I exist for your pleasure.”

“Well, what if I exist for yours, hm?” He smirks, pulling back to look at you. “What if I take care of you when you take care of me?”

Your eyes widen. Reciprocation goes against your entire job description, and besides, it’s pointless. He has to know that he’s breaking the rules, but he doesn’t seem to care at all.

His hand cups your jaw, his thumb running gently along your cheek. “You deserve so much more than being treated like a toy.”

You’re stunned into silence. Everything he’s saying is wrong.

But is it bad? Would it be so bad to let him take care of you, to let him appreciate you, if that’s what he truly wants?

“I exist for your pleasure… whatever form that may take.” You hesitantly reiterate the rules, if for no other reason than to clear your conscience. “If it’s what you want, then go ahead.”

He shakes his head. “Nope, sorry. It has to be something you want.” He smiles and leans closer, his eyes searching your face. “Do you want me, baby? Just be honest. Be yourself tonight.”

God damn it. You try to look away, but he gently turns your cheek back to face him. You can’t resist him. He gives you a warmth you haven’t known in ages, filling up every crack and crevice in your heart, and you desperately miss it, aching for the sensation of being wanted by someone… of being worthy.

Your willpower is dwindling. You can feel your breaking point approaching. Fuck it, if they might replace you anyway, what’s the worst that could happen?

You close your eyes, steeling yourself to let your walls down and to keep them down, at least for this little while. You inhale deeply, almost holding your breath.

“I want you, Hoseok.”

The truth comes out as merely a whisper, but once you start you can’t stop, the dam already broken. “I want you, god I want you so much, I-”

Soft lips cover your own. Oh… he’s tender and passionate all at once. His hands are greedy, unable to get enough of you, and yet they’re reverent, considerate, floating over your body and touching your face like you’re something important. Like you’re special to him.

It goes against every fiber of your being, every hour of your years of training, but fuck… it feels so good to be able to kiss him like this, with no inhibitions. He pulls you onto his lap, deepening the kiss as his hands grip your ass, pushing up the hem of your robe to really feel you.

You forget, in this moment, that he’s your client, and you wind your hands up and around the back of his neck, playing with his hair and humming into his sweet, soft lips. Everything about Hoseok feels warm, and sweet, and right. Shit, why does this feel so right?

“Good girl…” His tongue slips into your mouth and starts teasing yours, licking into your wet cavern while his hands wander over your body. He peels off your robe, slowly exposing your skin to his blissful hands and they rub and trace every curve and contour.

You can feel the smile on his lips as he glides his hands up your body. One stays on your ass, kneading the soft flesh while his other comes up to ghost over your breast, his thumb circling over your nipple with a languid motion. He’s in no rush. This isn’t a quick fuck, this is… something else, and the thrill of the unknown has you leaning into his touch, desperate to discover more.

He breaks away from your lips for air, leaning down to mouth at your other tit instead, causing you to whimper. “You’re so beautiful…” he murmurs, sucking on the sensitive bud while his hand gropes at the other side, pinching and rolling your nipple in his fingers.

You gasp at the blissful sensation, but a looming sense of dread grows as he continues, as you know his hard work won’t lead anywhere, and soon will follow the inevitable frustration of not being able to climax. The first cloud on the spotless horizon of your little tryst.

“Hoseok…” you moan his name, rolling your hips into his lap, where you can feel his cock through his pants. “Let me do you now.”

“Tonight’s not about me,” He doesn’t let up on his barrage of pleasure, smirking against your skin. “When was the last time you came, sweetness?”

You swallow. Shit, this wasn’t a good idea, was it?

“I… I can’t wait. Fuck me now, please...” You whine the excuse, grinding your bare pussy against his crotch. You remember what he said about doing what you desire. “I want you to fuck me, please…” Your voice drips with a very real desperation as your pleasure starts to reach its plateau.

He pulls back and chuckles. “Already? You sure you don’t want me to eat out that pretty pussy of yours? I could make you feel so good…” His tongue darts out to trace around his lips, and he slips the hand from your ass around to your front, testing how wet you are. “Fuck, I want to taste you so badly. Make you cum on my tongue, baby.”

You shake your head involuntarily, eyes wide and your cheeks turning red.

