#and they pay me barely over min wage

[ilookattextile]

Need to go in to work for half a day today and make 66$ wtf

[rachiller]

Had the “hey I don’t think I’m being paid enough” conversation with the GM today and she was so nice about it so i felt less terrible but I am also still SO stressed about it

[bekandrew]

Disabled Trans folk in danger of power shutoff in heat wave

So, a lot of things have happened. We found out cousin's job's been lying to her about how much she'd really get per hour - so in reality she's only bringing home a hair over min wage (7.25 in MS). She was promised "income protection" at her tipped job for slow shifts to always end up at least $12 per hour.

We also have no reliable transportation. Both cars are currently broken down so we've had to rely on Uber and the occasional carpool when we can arrange one.

I have been struggling to function as it is because our central AC only barely functions when it gets 80s and above outside. I have dysautonomia and it's gotten to 82+ in my bedroom, giving me signs of heat illness bad enough my family's debated whether to get medical help. The severe excess sweating is causing constant skin infections for which I am now on long-term antibiotics. I have trouble staying awake during the day because of the heat. Previous landlord declared the AC in perfect working order for this region. Current isn't going to do more than he legally has to. We had to spend our own limited funds to buy a supplemental window unit.

We had been taken off housing assistance for a while because they wouldn't take my necessary medical bills/expenses into account. Now that my Medicaid case is decided, I'm trying to get us reassessed so maybe so much of our money won't have to go toward rent until I can help wife and cousin get better jobs.

Yesterday I got the notice our electric is scheduled for shutoff unless we pay $427.40 (plus the $1.60 "convenience fee" to make sure it processes instantly and no overdraft) We have just enough for this bill, but If we pay this amount, we may not have enough for the rest of the rides to/from work until next payday. We also won't have any food budget at all. We are also behind on water and gas but those utilities haven't issued shutoff notices (yet).

Tl;Dr, Outstanding bills:

I am beyond exhausted and on mobile and still need to fix my laptop from a recent accident. If anyone wants proof of things I'm saying I'll be happy to show you.

Past due energy: $429

Past due water: $119.68

Past due gas: $59.24

Food budget: we don't have one right now, there are 3 of us.

Pet care: $80 would help immensely toward dog/cat food and more litter.

We are current on rent.

Cash app $bekandrewttrpg

Tipping my blog/this post will work if that's still a feature

PayPal.me/ProTrashfire

[hiem3]

minghao’s muse

18+

warning~ contains smut, swearing, fingering, eating out,

side note: hey..i know it’s been awhile tee hee i missed you guys too! i thought since it’s october i should feed ya’ll a little smt ;))

“come on y/n! just think about it, if you’re his model then your tuition for college will be paid!” your best friend said frailly her arms around like some maniac on school’s campus. “nuh uh not happening hiem not happening”

you’ve had many jobs like working at mcdonald’s, being a cat sitter, retail, stairbucks etc. basically any job you can imagine just to pay for your college tuition.

(an hour later)

“okay but hear me out, i know it’s nude and you barely kno-“ you quickly shut hiem’s mouth with your hand. “can you not! we’re in a library” you say in a low tone voice so others can’t hear you. you let go “fine. but don’t blame me if you’re in student dept.” hiem says and a few min after she tries casually writing his phone number on your hand thinking you wouldn’t notice.

after the study session with your friend you’re back at your dorm looking on indeed to find yourself a job. “flight attendant? no…a&w? hmm minimum wage!? hell no” you were frustrated so frustrated that you really started to think that calling that art guy wasn’t a bad idea. okay maybe you know a bit about him but they’re mainly rumours. you heard from a girl who heard from a girl that he’s got girlfriends all over the country and he’s a big cheater. sigh i can’t believe i’m doing this you thought to yourself. “hello?” the guy picked up asking in a low monotone voice. you get flustered and start lowkey panicking. “h-hey it’s y/n? my friend hiem said that you needed a..” “a nude model ?” he said nonchalant. you choke up “y-yah! yeah a nude model” you can hear him trying to hold back his laughter. “i’m gonna send you my address come meet me there at..10:00?” “yeah i’ll see u then!”

10:00 pm

“come in y/n i was just setting up some props”. you slowly go inside his loft in awe. you see the back drop and a marble chair in front of a large canvas. “you can change inside the washroom to your left” minghao said with a tiny smile. you can feel your heart racing, i mean minhao is totally your type. tall, artsy, kind of mysterious, and stylish, after you undress you walk out trying to cover your body. “hey i want you to know that if you’re uncomfortable we can pause or you can walk out the door, it’s okay” he said. you nod your head “yeah it’s fine let’s just get this over with”.

he told you to spread your legs and touch yourself while he draws. “m-minghao i-i” you say panting inserting your fingers into your cunt and massaging your boobs. “few min love, i just gotta sketch this out” he smiles. usually when you finger yourself you don’t feel nothing but this time you feel a rush of excitement. is it because he’s drawing you while you finger yourself trying to imagine his hands all over you? moaning into your ears? or is it because he’s staring at you like he’s about to devour you. you arch your back and roll back your eyes “just like that love, wow you look so fucking beautiful” he said sketching out your orgasm. he stops and goes over you cupping your cheeks “however i don’t remember telling you to cum love” he said smiling. next thing you know he’s eating you out, his nose against ur cunt. he’s making laps on your clit while he fingers you. just his fingers are enough for you to make you cum. “oh yeah? you like that hm~” he said going deeper hitting your g-spot. you can see his glasses fog up, his hair messed up and his hard cock rubbing against his denim jeans. “p-please minghao i need you” you say moaning while you grip his hair. “say it” “i-i need your cock!” he hovers over you and lifts you up against a wall. putting one of your legs over his shoulder and unzips his jeans revealing his hard throbbing shaft. he inserts it and lets out a tiny moan. he pushes your waist into him bottoming you out. you feel a rush of pleasure as he pounds you endlessly. you don’t know how many hours it has passed. he’s grabbing your waist, slapping your ass while he hits you from the back, and leaning over telling you “you’re such a good girl for me hm?” “oh yeah you like that don’t you?”. your eyes roll back while your back arches. “i-i’m gonna cum minhao!” you say gripping on minhao’s back. “let it out” he coos giving you a final thrust. your body turns into jello eyes to exhaustion. “oh, u thought we were done?”minghao says giving you a little peck on your cheek before lifting you up again.

