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ughgoaway · 2 months

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Snapshots

a/n; This is kind of half a blurb and half a fic?? Idk, it's just horny thoughts expanded tbh. now, this is NOT sanitary at all. PLEASE do not do this without thoroughly cleaning the shoe first. You are asking for a yeast infection and a UTI otherwise. But this is fiction, so let's all pretend he did a little sterilising beforehand! however, that's not hot to read, so im not gonna write it, but let's play pretend!! Thank you, ily <3

Content warnings; boot grinding, d-word, degradation, jealousy, bratty behaviour, dom matty, spit, swearing, and teasing. But I think thats it?? I'm so sorry if I'm missing some!

word count; 2.1k ish

(shout out to Kirke @nowshesdoingitallthetime for once again causing this. you are my fav little devil on my shoulder encouraging this behaviour...)

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*click* *click* *click*

“Okay and now look to the left!” You hear the photographer shout. matty turns his head exactly as she asks. But apparently, it's not quite right, judging by how she walks over to him and poses his body.

you can feel the jealousy in every fucking nerve when her fingers graze the edge of Matty's jaw, adjusting his head half a centimetre. The move was so small it was completely unnoticeable to anyone else, but what was noticeable was the sly smirk on the photographer's face as her fingers lingered on Matty’s skin.

Your boyfriend remains completely oblivious, as he has been all day. You, however, noticed it as soon as you walked in together. You weren't planning on coming to play jealous girlfriend, you were prepared to be silently supportive.

But when she spent 40 minutes trying different outfits on Matty and showering him with compliments, you knew something was up.

You studied her every move from then on. The way she “adjusted” Matty’s hair after almost every take, running her fingers through every strand in a way that had Matty practically purring.

You look at the way she pulls at his clothes, untucking and tucking in his shirt multiple times. and you also watch her eyes dart down to his exposed stomach every. fucking. Time. You swear you can almost see the cogs turning in her head when she catches a flash of the rose tattoo on his hip.

Every joke he makes, she laughs just a little too hard. Matty is funny, but making a shitty pun is not worthy of doubling over and acting like you're at a standup show. Yet, every vaguely funny comment he makes has her cackling and wiping tears that are streaming down her cheeks.

So you were fuming. Partially at her, Matty had introduced you as his girlfriend at the start of the session. Which had earned him an unimpressed hum from her and you a petty wave. she didn't seem to take too much notice of that fact, though, judging by the way she's stroking his cheek right now.

But you're also pissed at Matty for playing right into her hand.

You knew he was egotistical, but the way he was practically turned into a giggling schoolgirl over the shoot drove you insane. His attention whore actions usually make you laugh, probably because they're normally aimed at you. as soon as you start rambling about how much you love him, matty becomes a child star, immediately glowing at the praise.

But it's remarkably less entertaining when he's lapping up the attention of a woman who is practically getting on her knees in front of you.

And maybe you took it too far, walking over to him mid-conversation and grabbing his face, pressing your lips onto his harshly, you take advantage of the gasp that leaves his lips to press your tongue into his mouth, licking inside and moaning excessively loud.

Matty pulls you off once his logical brain overtakes his horny one, but you can still see he's slightly dazed when he goes back to chatting with the photographer. The haze in his eyes and the pink flush on his cheeks take a few minutes to fully fade, especially when your hand slides onto his thigh and grips his skin possessively.

You hang off his arm for the rest of the break and move closer to the set when they start up again. Every adjustment she suggests you swoop in and make before she can, punctuating each one with a peck on Matty’s lips and a glare her way.

Matty knows what you're doing, and after you lingered a little too long on one kiss, he pulls you in with a hand around the base of your neck.

You feel his breath on your ear before he starts talking, “I know what you're doing. Behave.”

You don't listen to his demands. Why should you when he's been gagging for every piece of attention this stranger gives him? So you play it up even more, determined to beat this woman at her game.

whilst you might win that war, you certainly don't win the one waging with matty judging by his tense shoulders and rolling eyes.

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The ride home is full of tension, Matty's knuckles are white from how hard he's gripping the steering wheel, and the hand that usually lives on your thighs is firmly stuck on the gearstick.

You cant deny that the mix of his palpable anger now and how fucking good he looked at the photo shoot had riled you up. Every tick of his jaw makes your thighs tighten. And you swear you see a smile cross Matty's face as you cross and uncross your legs for the 20th time, desperate to relieve some pressure.

As soon as you get in the door, Matty is barking orders at you.

“Follow me. And be quiet. You've done enough talking today.” Any bratty behaviour left simmering inside you was gone. You trailed behind Matty silently, walking into the front room and starting to sit down on the sofa beside him.

“Nope, floor,” Matty says bluntly.

... no, he's joking. Surely.

“What?” you tilt your head at the man in front of you as you speak, assuming this is another one of his unfunny jokes (but you're sure the photographer would be fucking cackling at it.)

“You heard me, Don't play dumb now, baby. Kneel.” You don’t know whether it’s the intensity of his eyes or the assertiveness of his voice, but you do exactly as he asks. Sinking to your knees like you had done for him so many times before.

Your hands start to move to his fly instinctively, assuming you'd be apologising the only way you know how, letting Matty fuck your throat until you cant speak. But his hands smack yours away before you can even touch the denim of his jeans.

“Thats not gonna cut it today, baby. i need a proper apology this time.” Matty's foot slides between your legs, his boot sitting between your thighs as you hover just above it.

“I want you to grind on my boot, sweet girl. Put on a proper show for me, yeah?” Matty nods at you, and you don't even think before immediately nodding back, sinking down on his boot below you. in your mind, you know you should be scoffing at him and rolling your eyes, but your body moves without you telling it to.

You can already feel wetness pooling in your panties, throbbing at the idea of being so powerless under him. You gasp as soon as the cool leather of the boot touches your core, goosebumps blooming over your skin.

Your hips start rutting against the leather, sliding your hands around Matty's calf as you experimentally grind down on his shoe. Matty feels your fingers tighten around his leg as you clit brushes agaisnt the leather, the slight scratch of the boot making your head spin.

You rock your hips dumbly against Matty's shoe, arching your back when it brushes harshly over your bundle of nerves. Your ruby red nails dig into Matty’s leg through his jeans as you cling to him desperately.

One of your hands slides behind you so you can rock your hips even deeper on his boot, laying your palm flat the ground and canting your hips up desperately. Your thighs burn with every rock you make, but the burn in your core is stronger than anything else.

“thats it. now stick your tongue out, fuck. that's it angel,” Matty palms himself over his jeans as he stares down at you, groaning as he watches spit drip from your tongue and fall on the boot below, making every move you make slicker and more dizzying.

Matty looks pretty fucked out for someone who hasn't been touched, a thin sheen of sweat sits on his skin, his dick straining in his jeans as he watches you like a hawk. He studies your every movement like he is watching a cinematic masterpiece, taking in every move you make and committing it to memory.

His jaw clenches as he fights every urge in his body to grab you by the hair and pull under him. Visions cross his mind of him jackhammering his hips inside you until you're screaming his name, watching the bluge in your stomach as he pumps fucking every inch of himself inside you. But he stays strong, keeping his eyes trained on you with every move you make.

“Thats it, shine my boots with your cunt. Good girl” Your eyes roll into the back of your head as Matty drags out his words and pushes his boot up, the pressure against your clit making the world around you fall into a haze.

A flush covers your cheeks and chest, and Matty smirks at how blissed out you look.

Fucking you dumb is something that will never fail to amaze him, watching a smart girl become a babbling mess because of him does wonders for his ever-growing ego. It's not like he needed the boost, but your brain melted out of your ears as soon as he starts talking to you like he owned you.

You can't help but squirm as you start moving closer towards the edge, the pressure building inside you slowly becoming too much. Whimpers and whines fall from your lips as your hips speed up, pleading with Matty to let you cum without saying it. Luckily, Matty has seen you fall apart under him enough times to know exactly what you're asking.

“You getting close, baby?” Matty smirks as he speaks, “‘course you are. Filthy girl wants to cum all over daddy's boots.” your jaw drops at the nickname, and you nod as best you can, whimpering with every circle of your hips.

“Beg." he demands

"Tell me you're fucking sorry and beg to cum,” Matty's jaw drops when he sees tears start falling down your face, desperation filling your every nerve. Soon, you're sobbing and begging Matty for mercy, your hips bucking wildly.

“Please. I’m so- fuck- im so sorry, Daddy. Please let me cum, ill be so good, I promise. Just- ah! let me cum. Please.” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you fight to hold in your orgasm, but every rut of your hips is making pushing you closer.

“So good for me, such a dirty slut. Okay, angel, cum for me.” As soon as the words leave Matty’s lips, your cumming, the rubber band inside you snapping.

White spots dance across your vision as you push even harder down on Matty’s boot, letting the tough leather push you through your orgasm with every circle of your hips. Your chest heaves, and your jaw shakes as your orgasm drags on, intense pleasure wracking your every nerve.

Your thighs grip tightly around his boot as you reach your peak, but soon enough they're going lax, your hips slowing down until you’re motionless sitting on Matty's shoe, panting wildly and fighting to catch your breath. His fingers move from his lap and grip your chin, forcing you to stare at him as he speaks.

“Don't leave a mess. clean it up for me baby, be a good girl.” Matty nods at his boot, looking at you expectantly with a sick smile covering his face.

You sink further down on the floor below you, ignoring the way the cold concrete scratches your knees as you slide. Dark brown eyes meet yours as you hold eye contact with Matty. staring up at his as you stick your tongue out, and start to lick the leather covered in your slick. An exaggerated moan falls from your lips at the taste, and Matty’s jaw drops as he watches your tongue lap at his shoe.

After a few more seconds of you swiping your tongue over the leather, Matty is dragging you into his lap, gripping your hips harshly as you settle on top of him. He can't help smirking as you hover over him. Your cheeks are pink as you stare at him. The same pretty pink covers your lips. undoubtedly from desperately bitting at them to try and dampen your needy whimpers.

“Don't be so selfish now, princess, give daddy a taste,” you smirk at Matty before gripping his jaw, watching in awe as his mouth drops open and his tongue falls out.

Power skitters up your spine as you lean forward and let a drop of spit fall from your bottom lip, watching it drip and fall onto your boyfriend's tongue. A grin immediately pulls at your lips when you hear the groan that is ripped from his chest.

As soon as Matty tastes the mix of your slick and spit, he's dragging you deeper into his lap, forcing his tongue in your mouth to desperately lick every trace of your release from the inside of your mouth.

Needy hands grip each other's skin, groping every piece you can get your hands on. Eventually, Matty pulls away from your lips, his eyes dropping to watch a string of spit spread between you. His head falls back against the sofa behind him, staring at you in awe.

“I'm booking another photo shoot with her,” he teases, his chest heaving as he desperately sucks in air to his lungs.

“The fuck you are.” You surge forward and capture his lips again, smiling as you feel his lips turn up as soon as your skin touches his.

#wrote this from 12am to 2am so it might be shit #probably is #but delirium is a funny thing #anyway... yeah ignore the logistics of this and just have fun lol <3 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #matty healy fic

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freelancearsonist · 25 days

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oblivion

➔ Dave York x gn!Reader - 2.2k

➔ Dave left years ago to keep you safe from him. Now, he comes back to finally claim what’s his.

➔ Rated MA for kinda dark fic?????, gn!reader (no pronouns or anatomy described), reader is able-bodied but otherwise is physically a blank slate, infidelity (Dave cheats on his wife w/ reader), smut, choking, biting, blood, this is the midnight mass au that no one asked for [pls let me know if i missed any warnings you think should be included :)]

➔ Thank you to my love @ozarkthedog for this prompt, if you're reading this ily <3

Everyone is leaving this island–your home–in droves. The seas are drenched in oil, and there’s nothing left to fish or net. People are moving on to bigger, better things. But not you; you’ve never enjoyed the mainland, never craved the just-another-face-in-the-crowd feeling of those big cities. You love your little small town, even if most of it is gone now.

You go for your nightly walk, and the loneliness gets to you for the first time since the spill. There’s no lights on in house windows, no kids playing out in front yards. It’s just you as the sun goes down, casting everything in fiery red and orange brilliance.

Some nights seem darker than others, regardless of the star visibility or the moon’s phase. It’s almost like the air swells and surrounds you until it feels like a thick, dark blanket. It can be almost stifling; and those nights never quite leave your mind.

That’s what it feels like tonight, and for no discernable reason. There’s a wicked sense of foreboding–even more so than you’ve come to be accustomed to. It ramps up even more so when you see the only other house in the neighborhood with lights on: Dave’s house.

Dave left with his wife and daughters two years ago, long before the spill destroyed the island’s economy. No one’s stepped foot in it since–you figured it just never sold. But certainly it hasn’t sold now; who would want to move to the island at a time like this?

Curiosity gets the better of you, maybe because a traitorous little part of your brain wonders if it’s Dave. If he’s finally come back for some reason, if he’s here to fix things. That nagging little hope keeps you up at night more often than you care to admit; that he might return and you’d get a second chance. Either way, you don’t think twice about walking up the short driveway to knock on his door.

It’s completely silent for a long few minutes; long enough that you almost knock again. But maybe this is just some fluke thing, an electrical malfunction or something that turned his lights on. He swore he’d never be back, after all. It’s just wishful thinking.

It started on your night walks. He jogged the same route every single night after the girls went to bed, and eventually his jog slowed to a walk when he would come alongside you. You’d walk side by side and talk about anything and everything, vent about work or life and tell each other little stories. Before too long, you knew him better than anyone, and it was all completely by accident. Just the neighborly kindness of him slowing his pace to chit chat with you.

And then this man who you shared nothing with besides a nightly exercise route, after weeks of small talk every single evening, kissed you. In the middle of a street, in the middle of a very small island community where every single person knew every single thing about every other person; a community where every single person knew that Dave was married, and that he wasn’t married to you.

You dragged him home to scold him somewhere that no prying ears would catch it, and somehow you ended up in bed underneath him. All desperately breathless kisses and deeply earth-shattering thrusts and muffled moans of pleasure.

He whispered that no one had ever made him feel so alive before, that he’d never wanted someone more. And you wanted to believe him, so you did.

Miraculously, no one ever found out; not about that first time, and not about the million times after. No one ever found out about all the times that you swore up and down it could never happen again, only to fall right back onto your knees for him. No one ever found out about the time that he finally agreed with you, and the way you cried yourself to sleep when he stuck to it and didn’t catch up to you on your walk the next night. No one ever found out about how the next night after that, he caught up to you and begged for you–for your forgiveness, for the feelings that only you had ever been able to make him feel.

And for a while, it was enough. Being his at night under secrecy of darkness was plenty; until all of a sudden it wasn’t. Until you would bump into his wife at the market and nearly have a panicked breakdown by the time you got home, wondering just how much she knew. Until he would say things that were heavier and heavier–things that translated to something akin to ‘I love you’ without actually being the words. Until he had to leave for a work assignment.

