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khjcs · 27 days

Text

group: ateez

pairing: idol!hongjoong x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut, oneshot

trope: lovers to strangers ? to lovers again *head scratch*

rating: 18+ MDNI <<< don’t make me block

word count: 6.3k

warning: angst, mild cussing, mention of death (no one dies or plans on it), argumentS (yes, plural), mention of cheating, pregnancy on two occasions (not reader), mention of an abusive partner (neither mc), if i missed any, please lmk

synopsis: an argument between you and your significant other leads you to ponder on whether the man you’re with is actually the one indicated for you.

song playlist recommendation: “west coast” “young and beautiful” “video games” “say yes to heaven” all by Lana Del Rey

a/n: i know for pairing i put “idol” hj but it’s only alluded that he is. there is no actual scene in which it shows he is an idol, just small mentions of it. don’t get your hopes up if that’s what you were looking for. also, this is, in NO WAY a depiction of the artist. think of this more of an au than a fanfic if it helps. i really hope you enjoy:)

special thanks to: @luvt0kki for proof reading🙂‍↕️🫶🏼 oh and my sister for putting me in such angsty mood (by playing lana del rey in the car), bringing this piece to life. but she’s not on tumblr and let’s keep it that way. oh and the rain outside for pushing me to post this. i swear the mixture of rain, a good playlist, and a comfortable bed is such a good cocktail for writing.

navigation ・❥・ masterlist

Waking up in the arms of your lover on a lazy Sunday morning was on of the best feelings ever. You cuddled your face deeper into the crook of his neck, taking in his scent as the morning sun began seeping through the white curtains of your room. “That tickles,” he let out a chuckle. “I’ve got to take advantage of you allowing this skin-ship,” you retorted, both of you just smiling, allowing yourselves to be engulfed in each other’s embrace. “We have to get up,” you grumbled while pulling the covers off of your body, the cold rushing in quickly, creating goosebumps on your skin. “I don’t want to. Let’s just sleep in today,” Hongjoong whined as he got up. “You’re already out of bed. Tell you what, after we finish cleaning, we can have ourselves a small movie marathon, yeah?” “With cuddles?” His eyes sparkled. “With cuddles,” you laughed at his hypocrisy of “hating”skin-ship. It had became a habit of his to spend the weekend at your place. On Sundays, you two would clean your entire apartment together just before Hongjoong had to go back to the dorms for work. This week, however, you both had been busy and only had Saturday night and Sunday to yourselves, making the cleaning all the more dreadful.

“I say, we just do the laundry,” Hongjoong was still trying to negotiate with you. Missing your boyfriend’s presence, you were quick to give in, “okay fine.” Both dressed in comfortable clothes, you grabbed your load and the sheets, making your way to his car. On the way to the laundromat, he received a call that happened to appear on his car screen to which he declined. The all too familiar number kept calling. “Just pick up,” you rolled your eyes as you answered the call on his screen. A woman’s voice was heard, “Joong, I think I’m in trouble,” she cried through the phone. Hongjoong glanced your way and back to the road, “I’ll have to call you later, I’m a bit preoccupied right now.” Your mood had turned sour in an instant, you knew in a few seconds he’d be running to her rescue. “Love—“ “I know, you have to go to her,” you cut him off as he arrived at the laundromat. “I shouldn’t take long,” he got off to help you carry the load inside. “See you in a bit, okay? I love you.” You didn’t reply, you couldn’t. I mean, how could you? Your boyfriend of almost three years was still running behind his so called “best friend” when she needed him. “Love, please don’t be mad, it might be serious.” He tried soothing you, but you were too angry with him. “Serious? Hongjoong, I’ve seen you drop everything for that woman. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you practically ran out of your studio when she called. But Lord forbid I need you while you’re at work. I called you to hang out Friday afternoon and all I got was a sad excuse of how you’re stuck at work. And I get it, maybe you needed to get your creativity out onto a piece of paper and get it started. See, I kept thinking that to myself, making excuses for you. I thought you and I were in a relationship, not you and her.” You began walking off, trying to not cause an even bigger scene in public. “It’s not like that. You know it’s not like that. Please love,” he reached out for your hand. “Please what? You want me to be understanding of the situation? Because trust me, I have tried these past two, almost three years. Even before we started dating. I just can’t anymore,” you half whispered the last part. “What?” “I can’t anymore Hongjoong,” you spoke up this time, “I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want to be second to no one in your heart.” “But you’re not,” he held both your hands. “Oh but I am,” you pulled your hands away, busying them with the load that you were to wash. “Look, I have to go. We’ll talk about this at your place later.” “No. I’ll just finish cleaning on my own. Just go straight to the dorms afterwards. I’m not counting on you to come back.” You waited for him to fight for you in any way. You begged inside of you for him to understand you and stay. But of course, like a fool, you sat there waiting for your clothes to wash after seeing his car drive off. All of this ripping away the feeling you had not even 2 hours ago.

With a heavy heart, you finished cleaning the rest of your apartment. You had cried as you folded his clothes neatly, placing them in the drawer you had cleared out for him. Everyone had warned you about this. At the time, you were so naive, seeing him only through pink glasses, wanting so desperately to feel loved, which you did. He had made you feel so important when he worried about your wellbeing, sending you money so you could buy yourself whatever it was you needed. He had always checked up on you when you were sick, even calling days off to go and personally take care of you. All of this making you think that you were the one he loved, so it didn’t matter if every now and then he ran off to help his best friend, given their history. You couldn’t blame him for your obliviousness when he had been so honest with you from the start about their friendship. “She lived in my neighborhood so we would play a lot when we were younger but only gotten closer at age 14 when we started walking home from school together. She opened up to me a few years later when her parents were having a messy divorce. She really just needed a shoulder to cry on, and I was there to provide comfort. I see her more as a younger sister than anything, I promise you have nothing to worry about.” You laughed at yourself remembering his words seeing as he’s with her right now instead of with you.

You plopped yourself on your couch, in front of the television, eating a spoonful of ice cream to help with the sadness. The doorbell rang, making you jump. You reached out for your phone, wiping your tears away, to check the time. It was already past 8:00 pm, with no messages on your notifications; you certainly weren’t expecting anyone at this time. “Love, please open the door,” your heart clenched. You quietly rushed to turn off the TV, making your apartment pitch black. “Don’t pretend you’re not here, I saw the light of the TV turn off.” You curled yourself back into a ball on your couch. He had the pin to your apartment door, so why didn’t he just come in? If he really wanted to come inside to talk, he would have, but he never came in on his own. You waited until he left, which only sadden you even more. Only realizing now that he wasn’t fighting for you, for your love, or your relationship, making you conclude that he doesn’t love you the way he claims. The way you loved him. That if it came down to it, you were ready to lay your life for him, but was he willing to do the same? This only saddened you more. You reached out for your phone to call him, but the longer you stared at his contact, the more you thought about how he chose to leave instead of staying to talk things out.

You no longer had the energy to deal with this. Even if your heart ached, you knew you had to end it with him, for your sake. The thought making you feel stuffy; you planned for a late night run to help you muster up the courage to end the relationship. Making your way out of your apartment, you stumbled upon something, or more like someone. It was too dark to make out who it was. Afraid to take a step closer, you waved your hand in front of the motion censor light. With it illuminating right outside your door, you were finally able to see. Noticing a sleeping Hongjoong, your eyes soften as you reach out for him, “wake up.” You shook him, but he didn’t budge. “Hongjoong,” you shook him again abruptly, waking him up. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he stood up, unaware of his surroundings, that is until he saw you, “please, can we talk?” “Let’s just talk tomorrow,” you sighed. “Can you drive? Do you need me to call your manager? A taxi?” You pulled out your phone. “No,” he placed his hand over yours to stop you from calling whoever it was, “I just really want to talk. I want to fix this.” Hesitating a bit, you decided to let him into the apartment, figuring you should hear what he had to say. After all, he did wait outside for you when you thought he wasn’t willing to fight for your relationship.

You two settled down on the couch after you fetched him some water. “I really am sorry. I realize now how you must be feeling with all of this. I’m sorry I made you feel like you were second to her.” “Then why do you still go running after her? Why do you prioritize her so much? Her parents’ shitty ass divorce happened years ago. She doesn’t need to be coddled anymore! She has a boyfriend for fucks sake, why does she have to go out looking for you?” You got up the couch. “Love, it’s not that simple! I wish I could explain it all to you, but that would be an invasion of her privacy!” “Bullshit Hongjoong! This is all complete and utter bull shit! Why are you so fixated on her and her needs? What about mine? What about when I need my boyfriend here? To come coddle me?” “Really? When have you ever needed coddling? Every time you feel down, you push me away! You want to be independent so bad! Maybe you should be!” “What?” Afraid of where this was leading, your eyes began to tear up. “Maybe we should break up…” he looked down at the floor. “No! You don’t get to break up with me over this! I do! I’ve put up with your bullshit friendship with that woman, so I get to do this! I am the one breaking up with you! I’m the one letting you go!” You abusively stabbed your chest with your index finger as your eyes let loose of the tears. Ironically, his phone began ringing. He took one quick glance at it before putting it back inside his pocket. “For fuck’s sake, just fucking go to her already! Run to her as you so desperately want to!” He just looked at you with a sad expression. “Just be honest with me,” you looked at him with pleading eyes, “do you love her?” You were honestly afraid of his answer. “I do, but—“ you cut him off after getting the answer you expected of him, but expecting it didn’t make you hurt any less. “Get out! Just fucking get out Hongjoong! I don’t ever want to see you again!” You threw the water bottle at him as he made his way out. He knew you like the back of his palm. He knew he fucked up and that no explanation, not that he could give you one, would help you two recover from this. So he did the only thing he could do that night: to disappear from your life as much as he could.

As much as it pained him, he found himself in his car driving off to his friend’s. You couldn’t possibly fathom what had happened that night, or why he had to urgently leave. But he had no one to blame except himself for always running away from you when his friend needed him. Hitting the steering wheel as he drove, angry at himself for letting the best thing he’s ever had go. “Fuck!” he screamed into the silence of his car, coming to a complete stop when he approached a red light. Resting his hands on the steering wheel, followed by his head. He couldn’t comprehend why his heart hurt so much that he wished to rip it out of his chest. The tears that flowed down his face a burning sensation. He wanted to give up completely in that moment. To just turn back time to where the two of you were still in the warmth of your bedsheets, wishing he hadn’t woken up. All this felt surreal, to go from being in his happy place with you to living a nightmare of having to steer clear from you. Even if he moved across the world, the distance wouldn’t be enough. He’d still want to run back into your arms and make everything alright. A car honked behind him as the light had turned green, he wiped his tears along with his runny nose before he proceeded to drive.

Stepping onto his friend’s doorstep, he knocked on the door. “Hey, you don’t look so good. Are you okay?” She reached out to cup his face but Hongjoong shooed her hand away. “I only came to tell you to not call me ever again. I’m done.” Hongjoong walked away. “Wait! I can’t raise this kid alone! Please Joong!” She hugged him from the back. “You can and you will. You’ll be fine. And stop calling me that, we’re not in a relationship for you to be calling me by my nickname.” He undid her grip from his waist and left her standing on her doorstep. Even though he wanted to run to you and tell you he completely cut his friend from his life, he knew he couldn’t. Nothing would make you take him back after he hurt you so badly. All he could do now was drive back to the dorms.

Meanwhile, you were a mess. It had only been a few minutes since he left but you could only assume he went rushing into her inviting arms. That he was happy while you were miserable on your bed. It was already past midnight when you felt a migraine creeping in, knowing you’d have to call in for work in a few hours, you decided to put on another movie. The migraine, however, won and made you fall asleep in the middle of the movie. The only thing that woke you up the next day was your coworker who had worriedly called your phone about 100 times, that being an exaggeration of your own. “Hey babes, are you okay? You didn’t come in today, did something happen? Did you and Hongjoong fight?” A stinging sensation arose in you as you heard his name. Your burning eyes couldn’t produce any more tears, as if you were dried out of your liquids. “Uh, no, I’m just feeling sick today. I should be feeling better by tomorrow,” you lied. “Okay, if I don’t hear from you soon, I’m coming over.” You let out a forceful chuckle, “okay,” and hung up the phone. Forgetting to close your curtains last night, the sun, brighter than most mornings, illuminated your room. You took this as a sign to get up and do something productive around your house. You sighed when you walked around remembering that you had just finished cleaning it yesterday, instead you went into your closet with a gym bag. You began packing every little thing Hongjoong had left behind in your apartment, down to his toothbrush. You decided it was time to take this step since you were serious about not seeing him again. It started off with you folding his clothes neatly into the bag, but as you came across the clothes you gifted him, you began just throwing the clothes in there. The room only became suffocating the longer you stayed in there to pack his belongings. Taking a break from it all, you went to the kitchen, preparing a small snack with water to replenish from your dehydration. You sat on the small dining table, that’s when you took notice of your picture frames displayed around your apartment. Most of them were pictures of you and your now ex. You just couldn’t get a break from all of this so you made it your mission to finish packing by today. After your very needed break, you grabbed all of your pictures, throwing them [carefully] in the bag. Only keeping your favorite one hidden in your closet, the pain of discarding it encouraging you to do so. What you initially thought would be one bag, quickly turned into four. This shocked you as you hadn’t noticed how deeply rooted he was in your life.

The ache in your heart only grew bigger when you saw the building to his dorms appearing bigger in your sight. You were too much of a coward to confront him at work, so you decided to drop off the bags at the dorms, knowing well he wouldn’t be there. As you stepped out of the elevator, his roommate emerged from their dorm, flashing you a big smile as he recognized you. “Hey Y/N,” the man you knew as Wooyoung waved to you. You forced a smile back with a wave. “Awe man, you just missed Hongjoong. He went to work really early this morning. Something about needing to write down lyrics for a tune he came up with last night.” He looked down to the bags you had placed by your feet, “is that for him?” “Uh, yes. Do you mind putting it inside?” You picked them up, walking closer to him. “Yeah, no problem,” he walked to you to help you carry the bags, taking all four from you. “I have to go now,” you smiled and turned around. “See you soon,” you stopped in your tracks his words catching you off-guard, “yeah, see you…” you couldn’t bring yourself to say ‘soon’ knowing fully well it was a lie. The taxi ride back home was all too quiet, but as it turns out, it was all you needed. You felt like you could breathe again now that you got some closure. What you didn’t know was that it wasn’t the closure you needed.

Once inside your apartment, you were determined to fill the void that he left behind. Now that you no longer needed the drawer, you contemplated whether to throw it out or to store it. Your heart not fully being able to take in the pain of you two being over, you decided that the latter was less painful. As you moved the furniture out to the living room, the doorbell rang. Cautiously, you made your way to the door, hoping it wasn’t him coming to grovel again. “Babes, open up. You haven’t answered your calls and I’m only growing worried for you. Talk to me, yeah?” Relieved to hear your friend’s voice through the door, you opened the door for her. Strangely, your emotions overcame you when you saw her and you fell to the floor, a crying mess. No longer being able to contain your sobs along with tears that appeared out of nowhere. “Oh sweetie,” your friend joined you on the floor, hugging your body, trying her best to provide you with comfort. She could tell something was really wrong with the way you have never showed any sign of “weakness” in front of her. “I fucking loved him so much, why am I the one who gets betrayed this way? Was I never good enough for him? Or was I just too blind to see he was never going to choose me over her?” “No sweetie, don’t blame yourself. Don’t beat yourself up over this. He is the blind one for choosing her countless of times when he had a treasure in front of him. Trust me babes, he’ll regret his decisions one day. It’ll come back to haunt him when he least expects it.” She helped your zombie-like state off the floor. “Have you ate?” She sat you down at your dinner table when you shook your head. “Let’s get some food in you, yeah?” She looked through your fridge, taking a few ingredients out to whip up something for you. You thanked the universe for sending you an angel like your friend. She had been there when you needed her the most, helping you recover from your heartbreak. You felt indebted with her for life. Jokingly, you told her you’d be her first-born’s god-mother. Funny how the universe works, the face on your friend’s face only shocking you, “how did you know?” She looked back to you. “What? What are you talking about?” Trying to understand what she meant, you looked at her. Only when your eyes fell on her hand that was on her lower stomach did you realize what she was trying to tell you. “I came here to tell you, but you took me by surprise with your situation. I didn’t want to make this about me.” Running to her, you went to hug her, crying once again, “I’m so happy for you.”

Time passed you by so fast. Suddenly you were attending the baby shower you had planned for your friend. As you walked through the venue, checking with the guests to make sure they were comfortable, making sure they didn’t need anything, your friends approached you. “Hey, you look good,” one of your friends mentioned. “Thank you. You do as well,” you complimented back with a smile. “Sorry to bring this up, but you are okay now, right?” Your other friend asked. You knew she was only concerned about you, but you couldn’t help but wish she hadn’t brought it up just as you felt like you were finally healing from the pain that Hongjoong left you with. “Yeah, I’m doing so much better now.” “I’m here whenever you’re ready,” their mutual guy friend added. He had been trying to get with you the moment your friends introduced him to you. You were thankful to your friends for trying to put you out there, frankly, you weren’t ready for that yet. You let out a playful laugh, “you’ll be the first to know when I’m ready,” you half meant it. You considered to give him a chance once you were ready to get back out there. He was a good guy with you, much different than him… He made sure to go at your pace. He wanted nothing more than for you to be comfortable around him. Leading to him often waiting for you to initiate any contact, but you never really did. You didn’t want to lead him on unless you were sure of your feelings. You managed to slip away from your friends and went to the bar that your celebrated friend insisted on having. Her excuse to you was that, “just because I can’t drink doesn’t mean the rest can’t. Just add it for them. For you. You never know, you just might need a drink or two.” She just so happened to be right. Your energy depleted, you felt the need to get a drink. Right as you received your drink, your heart dropped lower than the pit of your stomach as you caught a glimpse of a man who looked a little too much like him. In a discreetly manner, you followed him, only to be even more disheartened. It truly was him, and he was with her, except now she had a huge belly, had to be nearing birth. Leaving your heart a reopened wound. Out of all things you could have imagined, the idea of him cheating never crossed your mind until now. You gave him too much credit because even seeing them in front of you, looking at each other so fondly, you still couldn’t help but make excuses. Maybe he didn’t cheat. Maybe he only got with her after he lost you. There was no way that what he felt for you was never real. Except you have all the proof you needed right in front of you. With that, again, you felt a single teardrop fall onto your cheek. Still staring at them both, finally noticing when Hongjoong turned around to see you, making eye contact with you. He was the first to break it by walking away only after whispering something into the woman’s ear. You knew you were the one who told him you didn’t want to see him anymore, but you wanted an explanation of what you had just witnessed, so you followed.