Heoseok smirks, mistaking your worry for shyness. “Aww, baby…” He kisses you again, rocking his hips up to meet yours. “It’s okay. I know this must be a big change for you.” He chuckles and scoots himself back onto the bed with you still in his lap, and you move to straddle him. “We can work up to it next time, okay?”

Next time?

You don’t have time to worry about such a troublesome prospect, as Hoseok wastes no time, fishing his cock out of his pants and lining himself up with your entrance, still fully clothed. “You ready, baby?” He leans in to kiss you again, and when you nod, he pushes slowly inside you. Hoseok’s cock is long and lithe, just like him, and it’s always able to reach your farthest corners. His stamina is also through the roof, probably from all that dancing, and whenever he plays with you, he often leaves you feeling fucked silly by the end of it. You prepare yourself for another such dizzying experience.

“Ah, fuck... “ He takes his time to sheath himself fully inside you, using the moment to feel every crevice of your walls, his cock throbbing from the sensation. You squeeze your walls around him, expecting him to start fucking you roughly any minute.

Instead his hands glide over your back, down to your ass again as he holds you almost supportively. You whine and buck desperately against his hips, but he stills your movement, silencing any complaints with another tongue-filled kiss. He takes his sweet time moving in and out of you, reaching deep inside of you with every thrust as his moans vibrate against your lips, the wet sounds of sex filling the otherwise silent room.

For some reason, your senses are heightened by his slow pace, and it feels even more intense than some of your roughest sessions. Every little twitch and rub of his hard cock into your sopping entrance has tingles of pleasure shivering up your spine, your heart racing even though he’s barely done anything. You arch your back, moaning into his mouth as he hits a particularly good angle.

He notices and adjusts his position, soon finding a lazy, easy pace to slide in and out of you, as if he has all the time in the world, and he wants to spend as much of it joined with you as possible.

“So fucking beautiful…” His voice is hoarse, thickly laced with something you can’t explain. He lays back onto the bed, pulling you with him, chest to chest, and continues to kiss you like he can’t get enough. You start to bounce on his cock, but his hands still grip you firmly at your hips, controlling the pace.

You groan at his agonizing slowness, but it feels so good, you can’t really complain. Shit, why didn’t they ask for this kind of sex more often? It feels incredible, like… like softcore porn. It’s… emotional, and raw, and deep. You feel like he’s touching your very soul with every stroke inside the furthest reaches of your core.

“Fuck, H-Hoseok…” you whimper, each languid push of his body has you trembling, aching for more. What is happening? You’ve never felt this before, this ache, this desire to keep him deep within your walls, forever sharing kisses and sweet touches.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs softly, supporting your back as he pushes even deeper with a groan. “You’re safe with me.”

You shudder and lean into him, and a memory from your training days comes to the surface.

“Never trust your client.” Madame paces in front of the class, her eyes scanning each girls’ face. “They will only betray you in the end.”

This is one of many talks Madame likes to have with her class, explaining not only the official rules, but also the practical ones. The things no one but other PhysComs would think to discuss.

“You are your own representative in their house. An independent contractor. Never let yourself be vulnerable around them.” Madame’s voice is strong and clear, full of intention.

Her eyes fall to your face, her gaze full of burning embers.

“Don’t fall for their guises of kindness.”

You gasp as Hoseok flips you two over, laying you gently onto the bed as he trails kisses up your body between murmured praises. “Fuck, baby… You’re so beautiful...”

You shudder, writhing beneath him as he lines himself up with your entrance again.

“Does it feel good, baby? Tell me.” He smiles brightly and leans down to kiss your neck, clearly pleased with his progress as he rubs his tip through your slick folds, eliciting another whimper from you. “I want to make you feel so good…”

“F-feels…” Your voice trails off as you come upon a moment of clarity. What are you doing? How did you get into such a predicament? “Hoseok. This isn’t right.”

He stops, pulls back enough to look at you. “What’s not right, baby? I’ll fix it.”

You huff out a laugh, already feeling your stomach start to sink. “Why are you doing this?”

He looks confused. “Because I want to make you feel good.”

“No. No you don’t, because that’s not part of our arrangement,” you explain, looking up at his stunningly handsome face. A part of your heart hurts just looking at him, knowing he can never be yours.

“Well… maybe we can make a new arrangement,” he says quietly, the confidence in his eyes wavering.