He’d be gone for a week. That was all. A simple job, he’d explained. Somewhere overseas, but that was really all he said. He never liked to talk to you about his work much. He said he’d be back before you could even miss him.

But it was a month before he returned, and he came back different.

Withdrawn, dark eyes darker than usual, sunkissed golden skin looking a little insipid. You tried to convince yourself that he was just coming down with a cold, that the way he’d put his hand around your neck just to feel your pulse thrum under his fingertips and squeeze a little tighter than comfortable wasn’t related; that the way he nearly broke skin from biting into your shoulder so hard wasn’t anything to be concerned about; that the way he seemed to have doubled strength while he was away wasn’t cause for alarm.

You lied to yourself because it was easier than the truth; whatever had happened on his assignment, he wasn’t the same man anymore. The man you had started to fall in love with, circumstances be damned, was long gone.

But it came to a point where the truth couldn’t be avoided any longer, because the inevitable can’t be postponed indefinitely. Ignorance is only bliss until the truth comes unapologetically crashing in.

He fucked you so relentlessly it scared you. The hands that had once held you so gently were pushing you into positions far past your comfortable range, his hips were thrusting hard and deep enough to bruise. He saw the tears that leaked from the corners of your eyes and called you pathetic; and just like that, you knew your Dave York was gone. Where to, you weren’t sure. But something in his roughness, in the way he wanted to hurt you, made you sure he was never coming back.

You pushed him off of you and told him to get the fuck out. For a moment–one flickering, horribly tension-fraught moment–you didn’t think he would. The most terrified you’d ever been in your life was when you looked into his dark eyes and saw nothing but violence.

For a moment, you didn’t know what he was going to do. And then he hastily pulled on his clothes and slammed the door shut behind him without a word.

You didn’t see him on your walk the next night, and the following night after that there was a U-Haul parked in front of his house. Part of you was relieved at the sight of boxes and furniture being lugged out of the front door into the box truck; another, more complicated part of you wanted to fall to your knees right there in the street and start screaming.

You felt his presence before you saw him–just behind you to the left, out of your field of view. You didn’t turn to look at him; you couldn’t stand to see his face when you asked, “Why?”

“There are worse ways to hurt you than leaving,” he murmured, low and deep. “If leaving is what I have to do to keep you safe, then I’m never fucking coming back.”

You turned at that, because what the fuck was that supposed to mean? What would he have to keep you safe from?

You saw so much sadness in his brown eyes that you nearly broke down sobbing. You knew right then that it was over. There was no begging him to stay, no changing his mind. You didn’t even really know if you actually wanted him to stay, at that point.

He walked away to help the movers lug a couch before you got a chance to say anything; no ‘I love you’, no ‘I’ll miss you’, not even a simple ‘goodbye’.

By morning his family was gone, him included. His house stood empty for two years with not a sign from him. Until tonight.

The living room lights cast a warm yellow glow over the front yard in the dark even through the obscurity of dusty window blinds. You’re tempted to peek through and see if you can tell what’s going on inside after standing on the stoop unacknowledged for a few minutes; just as you make the decision to snoop, the front door opens.

It’s him. It’s really fucking him. He hasn’t changed even the slightest bit. His brown hair is still cut short and neatly styled, his handsome face is impeccably shaved. His dark brown eyes are just like you remember them, from before; the hatred and violence they held those last few days isn’t there anymore.

He whispers your name, and then his eyes flash. “You’re still here.”

“Of course I am,” you reply, on guard. “This is my home.”

His fingers twitch on the doorknob, like he’s contemplating shutting you out. “I didn’t know anyone was still here. I wouldn’t have come back.”

“Why did you come back?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

His eyes shift for a moment, jaw set firmly. “It’s the only place I have left.”

He doesn’t have to put it any clearer than that for you to know that his wife isn’t in the picture anymore. You wonder what happened between them, but a selfish little part of you is triumphant at the fact that he came to you.

Except he didn’t, not really. He said himself that he didn’t think anyone was left. That he wouldn’t have come otherwise. Why wouldn’t he have come?

“You need to go,” he says firmly, moving to shut the door in your face. But your hand shoots out before you can really even contemplate it.

Now, you say what you wish you would’ve had the courage to say all those years ago. “I missed you, Dave.”

You can see his patience is waning–his hand flexes anxiously against the door but he doesn’t say anything quite yet, and you know his is your only chance for closure.

“You said, before you left, that you were protecting me by leaving. What do you have to protect me from?”

“Myself,” he growls. His eyes flash dangerously, the same way they did two years ago.

“What…”

“Each man kills the thing he loves, honey,” he murmurs, stepping closer. It feels like he’s towering over you now, looming ominously. You don’t remember him being this imposing before he left. “And I… I loved you.”

“I loved you, too,” you whisper. Hindsight is funny like that–your brain reveals in hindsight what your heart can’t reveal in the moment. “We can… we can make this work, Dave.”

You should be more hesitant. You should remember how scared of him you were at the end, how strange it is for him to show up here in the middle of the night all alone. You should wonder why he’s back here now, when everyone else is gone.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he growls, all the while moving closer to you as if you have a magnetism he can’t avoid. “I’ve changed.”

“I’m asking for a second chance,” you plead as you set your hands on his strong, solid chest. He’s so achingly close now, and yet he still won’t touch you. “I’ve changed too, I’m… I’m willing to make this work if you are.”

He licks his lips, dark eyes focused… on your neck? Why is he looking there of all places?

He notices that he’s been caught when his eyes flicker up to meet your gaze. He just stares at you for a moment, then two, so close that each breath you exhale mingles with his.

And then suddenly he’s leaning in. You let your eyes flutter shut, awaiting the sweet sensation of his lips on yours after so long; but it never comes. You wait, and you wait, and then you feel something puncture the side of your neck.

It’s sharp, and it hurts. Your eyes snap open and all you can see is Dave; his body curls around yours as he gulps eagerly from your punctured artery. A weak hand comes up to nudge his head halfheartedly–somewhere in the back of your mind, you delight in the softness of his hair between your fingers again after so long–but his arms wrap tightly around your waist to keep you in place and your weak resistance is futile.

He was right, you think as your vision blurs around the edges. You really didn’t have a clue what you were asking for.

➔ moodboard by @ozarkthedog

➔ beta: @futuraa-free and @mothandpidgeon (thank u so much my loves <3)

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#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york one shot #the equalizer 2 #the equalizer 2 fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #cece writes

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sykestarot · 6 months

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what's holding you back? how should you move forward?

1-2-3 (left to right)

I do not own any of these images

Hi guys I felt this was the message that needed be heard this week and some of it got very specific. Lmk what you think! Thanks for stopping by ily!!

Pile 1

“it consumes my mind, it consumes my soul, it wants my life, it wants complete control” (8 of cups (rx); 8 of wands (rx; The Emperor; The Hermit; king of wands; The Star) This pile might struggle with mental health issues, such as depression or anxiety. When channeling your energy pile one I had a heavy chest and a hard time breathing. You could be pushing yourself too hard and not taking a break. Or avoiding taking a break because then you’ll see how much pain you’re in. Either way I feel very heavy energies with you. I see you feel stagnant in your life, but this is because you refuse to make changes because you feel comfortable in the routine or cycle you’re in. I’m also seeing for some of you, that you went through something hard recently and you’re keeping yourself hidden due to fears of it happening again. This situation led you to forget how much power you hold and how truly beautiful you are. I think you might expect life to happen for you, even though you’re not really leaving your house. Sometimes we have to make things happen for ourselves, although I do understand not wanting to because of the fear of the unknown. The advice that the cards give you is to remember how you sparkle. I feel like your current energy is the song I channeled but the energy you need to embody is bejeweled by Taylor Swift lol. Two very different energies. Spirit is telling you to lean on them and let go of the past, because holding onto that is only going to make your journey to the top slower. I’m also not sure if this situation involved a betrayal but spirit is also letting you know that two people’s perspectives that may differ on the same situation can both be true at the same time. I also see in this advice that this is a journey you have to go on alone. I understand how daunting this may feel but I promise you have the strength and the resilience to get through this. I keep hearing “I wish you could see the way you shine”. Signs: August; the number 8; 8 mile; Eminem?; blue sapphire; stardust the movie; Aquarius; girl in red?; insomnia; overthinking; stripped socks; dark room lit up by tv; “remember who you are” - lion king

Pile 2

"Je te laisserai des mots" (2 of swords (rx); 3 of swords; The High Priestess; The Empress (rx); Justice (rx); 8 of wands (rx)) Hi Pile 2! I feel like for you guys you recently went through a breakup, possibly with your first love, or someone you thought was your forever. Maybe you guys were on and off for a while and you really believe this person will come back. I see that in terms of what’s holding you back is that you don’t believe that you can live without this person and that’s not true. I see that you would’ve given this person the world. I hear that quote where one person says “you were a wonderful experience” and then the other person says, “you, you were everything.” And I feel like you’re the one saying that the other person was everything. Perhaps you're an artist and this person was your muse and without them you feel like you can’t make your art anymore. I genuinely feel empty channeling your energy. I see that what’s holding you back is the idea that this person was the only reason you were successful, which couldn’t be further from the truth pile 2. You are worth so much more than what you create. I also feel that you only value yourself by how much you create or do and that you punish yourself for not meeting a certain quota. But because of the loss you’re going through right now you’re not meeting quotas because you’re hurt not because you are an unproductive being. If you leave this reading with one thing I hope that it is that you are worth so much more than just what you create. As far as advice goes for you I see that you need to place trust in the mysteries of life. Most times you don’t know what life has in store for you even if you think you do. Place trust in your heart and your gut feelings. Rest when you feel you need to and create when you feel the need to. I also see that your inner monologue could be hurting you, the pessimism in your mind could be keeping you in a cycle of self hatred and unproductivity and they're working hand in hand to keep you stagnant. Try to think more positively and be gentler with yourself and you’ll see progress almost immediately. I’m also seeing that when you step back and see the bigger picture you’ll find that everything happens for a reason, and almost every ending leads to a new beginning. I believe in you pile 2 you can do it!! Signs: 222’; piano; marble; fine arts; french?; museums; pine scent; guitar; the color blue; long distance; wishing on stars; turn back time; Romeo and Juliet; “it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all” ; paintings; indie

Pile 3

“keeping me from who I need to be, distracting me from what I need to do” Pile 3 I feel like for you what’s holding you back is your inability to admit that you are wrong about something. For you I see you continuing to try to do something that isn’t working and probably hasn’t worked for you either ever or for a long time. I see that for you your destiny holds much more than what you are doing. I see that you are going down a path that is filled with obstacles and you believe that it’s because it’ll give you a better success story when these obstacles are not even obstacles there more like road blocks. I see this pile is more of a career pile. I also feel like I can hear you while reading this immediately going, “pfft this isn’t for me”. If you thought this at all then this pile is exactly for you. I don’t know if someone told you that you wouldn’t make it in the line of work you’re in but I do see that you took that and made it the fire that lit you up. For most of you though this is a job that you can make it in but it won’t fulfill you in the way you think it will because at the end of the day I believe you don’t actually enjoy this job. SO if you feel like your life is stagnant or staying in the same place it’s because this career isn’t meant for you. I feel like you also know what career is meant for you and you’re being super stubborn. I also feel like when you talk to people you’re close to about your job issues they immediately bring up your other option of what you could be doing. Like if you’re a lawyer and it’s draining you and you tell your friend and they immediately go “oh what about the art you used to make you know you were great at that!” I also feel that this irritates you lol. I feel like you know and are aware of it at the very least. The universe has been sending you signs about this for what I believe could be years. But you do what you feel is right for you. As far as advice goes for you pile three I see it’s time to heal. Perhaps the reason you're staying in this job is because you feel the need to get recognition to stick it to the person who told you you couldn’t. That’s not necessarily the healthiest behavior for ourselves. I also see that you need to start thinking of laying something solid down for the rest of your life, so maybe this job is also not letting you provide for yourself or others and on top of all of that you don’t enjoy it? I think spirit wants you to think in long term goals and does this job or cycle let you pursue those? Spirit would also like you to know that you aren’t alone. I really heavily feel that given the opportunity your friends would love to support you in any endeavor and are probably rooting for you to leave this situation. So go ahead and reach out when you’re ready to leave!! Many people love you and only want the best for you, remember that. :) Signs: October 6th; October; June; pumpkins; hammers; carpentry; wood?; post malone; trinkets; working with hands; toxic positivity; hard helmets; hammers; beer; heinekens

#pick a card reading #reading tarot #tarot reading #spiritual #tarot #spotify #pick a card #pac #spirituality #channeling #pick an image #pap #channeled message #channeled song #divination #law of attraction #Spotify

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campingwiththecharmings · 10 months

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Congratulations bb again, so happy to see all your wonderful fics !!

*slams my fists on table*

I WANT POE. Specifically your poe.

+ “you can be louder” or some variation of that 🫢🥹🩷🩷

Ily so excited to read all these

Undone

AN: Thanks so much for sending this in, Mona. I appreciate you and your friendship so much 💖 Hope this is at least close to what you wanted lol 🤭

(Un-beta’d)

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 675 Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Reader Warnings: PWP, p in v, cursing, slight praise kink, creampie, a little cockwarming. AO3

——————

You whine as Poe fucks into you slowly, groaning as you clench around him, his face buried in your neck. He kisses his way down to your shoulder, sucking bruises into your skin, his hips pushing into you steadily as he drags you closer and closer to the edge. Your fingers sink into his curls, pulling on the strands as he dips his head lower, messily mouthing his way down your chest.

“C’mon, baby, let me hear you,” he rasps, sucking your nipple between his lips.

You moan softly, arching into his mouth, your fingers twisting in his hair. “Fuck. Poe, please.”

“Mmmm,” he hums, grazing your nipple with his teeth and drawing a low hiss from you. “Please what?”

You whine as he pulls off of you with a wet pop, dragging his wet lips across your sternum to your other breast. He keeps pushing into you, his thrusts slow, but deep, and when his tip kisses your cervix, you gasp, shaking a little at the jolts of pleasure that zing through you.

“More,” you plead, pulling your lip between your teeth. “Harder.”

He groans, the vibration against your nipple making your pussy flutter around his length. When he pushes back into you this time, he snaps his hips forward, spearing his cock into you, the slap of his skin against yours echoing deliciously throughout the room. You moan when he does it again, his hands gripping the meat of your thighs as he pulls you closer, his breath hot against your sweat-slicked skin.

“Faster,” you whine, clinging to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please.”

Poe grunts, mouthing his way back up your neck as he increases his pace, worrying another mark into your skin. You’re so close, the tension building in your gut with every thrust of his hips. He presses his forehead against yours, panting against your lips as he palms your breast again, rolling your nipple between his calloused fingers.

You moan softly, breath catching as he shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts.