It wasn’t that he tried fleeing away from you, willingly, at least. He only wanted to ensure he kept his promise of staying away from you, as per your request. He wanted to stay so bad, to go up to you and hold you again as he used to 9 moths ago, but he knew he couldn’t. He knew that his presence alone would only taunt you, more-so that he was accompanied by his friend. He mentally cursed himself as he made his way to the parking lot, beating himself up remembering your expression, he knew he had hurt you once again. He had told himself he wouldn’t contact you first, even if he was so close a couple of times. Only until you contacted him first would he talk to you. Not for petty reasons, nothing like that, but instead to allow you the space you needed. Even if it meant you would never contact him. A sudden thought popped up in his head. Without a second wasted, he went against all he promised himself and went running back inside the building. He needed to clear something up.

You had walked around the whole building before giving up when you couldn’t find him. You leaned on the hallway outside of the venue, catching your breath. The feeling you were feeling right now contradicting what you had previously told your friends. You clenched your chest, trying to keep your composure to go back into the party. You made your way back inside the venue, but your heart and legs had another idea, pulling you away from the venue. Speed walking towards the entrance of the building only stopping when you saw Hongjoong running inside. You both paused, locking your eyes with each other. Everything about that moment felt like a movie, down to the way that time seemed to slow down. You approached each other slowly, neither daring to break the silence, that is until you saw a tear rolling down his cheek. “Why are you here? I didn’t add you to the list of invitees.” You hadn’t meant to be harsh, but you only had one thing that you wanted to really say. Instead of beating around the bush, “congrats by the way. On the baby that is.” Hongjoong shook his head, “it’s not mine. That’s why I came back inside looking for you. To clear that up.” He walked closer to you, keeping his eyes on you attentively, making sure to not scare you away. “I figured that’s what you thought when you saw me. Your expression gave it away,” he stopped mere feet away from you. “I’m ready to tell you everything. The reason I kept going to her. Personal matters and all. No more keeping stuff from you. Of course, only if you’re willing to hear me. But not here, I don’t want to cause a scene at your friend’s party. And to answer your question, she was the one who invited me.” Hesitant at first, you saw the fondness in his eyes, which is why you followed him to his car, making your way to his dorm. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, instead you settled for staring out the window. “You do realize you left her at the party, right?” You rested your head on the window, still looking outside of it as it began raining. He sighed, “I’m sure she’ll find a way back home.” His response shocked you, making you sit up in your seat. “Don’t be too shocked,” an inaudible chuckle left his throat, “she’s really not my top priority.” He quickly glanced at you and your expression before driving into the parking garage.

Sitting on the couch across from you, he cleared his throat, forcing you to face him, “can I just start off by saying I’m sorry,” he looked dejected. “I truly have been miserable without you, I hope you believe me.” ”Even if I do believe you, that doesn’t change the fact that you ran after her countless of times while being with me.” “I know,” he sighed, bringing himself closer to the edge of the couch. “I know this isn’t much of a rational excuse, but you have to understand, in the moment I felt that I had to.” You let out an exasperated laugh, “you had to?” “Yes… her boyfriend was very abusive. The night you and I argued, she had called me crying because she had found out she was carrying his child. Not wanting her kid to meet the same fate as her, she decided to leave her house, to stop the cycle before it became more serious. But she was too afraid to take that step on her own. She needed a push, and a place to stay at in the meantime. I helped her pack all of her things that day and took her to one of her friend’s house. Both me and her friend encouraged her to report him to the police, though, they didn’t help much, we were able to put a restraining order on her boyfriend that same day.” “If you had settled everything that day, then why did she call you again at night?” You hadn’t noticed the tears that rolled down your face until Hongjoong sat next to you, wiping them away gently with his thumb. “She was afraid of the idea of raising a child alone. She had thought she wasn’t strong enough for that yet.” “So she called you to co-parent with her? Ha, I knew it,” you fidgeted with your fingers, looking away to hold back the rest of the tears that threatened to fall. “No—On the contrary, she wanted me to talk her out of giving up on her baby. She’s dating the friend that took her in. He’s a real good father figure already and the baby isn’t born yet. Y/N, please look at me…” it came off not as a demand, but a plea. He held your chin to make you face him. “Me and her are nothing more than friends, I mean it.” “What about when I asked you if you loved her? You told me you loved her…” Your voice now wavering. “Is that why you came with her today?” “I—“ he sighed, “I meant it. I do love her. But I’m not in love with her. I only came with her because I owed her an apology for ending my friendship with her the way I did that night.” A silence overcame you both momentarily, “I’m sorry,” your voice barely audible. “I feel like a fool for not trusting you.” “Don’t apologize. I know I didn’t help by keeping all those secrets when I shouldn’t have. I know now that there shouldn’t be any secrets between us…” he hadn’t used that word in so long, yet it felt right and wrong at the same time. He didn’t know if there was still an “us” to claim. To him, you wouldn’t accept him back, all he could hope for is for you to accept his apology.

You threw yourself at him, hugging him tightly at his words. You so badly wanted him back and the fact that he referred to you both as “us” was the perfect indication that he wanted the same. Or so you assumed. You took his face in your hands, looking into his eyes, searching within them the answer to your assumption. His soft gaze encouraged you to kiss him. He placed his hands on your shoulders stopping you right after you tried to deepen the kiss. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” Hongjoong pushed himself off of you. “Why? Why can’t you?” You looked for an answer in his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you,” his head hung low. “You can’t hurt me any more than you did 9 months ago. You sat up on the couch. “I want you Hongjoong. No, I need you,” you stood up, slowly undoing the zipper on the dress you were wearing. “Please, not here. Not like this…” he rushed you two to his dorm before your dress could fall to the floor.

His room still being filled with pictures of you two, pictures that held beautiful memories. “You still have them” you held a picture frame of you two, one you had packed in the bag you returned to him. “Of course,” he approached you from behind, wrapping his hands around your waits, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck to your now exposed shoulder. This brought tears to your eyes. He really does love you the way you loved and still love him. “You were the best thing that has happened to me.” You leaned your head to the side, giving him more access. Holding the back of his head with your right hand, closing your eyes, taking in the moment. Hongjoong helped you walk towards his bed, never detaching himself from you, not wanting you to slip from his grasp once again. Swiftly turning you around, he guided you to sit on the edge of the bed. Kneeling down before you, wiping away your tears that threatened to fall. “I need you to stop me if this isn’t what you want. Because this is what I want. I want a future with you. I want more than just forever with you. If we take this step, just know I’m not letting you go again. I will fight to the death for you.” You nodded, “this is what I want Joongie.” He quickly attached himself onto you, the kiss being very needy. With a hand to the back of your head, he urged you lie down on his bed. Treating you the entire time as if you were a fragile object. His left hand roaming down your side, reaching your panties, gently assisting you out of them. For each piece of clothing he took off from you, you helped him out of one of his too. Lying fully exposed on his bed, you waited as he grabbed a condom from his drawer. He slid the condom on, fixing himself back on top of you. “It’s not too late to back out love,” the latter word brining you such bliss, you pulled him into another kiss. “I wouldn’t back out for the world.” He nudged at your entrance, entering you painfully slow, allowing you to get used to the sudden stretch. You gasped when he was fully inside you. His movements were slow, causing a small sting on your heat. “Let me know if you feel even the slightest discomfort love.” He moved a bit faster, taking a few moments to kiss you ever so passionately. Never once detaching your hands from him, that is until you saw the sweat forming on his forehead. You helped him into a new position that allowed you to ride him. You planted your hands on his chest as you moved your hips up and down. The new position aiding him to be deeper in you, bringing you to loll your head back with your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling all too much. “My beautiful lady,” he reached out for one of your hands, bringing it closer to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss, “I love you.” At his confession, you slowed down, fluttering your eyes open as you brought yourself to face him again. “I love you Joongie,” you intertwined your fingers with his as you made your way down to kiss him. He let go of your hands only to fully embrace you, deepening the kiss once more. He reached for your hips to help you move against him, brining you both close to your high. You were the first to reach your orgasm, brining you almost to a complete stop. His hands, still on your hips, assisted your movements once again, allowing him to chase after his.

You laid next to him, both your chests heaving. Hongjoong went into the bathroom, coming back with a small wet cloth. He placed it at your heat, letting you warm up to it so he could wipe you clean. After cleaning himself up too, he lied down next to you, taking you into his embrace. You smiled at the man, overjoyed that you were in his arms again. “You should consider yourself lucky. You’re the only one I like to have skin-ship with.” The room was filled with your laughter. Happiness spread across both your faces now that you were back together. “I have something for you,” he left the room for a few seconds. “I made this thinking of you,” he settled down next to you again, giving you the usb in his hands. “Untitled (choose you)” was written on a piece of tape that was attached to it. He had composed a beautiful song describing how he felt for you. It was, if not, the best gift you had ever received. Well, a close second. The universe gifting him back to you was your first best gift.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez x reader #hongjoong #hongjoong smut #hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x y/n #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #kim hongjoong #ateez angst #hongjoong angst #kim hongjoong angst #kpop angst

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ktwritesstuff · 1 year

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Into the Fire (a Game of Thrones fanfic, sort of...)

Title: Into the Fire Fandom: Game of Thrones, with all due disrespect :D Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Oberyn Martel x Targaryen!reader (with a side of Ellaria) Word Count: ~4,000 Summary: Prince Oberyn saves your life and eventually does what Oberyn does with you. Beta-read by the illustrious @bs-fangirl. Additional content notes below the cut.

Content Notes: I don't know that much about Game of Thrones and most of what I do know I don't care for. But I do like Prince Oberyn. Expect a bit of violence, first time, light breeding kink, oral, poly-dynamics, unprotected p-in-v, probably a bunch of other tropes I've missed. It's Oberyn, "dead dove, do not eat" applies.

Into the Fire

You had escaped the madness at King’s Landing (in part thanks to the belated arrival of Ned Stark’s troops and the ensuing confusion among the enemy’s forces.) You did not make it five miles–on foot at night–before being set upon by slavers, opportunists taking advantage of the chaos. At least they saw more value in you alive than dead.

You were frightened when the soldiers came, thinking they must have been sent by Baratheon the usurper. From the wagon at first all you could see was the flash of a golden spear in the firelight. A whole troop of men fell upon the bandits, but there may as well have only been one. He moved so swiftly and so well, like a tongue of red flame wicking through the forest.

He was the most beautiful creature you had ever seen, even before they pulled you from the wagon and you saw the banner emblazoned with a red sun. These men were of House Martell, not Lannister, and if your luck held you might live to see another day.

“What is this?” asked the man in red.

“A Targaryen bastard by the looks of her,” one of the soldier’s growled, seizing a handful of your corn-silk hair and turning your face toward the fire. Your looks were not so other-worldly as your cousins, but at least you bore a close enough resemblance that he did not mistake you for a Lannister.

“I’m nobody,” you pleaded. “I’m nobody.”

The man in red drew close enough that you could make out the features of his face. You had seen Prince Oberyn only once before, at Rhaegar and Elia’s wedding feast, but his looks were unforgettable. You were surprised it had taken you so long to recognize him and even more surprised that he seemed to recognize you.

“I know your face,” he said. “You were a maid to Princess Elia; you were at King’s Landing. Tell me what you saw.”

“I hid–” you whimpered as the soldier pulled your hair.

“You abandoned your lady,” he said.

“No,” you cried. “When Lannister turned on us, the guards took her. I hid in the servant’s passages. I heard Tywin Lannister give the order to the one they call the Mountain to murder Elia’s children. I went to the nursery, but the children were gone. I searched for them–”

You admitted to all that you had seen. The gore, the horror. Elia cleaved in two from root to navel and her children smashed. The anguish that would never leave you. All the while Prince Oberyn’s face remained still as a stone, but you could see the sorrow and rage behind his dark eyes.

“You lie!” The soldier accused. “How could a mere girl escape such chaos unspoiled?”

“The same way anyone does,” you said. “Blind luck.”

The prince paced alongside the wagon, assessing you, sizing you up.

“And you’re sure it was Tywin who gave the order?” he asked.

“I swear,” you nodded. “On my life.”

The prince wanted to ride for King’s Landing immediately and dispatch Tywin himself, but ultimately his generals dissuaded him from such rash action. In the meantime, they gave you bread and wine and allowed you to rest in the first safety you had known in days. It was dawn before you saw the prince again. Even with a frown and deep lines etching his forehead, he was still the loveliest man you had ever seen.

“I can leave you a mount and a bit of gold for your journey,” he said. “But I cannot spare any of my men to return you to your people.”

Over time the sacred words of your house had become twisted. The life-giving warmth of fire and the sacred blood of kinship and covenant had turned to violence and ambition. Was it any wonder that Aerys’s reign had festered? But sweet Elia, a gentle princess and devoted mother, you would have followed her anywhere.

“I loved your sister,” you said. “Her people are my people.”

“Very well,” Prince Oberyn said, and for a moment a look crossed his face. You would have sworn he was pleased. “We sail for Dorne first thing tomorrow.”

You had passed six long years in Prince Oberyn’s harem, wanting for almost nothing. The court at Dorne was filled with carnal delights you have never before experienced: music and dancing, glittering jewels, perfumed baths, and the finest food. All of it available to you.

And the prince’s other concubines doted on you. When you first arrived in Dorne at 19 they considered you a baby. Meanwhile gossip at court held that your young cousin had been married off to a Dothraki warlord across the sea. Not that you would have traded places with young Daenerys, but in six years Oberyn had not once invited you to his bed. Besides the occasional chaste kiss on the hand or cheek he had not laid a finger on you.

Ellaria counseled you to be patient, that your time would come. But after so much time you were beginning to think Prince Oberyn had only taken you in as a matter of duty–that he had no desire for you at all. Like all the prince’s lovers, you were free to have any man or woman you desired, but you didn’t want another lover. You wanted the prince.

For your twenty-fifth nameday, the prince’s concubines plaited your hair, painted your face, and dressed you in fine silks. You felt lovely and terribly grownup, despite your lack of experience.

“Come,” Ellaria said with a conspiratorial grin. “Let’s go bathe in the southern garden, where the prince will see you from his window.”

The southern garden was a lush oasis tucked inside the palace walls. There was a clear saltwater pond surrounded by dry grasses and desert flowers. You disrobed in the shade of the palm fronds and slid into the water.

The lack of modesty among the prince’s inner circle had of course taken some getting used to after the formalities of King’s Landing. But ultimately you came to realize, there were many worthy admirers of your particular pale softness among the hard and tanned bodies of Dorne. Why should you deny them their pleasure, when those who didn’t appreciate your form were free to look away.

“Aren’t you coming?” you called to Ellaria, who was sunning herself in a chaise.

“I’m quite happy to enjoy the view,” Ellaria said as you swam. You chuckled at her playful flirting. You could understand, despite her low birth, how she could command so much of the prince’s affection. In all of Dorne, her beauty knew no equal and her charm was irresistible.

You loved to swim–floating, mostly–especially when the water was so cool and inviting. It was still early, the sun had not yet reached its apex, but the air was already hot and dry. You could see the prince’s window, watched his curtains moving in the warm breeze. You saw the prince come to the window, looking as if he had just roused from sleep. He leaned on the sill, watching as you stroked your way lazily across the pool.

When the sun had warmed your belly, you turned over to paddle your way back into the shade. You lost sight of Prince Oberyn, only for him to reappear on the steps down to the garden in his splendid red robe with a sheet of fine linen draped over one arm.

“You should keep this one out of the sun, Ellaria,” he warned. “She wasn’t made for it.”

You frowned as Prince Oberyn beckoned you to him. You rose from the pool reluctantly and he wrapped you in the sheet.

“I’m not afraid of being burnt, my Prince,” you protested as he draped the fabric over your shoulders and rubbed your arms to dry them.

“I’m well aware, my little dragon,” he said, touching your chin gently. “But how would it look for my prize to wander through Sunspear as red as a berry.”

You tucked the sheet under your arms and tied it off to secure it.

“Isn’t she beautiful, my love,” Ellaria said, rising from her chaise to join you in the shade.

“Very beautiful,” Oberyn agreed. He rested his hands on your shoulders, looking past you to gaze at Ellaria. “All the more reason to keep her from burning to a crisp.”

“Hair like spun gold,” Ellaria noted, gathering your damp braids in her hands, wrapping them back into your gold hairpin. “Skin so smooth, just like fresh cream. And so soft.”

The prince hummed to himself, watching her work.

Ellaria pressed her front against your back, she was almost a head taller than you, and you could feel the warmth of her sex against the small of your back. Her hands moved down your neck, her fingertips brushing the tops of your breasts.

“You like her soft, don’t you, lover? I’ve seen how you enjoy a bedfellow who gives.”

“I do,” said the prince, dipping his mouth toward Ellaria’s lips, perched beside your ear. “Why do you think I keep her so well?”

A jolt of excitement raced up your spine from your core as they kissed. You realized you enjoyed hearing them talk about you, around you, like this.

Ellaria slid her hands around your waist to the prince’s hips, pulling him into your body. You could feel the hardness of his cock pressing into your belly.

Ellaria moved one hand to the side of your head, turning away from the prince to catch your mouth in a kiss. Her lips were impossibly soft against yours and she tasted like honeyed wine. Then Prince Oberyn bowed his face toward yours and you didn’t know whose tongue was in your mouth. You felt dizzy with pleasure.

Ellaria pulled away and you moaned for the loss, but Prince Oberyn was holding your face in his large hands and his tongue was moving past your teeth, delving toward your throat. Your body felt like soft clay, molding into them. Ellaria kissed your neck, taking your hands in hers, moving them into Prince Oberyn’s robe.

“Like this,” she whispered, guiding your hands over his chest, fingernails scraping against his nipples, palming the hard muscles traversing his abdomen.

The prince’s skin was nearly as smooth as yours, until your hands reached the wiry hair trailing down to his swollen cock. The prince moaned into your mouth as Ellaria positioned your hands around him.