[bizarrobrain]

I was looking for something other than music or movie to play in the background while I cooked and I saw PlutoTV has a few free episodes of a reality show called Undercover Boss. To be clear: this is a terrible show and just seeing the title image annoyed me. I simply cannot imagine watching a few episodes of this show and still believing that society benefits by treating execs and CEOs as if they are superheroes. I normally don’t watch reality TV but like a few years back I was getting home at 2 A.M. or later, could never seem to get to sleep right away and I caught myself hate watching a few episodes of this show over the span of several months. It’s just bad. Like the execs barely know how to do their employees jobs and the take away is never “this incompetent fuckhead is exploiting the hell out of people who need better pay and benefits just to even qualify as getting by.” It’s always like, “Martha has been working at Catfood Burger for 15 years, for min. wage, hasn’t missed a single day or received a single raise...she basically runs the place...so I spent .000000005% of my total wealth and bought her a new Honda!” We’re supposed to admire and look up to people like this?

[finfarts]

so i worked a lil over 2 weeks at a uhm, board game place and this experience has taught me several things. primarily...

jobs that pay 30 cents over min wage but requires (informally) a post secondary degree ain’t worth it

don’t get a job in a field you only have a mild interest in if they’re looking for “forever staff” (informally)

retail is shit forever™ 

i’ve never had a “entry level position” require 6 jobs to be performed simultaneously (cashier, customer service, receptionist, order desk, shipping/receiving, & janitor/cleaner) and i would not do it again. nor would i recommend it to anyone else, especially when the wage is barely above minimum.

[starlitetober]

We only ask for min wage to be more because we can’t support ourselves. I make more than my states min wage. We voted to raise it to what I make over the last several years. But here’s the thing. I CANNOT AFFORD A SAFE APARTMENT. Literally they turn me down because I don’t make enough for a shoebox apartment that’s over priced but where it’s safe enough I probably won’t be a victim of violence. I. DON’T MAKE ENOUGH TO HOUSE MYSELF. I live with friends that are chosen family. Three incomes. They make a tad more than I do. WERE STILL STRUGGLING WITH THREE INCOMES AT MORE THAN CURRENT MINIMUM WAGE. The crux. What happens when places have to pay employees more? Well the CEO at the top with the sports cars and million dollar homes don’t make a cent less. So the cost of whatever service you provide goes up. So then what happens? Our economy is ruined by the greedy at the top. Until they figure out how to fix that? We’re all going to be in the negative or barely breaking even just to exist.

[micah-mohammed]

WHEN SOCIETY FAILS, GOD REMAINS (6 min read, essay)

Take a moment to step out of your comfort zone and really see the harsh realities of the world around you. Even at your lowest financial point, you’re probably living a life that those in absolute poverty can only dream of.

We live in a world where the balance of wealth and resources is deeply uneven and unfair. For many, wealth isn’t about luxury but simply being able to meet basic needs like food, clothing, water, and shelter. Sadly, this level of security is out of reach for many people around the world, and that’s both unfair and heartbreaking.

To understand why so many people will never experience a life where even their basic needs are met, we need to face the bigger forces at play. Nelson Mandela once said, “Poverty is not an accident. Like slavery and apartheid, it is man-made and can be removed by the actions of human beings.” This reminds us that poverty, like many other injustices, isn’t just something that happens, it’s something we’ve created.

Poverty isn’t just about lacking resources; it’s the result of a system that keeps people stuck in a cycle of inequality. The way wealth is distributed, along with policies that favor the rich, keeps a lot of people trapped in poverty. Communities that once thrived have had their resources taken away, and global markets exploit workers, making it even harder for people to live the life they deserve, a life where basic needs like food, water, and shelter are met.

This man-made problem is made worse by the unequal access to opportunities. In many parts of the world, things like education, healthcare, and jobs are not rights but privileges. People born into poverty often don’t have the tools they need to escape it, leaving them stuck in survival mode instead of being able to thrive.

Understanding this is important because it shows that poverty isn’t about individual failure or lack of effort. It’s about a system designed to benefit a few at the expense of many. As we dive deeper into this topic, we have to confront the tough truth that the world as it is doesn’t work for most people. Instead, it keeps poverty going.

Fixing these deep problems and making sure everyone’s basic needs are met requires new ideas. One idea is Universal Basic Income (UBI), which suggests giving everyone regular cash payments with no strings attached. This could help reduce poverty and make getting help easier. Of course, there are challenges, like figuring out how to pay for it and dealing with potential inflation, but the goal is to create a safety net for people who struggle to get by.

Another approach is to make the tax system more fair, making sure the wealthy pay their share to help fund essential services for everyone. By closing tax loopholes and implementing a wealth tax, we can spread wealth more fairly across society.