“You can be louder than that, sweetheart, I know you can,” he breathes, his nose bumping against yours as he pulls back a little to watch your face.

You watch him too, his eyes heavy-lidded, curls sticking to his sweaty forehead, plump lip pulled between his teeth as his cock glides along your slick walls, dragging over every sweet spot. He changes the angle again, his cock hitting the sweetest spot inside you, that spot so deep you can never quite reach it on your own, that spot that makes you see stars and endlessly babble his name. You cry out, mouth falling open as you arch off the bed, the pleasure so good but also so much.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, leaning in to mouth at your cheek as he hits that spot again and again, his thrusts hard and fast as he fucks you into the mattress. “That’s it, that’s my girl.”

You’re babbling now, eyes rolling back in your head as you beg him to let you come. He grunts, his thrusts becoming uneven as he nears his own peak. You come around him with a shout when he circles your clit, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as he follows not long after, spilling his warmth into you with a loud groan. His hips slow, but he doesn’t stop, fucking his spend deeper inside you, the excess seeping out onto the sheets beneath you as the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you.

The sensation of Poe’s hand against your cheek brings you back as you come down, your eyes meeting his in the dim light of the room as he finally stills above you. You lean into his touch with a sigh and he smiles, tracing the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“Still with me?” he asks softly, gaze flitting attentively over your face.

“Always,” you hum, smiling sleepily as you pull his mouth back down to yours, his cock still nestled inside you.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟 fic-aversary masterlist 🌟

i am no longer doing a taglist. please follow @charmingupdates for updates and turn on notifications.

#poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron reader insert #poe dameron smut #my fic #fic-aversary celebration

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hobateas · 2 years

Text

the art of craving | pt.1

It's easy to feel like you're floating on the clouds when you're near them, it's easy to have them right under your grasp and feel as if they are yours, but why does it feel as if the more you crave them, the more it all seems to fall down?

alternatively, you're a fluffer, irrevocably in love with the seven you work with and it's hard to navigate through your feelings when your hearts are fluttering messes in the presence of each other.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. porn industry workers!ot7 x f!reader (side f!oc x reader)

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 18+ (mature)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 5.2k :(

𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬. thank you dee @sugakookitty a bunch for this amazing banner and sorry for all the trouble you went through! :( and my lovely pauli @kookstempo who managed to read all this shit and provide some real good feedback :O thanks my love <333

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧��𝐭𝐞. im sorry for putting this up so late, i have a blithering headache and want to die. thank you so much for all your support, ily guys :(( hope you enjoy, im pretty nervous since this is not what i uploaded back then but any feedback or comments are appreciated <3 comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist!

series masterlist. ʚɞ next.

"Cut! Stop filming right now." Namjoon's voice echoed in the studio, making everyone freeze in their spots. The lights were switched off, the film was paused, and breaths hitched, waiting for the next words of the director.

Namjoon was a perfectionist, known to be one of the strictest directors in his line of work. On set, he was a force to be reckoned with, leaving everyone grumpy with how commandeering he could be. It was maybe how the actor’s face had been angled, or how the squelchy sounds of sex appeased his ears, or that one time when the male actor had been way too soft for his liking- he wanted things to go his way, and his way demanded the utmost precision.

It was a shock to him when the three of his best stars’ performances were sub-par.

Misha, the female porn star, had her jaw unhinged, saliva falling from her mouth, black lines of mascara dripping down her face from when she had strained her mouth to take in Taehyung's cock; while Jin, who was pounding her from behind stopped, retreating his hands from her hips, both men slowly pulling out as carefully as they could.

The slick sound that accompanied it was uncomfortable, but it was nothing the people on the set hadn't experienced. The actors slowly moved away from each other's sweaty and cum-covered bodies, waiting just like the others in the studio.

Hoseok and Yoongi were quick on their feet, rushing to hand very expensive silk robes and chilled waters to each of the cast, dabbing their faces with fresh towels. It was important to make sure they looked fresh for each cut, but not enough for it to be evident to the consumer that they did in fact cut the scene in the middle.

Namjoon stepped forward from his position behind the camera, Jungkook trailing behind quickly with a hardboard in his hands, struggling to keep all the papers in his grasp.

Namjoon’s aura was terrifying, especially to Jungkook who was anxious about everything related to said man. It’s as if Namjoon was the devil, controlling all the people in the room like pawns, but Namjoon didn’t think that way. He thought he just paid extra attention to detail, and sure, sometimes he did become angry but he expected everyone to meet standards, his standards.

The director pushed his glasses up with a strained look on his face, jaw clenching every second as he struggled to keep his calm. It was the thought about how imperfect the scene had been that left Namjoon in a fit of pique. He wasn't having a good day today, and to have to experience such a lackluster performance from the team dampened his mood further.

"This is a mess." He stated as soon as he got close enough to the three actors, taking in their tired forms with his equally dull eyes.

"Why? I thought everything was fine?" Misha started after handing her empty bottle to Yoongi, stepping forward with the robe loosely tied around her bare skin.

She looked ethereal without a doubt. Even with fresh streaks of black on her face, her face exuded sensuality, and her body was curved in just the right places for her to garner a relatively large base of loyal fans who were charmed by the way she could get them aroused with just a flutter of her eyes.

"Wait. Someone get ___ from upstairs first." He declared to no one in particular, but the job would be done soon. He had the power, and he knew it. He smirked when he heard thudding on the stairs. The set was quiet enough for him to listen to the labored breathing of the unfortunate man racing to get to the first floor. No one disobeyed Namjoon.

"I'll be there in two minutes!" Your sweet voice called out from the floor above, making the men in the studio anticipate your arrival, shivers spreading down their spines.

"Okay, first of all, you guys are doing a girlfriend-boyfriend roleplay. It’s supposed to be romantic, just a little bit lovey-dovey, yeah? And you guys look like you’re having a one-night stand.” Namjoon sighed.

“Wait- but- the people said they wanted rougher stuff. Go check the comments on Tanhub.” Taehyung countered with an exasperated look on his face.

“I know, and that shooting is scheduled for next week,” And Taehyung shut his mouth. “Anyways, Misha, you look disinterested, and your moaning sounds very forced; genuinely enjoy it, yeah? And you guys look like you are hammering a rabbit with your dicks." Namjoon turned to look at Misha's fucked out face and then at the two men who looked disgusted at the director's comment.

"Tell me that when you don't have a dick as big as Taehyung's down your throat. It's not even my fault, my throat wasn't warmed up properly, and I'm just not in the mood." She grumbled in reply, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Alright, we will do something about that. Is Misha's fluffer on set?" A trembling Jungkook stepped forward from the shadows, cowering under his boss's gaze. He immediately shuffled through the schedule papers in his hands, coming up with nothing, and then he saw you skipping down the stairs.

His gaze was stuck on your form, wearing the shortest pair of shorts he had ever seen on anybody, your ass cheeks falling out and jiggling deliciously with every step you took their way. You hadn't gone easy on them with your crop top either. The cut dipped down all the way from your collarbone, showing off your sternum. The sides of your supple breasts were visible for their eyes to feast on, and boy did they appreciate the sight.

"You called me Mr. Kim?" You chirped, looking over all the people on the floor before your gaze landed on the tallest man in the room.

"Hi Princess, Misha's fluffer didn't come in today?" He smiled, and your heart fluttered.

"No. Jihoon did, but he left a while back because there was an emergency. He told me to tell you, but since you were in your element, I didn't."

Namjoon’s thick lips parted in a sigh, his hand going to ruffle his hair in exasperation.

"Okay, we will figure something out for Misha; how about you go help Jin and Taehyung till then? We'll resume after a break, everyone be back in 20."

"Alright! Let’s go!" You chirped with a grin, happy to spend time with some of your favorite people. Said men were quick to grab each of your hands, rushing you to one of the empty corners of the studio, covered with flimsy curtains, where they could have their privacy with you.

Though their jobs required them to be exposed in front of the camera, showing off all their assets, they still preferred to keep something to cover themselves up. it definitely worked in their favor when you would trail your hands over their muscular thighs, lightly scratching with your fingertips to keep them worked up.

That being said, they didn't need you to ‘fluff’ them up; your presence was enough to have them turned on for days, but there was something in the way you looked at them, touched them with the lightest yet most sinful hands that made them groan in pleasure and want more, more even after fucking a woman just moments before.

It was something you did, or rather you that had them weak in their knees.

"Hi Tae, Jin! How have you guys been?" You smiled.

Their breaths quickened when they saw you drop to the floor and tie your hair up in a ponytail, your top riding up even further and revealing the tattoo under your breasts to them.

It was a simple flower vine, the blank ink spread from your sideboob all the way under the curve, but to this day, being able to see so much of you felt like a dream despite having known you for two years now.

It certainly had an effect on them, one which you were not oblivious to. You knew them enough to understand when they were really enjoying themselves and when they weren't. Their moans from before left a sour taste in your mouth- they weren't authentic or the low, deep groans you had the pleasure of hearing every once in a while. They were forced and intermittent, and you knew it was time to change into your sexiest, most revealing clothes to make them shift in their seats.

It was the moment you had been waiting for a long time.

"Hi, ___," Taehyung mumbled, his fiery gaze fixed on you.

Having you here right now, in such a compromising position, in front of their chairs, was a bad mistake. Your job was to keep them hard during breaks but it didn't help that they had had a crush on you since the moment they saw you walking down the set timidly on your first day as a fluffer.

Though it was probably them who spent the most time with you, this intimately, this passionately. And hearing the boys whine every second of the day about their lack of you only made them grateful for the few moments you spent with them on workdays.

And it’s not like the others understood how it took all they had in them not to bust a nut; although they longed to cover your tits with their seed, they would have to wait for another day to indulge in such possessions. It was another level of self-control that they had edged themselves for hours to get to.

"Can I touch you now?" You gazed at them with longing eyes, and they were immediately nodding their heads.

"Thank you."

You dipped your hands under their robes, getting a feel of their calves and then their muscular thighs, not too fast, caressing the soft yet tense skin with a grin on your face. You didn't have it in you to look them in their eyes, you knew it would make you want to submit under their dominant gazes, so you kept your eyes fixed on your hands.

With a shaky breath, you begin to inch them up, teasing them. Their hearts began palpitating in their chests the more you got closer to their cocks. They knew what you were doing, they had played the game with you every time. But after a very uneventful work day, they were horny, patience wearing off every second.

"I suggest you stop teasing, baby. Don't make me get Jimin over here." Jin clicked his tongue in annoyance.

You shifted on your knees. It was your job to tease them. To keep them ready, not enough for them to cum. Jimin, your supervisor, had told you to do the same. How could you disobey his direct orders?

"Your job is to tease, ___, not to make them orgasm. Make them crave you. Use your mouth or your hands, it doesn't matter; as long as they stay hard enough to continue, you get paid." He had told you at the time of your job briefing, grazing his fingers over his thighs, which you couldn't help but gawk at.

You didn't understand what bringing Jimin here could do except for making your day even better. You imagined he would, in fact, just sit there and monitor you with hooded eyes, his legs spread wide enough for you to be able to steal a glance at his erection.

But you were sure it was just your horny mind speaking.

So you ignored their words, feeling your breath start to quicken, lust coursing through your veins from how excited you were to disobey them. It was the thrill of breaking the rules that made blood rush all over your body. They couldn't punish you even if you wanted them to, it was all a part of a job- your job as their fluffer, as much as you hated to admit it.

You rub your palms over them with a feathery touch, wanting to make them wait for you. It was a sight to behold- the two twitching in their seats, and moaning for you. Their cocks were still covered by the silk robe, enticing you to touch them and lick them. Though you could see the outline clearly, it didn't satisfy the hunger in your throat, it never did, so you removed it.

And the sight would always leave you dumbstruck.

Taehyung's was, by far, the longest cock you had ever seen and tasted. His thick cock that twitched under your eager eyes, laid on his abs, long fingers rubbing his chin as if he was deep in thought. He was almost easily seven inches long, and you always commended anyone who had the power to manage an entire shoot with him.

Jin, on the flip side, was equally impressive, if not more. Though his length was maybe an inch shorter than Taehyung's, his girth made up for it. You were sure of the pleasurable burn it would provide when it split open a pussy, massaging the walls like no one else could. His thrusts were harsh and powerful too, thanks to his impeccable hips, and you never understood how one can be so perfect.

As you continued practically gawking over them, your cunt heating in your panties, it was Jin whose resolve finally broke and he grabbed your hand that was fisted in his robe and pulled you towards him in a swift motion. Your knees scraped against the ground uncomfortably, but that was the least of your worries when you saw the need in Jin's eyes.

You gazed at him with startled eyes, your mouth itching to ask if you did something wrong. Jin had his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, his leaking slit smearing his precum all over your reddened lips. You could taste a mixture of Misha's sweet pussy juices and his cum on your tongue, and that ignited a fire in your veins.

"Sweetie, put your mouth over his cock right now; you do not want to disobey us," Taehyung growled under his breath, his hands moving to undo his robe and grasp his cock tightly.

“But what about you?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about me, ___; you have no idea about the effect you have on me." His stare pierced into your eyes as he spoke.

You flushed but complied immediately, parting your lips and taking him in your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks just the right amount as you take him in. All nervousness left your body the second you felt the weight of his cock on your tongue, it felt like it belonged there, heavy and warm. His cock was long enough to hit the back of your throat easily and thick enough to make your jaw throb with pain increasingly every second, but it was all a part of your wonderful job.

"You look so pretty with your lips around my cock." Jin let out a pleasurable sigh at the feeling, your nails digging into his thighs at the praise, your tongue swirling around his tip, and he let his head fall back. Your eyes were closed due to the strain, but every sharp inhale and moan and sigh you heard was a reward, and you clenched your empty hole, wanting nothing more for him to fuck you.

With a pop, you removed your mouth from his cock, taking in deep breaths. You looked up at him only to see him staring down at you with lust-lidded eyes, his breathing heavy like yours. You were taken aback when his hand moved to grip yours, long fingers interlocking with yours and wrapping them around his thick cock and stroking it, sticky sounds amplifying in your ear.

You struggled to keep your eyes on his, feeling bashful under his stare, so you wrapped your lips around his tip again, licking his tip and coating it with your saliva. With his chest reverberating in a deep groan, you felt your panties starting to stick to your core uncomfortably. You gasped when his hand left yours, and you stopped yours too, wanting to ask him why. But you couldn’t when his hand pushed your head down on his cock in one go, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

"That's a good fucking girl. F-Fuck, baby, you feel so good!" He growled, the thrust of his hips starting to increase in pace, as you stopped bobbing your head up and down and let him take control of you. You gagged with every thrust when the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, bruising the flesh of your mouth, but you wanted it.

With each thrust, you moaned around him, hearing him curse and groan above you. You were so lost in the intoxicating feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat; you couldn't make out when his length throbbed in your mouth or when his balls tightened, filling with his cum, or when he released the deepest growl you ever heard and spilled his hot cum in your mouth.