“Gently,” she instructed. “You’re doing so well.”

As you carefully stroked the prince’s shaft, Ellaria’s hands moved across your body, kneading your breasts, traveling down the soft curves of your belly to grope at your mons, assessing the wetness of your inner folds.

“She’s ready,” Ellaria said. “Take her.”

Prince Oberyn pulled away from you panting. Your own chest heaved with exertion and your head swam.

“Are you coming?” he asked.

“Not today, lover,” Ellaria said, running a perfectly shaped fingernail down your nose affectionately. “Today is for our little dragon.”

“Come,” Oberyn instructed, leading you by the hand up the steps to his bedchamber. “There’s another nameday gift waiting for you yet.”

You hesitated, turning back toward Ellaria, looking for assurance or permission.

“Go,” she said, shooing you along with a friendly smile. “Go! Enjoy yourself.”

You followed Prince Oberyn up the stairs, full of uncertainty and excitement. His bedchamber was the finest you had ever seen: the heavy wooden furniture was ornately carved and polished to a mirror-like shine, hand-woven rugs stretched nearly from wall-to-wall. At the very center of the room was an exquisite canopy bed with silken drapes of red and gold.

“Sit,” the prince urged, motioning to the bed.

You took a seat at the end of the bed, leaning back on your forearms, anticipating your long-awaited ravishing with something akin to glee. Instead, the prince retrieved a lidded basket from the table and brought it over to the bed.

“For you,” he said. “A gift; be gentle with it.”

Your lips parted in surprise. You lifted the lid of the basket, gazing down into its contents: armor-like scales, writhing, and hissing softly. You counted three pointed, perfect heads with shining black eyes.

“Oh,” you sighed, reaching into the basket, allowing one of the serpents to coil around your fingers. “They are beautiful, my prince.”

You lifted the first creature out of the basket; its scales shining copper in the sunlight as its forked tongue darted out to catch your scent.

“Are they dangerous?”

“Only if they bite,” Oberyn said, reaching into the basket to retrieve another snake for you to examine.

“Are they likely to bite?” you asked, the snake in your hand coiled its tail around your wrist. You marveled at it, reaching for its final companion, a tiny, emerald-green thing which wove its head in and out from between your fingers.

“Not these hand-raised babies,” Oberyn said, pressing his face toward the snake’s in a show of faith. “All they want is to be kept warm and safe and fed on the finest rats Dorne has to offer.”

“Like me,” you laughed.

“Are you partial to rat, little dragon?” Oberyn smiled, returning the snakes to their basket. “I will have to inform Cook!”

You laughed, leaning back in Oberyn’s bed as he set the basket aside.

“Thank you, my Prince,” you said. “I adore them.”

“I am glad,” Oberyn said, returning to the bed. “Rumor has it your cousin has added three dragons to her command, but this is the best I could do.”

“They’re splendid, my Prince,” you said.

Oberyn leaned over you, placing a hand on the base of your throat as he kissed you.

“I can’t wait to show the others.”

“Catalina is afraid of snakes,” he warned, his mouth trailing down your neck. You cradled his head in your hands, tilting your chin back to expose your throat.

“Then Catalina will learn to stay out of my room,” you chuckled.

Oberyn paused as his mouth reached the space between your breasts, curling his fingers under the sheet that still covered you. His eyes darted to your face.

“May I?”

“Please,” you gasped, arching into him.

Oberyn opened the sheet, taking each of your breasts in his hand, pressing the flat of his tongue against each nipple one after the other, nipping and sucking until they were swollen and sensitive. You could feel your arousal coiling like a snake at the base of your spine.

“So beautiful,” he breathed against your skin. “So sweet.”

“Now you,” you pleaded, touch the collar of his robe. “Please, my Prince.”

Oberyn grinned, rising from the bed to undo his robe. His body perfectly lean and hard and golden stood in stark contrast to yours. His cock thick and long, sprouting from a nest of dark hair fully erect; you thought he must be large, though you didn’t have much to compare him to.

You turned over on the bed, crawling to him on hands and knees.

“Can I taste you, my Prince,” you asked.

Oberyn took your face in his hand, playfully squeezing your cheeks until your lips pursed.

“How could I deny this face,” he said, settling onto the bed.

Oberyn turned onto his back, supporting himself on his forearms so he could watch as you moved over him. You took his shaft in one hand, lapping at the tip. It was different than you expected, a heady, earthy musk, salty and sour on your tongue. Oberyn made a soft, satisfied sound from deep in his throat.

“More,” Oberyn instructed, placing a hand on the back of your head.

You opened your mouth wide, wrapping your lips around him. Oberyn sighed, letting his head fall back against the cushions. Try as you might, you could not reach to his root, surfacing for air only to gag yourself in the next attempt. As you moved up and down Oberyn’s length, the sounds of pleasure turned to something more like discomfort.

“Stop,” he ordered through gritted teeth, silk sheets bunched in one hand. “Stop.”

You sat back on your heels with a frown as Oberyn sighed with relief to have his cock freed from your toothsome maw.

“I’ve displeased you, my Prince,” you said, horrified that the unbreakable prince of House Martell would lay down his weapon rather than suffer your untutored enthusiasm.

“No,” Oberyn beckoned you to him. “Never. You need more practice, that’s all.”

You stretched out on the bed beside Oberyn and his hands explored the curves of your body.

“You shall have your pick of my men as a bedfellow,” he assured you, interlacing his fingers with yours, lifting your hand to his lips. “And once you’ve had sufficient preparation, we can try again. You’ll have many more opportunities to amuse me, little dragon.”

Oberyn’s fingers wandered, tracing each of the pale lines adorning your breasts and belly. If one didn’t know better, they might have assumed you had already had a baby.

“I’m going to put my fingers inside you,” Oberyn explained.

“On my honor, I am a maid, my lord,” you said as his fingers circled the sensitive jewel at the peak of your folds. The serpent in your belly that had lain dormant for so long coiled tighter.

“On my honor, I care not,” Oberyn teased. “Though it is a special pleasure to be the first to delve into this cave. I don’t know what tales are circulated by Targaryen oldwives, but in Dorne our women are taught never to suffer inattentive lovers. Maid or not this should be quite pleasurable for you.”

You bit your lip as Oberyn probed one finger past your entrance, then a second. A little tight, a little stretched, but not uncomfortable.

“More?” he asked, probing deeper. You gripped his shoulders and shook your head.

“Not yet,” you said.

Oberyn waited, pressing his thumb into the peak of the wishbone between your legs. The serpent writhed.

“What are you doing to me,” you moaned, clutching the silk sheets.

“You’ll know soon enough,” Oberyn said, his fingers curling inside you. You shrieked as he touched a place inside you that sent a lightning bolt of pleasure racing up your spine.

“There,” Oberyn chuckled, withdrawing his hand to hold your face as he kissed you. “I’m sorry to report you are too small to take all of me. There are, of course, other avenues we can explore.”

Oberyn reached around you to squeeze the globe of your ass and you gasped in excitement.

“But that is for another time,” he said, moving over you. “Today is yours to enjoy. When I press into you I want you to close your legs so I can fuck your thighs while I fuck your cunt.”

You nodded, spreading your knees so that Oberyn could settle between them, aligning his cock at your entrance, rubbing against you spreading the slickness of your arousal over himself. You felt a sharp tug as you closed your knees around him.

“Pain?” Oberyn asked, slowly pressing his hips into you.

You shook your head. “It’s not bad.”

“Breathe, little dragon,” he said, bowing his head to kiss your breasts.

Oberyn’s movements put pressure against that sensitive spot and as he flicked his hips into you, you could feel the serpent in your core coiling tighter and tighter. You moaned with abandon, letting your head fall back against the cushions.

“Good?”

“Yes,” you panted, clawing at his arms, his back, scrambling for purchase.

“My little dragon has a fire in her belly,” Oberyn teased. “So hot for me, strong and eager.”

You moaned, arching into him.

“Tell me,” you pleaded, reaching to pull him into another kiss, hot, wet, and hungry. “Tell me more about what you want to do to me.”

“Such a needy little girl,” Oberyn panted, gripping your thigh. “Already drunk off my cock.”

You purred in agreement, biting down on Oberyn’s lower lip, your pupils blown so wide your pale eyes were nearly as dark as his.

“I’ll make you mine,” he said. “A finer mount than any dragon. My love, my plaything.”

“Please,” you mewled. “Anything…anything you desire.”

Oberyn ran a hand down your body, arching his back like a cat, his gaze settling on the space below your naval.

“I’m going to fuck a baby into you,” he said. “I want your breasts to swell and your belly to stretch with my child.”

You moaned, dragging your hands down his sweat damp back to grip the hard muscles of his ass. The snake coiling in your belly finally struck, every fiber in your body crackled like hot coals. You gasped as Oberyn fucked you through your climax.

As his thrusts slowed to a desperate grind, he withdrew from you and spent his seed on your belly and chest. He rolled off of you, onto his pillows, dragging one hand through the mess he had made of you.

He pressed two fingers to your lips and you took them into your mouth, suckling his spend from them like a newborn kitten after cream.

“You’ve done me wrong, Oberyn,” you sighed, turning onto your side to meet his gaze.

Oberyn reached over you to strike your ass with the flat of his hand once, hard, and you yelped. Another thrill of pleasure raced through you.

“You forget yourself,” he warned. “I am still your prince.”

He grabbed your face and kissed you, claiming your mouth with his own. You panted as he finally released you, resting your hands on his chest.

“You promised me a baby,” you said. “And all you’ve made me is a mess.”

“In time, my sweet,” he said, gathering your body into his. “I’d like to have you to myself a while longer.”

Oberyn brushed your sweat-damp hair from your face and kissed your brow.

“You need another bath,” he warned. “To freshen up for the feast.”

“What feast, my prince,” you asked, tracing the neat line of his beard with your fingers.

“We could not let a 25th nameday go unmarked,” he said with a wry smile. “Just a small celebration, little dragon. My brother has graciously allowed us use of the great hall to mark the occasion, or at least he will.”

“You spoil me, my lord,” you sighed.

Prince Oberyn escorted you to the great hall himself; there was already a fire raging in the very center of the room filled with wine and laughter and gaiety. You didn’t even notice Ellaria until she managed to slink up behind you to whisper in your ear.

“You are glowing,” she said and you laughed as her arms trailed around your waist. "I take it you enjoyed your time together."

“Very much,” you said. “Truthfully I’m surprised I’m still standing.”

“Then sit,” she said. “Lover, we’re going to sit.”

She leaned over to kiss Prince Oberyn on the mouth–the same mouth that just hours before had transversed every unspeakable place on your body. You took a seat on a cushion at one of the low tables surrounding the fire and Oberyn summoned a page to bring you wine and sweet date cakes, before running off to make merry with a handsome young courtier.

“Did you put him up to this?” you asked as Ellaria draped one arm around you.

Ellaria scoffed.

“Hardly,” she said, twisting her fingers through your hair. “A nudge, that’s all. Just a little reassurance. Even princes know to fear dragons.”

You took Ellaria’s hand in yours and placed a kiss on her palm.

“Thank you.”

End Notes: Ta da! Thanks to all who voted and all who've read this far. What do you think? Are you interested in more?

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell smut #oberyn x reader #game of thrones fanfic

936 notes · View notes

sanjoongie · 4 months

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𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕧𝕖: 𝕄𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕪 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜

🥀Au: Fanboy Au, Fanfic smut writer! Wooyoung, Idol! Reader

🥀Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader (f)

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact

🥀Author's note: the following takes place within a world where Wooyoung is a smut fanfic writer and you, an idol pretending to be a male called 'Mingi' and his bias, are his friend

🥀Trope: loser to lover

🥀Summary: wooyoung is just a loser guy in the 2000's and you're the hot 2000's girl that's considering letting him go down on you... at a cost, of course

🥀Kinks: Mommy Kink, oral (f), face sitting, degradation kink, smothering kink, bdsm safe signals to stop and go, inexperienced! woo, experienced! reader, sub! wooyoung, dom! reader, riding Wooyoung's nose

🥀Word Count: 1,278

🥀Betas: @mejuii

🥀Day Eleven: Somnophilia 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Thirteen: Uniform

You took a deep breath. It wasn’t like you hadn't read some of Wooyoung’s stuff already, you had been hella curious after seeing Hongjoong’s nsfw fanart. So you just put yourself in the mindset that Fleur, which was your stage name, was you and the male reader was Wooyoung, because why not? And then you began to read.

📼Wooyoung’s Fanfic☎

All Wooyoung wanted to do was go to the cute candy store and get something to munch on while he gamed later tonight. Yeosang bought the new Twisted Metal Black game, and he invited him and San to play. It was just supposed to be a drive there in his Ford Focus, pick up the snacks, and then get out of there. But for the past twenty minutes straight, he couldn't stop looking at the barbed wire tattoo that was peeking out of the cashier’s short shorts as she restocked some of the bins.

When you turned around and noticed the nerd in glasses was staring at you, you rolled your eyes dramatically. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Wooyoung stuttered and proceeded to drop the bags that he had already made. The various jelly beans, soft gummies, and gumballs spilled all over the floor.

You snapped a bubble of gum angrily. “Really? A couple minutes before closing, and you’re gonna do this to me?”

You spun around to go find the broom. This was the worst shift you had ever had, and once you had to entertain a birthday party of four year olds with sticky hands.

“Wait, I can help!” Wooyoung chased after you. Your annoyance, your anger, was making him feel some kinda way.

“Don’t bother,” you spat over your shoulder, “You’ve already made a mess. Probably would make it worse.”

Wooyoung couldn't help but pursue you, like a moth to a flame. He couldn't pull himself from you.

So when you stopped abruptly and smacked into the back of you, yelping in surprise, you couldn't help your own burst of anger. You pushed him by his shoulders. “Get away from me, you freak!” You shouted in disgust.

“I can make it up to you!” Wooyoung pleaded desperately.

His glasses had fallen off when you pushed him. You tilted your head. Wait… was he kinda… hot?

You pulled your hot pink Razr phone from your back pocket and pushed the side button to see the time. It was closing time. So you stomped over to the front, flipped the sign from open to close, and then went back to Wooyoung, who was still lying in the center of the aisle with his candies all across the floor.

“You’re probably only good for creaming in your own pants,” You sneered. Wooyoung stared up at you with his mouth open in surprise. You shoved his glasses back on his face. “Prove me wrong.”

“Yes, Mommy,” dropped from his lips before his mind could catch up. “I mean!--” His face was red with embarrassment.

You rolled your eyes but began to unbutton your shorts. “I knew you were a freak. Do you know how to give head or not?” You huffed.

Wooyoung pushed his glasses up his nose, still in shock. “I--I don’t think I--”

You let out a noise of frustration, having unzipped your shorts and revealed the black thong underneath. “Nevermind, I should have known better.”

“No please!” Wooyoung protested, a hand reaching up to halt you from doing back up your pants. “You can sit on my face, right? I can try? Please, I want to try.”

“God, you really are THAT desperate for pussy?” You demanded.

Wooyoung swallowed, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob.

“Fine,” you grumbled, “But you’re going to call me Mommy, like earlier. You know to tap once to go and tap twice to stop, right? What am I saying? You don’t know shit. Listen, I am going to grind my pussy on your face and hope for the best okay? If you can’t breathe just tap my thigh twice and I’ll let up.”

Wooyoung nodded his head so enthusiastically that you thought his glasses were going to fall off again.

As it turned out, Wooyoung’s nose was perfect for grinding on. He clumsily licked at your wet folds, slurping and moaning, which only added to the allure of allowing some virgin nerd to eat you out. His arms wound around your legs, his fingers sometimes tracing the raised bumps of your barbed wire tattoo.

Just to test out if Wooyoung had actually listened to you, you sat down harder on his face, covering his nose and mouth with your cunt, bucking your hips into his nose and tongue, watching with cruel eyes as his breath was cut off. Wooyoung’s eyes widened, but his tongue didn’t stop, and you were actually impressed. Eventually, you felt a tap tap on your tattoo, and you eased up.

“Please, Mommy, do that again,” Wooyoung begged.

“I don’t think you can handle it.”

Wooyoung practically shoved his face into your cunt, tongue flat and head worrying on your clit. You gasped as he actually showed some brains, alreading picking up some technique as you grinded against his face after hours in the candy shop.

You grasped his long hair tightly, keeping him buried in your pussy. “Can you even get Mommy off with that clumsy tongue of yours?” You cooed mockingly, “Am I going to have to do all the work myself?”

Wooyoung whimpered, and you glanced over your shoulder. His baggy jeans were tented, and he was humping the air for some friction.

“Poor baby, you got a hard on? Guess you'll have to deal because Mommy always comes first, right?”

Wooyoung nodded, nudging the bridge of his nose against your clit and making you moan. He tapped twice again and when he pulled away the second time, he was gasping and his face was an absolute mess. And if you were being honest, he looked hot and debauched with his glasses fogged up.

You rode Wooyoung’s face until you came, your thighs shuddering under his arms and his chest swelled with pride as your wetness spread across his tongue and he lapped it all up, making happy, eager noises. You pushed his head back with a French tip manicure in the middle of his forehead before he started to make you feel sensitive.

You pushed upwards to get up, but Wooyoung's arms clung to you. “Liked sucking Mommy’s candy that much?” You mocked him.

“Please give me your number,” Wooyoung begged, all semblance of pride gone.

“Mmm, I don't think so, loser,” you declined. You untangled yourself from him. You adjusted your thong, careful of your freshly eaten out pussy and pulled your shorts back on.

“I'll do anything,” Wooyoung insisted, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“Please don't make this more awkward than it already is,” you said with a look of disgust.

“I'll come back every day and you can smother me with your pussy,” Wooyoung pleaded. “Mommy,” he added belatedly.

Well, there were perks to having a guy eager to eat you out every day.

🎤Back to Reality✍️

“Hey,” Your group mate patted your shoulder. “It's your turn to get your hair done.”

You smiled shakily and tried really hard not to squeeze your thighs together. Your next few hours of filming your music video were going to be torture. But if you just thought about how happy Wooyoung would be that you beta read for him, it would be worth it.

And maybe if you slipped in a little something about androids, Wooyoung would think he manifested it in your new music video.