Sustainable development is also key. By promoting eco-friendly practices, recycling, and investing in education and healthcare, we can build a society that supports both economic growth and environmental well-being. Finally, supporting local businesses and encouraging social enterprises can strengthen communities and empower people.

These strategies offer a path toward a fairer society, where everyone’s basic needs are met.

I’m a big believer in Universal Basic Income (UBI), not just as a policy, but as something we should do because it’s the right thing to do. Nobody asked for the world we live in today, a world where our lush lands filled with wild animals, fruits, and plants have been replaced by concrete buildings, corporations, and houses. Now, instead of living freely off the land, we’re forced to work for wages that barely cover our needs. We work just to afford a few groceries, to keep us healthy enough to do it all over again next month.

When I think about it, the strength, mental toughness, and deep appreciation I have for life’s natural offerings would have served me well in a different time, a time when hunting and living off the land was the way of life. Today, though, this strength and these instincts feel out of place in a society that doesn’t value them.

This isn’t okay, and it’s not something we should accept. Our ancestors hunted freely, taking only as much food as they needed. Now, our wages dictate how much we can eat, putting a cruel limit on our survival. Every human being deserves to have their basic needs met, food, shelter, and dignity. To deprive people of these essentials is wrong, and frankly, it’s cruel.

Life is set up in a way where one activity can have benefits across multiple dimensions. For example, hunger used to be a strong motivator that pushed people to take action, helping them survive and keeping them in good shape physically. Back in the day, hunters needed to find food to stay alive, and this drive to eat also kept them fit and healthy. But in today’s world, we don’t have that same push to be physically active. We no longer have to fight for our food, so we end up forcing ourselves to exercise at the gym, even when our bodies don’t really want to. It’s like our minds and bodies are wired to question why we’re using up energy when we don’t need to. But that’s a whole other discussion for another time…

“I prefer liberty with danger than peace with slavery,” Jean-Jacques Rousseau once said. His words still ring true today. Our ancestors had it easier. A wise man once said they could trade a few cattle and offer a firm handshake for a house. Yet, these same ancestors look down on us modern people when we don’t have a spouse, ten kids, and a house by the time we’re 20. They don’t realize how much harder life has become and how drastically things have changed. What they could achieve in their 20s, we can only dream of, stuck in a world that demands so much and gives so little in return.

But despite these challenges, we can’t lose hope. If you’re reading this, your circumstances likely aren’t the worst. They might not be ideal, but you’re alive, and that’s a gift. Take a moment to be grateful. Lift your hands to the heavens and shout hallelujah if all your needs are being met, because that’s a blessing many can only dream of. Remember, you have brothers and sisters out there trapped in lack, where the very tools needed to escape are out of reach. Your life, as tough as it may be, is probably better than most. And even if it’s not, know that peace can always be found within, through God. Embrace that peace, and let it guide you forward.

For the young guys reading this, I know life can be painful and filled with uncertainty. You may look toward the future and see only a blurry, overwhelming landscape, as if every choice you make now could determine whether you end up in lifelong poverty or lifelong abundance. But ease your stress, cast your burdens unto God, for He is always willing to assist and carry your burdens for you. Remember the words from Matthew 6:30–33: “If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will He not much more clothe you, you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” Don’t worry, Men of God. Even when we can’t see how we’ll satisfy our needs, know that the Lord sees and recognizes them. He provides, for He never breaks His promises. Keep your faith strong, and trust that He will guide you through the uncertainties of life.

Author: Micah I.H. Mohammed

Journal Entry: 26/08/2024

[jiminrings]

take five drabble where there’s a new dermatologist in town and dr. min is jelly and crankYYYYYYY

take five + part two

request drabbles here! :)

“We are not using my girlfriend as bait.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes the moment his co-founder meets his gaze, earning a colorful scoff from him in the process.

"Fine then, we're using my friend as bait," Jimin replies equally as insistent, putting his arms across his chest stubbornly.

To be fair, neither of them were able to foresee that this would even happen in the first place.

The last time they checked, Serendipity Aesthetics was the only beauty clinic that had a prime spot in the same luxury strip that they're in now. Their lease is the furthest thing from being cheap and no matter how snobbish it sounds, Yoongi and Jimin are glad.

They're glad that their clinic's lease is ungodly because it reminds them further how successful they've become and in turn, be able to pay off dues and have a lot extra by barely breaking a sweat.

They're glad that they're booked and busy for months in advance with no blank hour in between. They take pride in paying their employees much, much more than minimum wage and how they genuinely look forward to coming into work. They're proud that they've become the superiors they've always wanted to have back in medical school.

They are not glad about catching wind that there's a new clinic in the block.

"I'm literally right here."

You interject with a raise of your hand before they bicker further. Your boyfriend and best friend rarely don't get along but you know that the tension's heightened when you're suddenly thrown into the mix.

You don't necessarily want to take sides, but you will nonetheless.

"Jimin has a good idea, y'know? A great idea even," you turn your head to Yoongi who groans, clearly not happy about the love of his life siding with the enemy (Jimin, in this case, who's grinning from ear to ear) by the way he flips him off behind your back.

"And what? You just stroll in there, get a facial from the allegedly hot derma, and get back here?" he speaks with an irritated lilt to his voice, avoiding your eyes because he knows you'd see right through him. "You get back to my clinic after having someone else's hands all over your face?"

"I'll be scoping the competition throughout the entire process!" you raise your hands in defense, a little breathless at your boyfriend's jealous streak resurfacing. The last time he displayed it, it was when you weren't even together — in a procedure room nonetheless, after you stitched up your ex-boyfriend's earlobes.