Jin knew he shouldn’t do it,knew it was bad, knew it would get him in trouble with Namjoon later. But seeing the girl of his dreams on her knees, sucking his cock with the warmest and most tempting mouth he had ever had the pleasure of fucking, was far too much for him to control, so maybe it was okay to let go, he decided.

"Fuck, baby, so fucking good for us, gonna make you mine one day! Fuck!" He hummed under his breath. You couldn't hear him over the loud, slick noises of your drooling saliva and his cum, whimpering at the taste of his hot seed coating your tongue- sweet like honey with hints of citrus, a flavor you could easily get addicted to.

"Shit, baby, you're milking my cock! F-fuck!" He continued riding out his high, not caring that the shoot would have to be prolonged. You let him have it after weighing your options after the hazy feeling in your mind disappeared; the only thing you could do was wait for him to get hard again. He continued bobbing your head up and down, swallowing thickly at the sight of you looking fucked out and dizzy after just giving a blowjob.

Some cum dripped down from your mouth and on his shaft, and you darted your tongue out to lick it. Dragging the muscle as slowly as you could over his length, you gave it small kitten licks, rolling your tongue back into your mouth to taste him with your eyes shut closed. You sighed, finally feeling full and hearty.

A deep groan on your left side caught your attention. Taehyung was sitting with his legs spread wide in his chair, forehead glistening with sweat, and was busy rubbing his thumb over his slit that oozed precum, the sight inviting you to wrap your lips around his cock.

You were tempted to suck him dry the same way you had milked Seokjin, but you couldn’t make the same mistake again. It would be unprofessional of you to make him cum; it always had been to wind them up, but never to bring them relief.

"Having fun here, aren’t we?" You turned your head, jumping in alarm at the presence of an all too familiar voice in your little corner, the curtains already back in their place.

Curse your weak heart for jumping up in a mix of emotions because of Jimin’s voice, both good and bad.

There had never really been any set professional boundaries between you all, even from the day he had interviewed you for this job. It had always been a mixture of seductive looks from said men, shy glances from you, and sexual tension that was almost suffocating. Neither had the guts to finally make a move, but you couldn’t deny how your heart palpitated in your chest whenever you were in their presence.

You only hoped the feelings were reciprocated, and not just a result of lust.

It probably affected Namjoon the most how you were always near, yet never seemed to be in his grasp. Still, he liked to maintain his distance from a professional stand, but he too was in the same predicament as you: down bad but scared.

You couldn’t see the way Taehyung smirked at the fury in Namjoon’s eyes, who squeezed in next to Jimin in the tiny space, pushing down the small bit of empathy he felt for the man.

“Tsk, is this what I hired you for, ___? Hmm?” Jimin’s condescending tone brought you back to earth and then punched you ten feet under.

You could feel the dread set in with every step your way, and a thousand scenarios ran in your head. Would you be fired, suspended, or worse, replaced? Someone else taking your position made you want to gag. The mere thought of it was bad enough, but what if it actually happened?

They were right. You had one job, one, yet you couldn’t do it right. The self-hatred started before another word was uttered in the room and you could already feel your eyes burn with unshed tears and the tip of your nose become itchy, a telltale sign of what was to come.

“You made Jin cum, didn’t you?”

“Jimin, stop.” Namjoon finally spoke up, feeling the teasing atmosphere turn damp.

“I thought you would be better at this.”

“Jimin, I said stop.”

As if sensing the way you stopped moving and just turned your head downwards, covering your face using the length of your hair, with your hands having retreated to your sides as if touching any of them burnt your skin, Jin shoots a sharp glare in their direction. He fisted his hands, feeling worse by the minute, but not knowing what to do. Should he comfort you, rub your back, hope with everything in his being that you weren't actually upset at their teasing tone?

One, breathe in.

Five, hold it.

Seven, control your emotions.

Nine, breathe out.

You did not know how much time passed by as you kept breathing in and out, but once you did regain a grip on yourself, you got up from your knees, ignoring the way your muscles shouted in protest. You didn’t hear them gasp at the way your form trembled for a second, both in fear and embarrassment, before stilling.

“I’m sorry Mr. Park, Mr. Kim, we got lost in the heat of the moment. It won’t happen again.” You looked them in the eye as you spoke.

But in all honesty, you didn’t know what you were apologizing for. Were you sorry you made Jin feel good, or that you somehow prolonged the shoot, or was it because it went against the terms of your job? You couldn’t pinpoint it but you felt slightly disappointed in yourself, yet you didn’t show it as much as you thought you would.

“Will you both be okay for the next 10 minutes like this? I’ll go to Misha.” You asked the two men who wore confusion on their faces.

You looked at them again, bowing lightly before making your way out of the stall the very next second, making your way to Misha’s usual place with shaky legs, the surge of confidence wearing down by the second.

After having been subjected to praises and sweet words of affection, this was a punch in the gut to say the least, and maybe that’s why you were overreacting. It’s really easy to cross the line from playful to not, and that was what happened.

“Oh, ___! Hey, I was looking for you. Misha was calling you, if you don’t mind?” Jeongguk rubbed the back of his neck nervously, shifting on his feet nervously. As if you could really say no to his adorable face.

“Yeah, I was just going there. Thanks for letting me know.” You patted his elbow lightly.

“Yeah…” He mumbled, dazed, as he watched you make your way to Misha. If heart eyes were a person, it would definitely be Jeon Jeongguk.

“___! My favorite girl.” Misha exclaimed as you made your way inside her ‘cabin’.

In reality, it was just a small broom closet, cleaned to perfection and decorated with neutral tones, with small pots of green scattered here and there in a futile attempt to brighten up the place.

“Misha, hello.” You mumbled as you sat on the floor in front of her on your knees, lips parting in an inaudible wince at the feeling.

“Here, baby.” She removed a pillow from her side and put it below your knees, watching as you blushed slightly before moving closer to her.

“Not your baby.” You retorted, spreading her legs gently and pushing your head to the crevice between her thighs. Your nose met her clit, the woman above you letting out a small moan at the stimulation. Your hands gripped her thighs, rubbing small circles there with your thumbs.

“But you could be.” She chuffed, making you bite down on her clit lightly.

“Okay, okay! Slowly, baby, don’t go too hard, alright?” By now you knew that her tone was essentially a code word signifying her want to be worshiped, treated like a goddess, and taken time to properly arouse, love and lick.

The smell of her pussy was the sweetest candy you have ever tasted on a woman. You darted the tip of your tongue out, licking at her clit, slowly. Tasting her juices, watching as it elicited a soft sigh from her. It had been a long time since you ate her out, but she tasted the same as ever. You angled your head into her folds, nudging her legs further apart.

“Taste good?” She mumbled, her voice seductive and inviting, combing through your hair. An outsider may have just thought you two were lovers by the sheer passion of it all.

“Hmm. More.” You whimpered with your eyes closed, continuing to savor her at your own pace.

With shaky hands, you pried her thighs apart, gaining better access to her cunt. You immediately lapped at her clit, drawing ‘eights’ with the tip of your tongue before wrapping your mouth around it and sucking it into your mouth. A groan left her mouth, and you could feel her hand clench at her side before it came down to guide your tongue into her hole.

With need coursing through your veins, you thrust your tongue into her tight hole, still continuing with your slow pace. Her scent was stronger now; you almost felt drunk on it.

You heard the door open, but you were too far gone into your actions that everything seemed to be a blur except for your desire to taste the woman. You could feel her motions on your hand stop and you whined. A beat of silence ensued before she was continuing with her tender motions and you were back to lazily licking at her wetness.

The same clicking sound was heard again and Misha placed her hand on your cheeks, moving your body upwards to her, placing your head in the crook of her neck as you shivered. She ignored your protests, cooing at the pout on your face before guiding you towards her lips. You lapped at them hungrily, like a woman starved of the simple pleasure of warmth.

Misha pulled you away from her far too quickly for your liking, caressing your cheeks and shushing you lightly. “Baby, baby, baby, what’s gotten into you today? You aren’t usually so placid. Tell me, I’ll make it better.”

You ignored her, moving towards the dip of her chest, before shaking your head.

“___, tell me.” She spoke, a little more aggressive than you could have handled in your state of mind,

“Don’t be mean.” You pouted.

“Then tell me what’s wrong.”

“I made Jin cum and I think Mr. Park is mad at me.” You whispered your worries to her.

“Oh, shit. Uh wow. Did he scold you or call you to his room after or… anything at all? Are you in trouble?”

“No, he didn’t, but his tone was like,” You struggled to find the right words. “When you make fun of me when you see me trip over the cables in the main room. I still don’t like it when you do that.”

“And you think I’m mocking you when I do that?” Misha questioned, to which you nodded your head.

“Oh my god.” She whispered under her breath. “Silly girl, I don’t make fun of you when I say that. It’s adorable that you are clumsy sometimes. You look around with those terrified eyes of yours, when actually many of us already saw you trip.”

“Are you freaking kidding me? Everyone saw that? How am I gonna show my face to them now?” You threw your hands around, exasperated at the revelation.

She chuckled before bringing your attention back to her. “See, you’re so cute. Now, back to what we were discussing. I wouldn’t be afraid if I were you, ___. Really, just trust me on this one.”

“But why? Gimme a reason at least!”

“I’m older, I’ve seen the ways of the world more than you have, so shut your pretty mouth up and listen.” You immediately zipped your mouth, waiting patiently for her next words.

“Boys are icky but you do you, baby. If Mr. Park indeed got mad, and he confronts you or whatever, repeat the exact same words I’m gonna tell you, alright?”

You nod, anticipation heavy in your eyes.

“Tell him to go suck his own dick and hope he chokes on his cum.”

A terrified gasp and maniacal laugh were heard simultaneously in the room.

“Misha! Are you crazy? Is this your villain arc or something? I’d get fired in an instant.”

“Hey, babe, you never know what that sneaky little shit is into, okay? I’m just very inclusive to all tastes and preferences.” She had the audacity to wink at you.

“Yeah, Misha, no. As much as I love you, you’re fucking crazy.”

“Aww, you love me? I’m a pile of mush now, save me!” She squished your cheeks in her hand, pecking the skin peaking out softly.

“Misha- oh,” You heard Yoongi’s voice in the room, dying down towards the end. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb the two of you.” His tone turned gruff at the end.

“Nah, it’s cool. I was just about to come out anyway.” She shot you a cheeky smile and helped you get up from your frozen state, pushing you down on the sofa before walking out with Yoongi on her tail.

“See you later, babe.”

…

“Jimin, what the actual fuck did you do? Did you have to be so condescending?”

“I wasn’t trying to! It just came out like fucking word vomit!” Jimin grumbled, holding his head in his hands like a man defeated.

“Well, thank you for messing everything up. How do you suppose we rectify this, you brat?” Jin scoffed, fighting the urge to snap.

“I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“Now, you morons, I will be calling in for a favor and y’all better be grateful that our girl doesn’t slip from our hands before we have even treated her right.”

“What are you going on about?” Namjoon mumbled, rolling his eyes at another one of Jin’s stupid schemes.

“You’ll see.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. @scentedsope @pb-n-juju @ot7nem @bangtanflirt @purplebtsmagic @kookstempo @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @likeshatteredrainbowglass @natalia-rmnva @myyeoubi @sebootyforlife @seongsanniehwa @dumb-cxm-slxt @maichiverse @portia-bts @sybilvvriting @taestrwbrry @bt21chim @daydreamqueenjaycee @leatherbabyfairy @dollhobigem @singukieee @malewife-supremacy @jeontier @mageprincess7 @effielumiere @mrcleanheichou @blushingatyou @doublebunv @chieftoadturkeynickel @laura-naruto-fan1998 @borataehyungiee @readers-posts @totallynoanalien @ftyoongi @faceaeter @tinyoonsblog @just-me-and-myselfs @their-tongue-technology @jksjx @rjsmochii @kyrah-williams @paymeinkash @lovely-joon @floral-recs @dahliasbouqet @dreamamubarak @cjphoenix-blog @yn-lifeu @ohshutupjimin @drarry-4-lifers @kimsaerom

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

look down on me like that - 7 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst)

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: 8.9k

contains: ~explicit sexual content~ !! alcohol mention, baby goth jungkookie 👀 some appreciation of jimin's ass 🍑 wonho is back !!! reader continues to be goin through it, jimin pulls no punches this chapter he rly said the library is open, could it be..... a.... softer yoongi???, i put some of yoongi's actual achievements as a producer in here (yes that's a warning), suckin' dick and fuckin' in the office yktfv (but make it Riskier™️), inadvisable methods of dealing with presentation anxiety, protected sex, a half-kiss that i fully expect to be screamed at about, some Sad Yoongi Backstory is unlocked (and yes it's real 🥲), and???? feelings??? maybe????????

A/N: ohhhhhh man we're back back again 🫡 i really did not think this chapter was gonna go that hard and then suddenly sdkjgdfljg i don't even know what happened. thank you so much for your patience bc i know it's been a minute 🥺 and i really really hope y'all enjoy and can't wait to hear what you think !!!! 💜 AND I CAN ALREADY TELL YOU Y'ALL AREN'T READY FOR CHAPTER 8...... (i'm not even ready 😩)

ALL MY LOVE TO @haliiimede FOR BETA READING ILY SORRY I FORGOT TO CREDIT YOU THROW ME AWAY

read on AO3!

chapter six | masterlist | chapter eight

~*~

“Jungkook?”

His nose scrunches up a little when he laughs. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“I-I… I just—” You stammer, trying to remember how to make words happen. It feels like your brain is on a five-second delay. “You, uh, look different. Your outfit.”

You’ve interacted with your baby-faced coworker literally hundreds of times at this point, and in that time you’ve become well-accustomed to seeing him in his standard corporate attire, slacks and button-downs, or occasionally changed out for boxing class, muscle tees and sweatpants.

But you have never seen him dressed like this. All black, head-to-toe. His t-shirt and over-shirt are both baggy while somehow still managing to hug tight around his biceps and the solid muscle of his chest. A silver chain dangles from one of the belt loops of his slouchy utility pants, which are in turn tucked into chunky combat boots that easily give him an extra two inches of height. A matching thick silver chain is clasped around his neck, glittering in the dim light of dusk outside your front door.

Jungkook frowns as he looks down at himself, like he doesn’t even recall what he’s wearing. “I always dress like this,” he remarks with a shrug. “Just, not at work.”

“I cannot believe you,” you say, somewhat breathless as your eyes trace down his body and back up.

“What?” He laughs again. “What did I do?”

“First you keep from me that you have dogs, and now I found out you’re goth, too? What else are you hiding, Jeon Jungkook?!”

“I’m not hiding anything! These things never came up!” He sounds so flustered that you can’t help but smile, and you see a clear expression of relief flash over his face as he seems to realize you’re not actually mad.

You shake your head, digging into your purse to retrieve your phone as you brush past him, letting the front door slam shut behind you. “That’s it. Baby Star Candy is dead. You are officially Baby Goth now. Changing your contact name and everything.”