🥀Day Eleven: Somnophilia 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Thirteen: Uniform

this au is always for @smallfrye, she claims it, it's hers 💞

#joongfryefff24 #kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #ateez smut #jung wooyoung smut #atz smut #wooyoung smut #topaz's work #ღatz #fanboys au

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deepspacedukat · 2 years

Note

More tropes: Secret badass; Spotlight human trying to live a normal life and being really successful at it until they aren’t; next door neighbors; online dating works spectacularly in this one case and it’s an outlier that should not be counted; glory hole cinderella; brothel AU; Wild West AU; Chekov’s Gun.

Also not a trope but apparently cooking meat in water instead of in oil makes the fat render evenly and I love it. Fully product tested and vetted my tacos are delicious. It also works on bacon!!!

-Horta-in-Charge

Ooooh goody more!!! 👀💖

Secret Badass: Between A and B <- I do enjoy it, and I do seek it out, but I have to be in the mood for it.

Spotlight Human Trying To Live A Normal Life And Being Really Successful At It Until They Aren't: A++ YES. Just yes.

Next Door Neighbors: A+++++++++ <- OH MY GOD THEY WERE NEXT DOOR NEIGHBORS. YES. Frequently sought after. Makes me all feral and soft and melty. Because it usually goes from strangers to friends to you-can-cut-the-sexual-tension-with-a-knife. Like. YEs. Y E S.

Online Dating Works Spectacularly In This One Case And It's An Outlier That Should Not Be Counted: B <- Not as common in the fics I go through, but it does tend to scratch an itch I didn't know I had when I found it. Oddly hesitant when I find these, but also...I almost always love them, so...I really shouldn't be??

Glory Hole Cinderella: A+++++ <- If the dick fits...

Brothel AU: A++++++ <- I didn't think anyone would bring this one up, but since you have, it's uh...it's a good one. A really really really good one... And when it goes from stranger sex in a brothel to lovers ooooOOOOHHH THAT'S THE GOOD SHIT.

Wild West AU: F--- <- I've never been a fan of wild west stuff. Cowboy Romulans are an exception, but with literally everything else, I...I just cringe so hard??? There's no need for the cringe, but...it just...it grates at my brain in the wrong way. Every couple of years, I'll find one and give it a try just to see if anything's changed, but it never has. I was so fucking surprised that the idea of Cowboy Romulans even intrigued me at all, because Wild West stuff just...never ever does it for me. Ever. Usually, I avoid it like the plague. Idk if it's the cliches or the setting in general or what.

Chekhov's Gun: C <- I mean, this is more of a principle than a trope, but fair enough. Every element being necessary to a story can be helpful or detrimental depending on the author. If it's done well, it feel like a solid A+ and like a puzzle that's neatly cut and constructed - natural i a story sense, if you will. If it's done poorly, it feels so...artificial...so stilted and rehearsed and just a little too convenient. It's nice to put in some little extraneous details here and there. It sets the scene and gives atmosphere/character in a way that explicit statements don't always manage with the same finesse.

Ahh, I see you've learned more the Food Magic! Congrats, Horta!! 🥳❤️ ILYSM FREN! 💚

#deepspacedukat asks #horta in charge #fanfic trope rating game

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satorugojjo · 11 months

Text

I don’t think there’s a single book BookTok has promoted in the last couple years that’s turned out to be an actually good “you cannot miss this read” which now makes me and so many others I know avoid it as a whole.

A lot of BookTok books seem to be specific for very young or very new readers who haven’t cut their teeth on fanfic or haven’t been reading from a young age. The writing style is either a really profound Instagram metaphorical caption kinda overwrought and over flowery language, or it’s trying so hard to be edgy and sardonic and ends up being completely tell and almost zero show. This Is How You Lose The Time War is a PERFECT example of this - where the flowery and poetic language actually takes AWAY from a scene and distracts you from it rather than adding anything to it in the moment, and for those who do like poetic fiction this will be up their alley but if you don’t and you pick it up because of badly marketed hype when you normally wouldn’t, it’s gonna turn you off reading in general!

There’s nothing wrong with starter fiction to help get readers engaged and then find their way into actually good books, but my gripe is that it’s never ever marketed as that and as if it it’s just generically good fiction. Nothing Colleen Hoover has ever written is objectively good - the writing style is mediocre and she romanticises taboo topics which will seem spicy to the average population who doesn’t READ. And yet she takes up every bookshelf which I promise you will end up turning many readers who ARENT on booktok away from reading altogether.

YA is another genre that has declined a lot in recent years because it’s full of marketers trying to fit all the buzzword tropes into their books and getting young readers to buy it because it’s “enemies to lovers pirate cyberpunk found family” or whatever - and it feels more like focus group fiction rather than actual writing. I LOVE YA but nothing that’s been released post 2020 has had any depth, plot, character development or any style to it.

A great example is Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros - i tried reading 2 chapters as a sample and it was shocking to see how illogical, overdramatic, overedgy and exceptionally “this happened then this then this then that” it was. There was absolutely zero nuance and it felt so “I’m telling you all this but I’m not gonna prove any of it”. And yet it’s rated either 5 stars or 1 star. I’m sure it’s a great starter middle grade/teen book but it is definitely not deserving to be on the same pedestal as other YA books like Hunger Games or Six of Crows. I used to think that perhaps I’ve just outgrown YA but considering I can pick up YA from 2018 that I haven’t read before with no problems, it’s so specific to BOOKTOK YA.

It’s getting to the point that if I see a book that’s being overpromoted on tiktok, I’m more likely to believe the bad reviews because there hasn’t been a SINGLE book where I’ve disagreed with them, and then go find a different book in the same genre that hasn’t been on booktok - it’s getting hilarious actually that the books that are actually incredible get zero screen time and traction on booktok because they aren’t just cheap easy airport reads. Once again - nothing wrong with an easy airport CH book or YA book, but we aren’t going around parading a Lee Child book as peak literature no matter how enjoyable they are.

I don’t even have a conclusion to this entire rant - I’m sick of books like Babel getting steamrolled because it was “too sad or too hard” in favour of the latest SJM book, and getting even more sick of the decline of media literacy due to books getting easier and more spoonfeedy. When they aren’t? They mistake flowery metaphors for complexity and depth.

#booktok #books #bookblr #Rebecca yarros #fourth wing #colleen hoover #this is how you lose the time war #Babel #rf kuang

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jooniperbonsai · 5 months

Text

Thanks For The Sub (ksj) | Chapter One

Pairing: Camboy!Seokjin x Gamer!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Chapter One length: 11-14k 18,371 (OOPS LOL)

Release date: Fri. January 19, 2024.

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, camboy au, gamer au, comedy, crack, slow burn (?), coworkers/boss/friends to lovers, an exploration of adults in their late 20s/early 30s

Summary: After a clip of you sucking at video games goes viral, you've become somewhat famous, with thousands of subscribers now tuning in each week to see you play. Overnight, you've gone from a sexually frustrated grad student who reads smut in her room to a gamer girl (or rather, a not-gamer girl). This would have been the perfect job, except it was never the job you wanted. Desperate for money to pay for grad school, you bounce between your new gig and working at a local restaurant to pay the bills, where your hot coworker-now-boss Seokjin plays many of the lead roles in your sexual fantasies.

Seokjin, two years post losing his fiancé and job within the same day, is tired of the rut he's dug himself into and wants to start over. Now 30 years old, he's stuck managing his family's restaurant where he harbors an insanely inappropriate crush on you on top of carrying one hell of a secret: Seokjin is also known as Jin, a successful gay-for-pay camboy on the streaming site Worldwide Handsome.

When the stress of the upcoming semester and the pressure to stream becomes more than you can handle, you seek out some much-needed stress relief online, only to discover a man who looks a little too much like your boss is staring right back at you.

Warnings for Chapter One: Swearing, cheating (not between main characters), big age gap between lesser characters that can be uncomfy, sex work, gay sex work when the worker is actually not gay (but everyone is chill about it), <- allusions to queer fetishization bc of this, feelings of shame and guilt, feelings of failure/depression, improper restaurant safety procedures, the existential crisis of your late-20s/30s that we all seem to go through, off-handed references to kpop culture including fanfics because I'm a clown and need to call us out sometimes, silly literary tropes, references to pregnancy (NOT reeader), boss-employee power dynamics, allusions to queer BTS members or relationships, cameos of au Seventeen Members (Wonwoo and y/n are besties). NSFW sex stuff: big dick Seokjin (of course), Seokjin with rolled shirt sleeves and cutting things in a kitchen, Daddy Dom Seokjin makes himself known, blindfolds, camming (obviously), f/m masturbation, lots of dirty talk, sex toys, degradation kink, praise kink, sexual fantasies at the worst moment, kink exploration, a lot cum (sorry), I mention the omegaverse as a joke, a sparkly pink dildo, seokjin has a massive collection of toys and he intends to use them, seokjin and reader are constantly horny, reader is kind of inexperienced, implied exhibitionism kink, implied voyeurism, implied public sex.

a/n: it's here (and longer than I intended but oh well!) this fic is inspired by a combination of fics from the lovely writing community on here, the copious amounts of smut I read, a dabble of my friends or my own experience, & the high drama of kdramas. I felt really compelled to write this fic after rereading "tip 143 (for ∞ seconds of love)" by minilouvre on ao3. I feel like the camboy/person trope is so fun to explore and I wanted to try my own take on it with our Seokjin, who doesn't seem to get as many fics written about him but absolutely deserves it. I also wanted to create space for a fic that explores the weird transition of late 20s-30s that both BTS and I (and maybe many of you) have experienced in the last few years. I hope you enjoy! I keep my inbox open, so lmk your thoughts!

xo - h

That’s it baby cum for me.

Such a good little slut for Daddy.

Wish that dildo was my cock.

Fuck this is so hot.

The tip jar was going wild. The mute button tapped long ago, tonight was by far the most successful night camming Seokjin had ever had. He would definitely be able to afford that new gaming PC after this.

Thank god. After three hours streaming, he was getting tired of riding the glittery pink dildo. It was cute–a Christmas gift from one of his loyal subscribers– but admittedly, he hadn’t prepped well enough before putting it in an hour ago, and when he let out a pained groan as he sank down on it, he immediately knew he would be feeling it tomorrow, and maybe the next day.

His only consolation was the five new top-tier subscriptions he’d received while experiencing searing hot pain. He’d clearly appealed to someone’s kink. Well, there was always something for everyone.

Seokjin knew this well. Today was his two-year anniversary since his first livestream on Worldwide Handsome, an international gay live cam site. During those two years he had seen just about every kink requested, from wax play to autoerotic asphyxiation to something called the omegaverse; he’d sifted through the internet and researched enough on each request to decide which ones he’d be willing to perform, and which kinks were too much outside of his comfort zone.

Now, with an apartment full of gifted costumes and drawers full of just about every type of sex toy known to the human population (and perhaps even some aliens if those toys held any accuracy), it was obvious that Seokjin was a knowledgeable and successful camboy who could fulfill so many men’s fantasies.

Except for the fact that Seokjin wasn’t actually gay.

Which is, as it turns out, also something people are into.

Two Years Ago

It wasn’t that Seokjin ever intended to be a gay sex cam worker, much less a camboy at all, but two years, four months, three weeks, and twelve hours ago, Seokjin hopped on a plane after finishing a week-long conference in Los Angeles. He’d booked the first flight out, eager to come home to his fiancé.

During the week, he hadn’t heard much from her. He understood, of course. She’d mentioned before he left that during that week she would be busy catching up on work and finalizing a really important project with a looming deadline. She’d been stressed about it the morning he left, practically shoving him out the door with his suitcase.

But he missed her desperately, especially with the distance between them, and he was hoping he could regain some of that intimacy by trying phone sex. They’d been having less sex recently, probably from the stress of work, but he still craved her every single day, just like he did when they were in college.

For most of his and Soon Yi’s relationship, they were insatiable. In college, they were known for being embarrassingly public in their displays of affection, with Yoongi once catching them in the kitchen at a party with Soon Yi’s hand down Seokjin’s pants and Seokjin’s hands up Soon Yi’s shirt. At first, Seokjin wondered if he always felt so horny because of his raging hormones and the fact that Soon Yi was the first person he’d had sex with. But even three years later, on the night he’d proposed, they had to leave the restaurant he rented out so they could have sex in the car.

Soon Yi was charming. She matched Seokjin’s wit, always ready to keep up with a joke and take it to the next level. She fit in effortlessly with his group of friends, remembering their birthdays and always showing up with a tiny treat for them, even if they hated celebrating. His parents adored her the moment they met her. She was frequently fawned over when she visited his work to bring him lunch or to just stop by and say hello.

When his boss, Mr. Choi met her during the company’s annual gala, he told Seokjin she was enchanting, she was the moon that lit up the evening sky. Mr. Choi was also incredibly drunk when he said this, but he wasn’t wrong.

Soon Yi glowed through Seokjin’s darkest nights like the moon.

That’s why when she denied every video call request he made during his trip, Seokjin knew something was wrong. He felt desperate and needy, something he’d never experienced during their relationship.

As he laid in his hotel bed, touching himself to their memories, a strange need overtook him: he wanted to remind her that despite all the work stress, they always got through everything together and ultimately, being intimate might help with reconnection.

So at the end of his boring conference, he flew back, planning on surprising her when she got home with a delicious meal and sexy massage. Maybe he’d even use those silly novelty heart-shaped handcuffs Jungkook got him as a gag gift.

He was ready to rekindle his love for the moon.

What Seokjin wasn’t ready for was the fact that when he walked through the door of his house, the only moon he saw was that of Mr. Choi’s naked ass as he thrust into Soon Yi on the dining room table.

As it became immediately apparent, Soon Yi’s “work project” was clearly what was playing out before him as he watched the only woman he’d ever been in love with writhe in ecstasy underneath his much older work superior.

It would have been one thing to lose his fiancé, but in witnessing this entanglement, Seokjin also knew he’d lost his job. Due to the blur of his memory, his brain trying to erase what he’d seen, he wasn’t entirely sure when they realized he was home. However, by the time he had grabbed another duffel with some fresh, non work-related clothes from his dresser–after he breezed past his unmade bed that probably didn’t smell like him anymore–Soon Yi and Mr. Choi were half dressed and sheepishly waiting for him near the entry.

Seokjin couldn’t bring himself to look either of them in the eyes as he stated his resignation letter would be on Mr. Choi’s desk the following morning.

When he arrived at Jimin and Jungkook’s apartment to crash, that’s when reality set in. What would he do now? He had no house to live in, no job to make money from, and he just lost the love of his life.

His head was splitting from the idea of car payments, a mortgage under his name for a place he wouldn’t be living in, having to tell his parents, calling the wedding venue and paying that awful cancellation fee on top of not getting his deposit back. The extra zeros in his bank account were depleting fast and it wasn’t like he would be able to sleep on Jimin and Jungkook’s couch forever.

After two weeks of dodging family phone calls, desperately applying to every job that didn’t sound like a scam, waking up in the middle of the night from the lumpiness of the couch or Jungkook’s horrible snoring, Seokjin felt like he was out of options.

“I’m going to call my parents and tell them. Maybe I can work at the restaurant for the time being while I wait for callbacks. I have some money in my savings for my own apartment. I just can’t keep doing this,” he said.

“Hyung, are you sure? You know that we don’t mind you being here as long as you need. Really, it’s not an issue.” Jimin was gentle as always, the concern on his face knitting his eyebrows together.

But Seokjin knew he was avoiding the inevitable, so when he nodded and then called his parents, their warm voices on the other end felt like a sign he’d made the right decision after all.

The next week, Seokjin began working at his family’s restaurant, filling in for shifts that were short, typically in the kitchen. Chopping and prepping the food for the chefs, dish washing, and anything that kept his hands busy were welcome distractions from the painful reminder of what awaited him outside of the restaurant.

Soon Yi was pregnant. Seokjin found out one day when he stopped by to grab a load of his things to bring to his new apartment. While both he and Soon Yi agreed to sell the house, it appeared she was taking longer than him to pack. He figured this was because she would be moving in with Mr. Choi, who lived in the penthouse of a luxury apartment complex downtown.

During their meeting with the real estate agent, Soon Yi had scribbled her new contact information and mailing address onto some forms with Mr. Choi’s details. Wealthy people always operated on their own timeline, one where they could hire a moving company to have everything neatly packed and stored within hours.

Seokjin, however, was limited to an ongoing loop of back and forth where he crammed his car full of silverware, lamps, and his MapleStory figure collection Soon Yi once mocked him for collecting. As Seokjin continued to pack away his belongings, he saw it. In the guest bathroom outside of the kitchen, there were two positive pregnancy tests in the garbage can.

Soon Yi was pregnant and the father wasn’t him. The last time they’d had sex was three months ago. She would have known by now if that were the case.

A wave of nausea rushed over him, and somewhere between bouts of gagging and wiping tears from his eyes, Seokjin realized that things were truly over.

Two months passed, and still he couldn’t find a job. While the restaurant gig was taking care of some of his bills, it was only a matter of time before Seokjin would be unable to take care of himself. At 28 years old, he’d have to move back in with his parents, which was next to impossible in terms of space, not to mention the fact that his brother and wife were living with them while their apartment was being renovated to better accommodate a life transition of their own: they were expecting their first child.

Given his semi-recent discovery, being around a pregnant woman was something Seokjin didn’t particularly want a reminder of.

“I don’t know what to do. Something has to give,” he said one day as he sat in Yoongi’s living room. A thick coat of snow was covering the earth outside, though from the sweat running down the back of Seokjin’s neck, you would never be able to tell. Yoongi always kept his home at the exact opposite of the climate outside, trying to quell the possibility he would have to experience any physical discomfort if he dared to ever leave his house, which he rarely did.

His friends all sat around him, quietly sipping their whisky or beer while the flashing light from the TV casted a kaleidoscope of colors across the coffee table. Hoseok nudged Taehyung, who’d fallen asleep at some point between the long pauses in conversation. Seokjin couldn’t blame him.

It was late, much later than the invitation Yoongi extended typically lasted, but this meetup was different. Everyone had always known Seokjin to be optimistic. From a goofy dad-joke-making 18 year old until now, he’d consistently been a source of light. When Taehyung’s grandmother died a few years back, it was Seokjin who made him first smile again with a spot-on impression of his own halmoni as they slurped bowls of naengmyeon.