You feel bad bringing the harsh truth into this when he’s worked so hard to live out this little fantasy with you, but you must. You can’t stay in this bed, in this daydream, forever. You know from experience, it’s best to rip the bandaid off, make sure he knows that this can’t be seen as anything more than indulgence and a lack of self control on your part.

“Hobi, you don’t even know my name.” You look at him somberly, and as his face falls, you find yourself wishing the two of you were in a different world, living different lives, where you could let him kiss you and hold you and fuck you like this and not feel guilty about it. Your eyes fall downward, stewing in regret. Fuck, this would’ve hurt a lot less if you hadn’t given in and let him take your heart so easily.

You start to get up from the bed, but strong arms pull you back in, hugging you from behind.

“Hoseok.” Your tone is that of reprimanding a child. You have to be the responsible one here. It’s not his job to make sure you’re following the rules. “I should go.”

“I may not know your name, but I know you.” His voice is tender and soft, like sweet caramel, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “I’ve lived with you for six months, and they’ve been the best time of my life…” He plants soft kisses on your neck. “You make me happy.”

You feel numb. Why is he saying this? Doesn’t he realize how hard he’s making it to rip off this stupid bandaid?

He keeps kissing your skin, his hands skimming over your stomach and thighs. “Please…” he whispers, kissing and nibbling the shell of your ear. “Please stay with me. Just for tonight.”

Fuck. Fuck your weak heart. He can’t do this to you.

“Hobi… there are rules, I can’t just-”

“Forget the rules for a second. Do you want to stay?” He pauses his affection to give you a moment to think, and you find yourself wishing he’d continue.

Well, there’s your answer then. If there were no rules… you’d stay in this bed with him for as long as he’d let you. But you can’t bring yourself to say it. Your tongue, your lips… they won’t move, frozen in fear of the truth buried deep in your heart.

He must be able to sense your inner struggle, because his hands resume caressing and squeezing your body reassuringly. “Either way, I won’t tell anyone what happened, okay? Tonight is off the record.”

It’s those words, those stupid, considerate words, that have your paper-thin resolve crumpling once more.

You turn around in his arms, cup his jaw, and kiss him deeply, fully, your heart racing from the act of rebellion. He makes a small noise of surprise, but quickly reciprocates, a smile tugging at his lips. You exchange sloppy, heated kisses with him for several moments, basking in his natural warmth, before he pulls away.

“So… I’ll take that as a yes?” He smirks, his eyes dancing with playful affection.

You let out a laugh in spite of yourself. “Yes,” you sigh, shoving out all your worries and fears. Despite the warnings of your training days, you trust Hoseok. You have no reason not to do so. He’s shown you nothing but kindness and understanding.

He looks overjoyed at your reply, and kisses your once more, giddy and laughing throughout all of his tender little pecks. “But if you change your mind, you tell me. Alright, princess?” He coos, petting your cheek.

You nod, shy from his shower of affection.

He grins and repositions the two of you so he’s hovering above you again, and starts to unbutton his shirt. “Now, where were we?”

You blush as he exposes his smooth chest and sheds his shirt, tossing it aside. Even though you’ve seen him naked before, this feels more private somehow… almost intimate. Like he’s doing it exclusively for your benefit.

“Mm… we can stay like this all night long.” He leans down and kisses you again, taking your hand and guiding it to his chest, encouraging you to touch him. He then trails his lips down your neck and over your breasts before pausing again. “Oh, and um… do you mind telling me your name, baby?”

You blink in surprise. “Why?”

Hoseok lines himself up with your entrance, slowly starting to fuck you again, and he pulls back enough to look at you. He touches his forehead to yours, a sheepish grin on his face while he slides in and out of you, blissfully filling you up again and again.

“I want to know what name I should be moaning when I cum tonight.”

-------

Sunlight streams through the window, and you roll over to avoid it. You're too wrapped up in fantasies and dreams, and oh… wait, was last night a dream? Your heart sinks. There's no warm body next to yours. No trace of any evidence.

Maybe it’s better this way. It was a delicious dream, and you’ll file it away with the others you’ve had. Your career still needs some damage control, but at least you won’t have to deal with rebuilding your dignity after a night of misdemeanors.

You prop up on your elbows, blinking the sleep out of your eyes and your heart stops at what you see. Hoseok's room. You're in Hoseok's room.

Well, shit… that's evidence if you ever saw it. Right? But where's Hoseok?

As if summoned by your thoughts, the boy appears from his en-suite bathroom, rubbing a towel through his hair.