When you turn to look at him over your shoulder, he’s still smiling, still standing dumbfounded on your doorstep.

“Come on, Baby Goth!” You can’t quite suppress the laughter in your voice. “I don’t want to be late!”

As the two of you slip into Jungkook’s car and he starts to pull out of your apartment complex, he glances over at you. ”So, what did you get up to today? I feel like I barely saw you.”

Your gut twists as it all comes rushing back— that mere hours ago Yoongi had you pressed against the door of his office, his hand up your dress, while he went through an entire business conversation with none-the-wiser Jungkook on the other side. And that once Jungkook had left, you’d turned around and practically begged Yoongi to fuck you where you stood, right up against his fucking door. And he had.

Your chest constricts a little at the thought. Sex, in the office, in the middle of the workday. Like an idiot.

You wish you could say you regret it.

Heat rushes to your face, and you fumble for an answer to Jungkook’s question. “I just, uh— today… was a lot.” You hope your smile is more convincing than it feels, and you hope you’re just imagining the way Jungkook’s eyes linger on you for an extra second before his gaze flits back to the road.

“Well,” he thumbs at the volume control on the steering wheel, turning up the radio a couple notches. “Now we get to have fun. Work hard, play hard, right?”

Your nerves start to recede again as you fall into the comfortable routine of time spent with Jungkook. It’s funny to you now that you thought it might be any different to interact with him outside of work.

Apart from the mildly distracting fit of his shirt, Jungkook is exactly the same— wide eyes sparkling in the headlights of passing cars as he babbles on about TikTok, then interrupts himself to sing along to the radio. He only pauses for breath when you interject with directions to the venue, until he’s finally pulling into a parking space and turning the key to kill the engine.

Jungkook gazes up in awe as you have your tickets scanned and lead him into the venue entrance, clearly trying to take it all in. This is one of your favorite places to see Jimin perform, and it’s still overwhelmingly impressive, even though you’ve seen it dozens of times now.

“Wow, this place is really nice. Your friend must be a pretty big deal.”

“Jimin is a huge deal,” you say with a nod and a shrug, used to it. “You’ll understand why when you see him dance… And also when you see his ass.” You giggle a little, unable to help yourself.

Jungkook laughs too, eyebrows lifting off his forehead like he wasn’t expecting that response.

You wave him down a hallway towards the center of the venue. “Come on, Baby Goth, we’re in VIP.”

His brows lift impossibly higher. “What does that mean?”

You shoot him a wink. “It means we drink for free.”

You know the route by heart as you emerge from the hallway and lead Jungkook towards the front, where you flash your tickets again to be let into a section close to the stage.

Jungkook eagerly volunteers to get the first round, and you’re thankful he isn’t gone long. Alone with your thoughts is the last thing you want to be right now— at least not while sober. When he hands you your drink, you lean in to tap the plastic edge of your cup against his in a cheers.

“To working hard and playing hard,” you smirk as you repeat his line back to him, then pause. “Just— please do not share anything I say tonight with anyone at work.”

“I swear,” Jungkook nods, and you can’t help but smile when he holds out the pinky of his free hand. You link yours with his to seal the deal. “I’m good at keeping secrets,” he says earnestly.

“Right, like you kept the secret of Yoongi’s lock code?”

His face immediately reddens. “That was different.” He covers the awkward pause— or maybe you’re just imagining it— when he takes a sip of his drink, then continues. “Did you ever end up using it?”

Your heart drops into your stomach, and you exhale in relief when at that moment, the lights start to dim, and the now filled-in crowd begins to cheer in anticipation. You wave a hand at Jungkook as if to indicate you’ll tell him later, and you pray he won’t remember to bring it up again.

As the dancers take the stage, you lean over to point Jimin out to Jungkook, though you know as soon as he starts moving you won’t have to. Everyone is talented, but there’s something about the way your best friend dances that makes it impossible to watch anyone else. He can nail any style, can convey so much story and emotion through his movements, can execute choreography flawlessly while still doing it in his own unique way.

After the first few songs, you’re both on your feet, and when Jungkook leans toward you to be heard over the music, you’re certain he’s about to gush over how good Jimin is, the way everyone does the first time they see him perform.

“You weren’t kidding about his ass!” He half-shouts instead, and you nearly drop your drink. Jungkook stares openly at Jimin as he moves across the stage, both powerful and graceful. His head tilts slightly to one side. “I mean. Wow.”

The alcohol makes you laugh easily and loud. You have to take a moment to catch your breath before you can respond. “Okay, Jungkook!”

“What?” Jungkook is laughing now, too. “I can appreciate a nice ass, regardless of who it’s attached to!” There’s a pause as you both giggle and catch your breath. “But uh— please don’t share that at work.”

You extend your pinky first this time. “Promise.”

Jungkook smiles as he locks his finger with yours, then drops your hand. The song has ended, so he doesn’t have to talk quite so loud as he continues. “He really is talented, too.”

You nod. “Jimin was a trainee for a few years, but I think he’s a lot happier just dancing like this. It was a lot of pressure.”

Soft synths of the intro to the next song have already started to build, and when the beat kicks in, Jungkook’s eyes go wide, and he looks up with a grin. “Oh shit! I fucking love this song!”

You giggle. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before.”

He glances at you over the rim of his cup, his smile growing cocky. “Well, you’ve never gotten drunk with me before. The things you miss when you leave happy hour early.”

Your heart sinks a little at the memory, and you’re grateful Jungkook is already lost in his own world, bopping along to the upbeat song, so he doesn’t seem to notice the way your face falls. It’s like Yoongi has left fingerprints all over your life, and no matter what you do, you can’t get rid of them.

You take a long pull of your drink until you hit the bottom.

Jungkook is a welcome distraction to it all. By the final chorus of the song that you now recognize as an EXO cover, he’s fully gotten into it, unable to stand still and launching into some on-the-spot choreography. When he executes a dangerously well-performed body roll, your jaw drops.

“I think you missed your calling,” you shout over the music. “You should’ve been an idol!”

“Yeah?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, hips still moving fluidly. “Think I’d be as good as Kai?”

You nod. “Oh yeah. I can see it now.” You gesture as if reading off a magazine headline. “Heartthrob Jeon Jungkook. But they’d call you Baby Star Candy, of course.”

Jungkook smiles at you, striking a final deliberate pose for the last note of the song. “I thought I was Baby Goth now?”

You smirk as you correct him. “Only I’m allowed to call you that. Your army of fangirls will have to get in line.”

It’s like the lack of music backing him up makes him go shy, and you watch the way Jungkook’s cheeks flush, the way his nose scrunches when he laughs and waves the idea away. “I’m good. Think I’ll stick to TikTok.”

You giggle through another two drinks before the show is over, and as the dancers leave with a final wave, you cheer extra loud for Jimin until he glances your way and sticks his tongue out at you. When the house lights come up, you nod for Jungkook to follow you, making your way past more security to the back of the venue to meet Jimin at the stage door.

You can’t help but laugh a little in surprise when you round the corner to see a familiar face amidst the small group already waiting. Wonho is leaning up against the wall, looking hilariously small and nervous for how large his frame is, and clutching a bouquet of roses as red as his hair.

Biting your lip, you wave at him, and he waves back, but neither of you move to say anything else.

You can’t quite shake the embarrassment that comes with being reminded of the night you first met Wonho. Just another set of stupid Yoongi fingerprints.

Jimin emerges from the stage door a few minutes later, unceremoniously dropping the dance bag slung over his arm when his eyes land on Wonho waiting for him.

“Aw, baby!” Jimin pouts in disbelief as he accepts the roses, only to then immediately be swept up into a bridal carry. He squeaks when Wonho effortlessly lifts him off the ground.

You roll your eyes despite the smile that creeps across your face. “You two are ridiculous.”

Jimin shoots you a sour look. “Can you let me have a whirlwind romance for once in my damn life, please?” He takes Wonho’s face in both hands to kiss him squarely on the mouth.

Jungkook is clearly still processing all of this, radiating ‘confused but happy to be here’ energy as he scoops Jimin’s abandoned dance bag off the floor to carry it over his shoulder.

Jimin sideeyes Jungkook as he pulls away. “And who is this man touching my stuff?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, and he glances at the bag like maybe he should put it back down.

You reach up to smack Jimin on the arm. “Shut up. This is my friend and coworker, Jungkook. Be nice to him.”

“I’m not going to be nice to anyone until I get some fucking food,” Jimin snaps. His toes point as he kicks his feet daintily in Wonho’s arms, a dancer through and through. “Can we go eat now?”

Your first stop is a restaurant near the venue where you order a metric ton of brisket at Jimin’s demand. While Wonho and Jungkook easily destroy most of it between the two of them, your best friend still seems to have enough to improve his mood. It probably helps that Wonho hand-feeds the majority of it to him.

When he’s not gazing adoringly at his boyfriend, Jimin is attempting to communicate with you using solely his eyes, which keep darting over to Jungkook, his brows lifting in a silent question.

You tighten your jaw and do your best to subliminally shake your head without attracting Jungkook’s attention. Thankfully Jungkook doesn’t seem to remember that there’s anything else in the world except his plate of food.

Jimin narrows his gaze at you, his universal signal for “we’ll discuss this later”, and dread floods in the pit of your stomach.

Sure enough, when you finish your meal and move to a table at the bar down the street, Jimin sweetly suggests that Wonho and Jungkook go together to grab the first round of drinks, giving no indication that he has any sort of ulterior motive. They shrug and nod, Jungkook immediately starting to quiz Wonho on his protein intake as they depart.

Jimin pounces as soon as you’re alone again. “I’m sorry, you’re having a sordid office sex affair with a coworker and you’re telling me it’s not this man?!”

You roll your eyes. “No, Jimin.”

Jimin sucks his teeth, clearly unimpressed. “I thought I raised you better than this. I’m about to make him my hot goth girlfriend if you don’t.”

“You literally have a boyfriend.”

His brows pinch together, like he’s confused why that matters. “Wonho would love a third. He can barely keep up with me. But don’t change the subject.” He leans forward, arms folded on the table as he stares you down. “Babygirl, why on earth are you wasting your time fucking a man you don’t like, when you clearly have some very nice alternatives available to you?”

“I’m not doing that anymore,” you scowl. “The correct number of coworkers I should be fucking is zero.” It feels like Jimin’s gaze is drilling right to the depths of your soul, and you press your face into your hands as alcohol loosens your lips and the guilt overflows. “…Even though the actual number of coworkers I fucked today is one.”

“Bitch!” Jimin’s hand smacks loud against the wood grain, enough to make you flinch a little. “You have got to be fucking joking!”

You shake your head silently into your palms.

“At the office?!”

You nod pathetically for a few moments before dropping your arms down on the table with a whine, your forehead quickly following. “I don’t even know what happened. It’s like when I’m around him my brain malfunctions.”

Jimin goes uncharacteristically silent, and when you dare to peek up at him, his lips are pursed slightly as if in thought. “Are you sure you hate him?”

The question makes you sit back up. “What does that mean?”

He shrugs, feigning innocence. “I don’t know, it’s just... if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that kinda sounds like a crush.”

You instantly make a face of disgust. “What?! No. Absolutely not. I know I hate him. He’s a nightmare. He’s cocky and insufferable—”

“So am I,” Jimin interrupts, crossing his arms over his chest. “And you love me.”

You open your mouth to argue back, but he lifts a single finger to quiet you.

“I’m not done.” He pauses, and there’s an immediate sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. “What I see right now—” Jimin gestures in the direction of the bar “—is a fit, handsome, and seemingly very nice man who has spent the whole night looking at you like you put the fucking stars in the sky. And yet here you are, still talking about Suga, like you’ve been doing nonstop for the last month, who apparently has such a hold on you that he can make your panties drop during business hours. Yet I’m supposed to believe you hate him? This math is not mathing, love.”

It’s only when he stops talking that you realize your pulse is racing.

“Jimin,” you breathe. You double-blink, hot all over with a rush of sudden shame, trying to will away the sting at the corners of your eyes. “That’s not fair.”

Jimin’s gaze stays locked on yours as he refuses to back down even an inch. “Answer me this: would you be reacting this way if you really did hate him?”

Your jaw drops in disbelief, but you only get a beat of silence to attempt to process your best friend’s comments before Jungkook is thudding a glass of beer on the table in front of you.

“Sorry that took a second! It’s busy tonight,” Jungkook says brightly as Wonho moves around to the remaining open seat. “What were you guys talking about?”

Jimin fixes Jungkook in a blank stare. “Menstruation,” he replies flatly, not missing a beat.

You cling to your drink for dear life as the conversation continues on around you, and you do your best to smile and nod while you try not to replay Jimin’s words back a million times in your mind. But it’s a losing battle.

As your head spins, you run through the list of things you know to be true. Min Yoongi is your coworker. Min Yoongi is unquestionably an asshole. Min Yoongi has, since your very first day, embarrassed you, belittled you, lied to you, even threatened your job. Min Yoongi has never shown an ounce of evidence that he cares for you in any way. Your eyes flit aimlessly around the room as you try to think. Min Yoongi is—

Your heart drops into your gut. Min Yoongi is sitting at the end of the bar.

It’s not real.

This can’t be real, you tell yourself. It’s just the long, strange day and several drinks you’ve had working together to play tricks on your brain.

You blink hard, willing Yoongi’s face to morph back into that of some stranger, but when you open your eyes again, he’s just as real, exactly the same as before.

Except for the fact that he’s now staring at you.

Yoongi’s mouth goes slack, like he’s coming to the same realization as you— that the two of you have managed to find yourselves in the same place at the same time, completely by chance.

You stand up so fast you nearly knock your drink over. All three heads at the table swivel to look at you, and Jungkook speaks first.

“You okay?”

“Uh, y-yeah, yes,” you stammer unconvincingly. “Just gonna grab another beer.” Your eyes glance back up to search for Yoongi again, but they don’t immediately catch sight of him, and you don’t dare look for too long.

“You still have half of this one left,” Jimin remarks dryly.

Your gaze returns to your drink and you choose the first option that occurs to you: you down the rest in one swig and slam the empty glass on the table. All three pairs of eyes on you go wide.

“I’ll get another one for everyone, be right back!” You grit your teeth in something that you hope approximates a smile, then start to head for the bar, your heart already racing with anticipation.

After a few steps, a hand on the small of your back startles you, enough to make you freeze in place.

When you look over your shoulder, you see it’s Jungkook, also on his feet and right behind you. “Do you want help with the drinks?” He leans into your ear to ask the question, probably to be heard over the din of the bar. Your head is spinning from the rush of alcohol and from getting to your feet so fast. You don’t remember Jungkook smelling this good, or his voice being this low.

You turn to face him to answer and wow, now he’s really close. You sway slightly, a little unsteady on your feet, as your eyes meet his and your face flushes. “Oh, uh— no, I’m okay. But thanks, JK.”