His hair was shaggy and unkempt, his smile fading quickly from his face after cracking a joke. His jokes were also darker, less silly and eye-rolling and more self-deprecating and sarcastic. It was like his life was draining from him before their eyes, and it was becoming nearly impossible to stomach.

But concern doesn’t always lead to action, which is why they were sitting around in Yoongi’s living room hoping the whisky would give them some inspiration to find a solution to Seokjin’s problem that he wouldn’t immediately turn down. They’d scoured job sites together earlier, and anything in Seokjin’s former profession only led to him suggesting his next boss better be a woman or else he might have to keep his future girlfriend away from corporate events or dining tables. Other careers in his field were met with similar disdain.

Seokjin wasn’t always this way. In college, he didn’t know what kind of job he wanted or where he wanted to end up, so he majored in acting, hoping that it would lead him where he would eventually develop some sense of passion.

In a sense it did. During an internship with an entertainment company shortly after he graduated, his attention to detail, natural charisma, and flexibility showcased a skillset he didn’t even know he had, which resulted in him being offered a position in their corporate headquarters the following fall. He’d been there ever since.

But Seokjin didn’t want to return to the same life he’d had. So much of his life up to this point had been the same, and it clearly didn’t work out for him, so why continue on? The only issue was that he once again felt like he was 18, trying to decide on a path to follow when he didn’t even know who he was anymore. Nothing was appealing to him.

“What about video game streaming?” Namjoon suggested. “You love games, and you have all the equipment. You used to talk about doing that all the time.”

“Yeah, hyung. You’re also really good at talking and stuff, so it would be fun to watch you do it!” Taehyung perked up at this suggestion, shaking off his sleepiness to contribute to the conversation. “I’ve seen how much streamers make with all their sponsorships and stuff, they don’t even have to work another job!”

The energy in the room picked up slightly as they waited expectantly for an answer.

Seokjin grunted. “Okay, look. I would love to do that. That’s my dream job. But you’re forgetting something important. Those streamers didn’t just jump on the internet one day and then got thousands of subscribers and sponsorships to pay their bills overnight. Some of them took years to build up their following before they even started making money off of it. A lot of people actually lose money from game streaming. And I need money now. I don’t have that kind of time!”

Taehyung deflated, settling himself back into the couch next to Hoseok, who gave him a tender pat on his thigh.

“But what if…what if you did a kind of streaming that made you money pretty much right away?” Jungkook offered quietly.

Seokjin glanced over at his youngest friend, who was holding his empty whisky glass in his hands instead of looking at him.

“What do you mean? Is there some kind of gaming livestream service that does that?” Now Seojkin was curious.

“Um, well, not for gaming, exactly. I was just thinking. Um, you could always do like an OnlyFans or something? I have a friend who does it and she sometimes makes $1000 a night. And that would take care of–”

“You mean being a camboy? Jungkook, seriously? Listen I know we’ve all had a bit to drink, but that’s a ridiculous idea.” Seokjin snorted. “Besides, the market is flooded with people doing their own sex work. Maybe your friend is just really pretty or something to make that much from it, but I highly doubt I would make any money off OnlyFans because no one would even see me!”

Jungkook nursed his bottom lip between his teeth as he was dismissed, his body mirroring Taehyung as he fell back into the couch cushions.

“Hyung is right,” Jimin added finally, having spent most of the night settled quietly next to an even quieter Yoongi. “He wouldn’t make much money on OnlyFans. All the men on there are either ugly or buff, and Seokjin-hyung looks way too gay to appeal to that market.”

Yoongi, who was sipping his whisky as Jimin spoke, spluttered into the glass as he lost his composure, falling into a fit of laughter. From the other side of the room, Hoseok joined in, clapping and gasping for air between laughs.

“Excuse me? What the hell does that even mean? Yah, stop laughing! It’s not funny!” Seokjin fought the smile that was trying to form on his lips. Okay, it was a little funny.

“Well, hyung, isn’t it obvious? Remember that one time we went to a gay bar and all those guys I tried to pick up tried to pick you up instead?” Jimin sighed as he glanced at Seokjin before reaching across the coffee table to grab a handful of cheese balls.

“We’ve been over this. They weren’t trying to pick me up. They just told me I was really handsome and had fuckable lips. And they’re not wrong!”

“Wait when did you guys go to a gay bar? Where was I?” Yoongi cleared his throat, finally recovering from his laughing fit.

“You didn’t want to come, remember? I don’t know why you’re asking this, you never want to go anywhere. Anyway that’s besides the point. Seokjin-hyung and I went to the gay bar and he stole all of the guys I was hitting on because they wanted to make him their baby girl!”

Hoseok wiped a tear from his eye and chuckled. “Yeah, no, hyung I’m sorry but if Jimin is being passed up at a gay bar for you, you clearly give off that vibe. I can see it. You look all soft and plushy and like you would be the perfect bottom.”

Seokjin tried to fight off the heat that was creeping up his neck into his ears, but after a few glasses of whisky, and the ungodly temperature of the room, it was a failed mission to avoid being flushed.

Jimin shot a glare at Hoseok, who shrugged. “What? I meant it as a compliment!”

“Well, thanks I guess. Now I know I look like I’m gay. That doesn’t seem to solve my problem here!” Seokjin looked over at Namjoon for backup, but all Namjoon seemed to be able to do was give him an apologetic smile.

“No, I know, I know. We got off topic.” Jimin said, “Sort of. Listen, like I said before you wouldn’t be successful on OnlyFans, just because of what they market. But you could always market yourself differently. And I’m thinking, if you really need to make money fast, you could always work with what you’ve got going for you.”

The entire room went silent.

“Wait,” Namjoon said, “you don’t mean…” His eyes flitted to Seokjin and widened in alarm.

Slowly, everyone shifted as they realized what Jimin was suggesting, Seokjin evidently being the last one.

How was he supposed to work with what he had when what he had was apparently drawing a different crowd of people from the one he was interested in? What did Jimin mean by marketing himself differently? Was he supposed to just stream on websites that were exclusively for gay men?

Oh. That’s exactly what Jimin was saying.

“Wh-Jimin what the fuck? You mean I should be a gay camboy? I know we just talked about me being attractive to men, but I’m not interested in them that way!”

Jimin huffed. “Well obviously I know you’re not gay. Otherwise we might not be in this situation.”

Seokjin winced.

“Sorry, that was unfair. It’s just…hyung, you’ve been so not like yourself lately. And you’re right, something needs to change. I know you’re not gay, but this still could help. Haven’t you heard of gay for pay? Like in porn and stuff a bunch of straight actors will fuck each other or some gay guy because it pays more than straight porn. It’s the same thing.”

“Only you don’t have to actually fuck anyone. Maybe you should remind him of that,” Yoongi added.

“Right, exactly! Look, you don’t have to do it. But it could help you get by and pay bills in the meantime until you find something else that you want to do. And there’s a lot of sites where you can stream even once and get a direct payout the next day. It might be worth a shot.”

Seokjin thought about it for a moment. It didn’t sound completely awful. From what he’d seen from the times he saw cam sites out of curiosity, most of what happened was masturbating and talking to people. And he didn’t hate people. But something about it made him nervous.

“I don’t know if I’d be okay with being watched. That seems embarrassing.”

“Oh please, the number of times you and Soon Yi fucked basically in public is astronomical. You’re practically an exhibitionist,” Hoseok teased.

“That was different! I was with her! Now it would be everyone watching just me up close and personal. Namjoon-ah, talk some sense into them. This is crazy, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if it actually is, hyung,” Namjoon said lightly. “Jimin-ah and Hobi have made some good points. And I think…I think if you weren’t even just a little bit curious you would have immediately said no instead of going back and forth with them over it like how you flat out said no to the other stuff. Maybe you’re feeling a bit shy because it’s been a little while and you are trying to heal through the breakup and stuff, but you also don’t have to do it or you can do it once and change your mind after if you want.

“It just doesn’t seem to me like this is the worst option for you. You get to talk to people, you can maybe have fun. You don’t see the people on the other side anyway, so if you wanted to pretend they were girls instead of guys you could, or turn off the comments probably? It’s not real sex though. And even if it was, is that so wrong? It’s not like you would be cheating on Soon Yi for doing this. I mean-”

“Thanks Hyung! I think we get it!” Jimin interjected, raising his eyebrows at Namjoon as if to say shut the fuck up.

Seokjin felt his stomach sink. Is this why he was panicked at the thought? It wasn’t real sex, but it almost felt like he would be doing something wrong by doing this. Not morally against himself, but someone else. Maybe he was still hanging on to Soon Yi in ways he didn’t fully realize.

He felt almost like a heavy weight was pressing on his chest and forbidding him from moving on. What would happen then if he tried doing this for himself? Would the weight still feel the same? He wanted to know.

“Ah, fine, I’ll think about it.” He looked over at Yoongi, who looked relieved that the conversation was nearing its end. “You have anything to add to this? A final voice of reason?”

Yoongi snorted as he jumped up to stretch. “Nah. Except, as your former roommate, ‘Seok’s got a point about the exhibitionism thing. You were way too into showing me your dick all the time and walking around naked when we roomed together.”

The room erupted into laughter, Seokjin himself joining. This time his smile didn’t immediately fall from his face.

Slowly, everyone else stood, bodies unwinding from furniture and each other. While Jimin ordered Jungkook and himself a taxi, Seokjin waited with him.

“My only issue is, how do I pretend to be gay? Won’t they know I’m not?”

Jimin scoffed as he nudged a sleepy and tipsy Jungkook into his shoes. “I don’t know hyung. You have an acting degree. Use it.”

A few weeks later, Seokjin held his first stream, nervously engaging with the handful of viewers trickling in and tried to deflect the discomfort he felt in his new spotlight.

“Um, hi everyone. My name’s Jin. Thanks for coming. You can probably tell, but this is my first time and I’m really nervous. I hope you enjoy the show.”

Seokjin decided to shorten his name for his streams to help him feel like he was embodying a different persona, someone named Jin who may actually be gay. It wasn’t a big change, but it was nice to give himself some separation from Seokjin, the guy who was doing gay for pay to afford a new life.

Unfortunately, Jimin’s suggestion for Seokjin to act wasn’t as easy to implement as he’d hoped. Within the first half hour, viewers of his stream had noticed he was still nervous, and started asking him questions to get him to unwind, and hopefully undress.

“Ah, yeah, uh, anal. I’ve done it once or twice, it’s nice.” It wasn’t a lie, he’d tried anal a few times with Soon Yi and did find it nice, but he also knew that this wasn’t what the question was asking.

“Do I have a boyfriend? No, I’m single.”

Slowly he began undressing, the heat of his half-truths causing him to feel like he was burning up.

“Are you really gay? Well, what kind of question is that? I’m here aren’t I?”

That question seemed to satisfy his audience for another half hour, until a new thread of people trickled in, asking him the same questions. He was running out of ways to answer.

I don’t care if you’re straight. You’re still hot.

When he read this comment, he exhaled deeply. And from that one reaction, a flurry of others joined in.

Yeah, idc either. You’re still so pretty.

So hot if u were straight. Maybe I’d convert u. ;)

I’d let you put it into my ass and let you pretend it was a pussy.

For some reason, these comments began to fuel him. The attention was kind of nice. It reminded him of how he used to feel.

Maybe he didn’t need to act gay to get what he wanted. Maybe he could just enjoy the pleasure of the compliments and company and see what happened from there? The weight he had been carrying around in his chest was feeling a bit lighter, and the comments were helping distract him from the pinches of guilt that he was doing something wrong. Because he wasn’t.

Here, he was Jin, a sexy, flirty guy who could shine in the sky of his own making.

Jin, the moon.

That’s it. He was the moon.

Present

“That’s it, give it to me. Please, I’m gonna cum.” Seokjin hoped the words he moaned at his camera were true. He was so tired, and he wanted to be free from the stupid dildo.

Lately, Seojkin has been having a hard time cumming on stream. He wasn’t sure why. For so long it had never been an issue, but streaming had begun feeling less like a fun way to relieve stress and more like an actual job.

Never before was he so popular with his stream, and while it’s nice to see a larger deposit being made into his bank account each week, every time he came home from the restaurant and knew he was scheduled to do a cam show, his stomach knotted up with dread.

The last time he felt this feeling was a little over two years ago, when hopping on planes to fly to mundane conferences or sitting in board rooms for morning meetings consumed all his time. Even during the period he was jobless, there was a tiny part of him relishing the fact that the work-related dread was over.

And it returned with a vengeance. Seokjin tried everything, ventured into new kinks and even the game features of the website with the hope that he would feel the rush he used to love from streaming. But nothing really worked. It was now just his job.

He didn’t even want to stream for so long tonight, but because it was his anniversary, he wanted to make sure he ended on a good note to thank his viewers.

One thing Seokjin’s viewers loved was seeing him cum. It was the part of his stream when he always earned the most tips. Jimin had been right.

If Seokjin knew anything now, it’s that he had many assets worth using to finance his life, and his pretty face coupled with his big dick seemed to work for him.

But even as he stroked himself, precum dripping down the head of his cock, and even though he was riding the dildo in a way that would hit his prostate and finally give him an easy out, he could feel the edge pulling away.

“Fuck,” he grunted. He was losing it. He doubled down, rocking his hips to see if hitting a different sweet spot would do the trick. But it was to no avail; his cock was softening.

On his nightstand, his phone pinged, which only could mean one thing. Seokjin always turned his do not disturb mode on during his work hours, only allowing phone calls from his family or one alert from an app to pierce through the silence. This one was the alert.

It meant Y/N was online and you had just started a live stream of your own.

You were one of this month’s top gaming streamers, bringing in more viewers than Seokjin had ever received during his top months of streaming. You were popular not because you were good, but because you were the exact opposite.

You were awful at most games you played, jolting at jumpscares over and over, losing in first rounds of Fall Guys or Dead by Daylight. One time you jumped into a game of Fortnite and were eliminated by a potty-mouthed child the second you landed. Your jaw hung open as the tiny, high pitched voice called you a bitchass before falling into a fit of laughter that had Seokjin himself in tears.

You were inspiring. Sexy. You received dozens of comments every stream about how pretty you were or how great your laugh was, which you often didn’t read out loud but always offered a humble nod and show of thanks when you did. There was something about you that hit up the world around you, and though he wouldn’t so much as utter it out loud, Seokjin had a massive crush on you.

But Seokjin was also sort-of-not-really your manager. Unlike all the people pining over you in your comment section wishing they knew you in real life, Seokjin actually did. He saw you three times a week at his family’s restaurant that he was strong-armed into managing while his parents took the opportunity to finally travel and see other parts of the world.

Seokjin stayed, not because he needed the money. Not that his pay was all that much anyway.

Camming was incredibly lucrative for him, cementing his income in a way that allowed him to pay rent in a very nice apartment downtown. Seokjin was also someone who had always been smart with his finances and knew how to invest in the best trends.

When his house with Yoon Si finally sold (after four months of her taking her sweet time to gather her last belongings and sign off on him putting it on the market), Seokjin took his cut and applied it toward a better streaming setup and some lower level stocks…and a special edition MapleStory figurine to celebrate the new chapter in his life.

Seokjin’s family never seemed to question how he was able to afford his fancy apartment given how much money he made at their business. Well, they did ask once, but Seokjin orchestrated some simple lie saying he worked in cryptocurrency, and that seemed to be enough of an explanation for his family. No one wants to know how crypto works, which in the end worked in his favor.

He’d planned to leave the restaurant about 8 months ago, but then you showed up one day asking about a job. The restaurant was within walking distance to your university, where you were getting your master’s degree in early childhood education. While the program you were enrolled in had some funding, you’d told Seokjin’s mother you were a student and in need of work. The following Monday, Seokjin walked in and found you with an apron tied around your waist, your bright eyes and smile shining back at him. He couldn’t bring himself to leave after that.

A few months after you’d started working there, Seokjin and you had become somewhat friends, sharing stories about past jobs (minus some key details on Seokjin’s part), student observations you had to do for school, and your interests. You mentioned casually you were a livestreamer for gaming, never alluding to how popular you actually were.

Eventually, Seokjin convinced you to give him your username, batting his eyelashes dramatically and promising he would be your cheerleader. For some reason, that seemed to work, and later that night, Seokjin tuned in to your stream, one man among the thousands. From that moment on he let his crush become a safe thing where, like his own viewers, he could fantasize from behind a screen. Maybe soon he would actually ask you out on a date, taking your coworker relationship and transforming it into something more.

And then a month ago his parents left, leaving him with the roles and responsibility of manager. Which meant he was an authority figure who could arguably do whatever he wanted. Similar to how his boss in a way was an authority figure who could get whatever he wanted. That idea turned Seokjin’s stomach sour. He could never do anything about this crush now, not while you worked underneath him. It was too familiar and distorted, and he never wanted you to be in the position he was once in. It was completely inappropriate.

But try telling his dick that.

Two days ago, Seokjin witnessed you in the kitchen bending over to pick up onion peels that had fallen to the ground. You definitely weren’t aware, but your skirt had ridden up a bit while you were working, and that meant he could see a tiniest delicate trim of lace on your blush colored panties.

And despite the fact that Seokjin was 30 years old and had believed he’d gotten past his boner-in-public-just-from-seeing-underwear era during his teen years, he was evidently wrong. Because those panties and soft looking curve of ass didn’t just belong to anyone; they belonged to you.

This wasn’t the only time he got hard for you at work. Sometimes on days when there were no customers, he would watch you study at one of the tables, where you were prone to stretching your body after long periods of staring down, trying to unknot the tense muscles caused by sitting almost completely still as you tried to comprehend what you were reading.

During those stretches, you would often let out the most sexual moans and sighs as you felt relief and it was enough to have Seokjin tucking himself under his belt like a horny school boy. God, what he would do to hear you moan underneath him, because of him.

He thought about recording you stretching. He was addicted to your voice, your soft sighs. It would be so easy to just “leave” his phone in the booth behind you. Then he could hear it forever while he imagined what else made you moan. Did you like your nipples sucked? Did you sigh when you were being stretched open and felt full? How did you taste?

And then Seokjin pulled himself together and realized how sickeningly perverted he was to be thinking about you like this as he stood hard and aching in the middle of his parents’ fucking restaurant.