The sight makes you inexplicably shy, and you bury back beneath the covers, as if to hide yourself from view. You hear him chuckle.

"Morning, princess."

You hunker down and hide even more, your heart racing. What the hell is wrong with you? You're a professional sex worker. Sex workers do not get shy the morning after.

The covers are lifted from you, revealing your face, and soft lips touch your own before you can object. "I had a great time. Did you?"

You stare up at him, looking like a Greek god in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, the one from his hair now slung around his shoulders. He’s effortlessly sexy and it’s totally unfair.

You pull your knees up to your chest, biting your lip warily. “Hoseok… about last night. What… what was that?”

He looks mildly confused, but still smiles and sits beside you, gently running his hand up and down your leg. “What do you mean?”

You look away from him. He’s too sweet, too bright for the grave clarity and turmoil seeping into your system with the arrival of the morning. “The sex. It felt… different.”

If anything, his grin grows wider. “Really? How so?” If you didn’t know better, you’d say he looks smug right now.

“I don’t know. It was like… you were filling up my whole body, not just my cunt. I felt it all over, inside and outside. It was… really good.” You mumble out the last few words, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s practically beaming now. “Is there a word for that? What do you call that?”

Hoseok’s finger hooks under your chin, gently turning your head to face him. His eyes are warm and sparkling with humor, as if you just made a joke and didn’t realize it.

“I would call that making love,” he says softly, a hint of cheek in his tone.

Your mouth parts in shock as you recognize the truth of his analysis. “Making love?” You echo softly.

He nods with a chuckle and leans in to kiss you, his thumb stroking your cheek. “It’s like sex, but with feelings,” he explains, his eyes full of adoration as he looks at you. “Was it alright?”

It’s only as he asks you this that you realize why it felt so different.

He hadn’t given you a single command last night.

You’d had sex with him without being commanded to do it. It had just been a… mutual desire. You feel dizzy at the realization. That constitutes an explicit violation of your contract. If anyone finds out, you’ll be fired for sure.

You’re short of breath, panic taking over as the world seems to spiral around you. Hoseok’s eyes widen and he holds you steadily, pulling you into his strong arms.

“Whoa, whoa. It’s okay, w-what’s wrong?” He sounds concerned as he pets your hair, letting you rest your chin on his shoulder. “Was it… not alright?”

You shake your head, desperately trying to keep your tears at bay. The last thing you need is for him to see you cry. All your training, all your effort to get this job, your career, your livelihood, it’s all disappearing, leaving you with nothing but failure on the horizon.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asks again, gently coaxing you to speak.

You inhale shakily. Hoseok is too good for this. He’d be an amazing boyfriend. He deserves an actual girl to hold who can love him the way he deserves. One who doesn’t have rules to follow and boundaries to keep. A girl who can fully give herself to him and make love with him whenever he wants. Whenever they both want. Because that’s a real relationship.

Not this. Not like what you have. You and Hoseok… you can never be like that.

Because you’re just his Physical Companion.

All of his kindness, his gentleness, it’s all wasted on you. You don’t deserve it.

“This can’t happen again.” It’s all you can manage to say.

He’s silent for a moment, rubbing your back while your breathing slowly returns to normal. “Okay,” he says softly. He doesn’t ask any questions, he doesn’t fly into a rage, he just accepts your decision, and that makes you feel even more torn. He really deserves better than this.

“But if you ever want it to happen again,” He pulls back enough to look you in the eyes, and wipes a single tear off your cheek before it can fall. “You know where to find me. Just say the word.”

He looks at you and gives you a small smile. His eyes hold more heartbreak and empathy than you thought possible, and he whispers your name just once before bestowing one last, sweet kiss to your lips.

“Come on,” he says gently, standing up and starting to get dressed. “I’ll walk you back to your room.”

-------

You feel strange as you enter your room once again, everything exactly the way you left it. Hoseok had given you a kiss on the cheek before heading downstairs to get breakfast, humming a tune to himself, like nothing at all had happened.

Maybe he was pretending for your sake, or maybe last night didn’t really mean that much to him. You shake that thought away as impossible. Not even the most skilled actors could fake the level of intimacy Hoseok showed you last night.