There’s an extra second where neither of you say anything, Jungkook’s hand still pressed to your back, warm against the thin fabric of your dress. Then he nods and turns to head back to the table.

Your brain can hardly hold space for anything else as you spin towards the bar again, trying to catch sight of Yoongi through the crowd of people that only seems to have grown in the last few minutes. You weave through the mass of bodies with a combination of mildly polite apologies and stubborn determination, until you make it all the way up to the bar—

—where there is absolutely no sign of Yoongi. Gone without a trace, the barstool where you swear you just saw him now left empty.

You squeeze your eyes shut and exhale, willing your pulse to return to a normal pace. Maybe it was just your imagination, a trick of the light, a side-effect of an alcohol-dizzy brain and all this overthinking. Maybe you didn’t actually see what you thought you saw. Maybe…

It’s only when your eyes flutter open that you notice it. A nearly full glass of whiskey sitting abandoned on the bar, directly in front of the empty stool.

Before you can even think about why you’re doing it, you’re moving again, now fully shoving your way through the crowd of people until your palms find the glass of the front door and push hard. You stumble out of the bar, the cold night air like a slap to the face as you belatedly realize you left your jacket slung over the back of your chair.

Wrapping your arms around yourself with a shiver, you step out properly onto the sidewalk. Groups of passersby part down the middle to walk around you, and if they shoot you dirty looks, you miss them entirely. Your head whips one way, then the other, looking for— you’re not even sure what. A flash of familiarity, maybe, a glimpse of something, anything. If only just for reassurance that you didn’t make it all up.

Someone calls your name.

You spin around, your pulse thudding in your ears, only to belatedly realize it’s coming from the entrance of the bar, where Jungkook is standing, holding the door half-open as he leans through.

“What are you doing?” He steps out, letting the door fall shut behind him as he crosses to you. You don’t know why something in your gut twists, why you’re suddenly hit with the urge to scream at him. Didn’t you tell him not to follow you?

Jungkook continues when you don’t respond, his brow pinched with concern. “What’s wrong? Why are you out here?”

The question feels impossible to answer. You can’t think straight enough to make sense of any of it— why you went after Yoongi, what you planned to do when you caught up to him, why it even matters to you at all that he was here tonight.

Jimin’s words echo in your skull, deafening.

“I—” you stammer, giving the only answer you can. “I don’t know.”

A gust of cold air makes you shudder hard, and Jungkook’s hands have suddenly closed over yours on your upper arms, dry heat against your icy skin.

“It’s freezing out here,” he murmurs, clearly still confused. He shifts to wrap an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and you don’t fight it.

Emotional exhaustion takes over, and as you allow Jungkook to lead you back inside, you do your best not to think about anything at all.

~*~

The weekend blinks by far too quickly, and the dread of Monday morning looms over you, all the little moments from Friday stacked like a heavy weight in the pit of your stomach.

You don’t hear from Jimin after Jungkook drops you off that night, and you’re too stubborn to text first, secretly hoping he’ll make the first move and apologize for reading you for filth unprovoked. But considering how busy he’s been with rehearsals leading up to the show, you doubt he and Wonho leave his bedroom all weekend.

Which means that when Monday morning comes, you have to face it alone.

Thankfully, you have no shortage of work to distract yourself with, so you try to keep your head down and focus, flitting between meetings, calls, spreadsheets, emails, paperwork, slide decks. You make polite conversation with Jungkook as always, but you keep it brief. When you take lunch at your desk, you tell yourself it’s just because you’re busy. That’s all.

You work and you work and you desperately try not to think about anything else. Your coworkers slowly start to trickle out as the day wraps up, but you barely pay them any mind, only half-heartedly returning the farewells called over their shoulders as they push through the glass doors.

When you finally sit back, it’s only because your vision is burning from endless screen time. You’re not even sure you’ve remembered to blink. You press your face into your hands to give your weary eyes a break, before glancing at the clock, eyes widening at the realization that it’s already past seven.

A wave of anxiety floods your veins as it occurs to you that you haven’t seen Yoongi leave yet— you would’ve noticed. You set your jaw as you reach for your phone.

Are you still here?

The response is nearly immediate.

Presentation room.

Better than his damn office, you think to yourself, and then two more texts pop up.

Need more time.

A lot more.

Fucking hell.

You shove your chair back and get to your feet, acting on impulse more than anything else. As you storm down the hallway, you will yourself not to be reminded of shoving through the crowded bar and stumbling into the street Friday night. You were just drunk, and surprised. This is different. It has to be.

You bang open the door to the presentation room with enough force to surprise even yourself.

“Now, Yoongi,” you snap.

He’s seated in the chair behind the podium at the front of the room, slouched over his laptop, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Despite your dramatic entrance, he doesn’t so much as glance up.

“Just give me like, ten minutes.” He winces at the screen of his computer. “Maybe twenty.”

You cross your arms in frustration. “Some of us are tired, Yoongi.”

At this, his head snaps up. “Well, some of us got tapped to give a fucking presentation to the visiting overseas team. Tomorrow!”

You take a step back, your eyes widening at his tone. You haven’t heard him genuinely raise his voice like this— not since the argument during your very first team meeting.

“Not like I don’t have shit that I’m supposed to be working on,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, eyes returning to squint at his laptop. You notice now that it’s connected to the screen at the front of the room, and you can see him scrolling through the slides of a presentation, pausing occasionally to add in speaking notes.

You blink, trying to keep up. “Why did they tap you?”

“A great question,” he huffs. “Apparently they’re curious about who the producer with the Grammy nomination is. I’m being asked to do a ‘high-level timeline of my career and accomplishments’. Guess these assholes haven’t heard of Wikipedia.”

“That’s… stupid.”

Yoongi looks up again, his mouth dropping open slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that response. He finally manages to speak as his gaze jumps back down to his slides. “Thank you. That’s what I said. I tried to get out of it, but it appears I am being forced.”

“I didn’t think you could be forced to do anything.”

“You’d be surprised,” he mumbles under his breath, paired with a dry laugh. “I’ve been forced into dealing with your ass, haven’t I?” His eyes don’t move from the screen.

A smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth before you can stop it, and you step further into the space. The room is set up with three large, unnecessarily fancy tables, reclaimed wood, arranged in a U shape facing the podium and screen at the front of the room.

Taking your time, you cross behind the tables and head for the seat furthest away from the podium, dead center. When you get there, rather than pull the chair out, you spin around to sit your ass on the wooden surface, turning in a half-circle so that your legs dangle off the edge, palms flat on either side of you.

You stare Yoongi down from across the room as he continues to fiddle with his laptop. “Let’s hear it, then.” When his eyes find yours, you tilt your head to the side expectantly. “It’s good to practice with an audience. You should be thanking me.”

For a moment, you think he might try to argue with you, but to your surprise, he gets to his feet with a resigned sigh. He presses a button on his laptop, and the presentation goes full-screen, flipping back to the first slide.

His mouth tightens as his fingertips grip the wooden edge of the podium.

“Good morning everyone, my name is Min Yoongi. I’m also known by my producer pseudonym, Suga.” His deep voice is monotone, edged rough like gravel, like there’s nothing he’d rather be doing less.

You fold your arms again, surveying Yoongi carefully as he continues. Your eyes widen in surprise when only a few sentences in, he outright trips over his words, stuttering an impressive amount before he manages to get back on track. His gaze remains at a fixed point on the floor, unmoving, and he speaks like his presentation is one endless sentence, without so much as a pause.

“Stop,” you call from your spot opposite him. The command comes out louder than you expect.

Yoongi’s head snaps up again, but to his credit, he stops talking.

“Start over,” you say simply. “Remember to breathe this time.”

Yoongi blinks once, twice, then silently taps through his slides to the beginning. You hear him take a tentative inhale before he starts. “Good morning everyone, my name is Min Yoongi.”

He takes it slower this time, getting past where you stopped him before, until a moment where he falls silent. You see his face twist slightly as color blooms in the apples of his cheeks. “Uh, shit. I forgot what my next thing was. Fuck, hang on.” He fumbles with the trackpad of his laptop, and you huff a laugh of disbelief.

“Oh my god.” You can’t quite manage to bite back your smile. “You do have a weakness.”

“I just hate presentations,” Yoongi sighs, his mouth pulling up into a flat line. “The whole point of being a producer is that I can stay in my studio and not have to deal with people.”

Your fingers tap against the edge of the table, intrigued. You’ve never seen him like this before. “You just need to fucking relax, Yoongi.”

“You say that like that’s something I know how to do,” he mutters, so low you wonder if you were supposed to hear it.

You’re on your feet and crossing the room before you can second-guess the thought. Yoongi glances up with a face that reads mild confusion, and the expression only deepens when you place both hands on his chest and firmly shove him. As he’s clearly not expecting it, it’s enough of a push to knock him off-balance, and he has to take a few steps back to steady himself.

“What are y—” The question dies in Yoongi’s throat as you sink to your knees in front of him. He’s moved just slightly out of reach, and you gaze up at him through your lashes and beckon him towards you with a single finger.

He steps forward as if drawn in, like a moth to a flame.

If there’s a part of you that tells you to pause and think about this before you do it, you can’t hear it over the deafening silence in the room. And the last thing you want to do right now is think.

Close enough to touch now, you flatten your palms to slide up the smooth fabric of Yoongi’s joggers, teasing your fingers over the waistband when you get there. You glance at him again, half expecting him to tell you to stop, but his only response is the jerk of his adam's apple in a hard swallow.

A thrill runs through you at the idea of doing this here, perfectly hidden behind the podium.

“Start from the beginning again,” you instruct, your voice low and even. “If you can do it like this, you can do it tomorrow.”

A muscle in Yoongi’s jaw jumps, and he nods almost imperceptibly. You don’t move an inch until he inhales and starts over. His voice isn’t quite as steady this time. “Good morning everyone, my name is Min Yoongi.”

With a self-satisfied smirk, you hook your fingers under both his joggers and boxers at once and firmly push them down. His dick has only barely started to harden, which makes sense, given his nerves and your wholly unexpected ambush.

The thought of feeling his cock grow in your mouth, get heavy on your tongue, makes arousal start to pool in your gut.

He’s still talking, hasn’t even stumbled once yet, so you reward him with a finger curled under the head of his dick, lifting it up to be flush with his stomach. You take your time as you drag your tongue up his exposed shaft, laid flat against the prominent veins there. When you reach the tip, you shift to grip him at the base so you can kitten lick at his frenulum, purposefully teasing.

Yoongi just barely manages to disguise his groan as a cough, and you pull back, smirking a little. “What was that?”

He exhales, clearly trying to regain focus as he continues where he left off. “I have over 100 KOMCA credits as a songwriter and producer.” You hum approvingly and take him into your mouth.

As you hollow your cheeks and begin to suck, you can feel the way he swells to stretch you, pulsing warm, and it only encourages you. Your hands move to grip at his thighs, and when you take him deeper, head bobbing steadily, you taste the salt of his precum as he starts to drip.

You let your tongue loll out past your bottom lip to lap further down his shaft, and this time there’s no questioning the sound he makes: a distinct, breathy whimper. It’s enough to coax a wicked smile out of you, and you have to pull off his cock briefly to keep from gagging. You pause to admire the way it shines, glossed wet with your drool.

Your lips chase after him almost immediately, sucking just the tip in, and you swirl your tongue over it in lazy, sloppy circles.

Yoongi is clearly struggling to keep his composure now. “I was the first— oh, fuck.” He cuts himself off with a proper moan when you take him down as far as you can without warning. He hits the back of your throat and you keep him there, forcing yourself to swallow, your throat spasming around his length as you choke on it.

He tries again. “The f-first artist to win MAMA's 'Best Collaboration' award— m-multiple times.”

You finally pull off to gasp for air, a few strings of spit still connecting his now leaking-hard cock to your lips. Yoongi makes another soft noise at the loss, and you gaze up at him as you pant, reveling in the look of near-distress on his face.

“Finish the presentation,” you purr, your voice slightly hoarse from having just shoved his cock down your throat.

Yoongi’s eyes squeeze shut as he continues, and you lean forward, taking him into your mouth again tongue-first. You waste no time sucking him back into the tight clutch of your throat, and your fingertips dig bruises into the skin of his thighs to keep him from bucking his hips up.

You refuse to relinquish control. Not yet.

His hands cup the back of your head like he’s clinging on for dear life as he keeps trying to get the words out. “T-the collaboration netted me my first fuck—ing Grammy nomination. I— nnh— look forward to attending the ceremony in person next week, and I— I-I feel confident about our chances for success. Shit.”

With this, you realize that he’s made it all the way through his talking points, and you pull off his dick with a wet pop.

“There,” you smirk, pausing to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before getting to your feet again. The steady pulse between your legs is hard to ignore. “Was that so hard?”

“God dammit,” Yoongi’s voice is heady and dark as he steps in to close the distance between you. “I need to fuck you.”

You quirk an eyebrow, a little surprised by the bold statement. “Need?”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes that makes your cunt clench. “Get on the fucking table.”

Even as you follow his order, you can’t shake the feeling of still being in control, nor the smug satisfaction earned from making this man come undone so very easily. You hike your dress up slightly before perching on the table closest to the front of the room, your teeth raking over your bottom lip in anticipation.

Yoongi’s already standing in front of you, and his hands slide under your hips to firmly drag your ass to the edge of the table. In two swift movements he shoves your dress further up your thighs, then hooks his fingers under the lace of your panties and pulls them down, tugging them off one ankle entirely and leaving them to dangle from the other.

It’s only when your legs drop open that his hurried pace slows. He pauses, with a soft hum.

You inhale sharply when he lifts a hand up to brush over you. His fingers press against your folds in a V shape, teasingly pulling your pussy lips apart. Just the small motion is already enough to earn him a slick noise.

“Or,” he murmurs, “maybe I should repay the favor?”

Your chest constricts at the thought when you realize what he means. Going down on you, here, in a conference room, where anyone could technically walk in and see. It’s after hours, but you didn’t lock the front door— it’s not unheard of for someone to forget something at the office and double-back for it. It feels too luxurious, too dangerous. In more ways than one.

“We don’t have time, Yoongi.” Your hands fist in his shirt to pull him closer, and he steps in between your spread legs. “Just fuck me.”

The look on his face makes you wonder if you’re missing out. “Suit yourself.”

He fumbles into the pocket of his still pushed-down joggers to retrieve his wallet and fish out the condom tucked inside. A shiver runs up your spine as he tears it open and rolls it over his length.

Yoongi glances up at you when it’s all the way on, one hand pressing into the table behind you for leverage as he uses the other to line himself up with your entrance. It’s only now that you realize how very close to you he is. You’ve never done this face-to-face before.

With no prep, the stretch of him is nearly overwhelming when he pushes in, and you gasp. Yoongi stops when you do, only the very tip of him nudged inside of you.

“Hurts?”