He wanted you. So much so that now as he worked his cock in his fist, he let himself fall more into fantasy, one where you were watching, curious about the many toys and gifts around his apartment, wondering how you could reach the limits of what you wanted and needed to make you scream. He imagined that across town, you weren’t firing up your computer for a night of cozy games, but rubbing your pussy at the same speed he was stroking himself, wet and begging for him to cum all over those gorgeous tits, that wet tongue–

Seokjin groaned as he came, his entire body trembling as a thick load erupted all over his hands, chin, and chest. Normally he could control the direction to minimize the mess but this orgasm caught him a bit off guard, almost completely lost until it crept up with a burning need and coated him. He hadn’t felt that good in a while.

As he panted and focused his eyes back onto the screen, his comments were flooded with praise and tips, viewers exclaiming how this might have been his best orgasm they’ve ever seen, which was saying a lot considering some of his subscribers had been with him from the very beginning, and there had been some pretty fantastic orgasms.

He wouldn’t deny it, though. He felt looser in his joints, calm washing over him and breaking apart the bitterness that was in his gut from how lackluster streaming had been recently. He wiped his chin with a grin and reached for the towel next to him, ready to wrap up his show. As he delivered his thank yous, one comment drifting through the chat stopped him dead in his tracks. His post-orgasmic high was crashing as panic flittered into his stomach.

Did you guys hear him moaning a name as he came? Who the fuck is Y/N?

She had to leave. If the king couldn’t overcome his malice, she knew she couldn’t stay. No amount of love she had for his son was going to make him see that. She’d told him she loved him despite the scar that ran over his left eye and down his soft cheek. She vowed to be good enough to marry him, do whatever it took. Yet the king and queen had laughed at her, had their guard hold his foot on her back so she couldn't stand up from her deep bow.

Laughed as they stood from their thrones to welcome the guest’s arrival: the consort for their son. The prince stood with them, silent as he followed them through the open doors. Quiet like how he used to be back in the first days of when she met him last summer. In memory, she couldn’t even fathom how he was anything like the man she’d grown to love. Yet, looking up from the pulp of the floor, she’d seen him return to that man.

Hadn’t the days she’d spent walking those palace gardens with him been enough? They’d stood together under the plum blossom tree in the middle of winter and he’d promised that he would love her even while the buds were hibernating.

“We can watch them become flowers together in the spring,” he’d said.

He had taken her to his bed that night. Used his sensuous tongue to lap at her sweet nectar. He devoured her heart and soul. Climaxed with her and held her through the heavy snow.

Where was that man now? She didn’t know.

She waited until well after nightfall, when even the latest bird twitterings were silenced by the call of sleep. She knew she couldn’t bring much, but she managed to slip into the kitchen after dinner to pull together a few scraps for the road. Where would she even go? The nearest village was at least a two-day walk and if he sent his men for her, she knew word would spread before she’d even arrived.

Unless he didn’t send anyone for her, she realized, her stomach dropping with nausea. He wouldn’t send anyone for her. She knew this. It’s why Prince August stood in the throne room, lethal as ever, even with no sword in his belt. August. Sugar. Whichever person he decided he was in the moment. Her nickname for him didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t sweet. His desire for power showed the bitterness in his heart. He had given in to his parents’ wishes, despite the times he swore he would never give them the satisfaction.

He was cruel. But even worse, she believed he wouldn’t be. She was a fool.

It was the darkest part of the night when she left the servant’s quarters. She’d miss the ladies and all their kindness, but she knew she couldn’t serve August his breakfast in his bedchamber after this. After knowing that the sheets she once laid in with him were now being laid in by someone else.

She took the back route, near the interior of the garden, ducking behind the ornamental shrubs and skirting past the watchpost the guards usually abandoned at this hour with ease. All that was left was to make it through the courtyard and she would be free.

She padded her way along the path. A light breeze of the pre-dawn was catching, fluttering the branches of the newly blossoming trees around her and blowing petals in their wake. She caught one in her fingertips and fought a sob. Plum blossoms.

Should she take one with her? For the memory? So that she could always have a part of him with her?

No, she decided. It would be too much to remember this. Once she passed through those gates, she would not be the same woman she was. Holding her breath, she let the petal go, hoping wherever the wind carried it, it would find the peace she too was looking for. It swept to the end of the courtyard, over the gate that was now her future.

This was a sign, she mourned. Not all promises were meant to be kept.

With a final look at the place she’d learned to call home, the man she’d learned to call home, she opened the gate, ready to forge into the unknown.

“Petal,” she thought she heard his call, his nickname for her. Though when she turned around, he was nowhere to be found.

She must’ve imagined it, wished for the impossible. As she took steps through the gate, she looked out at the world around her, the plum petal a few feet in front of her. Maybe she would take a piece of him with her, after all. It was too tempting not to.

She moved, trying to ignore the tug she felt back toward the palace, the invisible string of fate she thought that tied her to August trying to tangle her back in. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t go back.

She bent down, clutching the petal tenderly in her palms and letting the first tears fall.

“So that’s it, hm? After all that, you weren’t even going to wish me goodbye.”

She rose swiftly, whipping around to the voice’s owner.

There, leaning against the outer palace wall, was August.

The alarm on your phone chimes, pulling you from the book in your lap. You’ve been reading all afternoon, the sun now taking its final bow before plunging the world into darkness. Soon you’ll have to turn the lights on, then it will be time for work. On your only day off.

You groan, stretching your neck as you allow yourself to come back to reality.

To some, it would be hard to call your job “work”. Many people dreamed of being professional game streamers. Who wouldn’t want to be paid to sit online, play games, and talk to people?

You don’t. That’s the problem.

Your ascent into gaming stardom was a fluke. About 9 months ago, you were in between semesters for your grad program and looking for ways to unwind. Your oldest friend, Wonwoo, was a pretty successful streamer who often hosted game nights to play with his viewers and friends.

You frequently watched his streams, letting his soft voice be the perfect background noise as you studied and formulated the next lesson plan or behavioral assessment. You’d known Wonwoo for what felt like forever at this point, being his first subscriber, first moderator, and first kiss (not in that order). But your middle school kiss outside of the convenience store never led to anything more than that, as desperately as you’d wanted it to.

Once he moved across the country, you let your crush die with the distance. The years turned faster and your twenties were spinning by with the revolving door of lovers you’d watch him pine over, cry over, and in one case, almost marry. Streaming then became one of your main forms of connection, and your role as his moderator tied some part of you to him out of loyalty. To imagine him as anything other than a friend now feels ridiculous.

But that loyalty you have is also to a fault. When Wonwoo’s usual streaming friends bailed one night during a tournament, you subbed in…for a game you didn’t even know how to play.

And to make matters worse, this was a game that required talking to each other on-stream, which meant you not only sucked major ass at this game, but Wonwoo’s 700 viewers that day were also subjected to your constant frustrated squeaks, swears, and embarrassed maws as you tried to key-smash your way to victory but ended up throwing the entire team’s game with your incompetence.

Wonwoo wasn’t mad, though many others were. He knew what he was getting into when he agreed, and his streams operated with very few rules: no hate, no spam, and we are in this to have fun. And he did have fun. By the time the first round was over, he and most of the chat were losing it over your commentary.

As he wiped tears from eyes and took in a breath, he read his comments. “‘Damn, I never heard a chick threaten someone with a plunger like that before’. Yeah, I’ll give it to you, Y/N, you got really creative with your insults in that. Hey, PartyShitty thanks for the sub! ‘I can’t BREATHE’, yeah I’m still trying to get it together. W00000000000000000ziiiiii–damn that’s a lot of zeros in that username–thanks for the 5000 points! ‘Is she hot’ uh, I mean, I don’t—

“Oh shit, LetsGetIt15, thank you for gifting twenty subs! ‘Please, Y/N, start your own channel. I’ll be the first subscriber.’ Actually, no, I’ll be. But really, that's not a bad idea.”

Wonwoo navigated the rest of his stream with ease that night, but after it was over, he called you to try to convince you to start your own channel.

“It could help with school at least! Or you could get that special edition of that one book you like with the dragons or the blue alien porn stars or whatever it is.”

“They’re neither of those things, they’re actually–”

“Whatever they are! The book that has people fucking nonstop and some plot. You know, the special edition cover that you keep talking about in your close friend story that you won’t buy?” Wonwoo said. “The point is, if you start streaming you could finally buy it and then stop talking about it and I won’t need to see sections about how hot you think their alien or fairytale or demon whatever cocks are.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his exasperation. “That won’t stop with me getting that book, just so you know. And if it bothers you so much, I can take you out of the close friend story. I didn’t even know you looked at my stories that much.” You didn’t know he still used Instagram at all actually. He very rarely posted. He mostly lived on his Discord channel talking about games with his subscribers or other friends.

Regardless, it was nice to know that he was trying to be aware of your interests, even if it was incredibly embarrassing. Although the copious amount of smut you read wasn’t something you always wanted to broadcast to the public, you’d still made some friends from online book communities over the last few years and enjoyed keeping them in the loop of your reading list.

Also, Wonwoo had a point. Streaming could help paying some of your school expenses…or get you more books. You told him you’d think about it, and while you weren’t completely in love with the idea of streaming, it did provide you with some steady income until you landed your job at the restaurant.

After that conversation, you haven’t discussed smut or cocks since, and you’re honestly relieved, not because Wonwoo is hard to talk to about things, but because you are. Which is why streaming always feels a little uncomfortable and your position ironic, because you can barely have conversations successfully unless you really know the person to ramble about your interests to, or you can occasionally eke by with small talk.

But streaming requires the spotlight being on you in some way at all times. It’s your face that is fixed to the corner of the screen, monitoring your every reaction. It’s your voice that echoes into the mic and responds to your chat. Sure, you have mods and some streamers don’t interact with their chat at all, but you don’t want to be like that. You’ve been on the other side before, and know that most people are just lonely and looking for connection. .

From the moment you decided to do this, you were aware that because you were now a “gamer girl” you would be subjected to the three extremes of the comment section: chronic oversharers who tell strangers all their personal baggage perhaps in the hope that you will assume some role of therapist to them, people coming to insult your gaming (which is the point so that can’t impact you) or physical appearance, or sexually explicit comments.

Over the months, you’ve seen many things flitting by on the screen, deleted in haste by your trusty mod squad, but it doesn’t stop the fact that you still see them.

Those things you can handle. They are impersonal and a direct copy-paste of the same thing.

But when people compliment you? That makes you want to bury yourself under your covers and never come out. Because the compliments are always personal and touching a part of you that is authentic.

The people in your chat want to know you. They want to know what kind of music you like, your favorite foods and books. They ask if you have a boyfriend or girlfriend or partner, compliment your hair or the shirt you’re wearing or your gaming setup. It feels intimate. Almost like you could find these people and touch them and let them know you.

But they can’t. Because the only thing that drew them to you, the part where you’re this funny, positive gamer chick who sucks at video games but is down for whatever, isn’t real.

Spring Day Streams Y/N is a persona. You don’t stream because you’re her. You stream because you have to be her in order to survive.

And now she’s taking up more time. Last month’s streams landed you Streamer of the Month, which thanks to the exposure, brought dozens of new subscribers and thousands of points, and that helped take care of some of your expenses for the new semester. Some. You’re still behind on your credit card bill.

Also, more people means more expectations for streaming. So you’ve kicked up your streaming schedule from twice weekly to three times a week, with you occasionally hopping onto Wonwoo’s channel even if you aren’t streaming to mod.

When you aren’t glued to your computer, you’re usually at the restaurant, in a cramped kitchen where you do the prep work, often alongside him, your sexy coworker-but-now-boss, Seokjin.

The man you are quietly obsessed with. You can’t think about Kim Seokjin without thinking about all the positions you want him to fuck you in.

Which is also why you’ve been devouring books lately. When you’re home, you throw all your energy into the escapism they provide, especially ones where you can get yourself off to whatever fantasy Seokjin effortlessly slips into.

For every hot mob boss, corrupt CEO, longterm best friend, dragon-rider, fairy, demon, alien, ghost, or hockey playing love interest you can find, Seokjin is sure to fill the role. A hot merman looking for someone to help him grow legs and something else? Seokjin. A Grinch who inherits his family’s Christmas tree farm and discovers how much he loves to ho ho ho? Seokjin. A god who tears apart the underworld to find his lost lover, and then during the reunion fucks her on the throne of Satan while she wears the crown? All Seokjin.

Unfortunately, his transition from co worker to boss has made your fantasies all the more dirty.

It’s been incredibly difficult for you to handle the fact that any flirtation you two previously shared in the months before he was your boss can no longer continue. But it’s also incredibly hot.

Fantasies of him eating you out on the counter have been replaced with the fantasy of him shoving you in the back office and fucking you on the desk while wearing one of those perfect-fitting dress shirts he often parades around in.

And when he rolls up the sleeves to help in the kitchen? Fuck, it’s humiliating how wet you get.

The entire thing is pathetic really. He’s just standing there half the time, lecturing everyone on proper kitchen hygiene and ensuring one of the cooks doesn’t use expired seasonings for his eomma’s secret sauce.

And you’re standing next to him clenching your thighs together because when you’re this close, you can just make out the freshness of his cologne and feel the heat of his body close to yours.

When someone fucks up, he has a tendency to take over, chopping with unmatched precision and self assurance, trying to keep his voice even and usually failing as everything builds in intensity until he’s accidentally speaking at a million miles an hour and lecturing until his face turns red.

If someone were to pass by the shop, they’d probably mistake his shouting for anger, but you’ve come to understand Seokjin is just passionate about things. Usually when he comes down from his tangent, he’s embarrassed and apologizes, and not long after the entire staff is laughing along with him as he cracks a joke at himself for his inability to tone it down.

Which to you makes him even hotter. Seokjin is able to see his faults and work with them, not against them. He holds himself accountable. He’s nothing like the haughty men you’ve gone on brief dinners with after downloading dating apps for the hundredth time while you’re drunk. He’s actually funny, knowing the right way to use humor and tell jokes, never at someone else’s expense, and definitely without being disgustingly crude.

All those clowns you suffered through drinks with always made comments and digs at other women or referenced their cock like they were setting up some goofy scene from porn and you would find it hilarious and endearing.

Seokjin isn’t like that at all. He probably refers to his dick as a penis and would blush to high heavens if he knew how horny you are for him. He’s unwound you, and he has no clue. Maybe if it hadn’t been literal years since you’ve last had sex you could tone it down.

With working all the time and going to school, it’s already been hard to even go on singular dates here and there. And since the prospects were frankly awful, sex is just something that has had to go onto the back burner for a bit, but you seemed to scorch the fucking pan by forgetting to turn the heat off and now you are burning and hungry.

With a final sigh, you put the book down, annoyed that you didn’t have time to finish it today or at least get to a good part where you could insert yourself into the role of the palace servant and Seokjin as the Prince. Based on the reviews, there’s sure to be a hot sex scene coming up involving using a sword in a particular way that has piqued your curiosity.

In a moment of depravity earlier, you’d snaked one hand down the front of your panties to rub a few damp fingers around your clit to take the edge off.

You check the time on your phone, already aware that you don’t have time to cum before streaming. You already hit the snooze button twice. The spicy stuff will have to wait.

Defeated, you stand up, turning on the lights in your apartment as the sun finally fades away and the dark creeps in. You eat a bowl of cereal while doing your makeup, what little of it you want to put on. Finally, you fire up your PC, trying to ignore the irritation you’re already experiencing from being so high strung and unsatisfied.

The second this stream is over, you’re going to make sure you cum until you pass out. Until then, it’s time for work.

“At what point am I supposed to become good at this again?” You ask Seokjin as you attempt (and fail) to julienne carrots.

When you arrived at work at an ungodly hour this morning to prep for the weekend rush, Seokjin had already started the coffee.

Your empty cup now idles next to your scrap pile of too-wide carrot blocks that’ll have to be pulverized by the blender and repurposed in another recipe.

Seokjin chuckles as he buzzes about the kitchen, reaching tenderly around you to grab your mug for a refill.

“That all depends on how much you practice.”

“So should I expect a large carton of carrots to be delivered to my home this evening with the instructions to have them julienned by Monday?” You tease, as you split another carrot down the center, half of it flinging off the prep counter and onto the floor.

Seokjin smirks and bends down. He picks up the carrot and deposits it into the garbage bin. “Two cartons, actually. Given how many carrots we’ve lost already today, I need to make sure at least some of our inventory lands on the customer’s plate and not just into the trash.”

“How considerate of you,” you chide, and put down the knife, reaching out to accept your newly filled coffee mug. Seokjin’s hands are red from the constant washing and chopping of potatoes, which you recently learned he’s allergic to.

As well as garlic, and you’ve already voluntarily peeled and minced that for the day. That much you can do without guidance, but anything besides your imprecise chopping is on the list of knife skills Seokjin wants you to improve upon.

This is fair, given how dangerous your previous cutting methods have been. Once Seokjin saw the way you tried to stab at a watermelon, it was over. Now you often come in an hour and a half early before each shift to practice.

And to also be alone with Seokjin before he is forced from the kitchen to deal with other duties.

“Thank you,” you say, as you take the first warm sip and shiver. It’s freezing outside, and it’s only supposed to get worse.

There’s snow forecasted for the weekend, which could mean one of two things: everyone stays home and avoids driving, or they all leave the house in one show of silent agreement and fill every nook and cranny of the restaurant to order bowls of sundubu jjigae or crisp and hot pajeon.

Seokjin predicts that because a warm front is moving in afterward, people will utilize one of the only days of snow you’ll likely get this winter to gather together.

Valentine’s Day is soon, and the city has started to prepare. Storefronts have begun switching out new year sale signs for pink and red heart motifs, with spas and restaurants offering couple specials. The perfumeries have moved from campaigns advertising the perfect Christmas gift to ones of sexy, decadent colognes sure to transform a man into his inner beast.

And then there’s the chocolate. It’s like the air in the neighborhood the restaurant resides in smells different, less greasy and grimy and more sweet. Everywhere you turn there’s pastries, cakes, bonbons, crepes, chocolate dipped nuts and other confections that just looking at makes your teeth sore.

With the district washing itself in a pink glow, more and more couples have been braving the cold, landing in the restaurant after weighing themselves down with shopping bags.