Yoongi can admit to himself that he gets to be a little territorial when it comes to these things.

He's aware that he sighs heavily and grips things tighter whenever you come to Jimin instead of him, off and away to ask him to make a hormonal zit heal faster.

He knows his cheeks redden in frustration when he takes off your makeup when you're drunk. He holds his breath when in true wasted fashion, you attempt to make him stop fussing over your face because according to the video you've watched awhile back, he's definitely doing something wrong with his makeup removal process.

He's conscious of his jaw clenching when you let other doctors and estheticians of the like do something with you when he's clearly there.

Yoongi can admit his territorial streak to himself, but he won't admit it to you.

"Okay. Have fun."

Your boyfriend leaves it at that, standing up from his chair to exit his own office to blow off steam.

"That would mean yes," you conclude, clapping your hands together as you shoot out from your chair. You make quick work of changing into your other clothes because your scrubs are a dead giveaway; Jimin hot on your heels because he's slightly concerned of how you're unfazed with Yoongi's brooding. "Text me updates, yeah? Bye, see you later!"

.

.

.

when are u coming back?? your boyfriend literally won't stop sulking

he cancelled all his appointments AND walk-ins are you kidding me

nvm just make sure no one has their hands on your face by the time he's there lmao

yoongi's coming to pick you up

[bitchesgetriches]

Aunties, this isn’t finance related per se, it’s privilege related. I had a really rough start to adulthood - abusive parents isolated me from friends and family, wouldn’t allow me to get a job or license, then kicked me out as soon as I turned 18. I struggled to even finish high school, let alone get a job, but a few years have passed and I have a nice car and trailer in really proud of, I graduated and planning to go to college next year, I have a pretty okay job that pays above min. wage (1)

And knowing me now you’d never know I was violently suicidal for all my teen years and had a brief stay in a mental hospital, shortly before my parents kicked me out. All in all I’m in a much better place, and I know I’m lucky to have gotten out of that place, but... my coworkers drive me crazy. The job I have now would have been impossible for me to get back when I was really struggling, so a lot of the people I work with never struggled like I did, they came from middle to upper middle (2)

Class families, young people still living with their parents who pay all their bills, only part time work so they can go to college full time which their parents also pay for, parents bought their first car, etc. And I find myself resenting them because they don’t seem to know how good they have it, how lucky they are to have loving supportive families. They didn’t understand why it was such a big deal to me when my car broke down at work, because they didn’t know I struggled for four years (3)

To even get a license, let alone a whole fucking car. Not only do I resent them but I feel like I can’t relate to them at all, which makes it a little lonely sometimes. My old job was in the middle of a very impoverished area, all my coworkers were in my same position, we all related to each other. I felt like I belonged. I don’t feel like I fit in with these privileged people, even though I recognize I’m also privileged myself to even have all the things I worked so hard for (4)

The cognitive dissonance is real. I know it’s not my coworkers fault that they’re privileged and I should be glad they all had better upbringings than I did, so how do I stop feeling so bitter about it? (5)

My darling child, your story is fucking important. Not only do I feel you on a lot of levels (feeling bitter about privileged friends and colleagues yet also guilty about my own privilege), but I think a lot of our other readers do as well. And this is a really, REALLY good example of how privilege works to divide us, even when someone like you claws their way over a mountain of extremely difficult odds to earn a place of stability and status in their community. 

I have a lot to say about this whole feeling, which I wrote here:

The Subjectivity of Wealth, Or: Don't Tell Me What's Expensive

But I’m going to take a detour from our usual advice here and make a radical suggestion. It’s ok to stay bitter and angry. Especially when it comes to class discrepancies and cluelessly privileged people. 

I just finished reading “Rage Becomes Her” by Soraya Chemaly, which is a wonderfully vindicating book, but also very hard to read because every 10 pages or so I had to throw it across the room whilst screaming in anger about all the things we have to be justifiably angry about. But the last two chapters of the book are extremely useful because they’re about weaponizing our anger--using it as a tool for change both in our private lives and in our culture at large. 

So I’m going to make the radical suggestion that instead of trying to get over your bitterness, you embrace it. The next time someone makes you feel small or angry because of your struggles... tell them so. Practice telling pieces of your story calmly and firmly, in a tone that doesn’t invite contradiction. Practice walking away after telling this story. And practice telling people, “Not everyone has access to the same resources and advantages that you do. For example, let me tell you how my parents denied me access to resources and education that would help me be independent and support myself, and then kicked me out at age 18 in spite of these disadvantages.”

Feel free to tell me to go to hell, though! If you’d rather work on tamping down your anger and bitterness, that’s totally legit. Write back and I’ll point you to some resources about how to resolve those feelings.

But I think you could do a lot of good for yourself and your peers if you stopped swallowing your feelings and instead bared them for all to see. While no one is entitled to your story, I just read it and I think it’s fucking powerful. The cluelessly privileged need to learn. And they’re less likely to do so if they blithely assume you grew up with all the same advantages they had. 

[miseryinyou]

I have a less positive spin on this one based on personal experience.

My dad was abusive. While my parents were married my mom was a SAHM (part of his abuse - she wasn’t allowed out of the house).

Anyways.

My parents divorced when I was 10. My mom immediate got a low-paying admin job at the local college. She was paid about $2/hr more than min wage. BUT her contract stated free tuition for her kids if we got accepted when the time was right. For context - she has 2 kids. Myself and my younger brother.