“Not in the bad way,” you murmur, and he pushes in a little further, slow enough that you can feel every inch of him working your pussy open. Your fingers grip the edge of the table and dig in hard as you whimper at the sensation.

“That’s it, fuck.” Yoongi gives a grunt of effort as you take the last of him, until he’s pressed in to the hilt, your cunt clenched tight around him, your walls already fluttering softly from the pressure. You’re both breathing heavy as his hips momentarily still.

It takes you by surprise when his hand shifts to grab your jaw, tilting your gaze up to meet his. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he surveys you for a moment.

“Say it again,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard. “Fuck me.”

With the hint of a smirk, he starts to move. He rolls his hips to drag his cock nearly all the way out, then fucks it in again in one heavy stroke, angled perfectly to hit your g-spot. Your eyes roll back in your head.

“God, Yoongi,” you whine when he does it again, and again. “We— nnh, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

The hand on your jaw grips tighter. “Not even a lock on the door. Anyone could walk in and see.” Your cunt throbs at the low growl of his voice. “Do you want to stop?”

“N-no,” you groan as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, enough to make you dizzy. His hand slides down to splay broad over the column of your throat. “Please don’t fucking stop.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, dark and raw, his grip tightening slightly. “Want it that bad?”

Your legs hook around his hips to urge him deeper, harder. “Need it.” Your voice is hardly more than a whisper from the pressure of his hand. You blink up at him, your eyes searching his— for what, you’re not sure.

“Need,” Yoongi breathes a laugh, more air than sound. “Makes two of us.”

Desperate for an anchor, you reach up and wrap your arms over his shoulders to pull him into you. Your mind is reeling with the adrenaline rush of doing something so reckless, and you press your bodies together until your noses bump with every stroke of his cock fucking into you. His parted lips are so close to yours now, you swear you can feel electricity sparking in the barely-there space between.

You feel like a live wire, like every sensation is amplified a thousandfold. Yoongi releases his grip on your throat to slip the same hand between his hips and yours, and his fingers circling your clit are enough to send you over the edge, fast.

“Yoongi,” you gasp into his mouth, your hands clawing at his shoulders as the pleasure builds until it’s too much, and your thighs start to shake. “Just like that, oh fuck, Yoongi, I-I’m gonna—”

“Come.” His lips brush against yours when he says it, a touch so light it could’ve been an accident.

You throw your head back with a strangled sob as your orgasm rips through you, and he leans into you, forehead dropping down against your collarbone, clearly close behind.

“God,” Yoongi groans hoarsely as his hips start to rut even faster. You’re so lost in pleasure, you can barely process that he’s speaking. “What are you doing to me?”

It only takes a few more thrusts and then he’s coming too, your cunt still spasming around him, both of his palms pressing flat to the table behind you as his voice breaks on a wordless rough-edged gasp.

You stay pressed into one another as you come down from the high together, all flushed skin and shaky breaths. Yoongi shifts first, lifting his head off your shoulder, and you take the cue to unwrap your arms from around his neck. It’s a slow, strained untangling, his spent cock starting to soften inside of you.

“Alright,” Yoongi still sounds breathless as he pulls out, and when he steps away, you reach down to tug your underwear back up over your hips.

Your saving grace is a box of tissues at the podium, and Yoongi makes short work of peeling the condom off, wrapping it in as many layers of tissues as he can before tucking it into the conference room trash can with a grimace. He uses a few more to clean himself up, then exhales a stream of air as he pulls his boxers and joggers back up.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

When you make it back to your desk, you pack your things up in a mindless haze. It’s only a minute or so after you finish that Yoongi emerges from his lab, and you follow after him out the glass front doors, neither of you speaking as you lock them from the outside.

The elevator ride down to the lobby is equally silent, until you step out and see gray-black stormy skies and a steady downpour of rain through the glass walls of the atrium.

“Shit,” you groan.

“Allergic to water?” Yoongi’s smug voice over your shoulder immediately makes your jaw clench.

“Shut up,” you snap. “I didn’t bring an umbrella, and the bus stop is a few blocks from my apartment. I’m gonna fucking drown.” Not that you care, you tack on silently.

“You take the bus?”

At this, you whip around to glare at him. “We’re not all millionaire music producers, you know.”

He shrugs, like you’re not wrong. “I can give you a ride. My car’s in the garage.”

Your eyebrows nearly shoot off your forehead, but Yoongi is already crossing to the elevator bank on the other side of the lobby. He presses the button, then looks back at you nonchalantly, like he’s just offered the most normal thing in the world.

Which, maybe it would be, under different circumstances. But there is absolutely nothing normal about your relationship with Min Yoongi.

As if to make the decision for you, a clap of thunder rumbles outside, so loud it feels like the building rattles. You swallow the last bit of dignity you have as you follow Yoongi into the garage elevator. Once the doors close, you can’t help but shoot him a look out of the corner of your eye, but his gaze is fixed on the indicator, watching the numbers tick down as you descend.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Your voice comes out harsher than you mean it to, and Yoongi turns his head to look at you, one eyebrow slightly raised.

“What does that mean?”

“Driving me home? We don’t do this.” You cross your arms over your chest, indignant. “As soon as the sex is done, you don’t want anything to do with me.”

You’re surprised when he laughs a little. “That’s funny.”

You narrow your eyes. “What’s funny?”

He stares at you pointedly, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek for a moment before he continues. “You say that, but if memory serves, you’re the one who keeps running away after.”

You open your mouth to respond, then close it, unsure of what to say. He’s not exactly wrong. Finally it comes back to you. “That’s not true. I saw you, on Friday, and I know you saw me. You left so fast you didn’t even finish your drink.”

Yoongi’s face scrunches up in a slight wince, like he’d rather not recall the moment.

“Yeah, well. That was different. I was trying to respect your privacy. Let you go on your date in peace.” He smirks slightly. “Though I guess it can’t have gone that well.”

You roll your eyes, your patience really starting to thin. “Jungkook and I are just friends, Yoongi.”

“Okay,” he says flatly. “In any case, I certainly didn’t plan to show up and ruin your night or anything. Just an unfortunate cosmic coincidence.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth for a second. “We seem to have a lot of those.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi sighs. “We do.”

The elevator doors slide open, and you lapse into silence again as you follow Yoongi to his car and slip into the passenger seat. After you give him your address and he plugs it into the GPS, there’s no sound at all other than the fall of rain and the swipe of his windshield wipers once you pull out of the garage.

You worry at your bottom lip until the words bubble up. “You don’t listen to music?”

Yoongi’s eyes flit from the road over to you for just a second, like he wasn’t expecting the question. “Uh, I— no, not really. I do that all day. I don’t mind the silence.” You take that as your cue to fall quiet. To your surprise, he keeps talking.

“You know, when I was a teenager, I had a part-time job at a music studio in Daegu.” He squints out the rainy windshield, like he’s recalling the memory. “I started making my own beats there, and I learned a lot of stuff that fueled my drive to be a producer.”

He glances at you again, and you nod, unsure where this is going.

“But, uh—” He huffs a laugh, like he’s embarrassed. “They didn’t pay me. Just kinda how things were back then, and I was too young to know better.” Stopped at a light now, Yoongi drums his fingers over the steering wheel. “I remember there were a lot of nights where I couldn’t afford both food and the bus ride home. If I wanted to eat, that meant a two hour walk home.”

Your jaw drops. “Jesus.”

Yoongi’s mouth presses into a flat line. “Yeah. Wasn’t easy.” There’s a heavy silence, and then he shrugs. “Anyway. Just made me think of it, when you said you take the bus. I haven’t thought about that in a long time.”

“Wow.”

The light changes color and he eases off the brake. You think maybe that’s all you’ll get, and then he nods. “It’s almost like I forget sometimes. That life isn’t still like that. It still feels like it could all get pulled out from under me any second.”

You hum as you take in his words. “And… that’s why you don’t know how to relax?”

The corner of his mouth turns up a little. “Pretty much.”

You can’t suppress the soft laugh that slips out, so you look out the passenger window, letting the sound flutter out to the rain-streaked glass. “Your villain origin story.”

When you glance back at him, a smile has stretched over the whole of Yoongi’s face, though his gaze is still fixed on the road. “Spoken like somebody who wants to walk home.”

There’s a gentle buzzing in your brain, and you wonder if it’s just a post-orgasm high. “Nice try, Min Yoongi,” you tease. “You don’t scare me anymore. I know you’re all empty threats now.”

His eyes flash, and in that moment his expression goes somewhere you can’t quite follow.

“Maybe so.”

The conversation lulls again, and you watch the rain fall fast and heavy on the car windshield, fat droplets scattered aside over and over by the relentless wiper blades.

Try as you might to not think about it, you can’t help but be hyper-aware of Yoongi sitting next to you. He drives one-handed, like it’s easy, his free arm resting on the center console between you. You can see the prominent veins of his hand in clear detail each time the car slips under the glow of a streetlight. Close enough to touch, if you wanted.

The silence has you counting your inhales. It occurs to you that this is the most time you’ve spent in such close proximity to Yoongi where you weren’t actively having sex. You don’t know what to make of it.

He turns into your apartment complex, pulling to a stop in front of your building when you point it out to him. You automatically reach for the door handle, then pause and turn back to look at him, figuring you should say something. “Uh, thanks. For the ride.”

Yoongi smirks. “Thanks for the public speaking lesson.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling a little despite yourself. “I guess we’ll see tomorrow if it worked or not.”

“Guess so.”

There’s a pause, and your heart squeezes into your throat. You don’t know why it feels like you’re waiting for something to happen.

That thought alone is enough to spur you into action, and you quickly avert your gaze from Yoongi’s face. “Have a good night,” you murmur as you fumble open the door, grab your purse, and slip out of the car without waiting for a response.

As you climb the stairs to your apartment and hear the slick of Yoongi’s tires turning out of the complex, you can’t help but wonder if this counts as running away, too.

chapter six | masterlist | chapter eight

#yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #look down on me like that

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trashforeverythingdotcom · 5 days

Text

Castaways

Ghoul! Cooper Howard x Alien! Reader

A/n: I may or may not post the next chapter today since I’ve got a bit of a road trip today. I might finish editing it and post it soon after. I’d like to thank you guys for taking the time out of your day to read my fic. It means a lot even if not a lot of people are reading it lol -3- ily 🥹

Once again, the reader will be referred to as Elena for the first half of the chapter since it’ll be in Cooper’s perspective and he still thinks you’re someone else.

Brief summary of the story: you are an alien that crash lands on Earth in your way to another planet. Cooper runs into you on his mission to find his bounty.

Chapters:

1 2 3 4

The sun beat down on the Ghoul’s big bald head, cooking the skin a bit more as if it hadn’t cooked enough when the nukes fell almost two hundred years ago. His burn scars shone in the sun’s harsh light as his face cooked onto the bare sand on the floor. The horse that he’d collected sat by him loyally as he waited for his new owner to wake up from his long slumber, listening to his owner’s open-mouthed light snores.

“Well, looky what we’ve got here,” the Ghoul’s eyes stirred behind the lids as he started to wake up. The voice was familiar to him. “You look like a goddamn potato that’s been laying on one side for way too long,” the voice carried a similar accent to his.

The Ghoul groaned as he lifted himself up a bit, sitting up and placing his cowboy hat back on his head before looking up at the man speaking to him. Another ghoul. “Yeah, you’re quite the looker,” he muttered sarcastically, shaking his head and wiping the sand that clung to his face off. Although they’d been deeply affected on a physical level by the radiation when the nukes hit, his friend had seemed to have gotten the shorter end of the stick out of the two. Where the older Hollywood star had developed scars and lost a nose, he’d left mostly intact. At least when compared to the younger one. There were chunks of skin missing from his scalp. Where his eyes were supposed to be white, they were red. His irises were a light blue colour, the red made them pop out in an eerie way.

“This is an odd place to be nappin’, old man,” the other ghoul held out his hand to help the bounty hunter up. The bounty hunter thanked him quietly as he took the irradiated man’s hand and stood up. “What’re you doin’ around these parts?”

“The usual,” the older ghoul answered vaguely, not bothering to go into details. He didn’t need to. They’d known each other long enough to know what kind of jobs they’d picked up. “You?” He nodded at him, keeping his eyes on his old friend.

“Me too,” he paused. His eyes lit up as an idea flashed into his mind. “Wanna work together again, like the good ol’ days? We’ll probably find her quicker.”

The Ghoul scoffed, “after what happened the last time I worked with you, I think I’d rather work by myself, thanks.” He moved to pick his bag up off the floor, it had fallen at one point when ‘Elena’ had, he hated to admit, knocked him out.

“Ah, don’t be like that, Coop, it wasn’t anything personal! It was a mistake! I was a fool in love!”

“James, I missed out on a whole lot of caps because of your foolishness. How can I be sure you won’t fall in love with this bounty?”

“It won’t happen again, I swear. I learned my lesson.”

“I really needed those caps, buddy.”

“I know… I’m really sorry about that, Coop. If it’s any consolation, I fucked myself more when I did what I did.”

The old Hollywood star smiled his signature grin. It was the same old smile, just on a new, scarred and dried face with yellow teeth. “I know, that’s why I was able to forgive you for it.” He chuckled as he climbed atop his recently acquired horse.

“Does that mean you’ll work with me again?”

“It means if you step on my toes, I’ll cut yours off.” Cooper flashed him a side glance as he signalled the horse to start walking.

James nodded and did the same, following his old friend into the forest as he held the rope attached to his horse to guide it.

“The girl went back this way, I’m sure.”

“You’re… sure? You think this woman would be that stupid? Now after having evaded countless bounty hunters for months?”

The Ghoul gave him a side glance before averting his eyes forward once again. “I fucked her friends up pretty good. They’re in no condition to travel.”

The other ghoul took him at his word. He’d known Cooper for a very long time, before the war. They were both Hollywood stars. Well, Coop was. James was up and coming. He was about to make his big break when the nukes hit. He looked up to his senior, constantly asking for his advice and trying to spend time with him whenever he could. Cooper was the first real friend James was able to make as a youngblood in old Hollywood. They also grew up in similar environments, both of them being from the South and all. He was his mentor. After the nukes hit, they’d run into each other, working with one another on bounties every so often, but choosing to work separately, for the most part. He still looked up to him now.

As their horses walked them through the forest, they caught up with each other. It had been at least fifteen years since they’d last seen one another. A lot could happen in ten years. They laughed about the bounties they’d taken separate from each other that had led them to lead lives in different parts of the country. Every time they finished catching up, James felt the need to reminisce about their prewar life. Cooper’s face always contorted the same way when the other ghoul would bring it up. He didn’t like talking about it all that much in general. But he still engaged in the conversation and eased into it when James was the one bringing the topic up. There were two things he never dared to mention: Barb and Janey. Well, three, if you counted his old dog. The younger ghoul may have had his flaws, but he knew how to respect his friend’s boundaries and that was something no amount of caps could pay for.