You’ve seen what’s in them, often tripping over or kicking at least one bag each shift while you attempt to bring an order to the table and spilling the contents. This year seems to be popular for matching couple outfits. You’ve seen a lot of pairs in their early twenties wearing or recently acquiring sweaters that have the same characters or color combinations. With the temperatures dipping into a bitter chill this week, some have elected to wear cute but inconvenient sets of mittens that allow them to hold hands as they stroll.

When it snows in the city, the world gets quieter, cleaner. Even if people shuffle around in the bustle of novelty experiences, how they show their love, from brushing the snow off each other’s coats or taking kissing selfies in front of snow fallen trees, it always makes you feel a little softer, a little more at peace.

Snow is really romantic.

“What?” Seokjin asks, which alerts you to the fact that you’ve been staring at him as you let your thoughts run, a dopey grin splattered across your face.

“Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about how much I love the snow.” You break eye contact, feeling the heat of embarrassment flood your cheeks.

“Ah, yeah. It’s supposed to start soon,” he looks at you thoughtfully before looking back down at the tofu blocks he’s draining.

A silence falls on you, the once normal pause now becoming a bit awkward.

“What do–”

“I just–”

You both stumble over each other, trying to fill the unnatural pause you’ve reached, which has you laughing and Seokjin cracking a wide grin.

“What were you going to say?” he asks, and then motions for you to get back to your carrot desecrating.

“Ah nothing. You were going to ask something?”

You slice a carrot, this time less match stick and more shaved. Damn.

“Oh, um. I was going to ask you what you like about the snow. That thought kind of came from nowhere and I was trying to follow.” His voice is careful, as if he’s trying not to offend you. Is he nervous?

Your mouth draws into a thin line. Can you risk saying what you were just thinking? Is it inappropriate to talk about romance in front of your boss, who you’ve thought about kissing in the snow at least three times a day? You don’t want to make him uncomfortable. You’re aware of the ways in which Seokjin’s new position of authority weighs on him.

While he’s always had more authority due to being the owners’ son, it isn’t like Seokjin walked around the place with a power complex before his promotion. You two had become something akin to friends in the months you’ve worked together, falling into occasional flirty banter as you shuffled around each other to mop floors or wash dishes.

You know he used to work for a large company a few years ago but quit to help his family with their restaurant. You also know he loves MapleStory and is always showing you his newest splurge from their online shop or the latest piece to his collection.

He doesn’t have any pets, but sometimes debates getting a dog and then when shown support, he dismisses it with boisterous laughter, talking about how he doesn’t have the time and if he ever wants to get a dog, he will have to buy a house. Usually once he lands on discussions of a house, he gets a little more quiet, perhaps a bit sad.

He has an older brother who has one child and another on the way, a major reason for his parents’ decision to travel now, before the new baby arrives. His brother and brother’s wife have visited a few times while you were working, but Seokjin’s mother had mentioned that her son and his wife recently moved into a new house outside of the city, and with the new addition joining sometime in the spring, it can be a bit exhausting to pack up the car for a few hours of visiting time.

While you haven’t experienced Seokjin as an uncle, you know how much he loves being one, excusing himself from the front of the shop to Facetime with his nephew from the back office, where you can hear his voice carry with high pitched impressions and jokes or random songs he babbles to the youngest Kim.

Knowing him in this way feels a bit awkward now that he’s the one signing your paychecks. Since his transition, he’s been a bit more formal with you, you assume trying to be respectful and professional.

You understand where he’s coming from, but you miss the past connection you two had formed. And that seems to dictate your response.

“I like how romantic snow is. How it not only makes the lights twinkle more, but how people do cute things in it. Snowball fights, drinking hot chocolate, building snowmen. They change their behaviors for the snow. To celebrate love in it. Last time it snowed here, I saw one girl push her boyfriend into a snowbank.”

Seokjin laughs as he begins popping the tofu blocks into containers. “That sounds awful,” he says.

Your heart plummets. “Oh,” you squeak.

His head darts up to catch your expression and his eyes flash. “Oh, no no! Not like that. I mean, being pushed into the snowbank. That poor guy was probably soaking wet and freezing after that!” He waves his knife in his hand wildly with his gesture and then quickly deposits it into a sheath before stepping over to your workstation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

You recover. “Oh he was. He also got his revenge by pulling her in with him. And she wasn’t even wearing a coat.”

You watch Seokjin’s tense shoulders relax. His broad frame is so close now, towering over you. He smells a little like the earthy starch of potatoes, but you like it.

“I, uh,” he says, his voice becoming more raw. “I like the snow too. You’re right, it is romantic in a way. The snowflakes getting caught in your hair, you huddle closer to someone to share body heat, it’s nice.”

As if on cue, your bodies inch a little closer to each other. Seokjin reaches his arm forward, brushing along yours as he grasps one edge of the workstation to lean in.

“Yeah,” you reply lamely.

You blink up at him and he smiles back. You both sit there for a moment, neither of you moving, just studying the other’s expression.

Then, he leans in.

Your breath catches, and his other arm lifts up above you on the other side, caging you to the workstation.

Your eyes close from the intensity. He’s so close that you feel the fabric of his rolled shirt sleeve graze against your cheek.

All it would take is him leaning in and searing his lips onto yours and you would fold for him. You know this.

This is what you often fantasize about, the two of you in this position. That’s the power he has over you, his smooth seduction, your willingness.

If he asked you right now, you would strip down and bend over this workstation, let him fuck you with your nipples brushing against the cold steel of the counter, carrot shavings squishing against your face as he impales you with his cock.

It would be so easy, he just needs to ask you.

“Y/N,” he says, a bit more distant now, but you shudder at how roughly he says your name.

“Mm?” you hum, forcing your eyes to reopen. Seokjin has pulled away from you. How long has he been just looking at you standing here with your eyes closed?

“Turn around,” he says.

Wait, what?

You stare back at him blankly. Is he reading your mind?

Seokjin rolls his eyes and laughs, holding up the package of dried seaweed that was above you on the shelf. He tosses it on the counter behind him.

“Are you still here or did I lose you? I said turn around.” You freeze, confused.

He did all that to reach above you for some seaweed? Is he fucking with you? And what does he want you to turn around for?

“Wha–”

You open your mouth to ask but Seokjin moves in, his hands on your wrists as he takes you and spins you around so you’re up against your workstation, his stomach resting on your back as you stand sandwiched against him and the cold counter. You clench your thighs, suddenly aware that you are wet.

Fuck.

“You need to focus,” he says low in your ear. You take a shaky breath.

Focus. How are you supposed to focus when you imagined this exact scenario exactly one minute ago?

“I, what?” Your words fail you as you stand there, stunned and aroused but also completely confused about what he wants from you. This entire situation is a mindfuck.

Seokjin’s hands leave your wrists and make their way to your hands as he moves you like a puppet.

“Y/N, were you even paying attention? We just went over this. God, I swear, I’ve told you. You need to be present in the kitchen space. You’re lucky I resheathed the knife for you while you were on another planet. You could have easily gotten hurt.” Seokjin scolds you overhead.

Oh. You look to the right and see the kitchen knife you were using back in its protective shell and not where you left it, which, come to think of it, was incredibly close to where your hands were now on the counter under Seokjin’s. Yikes.

“Sorry,” you mutter, feeling a prick of shame seeping through the fog. Seokjin isn’t trying to fuck you against the counter; he’s trying to make sure you don’t cut your finger off.

He tuts above you, his grip still firm as he directs you to the uncut carrots and chopping board.

“Tsk, honestly. You’re ridiculous. What am I going to do if my best girl is hospitalized after losing her hand because she’s too busy daydreaming about snow storms instead of having basic kitchen awareness? You know, I could send you home over this. Make you unable to come back until you rewatch those kitchen safety videos with the fake blood and awful actors. Seriously.”

You shiver at his words. He’s so busy setting up for a rant, you almost miss it.

“Your best girl?” You ask lightly.

Seokjin stills, your joined hands hovering over the cutting board. “Oh, uh. You know what I mean. You’re the best….girl we have on staff. You know.”

You don’t. You’re far from the best girl on staff. Seha has a degree in culinary arts. She’s usually the one who has everything prepped days ahead with perfectly formed cuts. She manages the kitchen cleanliness with rigidness. She even barks orders at Seokjin when he’s in the kitchen because he isn’t as clean as her.

If she wasn’t out with the flu, none of this work would even need to be done. Maybe Seokjin is getting sick too. He’s been feverish looking and a little uneasy around you all morning, and clearly he’s now being delusional.

“Ah,” you concede, and give your hands a shake to urge him to continue.

“Right, anyway. You’re getting better at your cuts, but I’m losing money quickly with all your sacrifices to the floor goblins. And we don’t have much time left before the others start coming in, so let’s finish this up.”

You let Seokjin guide you, literally hand-over-hand, as he restructures your positioning on the knife and angle of the blade to slice through the carrots a lot more cleanly and easily.

“That’s it, good. You’re doing such a good job,” he breathes.

You feel his exhale along your spine. God, you’re a pervert. He’s just trying to help you better yourself, and all you’re thinking about is how dominating he seems right now and how much you want to please him.

God, if he calls you a good girl you know you’re going to moan audibly. That’s how bad he’s got you.

You keep working, and once you get the hang of it, Seokjin’s grip loosens, allowing you to finish the bag by yourself. But his hands are still on yours, even if you’re the one in control.

After a while though, it’s becoming too much to handle. Him bent over you like this is limiting your range of motion, making it hard to wipe the sweat on your hands or move your scrap pile further down the counter.

He’s also a human furnace, the space between you still so limited that you’ve begun sweating under him.

In one particular cut of carrot, the sweat caused by the joint heat of your hands causes you to lose your grip, shooting it down onto the floor.

Reflexively, you reach down to grab it, but with Seokjin still attached to you, it proves to be an immediate disaster.

You throw your body into a bend, which forces you back, your ass grinding directly into Seokjin and being met with something very large.

You gasp and Seokjin grunts, swiftly releasing your hands, which are actually balancing you in your bend.

You fall forward, smacking your head into the edge of the counter as you go down.

The kitchen echoes with an embarrassing clang as your forehead ricochets off the metal.

“Fuck,” you groan, a sharp pain shooting through you..

You scramble to recover, one hand going to your head as you steady yourself, rubbing the soreness. Seokjin flails above you, panicked.

“Oh shit! Y/N I’m so sorry! Oh my god. Are you okay? I shouldn’t have let go, I just was–” Seokjin rambles as you stare up at him, trying to get him to steel himself.

“No, fuck, ouch, it’s okay! I’m okay. Seokjin, can you please just get me some ice and help me up?” You aren’t sure you can get yourself up as your vision swirls from the heat of the pain. You really went down hard.

Seokjin ceases his flailing and shouting, leaning down and picking your body up off the floor with impressive strength and carrying you to a clean workstation in the center of the room. He sits you on top of it, making you now almost his height.

Holy shit.

Once sure you’re not at risk of flopping over, he walks over to the ice maker with a clean kitchen cloth and folds some ice cubes inside.

You reach for the cloth, but he refuses to hand it over.

“Yah! No. Please let me do this, I can see the bump forming already. I’m the one who caused your injury.” He gingerly lays the cold cloth against your head. You wince.

“‘Snot your fault,” you pout, trying to ignore the pain. “It was an accident. No one caused it.”

Seokjin sighs and places his free hand behind your head, discouraging you from angling away like you’ve subconsciously been doing.

“It is my fault. I let go of you. After just lecturing you about kitchen safety. God, what kind of example am I setting? I’m really sucking at this boss thing.”

You reach up, placing your hand on Seokjin’s wrist to remove it from the ice. But he doesn’t relent. You keep your hold.

“Seokjin, you’re not a bad boss. God you’re literally the opposite. Everyone here loves you. You’ve only been the manager for a little while. Give yourself some time. And keep in mind both of your parents ran this place, and now it’s down to just you.”

You feel the tendons under his wrist adjust, his grip a little looser. Seokjin’s wrists are soft and tan, a thin coating of hair trailing up his forearms and under his sleeve. Your grip loosens too, and you let your thumb brush back and forth through the hair.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t supposed to be the manager. My brother was supposed to manage the restaurant when my parents were ready to retire. That was always the plan, anyway. But things change. When they were getting their apartment ready for my nephew to arrive, I think they realized how tight space can be living in the city. We grew up in an apartment complex not too far from here and it always felt like we were on top of each other.

“Which, we kind of were. My brother and I shared this tiny room that had bunk beds, and we lived that way until he went away to college. I used to always smack my head against the ceiling when I was a teenager and woke up in the middle of the night. My forehead would get huge bruises on it, probably a lot like the one you’re going to have on your head.” He frowns.

“I guess my brother didn’t want to see his kids living like that either. I never minded it so much, but maybe that’s because I was the younger one. Not having any privacy during puberty or dealing with me during puberty was probably a nightmare for him.”

You shoot him a sympathetic smile. “It was nice of you to take over on his behalf then. I know you used to work for major companies in the business district downtown. This must have felt like a sacrifice.”

Seokjin’s arm falls away from your head, your soft caress pulling away with it. He sets the cloth down next to you. He worries his bottom lip into his mouth and then shakes his head.

“No, it was never like that. I’m sure eomma filled everyone and their brother’s ears with stuff about me. ‘Seokjin is our business minded son! He’ll make a great leader!’ ‘Seokjin is talented in the kitchen and spent his whole life working for us. We trained him well!’ ‘Don’t worry about him abusing his power. He knows exactly how it is for everyone!’” Seokjin’s says, his voice inotating the same pattern of his mother.

“Well, she wasn’t wrong. You are all those things,” you argue, lacing your fingers in his. You know it’s not necessarily appropriate behavior between a boss and his employee, but at this moment, you’d argue Seokjin needs a friend more than anything.

“I’m not, though, Y/N. I didn’t sacrifice anything to do this. It wasn’t some great act of loyalty where the son with a promising future gives up his dream for his family business. In fact I had to beg my parents to let me work here! Because I, their failure of a son, lost everything and had nowhere else to go! And the shit I ended up doing to even keep myself afloat…I’m not a great leader. I’m nothing more than a fraud.”

Seokjin rakes his free hand through his hair.

“I had a good life before this Y/N. A good job, a nice house, a fi-...just..I was living a dream that I no longer have for myself is all. But at the time I was on top of the world and now I feel like such a fucking failure.”

Seokjin looks like he’s falling apart, eyes darting madly as he shifts around, suddenly transforming into nothing like his usual cool, goofy self.

You need to stop this from getting worse. To distract him and stop him from talking himself into a pit of despair. If Seokjin’s mouth is occupied somehow, he can’t continue with all the negative self-talk.

A stupid idea flashes in your head. You don’t even think before you roll with it.

“Jesus, I can’t even manage properly. I messed up Mino’s paycheck a few weeks ago and I’m still not sure how it happened. I’m just not–”

Your lips connect with Seokjin’s, your legs wrapping around his waist to tug him closer as you move your body against his. Seokjin returns the kiss in earnest, parting his mouth to welcome your tongue as you lap the words out of his mouth.

His plush lips feel so soft against yours, his taste a bit bitter from the coffee you both drank earlier, but you find yourself craving more of it, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth with the hope that maybe you can absorb it.

Seokjin groans in response, gripping your hand tighter, his other settling on your lower back as he pulls you closer. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear every atom in your body is vibrating at a higher frequency from his touch. You want to feel him everywhere.

You break the kiss, and see Seokjin’s eyelids are heavy, almost like he’s drunk. You’re about to move back in, to tongue along his sweaty, long neck, suck on his protruding Adam’s apple.

That’s when you hear it. The slam of the back door as your coworkers arrive.

Seokjin jolts back, breaking the hold you have around his waist with your legs.

His mouth looks a little red and swollen. And his eyes are wide, panic flashing across his face.

“I–I’m sorry!”

Before you can reassure him, tell him that you’re the one who should be sorry, you started this, who crossed this line between boss and employee by kissing him, Seokjin bolts from the kitchen.

You sit for a minute, stunned, and then look around, taking in the scene around you. The carrot shavings all over the counter, the discarded one still on the floor. Your knife is unsheathed again. There’s containers of tofu and seaweed just abandoned in a pile next to a large pot.

And you can feel the puddle forming under you from where the ice has begun to melt. What the fuck just happened? What mess did you just get yourself into?

The rest of your shift, you’re anxious. Especially because you’re short-staffed due to the weather forecast, which has led to three call-outs from people who commute from across town. That means you’re performing multiple roles: taking orders, bussing tables, seating customers, and getting appetizers, drinks, and side dishes ready for each group of people coming through the door.

Seokjin was right in his prediction; you guys are slammed. And because there’s less staff, that means Seokjin is orbiting around you, following behind with cleaning rags as you finish bussing or running into you in the narrow doorway as you both attempt to fetch an order from the kitchen. You’re both flushed and sweating, the hairs on the back of your neck now matted down.

Your mind is swirling around that kiss and its consequences, but you don’t have time to lose focus; the minute you finish one thing, you’re pulled into another task for a temporary distraction.

Only to be thrust back into the reminder of this morning when Seokjin lightly caresses the small of your back as he squeezes behind you to grab more plates.

If either of you ever need a break, you don’t say so, only pausing in between rushes to pee, take a bite of something, and chug water before you’re thrown back out into the mess.

Finally, after you elect to work a double, it’s closing time.

“Y/N!” Seokjin calls you from the front as you scrub the grime off a stack of dirty dishes.

Your pulse quickens. You’re the last one here. The storm kicked up an hour ago, and since you live the closest, you shoved your coworkers out the door so they could get home before the roads were a mess.

You dry your hands on your messy apron, pulling out your phone and wincing at the slew of missed calls, texts and notifications. You were supposed to stream again tonight with a bunch of other girl gamers as a part of a “Galentine's Day” collab, playing dating simulation games as a warm up before jumping into some first person shooters.

You’d reached out to cancel once you saw the stress tugging at Seokjin’s face, his jaw set, his brow constantly furrowed. While the other streamers were completely understanding, you still have a ton of notifications from your social channels asking if you are okay and some texts from Wonwoo and a few other friends asking the same.

You’ll fill them in later. But now, you have to face Seokjin.

He’s sitting at a freshly wiped-down table, counting the drawers and preparing the deposit slip.