My mom worked there for 8 years.

I’m a senior in high school. It’s JUNE. I graduate in 1 WEEK.

I’ve AREADY ACCEPTED my offer to the college my mom works at. I’ve missed deadlines of acceptance for EVERY other college I was accepted to.

I shit you not - the WEEK before I graduated my mom was laid off (corporate restructuring).

My free tuition was gone.

I had no financial support from my parents. My mom was barely able to put food on the table WITH a job and my dad had been MIA financially and physically since the divorce.

I’d been working (and saving) since the age of 15 but I still didn’t have enough for 1 year of college.

I got average-good grades. Total of $2000 in bursaries.

We managed to negotiate for my tuition for 1 year since the school screwed me over in my mom’s severance package but I had to transfer colleges after first year and most of my courses didn’t transfer.

[antiloreolympus]

12 Anti LO Asks

1. i feel like in the beginning at least the painterly look actually looked nice and could distract from the less than stellar writing, but now it looks so rushed and makes it look sloppy. i know photoshop specifically doesnt have good paint mixing tools, but it just looks so ugly now.

2. listen im not going to nitpick that sometimes the eyes in lo arent consistent levels unless its particularly egregious (and trust me there are some really bad examples) but i do think it speaks to how bad the art style actually is when its praised for being so "beautiful".   like if it marketed itself as unique, then that's more excusable, but its marketed as some groundbreaking piece of art, which falls flat when we see facial features cant stay consistent and it looks rushed and flat.

-----

From OP: To clarify, the assistant would have to do 20 panels for a week (from what was stated). However, it definitely has to be done before a week since it has to be ready by Sunday. With the pay of $450 USD total, that’s $22.50 per panel. I think the assistant would spend 30 - 45 min  per panel if RS is hiring someone who can do it fast.

I’m iffy on the payment but I still need to clarify because I feel some of these asks have some misleading information or misinterpreted the post in this next section.

-----

3. yall why is rachel AGAIN asking fo helpers? doesnt she have 5+ team already? the lack of same figures only adds to the degraded quality of art. also doing 20+ panels with inking, coloring, & lettering? other webtoon artists and the WT itself have gone on record its required for a featured comic's panel count to be 40 panels ... so rachel is basically only paying $450 for someone to do over half of the work she's supposed to do for while she gets all the fast pass, merch, and ad revenue. cool...

4. ok but no that ad rachel put out legit makes me mad esp considering how low the pay actually is. shes asking whoever applies to do the inking AND all the coloring while she what, only slaps on random shadows and puts in her misspelled dialogue? especially when its 20+ panels? the person would have to do 95% of the actual work for a solid chunk of the ep,and that doesnt include the other people on team who also do 95+ of the work. the whole situation makes her really look unpleasant and greedy.

5. me with my tea, watching people drag rachel for her trying to pay barely anything for assistants to do most of her work and only really paying in "expose": oh no, anyway -

6. rachel purposely turning off replies and comments to her posts asking for help which has shit pay on it ... she is aware its a bad look and still is trying to silence people on calling her out on it. this is not a good look, smythe.

7. i guess that anon who admitted the art team of LO work in batches while only working off sketches is right, and for a shockingly low pay too. if thats how the team is paid too then her team isnt even making minimum wage despite doing most of the work. i wanted to give the benefit of a doubt towards rachel but this honestly looks so scummy, especially when we know she's making a lot of money off fast passes, merch, and book deals. it's honestly gross to see her true colors come out like this.

8. people did the math on rachel's pricing for working for her and its at best like ... $5 an hour. and w/ the locked comments too? thats her being aware she KNOWS shes taking advantage of new and young artists because they worship her while she scams them fo work for barely nothing in compensation. youd think someone who lucked out this ,uch on her first try with her bad writing & art would know to pay at least minimum wage, but nah. this is so telling to her actual character its not nice. :/

9. rachel makes so much money off LO its honestly disgusting shes taking advantage of her fans to literally do the work for her while not even paying the lowest end of minimum wage. im seeing a fair few ppl calling her out over this so hopefully no one gets scammed and shes forced to actually pay them if someone reaches out, but considering shes ignoring it to instead retweet fan art is very telling.

10. TBH the funniest (worst?) part about Rachel's pricing is you know she'd be pissed if someone offered that little for her to do so much work, yet she's perfectly happy to ask her fans to do so for her while she gets the credit for it? Maybe that anon was right, the greedy capitalist, woe-is-me Hades IS her self insert. Who knew!

11. my little brother works at mcdonalds and gets paid $600+ a week meanwhile rachel cant even pay her workers even that for doing the bulk of the literal work for her? also flats and inks take different skills yet she expects them to do two jobs for one with such little pay on top of it??? shes wildin for this im sorry to say 💀 unionize webtoons now 💀

-----

-----FP Spoilers/Mention-----

12. One thing i don't get about the fast past episode is... doesn't Hades actually LIKES kids? Like, we have seen him happy hugging Hebe, he has no problem with holding Triton while Poseidon drinks something and he was pretty sweet to that little kid nymph that give him a cow. Why would he be okay with macking a child work? Does shades of dead children ALSO become slaves?

Also, this "backstory" with Thanatos comes out of nowhere? There was literally nothing that suggested Thanatos saw Hades as a paternal figure or that he respected him or had some sort of special affection for him? Even when he practically raised him, Hades didn't got atached to him even a little bit? He seems annoyed at Thanatos most of the time and doesn't look like he actually likes him... Was Thanatos literally hooking up with his "adoptive" father's girlfriend??? And let me tell you, NYX WOULD NEVER DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS TO ONE OF HER CHILDREN.