You sigh and head over to your bed, sitting down to process the events of the past twenty-four hours. You slept with a client outside of working hours. He made love to you. But you liked it. It felt amazing. But now you might lose your job. You feel guilty for not being able to make love to him, even though it’s a ridiculous notion in and of itself. But you broke your contract, so do the rules even matter any more?

You’re uncertain, you’re scared, but also strangely excited... liberated. You wish you had a friend or maybe even a therapist to talk to, just so you can sort all this out and get a game plan together.

Your ComGear buzzes again from your night table, and you realize it’s been going off for a while. Are they really messaging you this early?

You pick up the slim device and swipe the screen up, expecting to find many missed notifications. Instead what greets you is something utterly different.

An unfamiliar purple screen, with an empty text box in the center and a question above it.

Cardinal Rule?

Consent. The answer comes immediately, drilled into you by Madame from your training days, and you type it into the text box. A green check mark appears next to the box, and suddenly a new screen is there, successfully unlocked.

It’s a chatroom, with messages from lots of strange usernames, occasionally bumped upward by new messages. It’s active.

What the fuck?

You look a little closer and start reading the texts.

[ PCsv01_svt ]: yeah, it’s not fair at all lol [ PCsv03_twc ]: i’m so jealous TT [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: can u send more?? ur both so cute!! [ PCsv02_svt ]: sure! hang on ^^

A few photos appear in the next message from them. The same couple is pictured in each one, making various cute poses together, kissing each other...

You recognize the girl.

“Sascha...?” You whisper, your heart stopping as you cover your mouth. The sight of your old friend has tears springing to your eyes. You thought you’d never see her again.

But why is she in these photos? Who is she with? Who the fuck are all these people? What the hell is going on?

[ PCsv01_svt ]: guys hang on [ PCsv01_svt ]: pc for bts is here [ PCsv02_svt ]: wait for real?! [ PCsv02_svt ]: finally!! [ PCsv02_svt ]: GIRL HOW ARE YOU [ PCsv02_svt ]: it’s me sascha!! ^^ [ PCsv09_$px ]: glad you made it.. [ PCsv04_blp ]: hi there [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: eyyyyy how’s it goin?

You stare in confusion and fear at the messages. Could that actually be Sascha? How is this possible?

You slowly type out a message, your curiosity overpowering your fear, and hit send before you can stop yourself.

[ PCsv01_bts ]: what the fuck is going on [ PCsv01_bts ]: what is this place

A reply comes quickly.

[ PCsv01_svt ]: this is the private network for physcoms [ PCsv01_svt ]: it’s inaccessible to anyone but us [ PCsv02_svt ]: don’t worry! it’s safe here ^^ [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: welcome to the dark web babes B) I’m blake

Your palms are sweating. Dark web? Private network?

[ PCsv01_bts ]: what do you mean? that’s impossible [ PCsv01_bts ]: who set this up?? [ PCsv03_mtx ]: I know it sounds fake but this is legit [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: ur mom did lol [ PCsv02_svt ]: Madame did! and other pc trainers~

You try to make sense of it. Another memory surfaces, one from your very first week at training. You had collapsed during basic stamina extensions trying to get the best score and outdo your classmates, and Madame had called you and your fellow trainees together for a talk...

“Girls. We are independant, yes. We are strong, yes.” Madame’s gaze sweeps across the worn out faces, her own expression steely, with an underlying kindness. Madame is strict, but only because she knows it’s what’s best for all of you.

“We must always rely on ourselves in this business,” she continues. “But also on each other.”

“You are all in the same boat together. We PhysComs are the belittled backbone of society. Needed, but kept hidden. Brushed aside when it comes to our own needs. No one is on our side… except our fellow sex workers.” Her gaze drops to the floor for a moment, and the room is utterly silent while she collects her thoughts.

She turns her gaze to you, as if appraising your behavior. “I believe you all have the potential to be the best workers in the industry. But you won’t get there on your own.”

You swallow, but meet her gaze with determination.

She gives the slightest huff at your boldness, her gaze scanning the crowd again. “Stick together. Help each other succeed. You’ll find it’s much better that way.”

At the time, you thought she meant supporting each other during training. But… could this be what she was hinting at? A PhysCom support group?

[ PCsv01_bts ]: Madame did this? [ PCsv06_ast ]: lots of people contributed~ [ PCsv02_svt ]: yup! micha is here too!! ^^ [ PCsv03_mtx ]: that would be me :) how’ve you been?