He ushers you over and gestures at the stack of cash, silently asking you to verify his numbers. You comply, the room silent less the shuffling of bills or coins under your fingertips and your habitual mouthing of the numbers to ensure you don’t lose count.

He nods at your final calculation, jotting the number down on the sheet and placing the bills together. You turn and begin to head back to the kitchen.

“Wait,” he says, and you freeze.

Your stomach is quickly turning into a bundle of knots. You suck your lips into your mouth as you spin back around, Seokjin’s eyes meeting yours.

“I…” Seokjin takes a deep breath before continuing. “Listen. I’m really sorry about this morning. Today’s just been a whole mess and I really shouldn’t have been airing my frustrations to an employee like that. It was inappropriate and immature. I know better than to behave this way.”

Did you say your stomach was in knots? You mean it’s filled with heavy, sickening lead. “Oh, right. Uh, don’t. I mean, I started it. I just…you were panicking and I didn’t know what to do and I thought maybe this would help.”

Seokjin’s brow furrows, a frown on his face. “Why are you apologizing when I’m clearly the one in the wrong here? Ah, no let me finish! I’ve always prided myself on my professionalism and ability to keep personal matters out of my work. And I failed in doing so, which takes advantage of you since I’m your superior. You not only felt a need to comfort me but also stop me from spinning out. I’m truly sorry Y/N, about the oversharing and the um, kiss. I definitely gave into my emotions in a moment of weakness. Please forgive me, I promise I will never touch you again. This won’t happen again.”

His head droops and he looks down, clearly ashamed.

Oh. So he doesn’t want this. Which, why would he? He’s right in that he’s your boss, and clearly Seokjin values his reputation and his job because they’re a reflection of not just him, but his family. Why risk that with someone like you?

You swallow the lump in your throat along with any response. There is the boundary, you know better than to cross it.

As you move again, Seokjin rises from the table. “Y/N…you know what? You go home. The storm is really coming down.”

“But, there’s still mopping and all those dishes left,” you croak. Your voice is so hoarse from being dehydrated and talking all day that you barely recognize it as your own.

“Don’t worry about those. You look and sound exhausted. It’s not your job to take care of everything. Go home, enjoy your romantic snowy trek,” he smirks, “and get some much needed rest. You’ve more than earned it.”

When you arrive home, your body slugs onto your bed, finally giving into the fatigue you’ve ignored all day. Your feet ache, your stomach now settled enough from your walk that you are starving. And you smell awful.

As much as you want to fall asleep, you know that you at the very least need to eat something.

With a groan, you rise, hobbling to your kitchen to make some instant ramyeon. The collab stream is now over, you learned this while finally checking your phone on your way home and seeing a thank you message blasted out by one of the streamers. Oh well.

You suppose you could get back to your book, see what Prince August and his lover are getting up to in their reunion, but that seems like more brain power than you’re willing to give.

You elect to eat, then take a shower, rinsing the grime of the day off you. When you step out of the shower, you see an ugly looking bump and purple bruise on your forehead.

That’s right, you’d already forgotten about your injury from earlier. You touch it lightly and recoil from the sharp pain. Damn, maybe you should’ve checked to see if you were concussed earlier. You didn’t realize you hit your head that hard.

You decide to ice it before bed, crawling under your covers and trying to rest while you play back your day.

How you started is so significantly different from where you are now. When you woke up, you were eager and excited to be around Seokjin, to learn new skills and feel light and warm in his presence. Now, the idea of going back to work in a few days, to have to muddle through the rejection you got tonight and try to get back to a baseline makes you feel nauseous.

Seokjin wants to make this all water under the bridge, and you want to do that for him. But it’s nearly impossible when he’s, well, him. He doesn’t understand how much more difficult it’s going to be to look at him because you’re not walking around with a face like that: perfectly balanced and delicate features and a full, delicious set of lips.

God, he really did taste fantastic. You wonder what would’ve happened if you two weren’t interrupted. Would giving into his emotional need for comfort have given you more? You know it’s wrong to think about, because you're the one who took advantage of him, not the other way around.

He can say he took advantage of you with his power imbalance or whatever, but you’re the one who was seconds away from licking down that thick neck or grinding back onto that massive cock.

Fuck, that’s right, Seokjin is huge under all those clothes and your ass got to experience rubbing against it today. And maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but he seemed like he was a little hard.

If Mino and the others had been just a little later, you might have seen it. They might have walked in on you on your knees as you choked on it, Seokjin’s moans and whines echoing in the kitchen.

Because now from kissing him, you got a taste of those little noises he makes. And the memory has you becoming slick and needy.

It’s late. Too late to read your smutty book, especially since you’re not at the next smutty scene yet. August and his beloved are just reuniting. You’re sure it’s bound to be good, but you don’t have that kind of patience right now. You need to cum, to get your ideas about Seokjin and what he firmly set as a boundary out of your head once and for all.

Which means you need to give your fantasy of him out of your head too. You shove the ice pack you’ve been holding to your head aside, ready to relieve some tension.

You reach under your shirt and gasp when the chill of your icy hand plucks at one of your nipples. Yes, you need more of this.

You touch the other one with your other hand, disappointed that it’s warm. And then you get a fantastic idea. You grope around for a moment until you feel the cold cloth housing the ice cubes from your freezer and pluck one out. It melts quickly in your hand, but the cold water is stimulating as you feel it run down your forearms, a droplet or two rushing down and reaching the heat of your armpit. You pull the large shirt you use as pajamas up further with your other hand, fully exposing your chest and stomach to the chilly air of your apartment.

The ice cube drips over your navel. You hiss as the new sensation floods your core with warmth. Some of the water pools in your belly button, a satisfying dampness taking over your body. Then, you drip the melting ice cube onto each nipple and relish how erect and sensitive they’ve become from your arousal.

Your breasts are plush, something you love to grab and tug as you play with yourself. They’re heavy, the weight of gravity tugging them down instead of staying up as porn once made you believe was possible.

You can understand why people sometimes get caught up playing with tits all the time. They’re arguably fun to play with.

As the ice cube warms and shrinks, you become more curious, taking it between your fingers and swirling it directly over each nipple, a shock of cold hitting them and your hips bucking in pleasure. More. Whatever you’re feeling right now, you need more of it.

You rip your sleep shorts and panties off in desperation, splaying your legs open and aiming yourself up so the last drips of the ice cube can fall directly onto the folds of your pussy, a few dribbles landing right on your aching clit.

Heat, that’s what you actually feel. Fire and ice swirling together in a decadent and hot pleasure. You reach over and grab another cube, this time skipping the teasing and touching the ice right to your clit. It’s a lot. Too much. Not enough. The pain shooting through your clit is also full of so much pleasure and you don’t want to stop.

You rock against your hand, rubbing your clit with your fingers as the ice melts, mixing the wetness of the water with your own, getting you messier, hotter, hungrier.

The memory of Seokjin holding the ice pack flits through your head, how cold his one hand was as it held yours, similar to the chill of your own hand as you grind it against your pussy. You need something inside of you. Now.

And unfortunately for you, all your toys are currently dirty. When you finished streaming last night, you made good on your promise to fuck yourself until you passed out, which means your collection of dildos and vibrators are now discarded in a pile next to your bed that you’d intended to wash after work today.

You insert a finger and sigh. It’s not enough. The angle is too awkward and you can’t get far enough in. Seokjin’s hands are much larger than yours, capable of pumping his long fingers deep within you, to get to the part of your core that is aching. If he were here right now, he could be itching that scratch, a smug look on his face as he comments on how soaking wet you are for him and commands you to cum.

Ugh. You said you wouldn’t think of him, yet here he is again, stirring up inside your fantasies. You can’t give in, you need to distract yourself, look at another face so you can feel motivation.

You remove your fingers, wipe them on the damp washcloth next to you, and reach over on your side table for your laptop.

You don’t watch a lot of porn, finding the videos often too fake, but you’re desperate. You scroll through the website, quickly losing some of your arousal as you click through pages of straight porn, the ones you know that will have some awful plot, or the woman has some nasal and fake moan that kills your buzz. Or the guys are so ugly, proving that porn always has the male gaze in mind.

You just need to cum. Today has been awful enough, and knowing you have to stream tomorrow again is already causing you to wind up. No, this is necessary stress relief. An unwinding. Make it dirty and to the point.

You click over into the other categories. You need just a man, someone else who isn’t Seokjin. You hover over the male masturbation tag, still disappointed. Then you see a banner ad for a camming site: Worldwide Handsome, Hunks From Around the Globe. That, you think, seems more promising.

Live cams are interactive, more with immediacy. Usually the guys on them are hot or gay or both and just ready to jack off for money and give in to some dirty talk. Even the gay camboys don’t always care if women are viewing. Money is money.

You click the banner, praying this doesn’t immediately give your computer a hundred viruses that will delete all your coursework you’ve saved to the harddrive.

Luckily, it’s a legitimate website, much like OnlyFans, just with the emphasis on queer men from every country. You might just be saved.

There are so many categories to choose from: couples, kinks, trans, bisexual, furries, just chatting, BDSM, interactive games, private rooms. It’s a little overwhelming. You select the “solo” tab, which, of course, has the most videos under it, and begin exploring.

You click on one that seems promising, but quickly exit out because the user has fallen asleep and it feels too intimate.

In another, the streamer is yelling at his chat for outting him to his parents, and you exit out of that as well.

You’re about to give up when you refresh the page, but then a recently started stream catches your eye. It’s quickly gaining views, and has a little “1” next to it, probably to indicate that this streamer is the most popular one in his category.

The title for the stream is Unwind with me. Late night play with Daddy which makes your core throb a little with promise. The thumbnail is black, which is a little odd, but you’re curious who this “Daddy” is and how he plans on helping his viewers unwind. Because that is exactly what you need. In his associated tags, there’s a tiny banner at the bottom that urges you forward “all genders welcome”.

You click the link, and the video itself is black, but there’s still hundreds of comments fluttering through the chat. Is your stream broken? This sometimes happens when you stream too, but after a quick refresh you realize that the screen isn’t black. There’s a little bit of light pouring through whatever is covering the camera, detecting some movement through the veil.

“You don’t know how stressed I am today,” a low voice groans.

Whoa. You lean closer, tapping the volume button on your laptop to the max and leaning back. God, whoever this guy is, he sounds hot. This might actually work to get you off and get over Seokjin.

You balance your laptop on your knees and roll your hand down your stomach and between your legs, finding your aching clit and sighing as you delight in your touch.

“I know we don’t always play games like this baby. I know you usually like it when I beg. But I can’t play like that today. It’s been so long since I got to fall back into what I desperately, absolutely need.”

His voice is so seductive yet also comforting in a way that’s familiar. You feel more of your arousal dripping out of you, and you scoop it up to swirl it around your clit, feeling a little twinge of that white hot pleasure return to you.

“And what I need is to take the edge off, to remind all of you who is in charge. Some of you have been very, very bad lately. Haven’t I given you enough? A two-year anniversary stream? I gave you all my cum didn’t I? All of it.”

The chat is going nuts, comments replying with “yes Daddy” accompanying tips that vary from twenty bucks to one thousand dollars spilling in. You check his timestamp. He’s only been live for five minutes and he’s already getting this much? Even your most successful streams take hours to reach a little over a thousand after royalty cuts.

To his credit, though, if you had a grand to drop on him, you just might, and that’s going by his sexy voice alone.

“I let you watch me spill from my cock, let you see me touch myself. And you were greedy. Don’t think I don’t know what you did. I saw your questioning comments, trying to shame me for muttering someone’s name in pleasure. But I’m not ashamed. I’m proud.”

Fuck, what you would do to have this guy moan your name. You feel your orgasm approaching and rub yourself harder, a soft squelch echoing through your room.

“You took what I gave you for granted, you fucking whores. And now, you need to be punished.”

You’re so close, the little peaks of pleasure starting to build up higher in intensity.

The mystery man stops talking, and you along with the chat, begging for more.

“Please,” you moan at your screen.

Suddenly, you hear it, a wet, slick sound. Fuck, is he touching himself?

“It’s been a long day. All day, I was working and I was so horny because some people in this world can’t stop fucking teasing me, tempting me to punish them, just like you.”

You feel the tremor of your first orgasm, but it’s not as sharp, more like a hint of what is to come. You pinch your clit between your fingers, sighing a little bit at the relief of pressure.

“You’ve all been very bad. And until you show me you can be good, I’m going to pump my cock and not let any of you see. You think you can do that? You think you can be my good little subs and prove to me you’ll behave?”

Oh god. Fuck. He’s insane, he’s so hot and insane, and you’re also insane, nodding along. The condescension is so hot, and it reminds you of earlier in the kitchen, when Seokjin scolded you for not being safe with the knife. His voice got rough just like this guy. And it makes you feel so needy and desperate.

Please, you beg silently, just like how you did this morning. I’ll do anything.

Almost as if he knows this, you hear a moan carry through your speakers. You assume he’s reading the comments and tips with promises to behave. You clench around nothing, really wishing at least one of your toys was clean for you to use to feel less empty. You’re never falling asleep without washing them again.

“Good, that’s what I like to see. Now remember, you don’t get to cum until I get to cum. Go ahead and play with yourself for me, get yourself all worked up. And then be good and listen. I’ll tell you what to do next.”

Whoops. Well, the first one didn’t count. You aren’t satisfied.

He groans, signaling that he’s stroking himself again, rough jerks you can hear from the way his hands are sliding over his (you assume) lubed cock.

“You want to see me cum? You want to earn it all over you? You know what you have to do, my pretty little subs. Work for it. And not a penny less.”

In a frenzy, the tip jar continues to buzz in the bottom corner, the graphic of coins depositing into it glitching out a bit as it fails to keep up with the volume of tips. While he’s the most popular streamer on this site, it’s not as though the website is the only one of its kind, and that means that his couple hundred viewers are putting in the work and the cash.

You watch the numbers rise next to the tip jar as his subs showcase their double entendre: both his subscriber count soars and his comments flood with loyal submissives.

Please, Daddy. Please let me cum.

I’m sorry Daddy. I’ll be good, I swear.

Remove the blindfold please! I need to see your big cock!

Ah, it’s a blindfold. Of course.

The graphic of the jar changes, exploding and sending animated dollars and coins across the screen. This is wild. His viewers have already met the milestone. They’ve just raised ten grand in less than 15 minutes. That has to be some kind of record.

He tuts and the sound of it punches your gut. Why does he sound so familiar? “Tsk, that wasn’t so hard, was it? I knew you could do it. You want my forgiveness that badly, huh? Okay, I’ll give you what you need. I’ll forgive you.”

Your pussy is throbbing. You’ve had to scale back the touching, feeling a weird sense of obedience to this camboy that you can’t describe.

There’s a ruffling sound and the camera jolts before light pours into view, a blur of shapes and colors you can’t make out greeting you until it comes into focus and you’re met with a massive, leaking cock.

“Holy shit,” you moan, finding your footing on your bed and moving your resting hand from your inner thigh back to your clit.

The camera is framed from the user’s toned abs down to just the top of his thighs, showing off his heavy, tight balls and red, angry tip.

“Is this what you’re begging for?”

Yes, you shudder a breath. Yes.

Large hands with long knobby fingers run along his thighs, one sweeping under to cup his balls while the other works his shaft, thumb sliding over his slit to rub precum around the tip.

“Alright, then.” He begins pumping, smooth, tight jerks that have him squeezing his length and encouraging more strands of precum to leak out. He falls into a steady rhythm and you mirror the pace on your clit, gasping for breaths as you become all the more sensitive now that you have a visual to follow.

“My face? Oh, no. You didn’t earn the right to see that. Don’t start with me. If you want to see my face when I cum, you have to reach the next milestone. You know the rules.”

You don’t know the rules, but you hope someone else will be desperate enough to reach it for you. You’re dying to know what he looks like.

Almost instantly, the money animation explodes on the screen again. A $5000 tip. Jesus Christ.

“Ah, of course mapl3stor33, I should’ve known it was you. Always so good to me. Because of you I got to get that new collector figurine. Thank you. Well everyone, because of mapl3’s generosity and mmm…loyalty…fuck. I guess I’ll let you get your full fantasy. Let you see my face as you imagine you get to make a mess of me, milk my fucking cock all over you and let me make a mess of you.” He’s moaning as he speaks, pausing between sentences to pump himself harder as he gives “Maple” a proper shout out.

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment. It’s one thing for you to create the fantasy, but him acknowledging it with some judgment, as though you’re not good enough to even fantasize about him, it’s leading you quicker to your undoing.

His pace builds to a heavy, slick rut. His hands are slightly red, almost like how yours looked after washing the dishes before Seokjin kicked you out.

Wait. Red hands. His look similar to Seokjin’s, with the same knobby long fingers. And the figurine and Maple…like, MapleStory?

There’s no way. No, you’re clearly just losing it with your fantasies. This one is taking it too far.

“Fuck, yeah that’s it baby. Touch yourself. Be good for me. Where do you want my cum? Oh, you dirty slut, fuck, yes. Okay, I’ll cum all over myself. Just for you. Shit. Almost, come on.”

Your fingers are still following his lead, unable to stop, so close to finishing, to the release.

He moans, his hands blurring as he strokes fast and hard, jerking into himself. And that’s when you know. You heard that moan. You caused that moan.

With a final solid, slightly whiny grunt, he backs up. His face coming into frame, and the first strands of thick white release cascades across Seokjin’s chest as you focus in on the pure bliss washing over him, his head thrown back and mouth shaped into a delicious “o”.

“Oh, fuck. Take it, take my cum. Yes, that’s it. That’s my best girl, so good for me. Such a good girl.”

The second you hear the praising fall from Seokjin’s mouth, he takes you over the edge with him. Your body rockets into your orgasm with a heavy clench of your core, feet losing their solid hold below you as you begin to shake and succumb to the feeling.

You’ve unwound, the tension of your body unfurling as you’re cast out to sea, your body bobbing along each wave with a newfound euphoria. Out here on the water, the world is silent except the ring in your ears. You bask in the peaceful ebb until you feel a tingling in your fingertips and toes calling you back, forcing breath back into your lungs with a heavy pant.

Once you recenter, you gaze back at the stream, confirming that this is the smiling and grateful Seokjin you just saw three hours ago.

He called you a good girl. He came all over his sweaty chest. And he’s the top streamer on a gay sex cam site.

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