Come on, this is the goddess that was so angry that Zeus was being mean to one of her precious children that she SCARED THE TARTARUS OUT OF ZUES! Nyx would never abandon a kid Thanatos at Hades house,said "here, he is here to serve you" and then leave like she has better things to do. Is RS  planing to also do a "golden child and scapegoat" thing like she did with Artemis and Apollo but with Thanatos and Hypnos? (Than's twin brother) becuase i can't think in another reasson why she would make Nyx do something like abandoning her son.... 

[joontier]

The King’s Guard | the minis ii. 

pairings: kim seokjin x reader ; jeon jungkook x reader ; min yoongi x reader

rating: R (18+) | genre: established relationship! au, historical! au smut, fluff 

warnings: explicit sex; (dunno what this kink is called) but jinnie likes being called the king by the lohs; kink discoveries; oral (m receiving); dom-sub undertones

word count: 4.9k 

g/n: and because it’s seokjinnie missing hours~~~ Okta is also based off Okta in Hwarang and YES AHRO MAKES AN APPEARANCE WOOTTT also,,, chapter 6 might also come out real soon aCIfjoasdfj

The King’s Guard - Masterlist  ||  navi.

It’s been a while since Seokjin had retired to your shared room after a long day. He’d initially considered waiting for you while he changed into his sleeping garments but after some time and eventually managing to finish a scroll he’d taken from his office, Seokjin gets up from where he’s seated by the window and asks for Yunho. 

A different voice answers from outside, “Jeonha, the guard you are looking for is not with us right now.” Seokjin tries to push away the worry that’s starting to creep through him. The king chooses not to reply, quickly heading over to the dresser to put back on the clothes he was wearing earlier. 

You’d never stayed out this late before and as much as he hated to admit it, the capitol isn’t always the safest place, even for its own citizens. There were rumors of an uprising rebellion in the south and the thought of you in danger - he couldn’t risk it. He won’t risk it. 

The king asks for Chaeyoung, who was told to be by the palace kitchens. He flees out of the hanok as soon as he gets dressed, taking his sword with him. Just in case. With haste in his steps, Seokjin arrives at the kitchen in no time, asking the cooks if they happened to see you anywhere in the palace. 

He receives no response concerning your current whereabouts from the gungnyeo’s quarters either, so he gestures to the guards to follow him, the group walking briskly towards the stables. When Seokjin discovers Yunho’s horse is likewise missing, worry grows in his chest, already praying to the heavens that nothing bad has happened to you. 

Gesturing for the troop to hurry, he arranges the saddle on his horse by himself. “Jeonha!” Seokjin breathes a sigh of relief as he hears Yunho’s voice calling him from a distance. He pulls on the reins, directing the horse to turn around. The king, however, doesn’t see you with Yunho, nor does he sense any security in the guard’s worried expression. 

“_________?” The guard bows briefly, before opening his mouth to speak. Realizing his current predicament does not need to reach the ears of the other guards, Yunho manages just in time to stop himself from speaking out loud. 

“My King,” Yunho speaks, voice low as he guides his horse nearer to Seokjin’s. “Jungjeon-mama is uh…” the guard racks his brain for a better word to explain your present condition but attains nothing. Instead, he settles on the plain truth, despite how strange it sounds rolling off his tongue, “the queen is...um… she’s drunk, your grace.” 

It takes Seokjin a moment to process Yunho’s words - the possible image of your drunken state too much for your husband to even picture properly. Seokjin worries for your safety - knowing that you’d never had any proper alcohol in your life. The king quietly prays to his ancestors to watch over you for the meantime while he  recollects himself before anyone notices, not wanting to cause any more worry. 

When Seokjin deems everyone ready, Yunho suggests the troop to prepare a palanquin after having seen your state - clearly far too intoxicated to even sit upright on a horse. Yunho escorts the king to the establishment where Haesoo had called for his help. 

Much to yours and Seokjin’s luck there aren't many people on the streets, given it was already deep into the night - which only got Seokjin worried and wondering; what could possibly be the reason for you to visit such a place? And at such a late hour? 

Were you unhappy with your marriage? Was he lacking as a husband? As a king perhaps? A million questions are running through his head - unable to think straight as his horse gallops along the dirt road. 

 “Lady Ahro! Why do I feel like my husband is here?” you giggle, leaning nearly all of your weight on the poor lady. Ahro has been watching over you since she called for Haesoo’s attention who then called for Yunho, and now the same guard had paid her for such a task. Watching over royals was never in her line of duties, especially those whose drunken selves are a pain to attend to, but the lady was willing to do anything as long as she’d get paid. 

 When someone came to inform her earlier this afternoon of the soon arrival of an elite client, she was banking on one of her regulars paying her a visit, but she never expected the nation’s queen to visit such a place like Okta. 

 The establishment was built by and for the elites, yes, but it catered to a more generally younger and more… for lack of a better word, carefree audience. People usually came to Okta for two things: to meet new people of the same societal ranking and to have fun, occasionally, a little too much fun in privacy of the rooms it provided. 

 It was awkward, at first, unsure how to approach each other. You take a deep breath and speak first, and you can sense her gratitude in the small smile playing in the corner of her lips. “I need your advice,” you start off, voice barely above a whisper. 

The lady in front of you lightly raises an eyebrow at your request. “I believe you have to be more specific with your request, my queen. It is my belief that I am knowledgeable on most things - but I am not sure which field in particular you wish for me to share my insights.” 