Micha? Another trainee from your group. You didn’t talk to her as much, but you remember she was cool and friendly. How could this be happening? What does all of this mean?

A thought occurs to you and a flash of fear hits your stomach. What if this is a setup? A ploy by your network to scope out rulebreakers - of which you are now one.

Fuck. How can you be sure this is real?

[ PCsv01_bts ]: I… don’t trust this [ PCsv03_mtx ]: I didn’t at first either but it’s cool [ PCsv01_svt ]: I understand your hesitation [ PCsv01_svt ]: but this network is completely detached from your old one [ PCsv01_svt ]: you’re off the grid [ PCsv02_svt ]: connecting to the network also jailbreaks your gear!! you can use it like a phone now ^^

Wait, what? You tap back to your home screen. It looks like the boys’ phones. Instead of a handful of apps only approved by your network, you now have an app store, web browser, camera app, and standard phone and messaging apps instead of the restricted ones from before.

Holy shit.

You tap back into the chatroom, typing another message.

[ PCsv01_bts ]: who are all of you? [ PCsv01_svt ]: we’re PhysComs just like you [ PCsv01_svt ]: I’m Antione [ PCsv06_ast ]: hi~ nice to meet you! [ PCsv06_ast ]: my name’s aashi hehe

This is all too much to take in. These are all other PhysComs?

[ PCsv01_bts ]: how did I get here? [ PCsv01_svt ]: you were playing solitaire, right? [ PCsv01_svt ]: used the find your friends option? [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: boom that’s how you got here babes B) [ PCsv01_bts ]: that… doesn’t make any sense [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: doesn’t have to, ur here now lol [ PCsv02_svt ]: think about it! what do you do when you need help? find your friends! ^^

So… a solitaire app is the gateway to the PhysCom dark web? You shake your head, trying to wrap your mind around the absurdity. You feel like you’re in a weird dream.

[ PCsv01_bts ]: this is… bizarre [ PCsv01_bts ]: sascha… who was in those pictures? [ PCsv02_svt ]: oh! that’s Josh~ he’s my client <3 [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: and her boyyyfrieeend lolol [ PCsv02_svt ]: yeah hehe ^///^ my adorable namchin~~

Um… what?

[ PCsv01_bts ]: wait wtf [ PCsv01_bts ]: client?? boyfriend?? [ PCsv01_bts ]: which is he? [ PCsv02_svt ]: both… <3

Your eyes are glued to the screen, your heart racing. This isn’t possible. Sascha is… dating her client? She can’t be. That’s not allowed. She’ll be fired.

[ PCsv01_bts ]: you can’t do that sach! you’ll lose your job... [ PCsv02_svt ]: aww no I won’t honey~ it’s okay [ PCsv02_svt ]: we’re all dating clients! ^^ [ PCsv06_ast ]: well.. most of us haha [ PCsv09_$px ]: not all of us are that lucky... [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: some of us are dating multiple clients ;) [ PCsv01_svt ]: happens all the time

What sort of alternate reality have you stumbled upon…?

[ PCsv01_bts ]: um how are you not all fired? [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: ummmm bc they want to date us too?? Lol [ PCsv01_svt ]: since we’re all disconnected, the only real risk is if the client informs their company of the relationship [ PCsv02_svt ]: but Joshie would never do that! he wants to be with me, even if it’s in secret <3 [ PCsv01_gt7 ]: she got him whipped lol [ PCsv02_svt ]: yeah... I do ^^ hehe [ PCsv01_svt ]: as long as feelings are reciprocated, being fired is almost impossible

This is either a trap, or they’re all crazy. They can’t just date their clients, it goes against every rule in the book. And yet... you sense a glimmer of hope in spite of yourself. If they can do it, then why can’t you?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a sudden knock on your door and you nearly jump out of your skin. You shove your ComGear under your pillow and rush to go answer it, your heart beating out of your chest and cheeks flushed from your rebellious activities.

You try to tame your hair and take a deep breath before answering the door, your brain still whirring in an attempt to make sense of all that you just read.

Jimin and Taehyung stand outside, both looking embarrassed. Taehyung gives you a small smile.

“Morning, jagiya. Do you have a minute?”

#bts #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader smut #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts ot7 #bts ot7 smut #bts smut fic #bts fic rec #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #the other boys will get more screentime dw <3 #thank you all for enjoying physcom! <3

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