An hour or so longer had passed before they were able to stumble across the battered space disc again. None of the lights were on, it looked vacant, abandoned. The Ghoul cursed under his breath and hopped off his horse; observing the surrounding area for any clues, any indication of the direction they had last gone.

The reputable bounty hunter continued to scour the area until he was able to find three sets of footprints, all different sizes, heading north. “B-I-N-G-O,” he spelt out, turning to his associate. “Let’s go, pretty boy.” He climbed back up his horse, softly kicking the horse on its side to signal him to start moving again. This time, now that they had a lead, they went at a faster pace.

It didn’t take them long to find the group of fugitives. He raised an eyebrow in confusion when he saw the two men he’d shot down standing behind his target like nothing had happened a few hours ago. The younger Ghoul shot him a questioning look, as if to say I thought you said you’d fucked ‘em up. The Ghoul stayed quiet, his hand at his hip, close to his gun holster. Readying himself for an attack. His apprentice did the same.

“Took you long enough, bunny,” ‘Elena’ greeted the Ghoul with her arms crossed. She curled an eyebrow, turning her head to James. “I see you’ve brought someone. Is kidnapping people your way of making friends?”

James snorted, earning a glare from Cooper. “Look, sweetheart,” the older ghoul sighed, “it ain’t nothin’ personal, I’m just tryin’ to do my job.”

“Yeah, well, we’re just trying to do ours. I don’t understand why you keep following us. If you could kindly stop, we would greatly appreciate it.” She started to turn away when she felt that damned lasso encircle her at the waist again. She was harshly tugged back in his direction, her hands held by that rope tightly at her sides. She squirmed, attempting to wring herself out.

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I’ve got a job to do,” he was adamant about taking her with him. She could see it in his eyes that no matter how many times she’d knock him out, he’d keep coming.

‘Elena’ growled loudly in frustration, it was almost animalistic, otherworldly. She took a deep breath before speaking. “Look, mister.” She began, trying to wriggle out of the lasso to no avail. Her hands were pinned to her sides, she felt like a merp–the Nembarian equivalent of a worm. “I’m really trying my hardest not to have to maim or murder you—“

She was interrupted by Cooper scoffing, “you? Murder or maim me?”

Elena closed her eyes and took another deep breath to calm herself down, “if you could just stop following me and leave me alone—“

“Now, you listen here, missy. I’ve got a job to do and a reputation to uphold. So I’m just gon’ take you back down to Nevada and you can deal with the real problem there.”

‘Elena’s’ face scrunched up again, “what the fuck is a Nevada and why the fuck are you taking me there?”

“I don’t know, sis. This guy’s creep, I think he’s trying to turn you into a sex slave or something,” she heard Nikk say.

“Well? Can ya help your big sis out? Or are you gonna let me become a sex slave to this weird—” she cut herself off once she saw her brother punch that Ghoul in the face, causing the Ghoul to let go of the lasso that oppressed her. “—oh… Thank you!” She sang, quickly removing the rope from around her and springing into action.

The other ghoul started to try and catch her, once again, she activated the sound weapon she had in her watch's arsenal for the third time in the span of a day. The two ghouls and her brother groaned. ‘Elena’ rolled her eyes and had another set of headsets materialise over Nikki’s ears to spare him from the auditory warfare.

“Now listen here, you fucks!” She yelled over the noise, “we’re gonna go and you’re going to leave us alone. The next time you come across us, I won’t be kind enough to use this!” She announced.

The Ghoul and his friend looked over at one another, as if silently planning their next attack. One, two, three, Cooper mouthed before they each lunged at the siblings. The reputable bounty hunter removed her ear protection; James did the same to her brother.

Elena moaned in pain, her hands clamping over her ears. She cursed under her breath. She had tried to be kind to this man by not cracking his skull open and here he was, getting in your way again. The Ghoul grabbed her by the waist to keep her close, snaking up to move her hand from her ear. His other hand was pointing his gun at her side. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, his lips almost touching the skin, enunciating every word that came out of his mouth. “Now you’re going to turn that off, bunny, or I’ll shoot.”

A laugh bubbled from her throat, “you’re not going to. You need me alive. It’ll be a pain for you to nurse me to health—“

“Very perceptive of you, bunny. Now perceive this, I don’t need any of you alive. Not him,” he nodded toward Nikk, “and definitely not the other one hiding behind the tree with his gun pointed at me.”

She heard Dimiil chuckle, “hah, you got me.” She heard her brother's gun go off –zoom– and saw the laser shoot clean through her attacker’s shoulder.

“That’s a cute little light show you’re puttin’ on, buddy.” He grimaced, looking at the clean hole that had burned through his skin and bones before shooting in her brother's direction. The shot was narrowly missed. Her brother alternated shooting between the two ghouls, giving her and Nikki the opportunity to run away from the ghouls and grab their own guns. Once they had their guns in hand, they pointed them at the two bounty hunters.

The shoot out was at a standstill. Tensions were high. They all looked at each other, fingers on their triggers, watching each other closely. Cooper started to cough violently, that seemed to distract his friend momentarily. The three aliens took advantage of the distraction and moved to one side, activating a force field to serve as a barrier from their assailants. They watched as James dug out a strange contraption and had Cooper inhale some kind of liquid out of it.

Elena’s eyebrows furrowed as she tried to observe the contents in the vial. Her eyes lit up when she recognised what it was.

Their eyes turned back to the only woman in the bunch. The ghouls pointed their guns at the group. “Go ahead, shoot. It won’t do you any good.” She dared them. The force field was invisible until they took her up on her dare and started shooting at it. Blue light pulsed on the spots that were hit by the bullets. The bullet shells ricocheted off the barrier, back toward them. None of the bullet shells hit James or Cooper, luckily for them. They looked on in confusion. “What do we need to give you so you’ll leave us alone?” She asked.

“What are you?” The older ghoul asked, looking up at the three figures on the other side of the force field.

“Answer my question.”

Cooper stood up, walking up to the force field, his face barely touching it. If he had a nose, it would’ve pressed against the barrier. He stared at her defiantly, clenching his jaw. “You answer mine.”

“These faces are not ours,” Dimiil answered, getting the Ghoul’s attention. “Now, what will it take for you to stand down, sir?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“That’s as much information as we can safely provide you.”

“Well, that ain’t good enough.”

“What are these people paying you?” Elena questioned, hoping that if she’d offered to double the payment, they’d do as asked. Not that they’d even have the means to pay them what they wanted; but knowing was a good place to start.

“If y’all give us a lifetime supply of chems and a steady income of caps for the rest of our lives, we’ll leave y’all alone,” Cooper answered their previous question sarcastically. He was half joking. “All while keepin’ my reputation in tact, of course.”

Nikkand’r rolled his eyes. “Well, aren’t you a walk in—“

“The chemicals, I can get that done, easy peasy. But the caps…” the girl's eyebrows furrowed as she spooked her head. “I mean, how many do you need? Isn’t one hat enough?”

“He probably wants more to change his style up,” said Dimiil.

“Right, because of the lack of hair and the weird scalps. They’re probably insecure about that,” Nikk pointed out.

Cooper’s face wrinkled, his upper lip moving upward, “not caps for your head, you nitwits. Caps. Bottle caps.”

“You mean tapas?” The woman’s language chip glitched and switched her language to Spanish. “¿Para qué necesitas tapas?”

“Y/n, your chip switched the language setting,” Dimiil informed her. “You might want to change it back, he’s not gonna understand you.”

“Verga, se me había olvidado actualizar esta vaina the night before we crashed. My bad,” you managed to change the language mid sentence through your watch.

“Where are you from?” James asked, “I’ve got some friends in Mexico. Wonder if you know any of ‘em.”

“Yeah… we’re from Mexico…” your voice trailed off.

“No, ya ain’t. Bounty says otherwise. Where are you really from?” Cooper pushed.

“So, we can give you your lifetime supply of chemicals, we may not be able to give you a steady income of caps… but we can show you where we buried the bodies,” Dimiil offered, not bothering to answer his question.

The eldest ghoul’s head leaned to the side, “what bodies?”

“These,” you pointed to yourself in an as a matter of fact kind of way.

James chortled, “don’t need to. You’re right in front of us.”

You shook your head, “disguise.”

“Why are you giving one worded answers?” Nikkand’r questioned you.

“Smooth brain. Simple talk work.”

“Well, that’s just plain rude, sweetheart,” the older ghoul scolded you for talking down on them.

You giggled, “see? Simple talk work,” you repeated, sticking your tongue out. “Chems speak of, water down. My chems better. Should last lifetime.”

“Honey, you’re getting on my last nerve,” Cooper warned you, unenthused.

“Can’t hurt us. Field no budge,” Nikkand’r poked the force field, another blue pulse rippled against it at the contact. “You’re right, this does work on smooth brains.”

“Stop playing with the wildlife, we’ve got other shit to do,” Dimiil sighed, shaking his head in disapproval of his siblings’ childish behaviour. Cooper and James looked at each other, eyebrows furrowed, almost as if to say does this fucker not know who we are? before they turned their heads back to look at the eldest sibling of the three assholes. “If you don’t want to know where the bodies are so you can collect your bounties and go on your way… then this is where we part ways. I wish you the best of luck on your mission. I hope for your sake, we don’t meet again.”

The three of you turned to start walking away when suddenly, you heard a deep, loud roar, and heard heavy footsteps stomping their way. Your new pet wolf stood by Dimiil’s side, ready to pounce. A radbear was charging at you. The Ghoul smirked when the radbear knocked one of your smug asses down. The smirk was wiped clean off his face when he saw you three easily gain the upper hand, subduing the bear. It was quite underwhelming. The oldest man there had hoped the bear would take you out so he could collect his bounty; not quite caring if you were dead or alive anymore. As much as he wanted his bonus, he was getting real tired of the bullshit.

As you started to walk off again, the old Hollywood star spoke up, “wait.” You all stopped in your tracks, turning your heads to look at the two irradiated humans and their horses. “Take us to their bodies.”

“You actually believe that crock of shit story?” James whispered to him as they walked slowly and cautiously behind the group of strangers back in the direction of the battered spaceship; closely followed by their irradiated companions.

“Nope.”

“Maybe they’re from the Institute? I heard they were cookin’ up some weird shit–”

“The Institute is on the other side of the country, James. I doubt it.”

“Then why are we following them?”

“One way or another, I’m gettin’ what I came for.”

That man was stubborn, but he was stubborn within reason.. sometimes. It was a trait James got well acquainted with upon becoming one of the Ghoul’s closest friends. He decided to let the matter go and place his trust in his friend. The man probably had a plan, he usually did. And if he didn’t, well, they’d cross that bridge when they got there.

The battered and dirty exterior of the silver spacecraft popped back into view as they walked. The three smooth skins stopped in front of five mounds of dirt. The five of you silently dug up the shallow graves. Sure enough, the dead bodies they were looking for were there, as promised. You started to speak, “so, now that you’ve gotten what you wanted–”

“What are you people?” Cooper asked again, looking at the original Elena that laid on the ground, limp and cut up before his eyes found their clones’ faces. The original bodies had already begun decomposing thanks to the insects that lingered beneath the surface of the ground. “Cause you sure as hell ain’t human.”

“I think it’s best we part ways now,” Dimiil ignored his question.

“It’s only fair,” James spoke up, “that you tell us who you are. You’ve been leadin’ us on a wild goose chase for the past few months. I’d like to know why.”

You sighed, “we haven’t led you anywhere. You followed them here until they got killed–”

James drew his gun, pointing his gun at you, you heard a clicking noise to signify he had taken his gun’s safety off. “By you?”

Immediately, the force field went back up. “By someone else.”

“Who?” He pressed.

Nikkand’r didn’t bother whispering, his voice cutting through the already tense air. “I know you’ve got a code and all, sis. But we’re not in Nembaria anymore. They won’t know–”

“They will.” You mumbled, crossing your arms.

The youngest lost his patience, “our home is over 100 lightyears away, in another galaxy, for fuck’s sake! And we’re under attack! I doubt they’ll give a shit!”

James’ eyes widened as he turned to look at Cooper. The older ghoul only moved his irises to look back at his friend, not wanting to wear his surprise on his face. Aliens? Real aliens? That couldn’t be true. Aliens were simply a creation of science fiction. Nothing real– but then again, it made total sense. The technology you had seemed far too advanced to be human. But Cooper had previously excused it, letting his mind draw conclusions that seemed more logical to him. The flyer for the bounty stated that Elena was a scientist so he didn’t think anything of it before. He hadn’t pushed the matter more than he felt he should’ve. That also explained the inexplicable saucer that lay on the ground.

For some reason, the two ghouls couldn’t move. It hurt them every time they tried to move one of their limbs. It was like they were frozen in time, except everything and everyone around them was still able to move.

“They’ll understand our situation, Y/n,” Dimiil agreed with his brother, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You shook your head, “you guys are– wow… I won’t take part in this. You two can fuck off. I’ll find my own way home.” You started to step away, you heard Nikki’s voice ring in your head.

The three of them went silent, neither Cooper nor James could hear them. Their mouths didn’t move, but their body language indicated the conversation hadn’t ended. At one point, the silent conversation was starting to boil. Hands were being waved around, fingers were pointed. It had gotten so heated, that one of the men struck you in the face, knocking you over. The other man ran over to check on you before turning over to the one who’d hit you; pushing him down, about to hit him back on your behalf. You grabbed his arm and stopped him. The two of them continued communicating silently, you were holding your cheek in your hand as you cried. Cooper could hear you sniffling from the other side of the force field, he saw the thick blue liquid escape your eyes as you continuously wiped your coloured tears away from your face.

Another minute or so passed as the conversation continued without a single word being uttered by any of them.

Suddenly, you walked over, the force field had been lowered. “Don’t try to move, it’ll hurt more if you do.” You told them, as you and Dimiil approached, kneeling down in front of them.

Cooper closed his eyes, accepting his fate. If he was going to die, he’d do it with dignity. James seemed to have a different idea, he kicked the Dimiil in the shin. The alien took a deep breath. Their quickened heart rates were manipulated into decelerating until they fell asleep. Nikk glared at the two ghouls as you and Dimiil made them lose consciousness. You both then carried them into the previously vacant silver structure while the youngest stayed where he was with his arms crossed. Its lights turned on when you signalled for the door to open. Nikk refused to go in with you, opting to stay outside until he could cool down without being forced to by his older brother.

Dimiil set James down on one of the beds. You did the same with Cooper. “Are you okay?” He asked once you’d finished settling the irradiated humans down. He studied your face.

You sighed, “yeah, I’m good,” and turned to walk away. “I just need a little time to myself,” you mumbled, moving to sit in the cockpit away from everyone else. Your brothers left you alone, electing to stay in the bedroom and go to sleep to give you your space. You sat in one of the chairs in the cockpit, bringing your knees to your chest. You cried quietly to yourself as you stared out the window into the dark nothingness of the Yellowstone wilderness.

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