You gulp, completely frozen in place. Chewing on your bottom lip, you consider rethinking your life decisions. Why were you here? What actually got you here in the first place? Ah yes, to learn more about what goes on behind the doors of a married couple, or, if you were being completely honest with yourself, you wanted to know more about the pleasures of the flesh. 

Confessedly, you and Seokjin were relatively a young married couple, you were together for quite a few years already, but you only had the chance to stay in the privacy of your shared room only after your marriage. Other than that, the only displays of affection you had with Seokjin never really went past kissing, or that one time he accidentally groped your chest when you almost fell out of balance while on a horse… if that even was to be considered under that category… 

And it wasn’t that the both of you hadn’t been on that certain level of intimacy yet, but during those times - you felt like you could have actually contributed more. If you were being completely honest, you had mixed feelings about the whole matter - even questioning the fact that you are even concerned about this in the first place. 

Due to the hushed rumors circling the noble class of the city, you’ve had the chance to eavesdrop about this particular establishment which allowed the citizens to enjoy art and music in a more...unconventional manner. 

Okta was a crossover between an inn and a canteen but people apparently spent more time consuming alcohol while enjoying each others’ company (whichever came first) in the common and private areas inside the place. 

You’d even heard of a lady who told tales of all genres, including erotica, in exchange for a few silver coins. The price was reasonable and with your curiosity and your married-woman-insecurities out on your sleeve, you thought Okta was perhaps the place where you’d finally discover the answers to your unspoken queries. 

So you had secretly scheduled a meeting with the infamous “Ahro” and the only other person who knew of this rendezvous was Haesoo, who swore on her ancestors that she wouldn’t tell a soul of your whereabouts, unless it would be of a life and death situation. 

Your intoxicated state was apparently considered one. 

You had most definitely not intended to actually consume alcohol but considering the fact that Lady Ahro’s stories ultimately had the small hairs on your nape stand on end, not to mention those tips she occasionally throws in for you to use, (tonight too, just as she had advised!), you figured you might as well have a little wine running through your veins to boost your lack of courage. 

How you got to this point however - practically clinging onto Ahro for dear life as you giggle uncontrollably - was beyond you. Both your mind and vision have become hazy as the hours pass and you’re barely aware of what’s going on in your surroundings. 

She hears rustling from outside the room where you spent talking for hours on end, and she wonders if her temporary guardian duties will finally end. At least the handsome guard had already given her more than three weeks worth of her wages. 

The king pokes his head in, eyes scanning the room. He finds you practically draped over Ahro who looks like she’d had to deal with you since time immemorial. Apologizing in your stead, he requests Ahro to leave the two of you for a moment. 

It takes the pair quite some effort to pry you off the lady. Seokjin offers another bag of silver in exchange for her silence and Ahro almost considers not taking the payment to preserve her dignity, but quickly remembers she didn’t have much of it in the first place so with a wave and a gentle reminder to Seokjin to never leave you alone again in the establishment, Ahro takes her money and scurries off. 

“Sarang, it’s time to go.” Seokjin tugs at your hand to pull you up but you decline, looking away as you put on your best cutesy angry face. He just chuckles at you, gasping in surprise as you tug him downwards, ultimately landing on the spot next to yours. “I still want to play.” 

Feeling Seokjin’s chest vibrate with laughter, you pout at him. Since when did Seokjin have such a wonderful neck? It seems like this is the first time you’ve seen his bare neck in years - his throat and whatever is that lump that’s sticking out from his throat is suddenly so...attractive? 

In fact, you’ve found it insanely attractive that you’re unable to stop yourself from placing a wet kiss on his neck, just below his jawline. His breath hitches and the action only spurs you further, peppering his throat lingering kisses, working your way down to his collarbone. 

Seokjin exhales shakily as he gently tries to pry you off him. “_______, dearest. Not here jagiya. We need to get you home.” 

“Can we play then? When we get home?” 

He’s never seen you reply like this before and your husband is tempted to ask who you were and what could you have possibly done to his wife, but judging by your current state, he deems it’s not going to end well if he does. Instead, Seokjin just nods at you in reply. 

He’s surprised when that actually gets you on your feet. Wincing at the sudden headache that booms through your temple, Seokjin holds you steady as you stumble in your stance. As the pain subsides enough to be tolerable, you shake yourself off of Seokjin’s grasp, skipping giddily out of the room. 

Finding difficulty bearing with your drunken mood swings, your husband lets his head flop forward in exasperation as he rubs his face with his palms. Realizing he has yet to watch you in case your inability to walk in a straight line might strike again, Seokjin quickly runs after you. 

Just as he had thought, you fall midway to the back door, landing on your knees. Your husband rushes to you, asking if you felt any sort of pain. The boisterous laugh that escapes your lips answers his question efficiently. 

Because of the sudden sound, Seokjin sees some of the people from the common area are trying to peek through the slits between the wooden panels covering the hallways, wondering where that sound came from. With graceful haste, Seokjin scoops you up from the floor and walks briskly towards the end of the hallway where Yunho and the rest of the group were waiting with a palanquin. 

Your husband ushers you into the litter but your unusually stubborn self continues to cling onto the silken fabric of his jeogori so Seokjin had no other choice but to climb in as well - the palanquin, thankfully, spacious enough to fit two passengers. 

Latching onto his arm the moment you’ve settled in your seat, Seokjin wonders slightly if you’ll have any recollection of this once you’ve become sober tomorrow. The king heaves a sigh, finally getting the chance to feel that certain level of relief now that you were quiet and beside him at last. 

Seokjin might have spoken too soon. 

Next thing he knew, you were snuggling into his chest, fingers dancing lazily along his thigh while you’re at it. Your husband didn’t find it suspicious at first, but when he feels your digits trail dangerously up north, Seokjin gently pushes your hand away keeping them secure under his grasp as he places them on your lap. 

Desperation can’t seem to stop anybody though. Even with your hands cuffed beneath Seokjin’s huge palms, you manage to latch your lips on his neck one more time, sucking on the sensitive spot along the creamy expanse of his throat. 

The sound that reverberates throughout Seokjin’s body is something you’ve never heard of before - the almost animalistic sound canonically shooting a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

You continue your ministrations until Seokjin gets a hold of himself after an embarrassing amount of time, pulling away from you with a stern look on his face. He calls you by your full name, scolding you slightly of a behavior unbecoming of a queen, reminding you that you both weren’t in the confines of your room and any occurrence of a scandalous event is unaffordable by the royal family. You cower slightly in your seat, not expecting your very own husband to use his authoritative king voice on you. 

But just like the interesting turn of events in a short time span tonight, the alcohol coursing through your veins seem to have a mind of its own. 

Instead of letting your husband hinder you from your intentions, you take advantage of Seokjin’s loosened grip on your hands, climbing onto his lap swiftly and gracefully, that the palanquin manages to not move much so as not to raise any suspicion from outside. 

“Have I been a very bad queen, Seokjinnie?” Your hand purposely brushes through his crotch before trailing upward to cup his jaw. Seokjin staggers at the teasing tone of your voice, thoughts drifting off to whatever they made you drink inside that made you a completely different person.  He badly needs to get a hold of those too. 

Pushing yourself further into his lap, so close that he feels your breath fanning against his nose. “Jeonha,” you whisper salaciously, nipping at the shell of his ear, “Aren’t bad queens going to get punished?” Seokjin remains silent as he stares at you with an intense gaze, lust clouding over his dark orbs. 

“Hmm?” you tap his chin once, feeling the faint stubble of a promising beard. Your husband’s face remains stoic even with your provocative efforts, so you decide to take it up a notch, inspired and fueled by one of Ahro’s stories earlier. 

Your hand travels under your skirt, lifting it just a little to reveal that tiny sliver of skin to your husband and as you raise yourself a tiny amount from his lap, you swiftly untie the cloth covering your most private of parts, throwing them aside somewhere else inside the palanquin. 

“I am most willing to take any punishment, jeonha...” you whisper as you grind your core on his crotch. Even with your thick skirt hindering you from experiencing the intense pleasure from grinding on his clothed cock, there’s still that faint feeling of his erection as you grind even heavier. “Twofold,” you state, gyrating your hips to match your counting. “Threefold…” another one. You see the lump on Seokjin’s throat bob up and down as he gulps. “Fourfold.” 

“Don’t worry, my queen. I’ll be sure to punish you accordingly,” comes Seokjin's equally strained reply, not taking his eyes off you as he thrusts upwards. 

Seokjin returns you back to your seat beside him effortlessly, not a word spoken. Well, it’s not as if it’s needed. The tension inside in the now-seemingly cramped space is enough for you to perceive what might happen in the next few moments. As if in sync with your thoughts, Seokjin reminds, “Stay still in your seat, unless you want more punishment later.” 

You manage to stay still in your seat, despite your thoughts completely haywire. Maybe you wanted more punishment? Or are you already asking for too much? Was he really going to punish you? 

Not before long, the palanquin halts, indicating your arrival at the palace. Seokjin spares you a look, heart melting at the sight of you already asleep, snoring slightly in your sleep. 

He chuckles at your slumbering form, climbing out of the palanquin first before asking Yunho to assist him as he clambers to get you out of the litter. Seokjin then proceeds to carry you in his arms and up the stairs to your hanok. 

Laying you gently on the bed, Seokjin undresses you layer after layer, knowing how uncomfortable it will be for you if you continue sleeping in the multiple layers of clothing you have on. Your husband delicately tears off your jeogori first, then laughs to himself as he turns you to the side to untie the knot on your skirt, remembering your alcohol-induced bravado earlier. The young king makes a mental note to ask someone tomorrow to get a sample of whatever they had given you prior...for research purposes. 

He takes the bowl of water he’s kept by the fire to maintain its temperature, pulls out a small washcloth from your dresser and dips the same into the bowl. Seokjin drags the white fabric along the expanse of your skin not covered by your undergarments. When he deems you freshened enough, he pulls on the ribbon holding half of your hair up in a ponytail. 

Fishing your favorite brush from a nearby drawer, a satisfied smile plays on the corner of Seokjin’s lips, running the brush along your hair fanned out on the pillows. Though he loves you for who you truly are, one physical attribute of yours that appeals to him most is your hair - he can’t quite put a finger on it, but there’s something about your hair that he finds so feminine, something he finds strangely, but insanely attractive - much more than he can ever admit out loud. 

Propping an elbow for something to lean on, he finds brushing your hair particularly soothing and therapeutic, enough to even lull him to a deep sleep, one hand on the brush and the other holding your hand. 

A raging headache and a parched throat wake you from your peaceful sleep, squinting as your eyes adjust to take in your surroundings. You try to recollect what happened last night, vague splashes of last night’s events splayed across your thoughts. 

A royal robe covering haphazardly draped over someone’s legs discontinues your momentary reminiscence. Twisting your torso to the side, you see your husband, mouth slightly open as he snores away happily in his sleep. He must’ve taken off your outer clothes last night and — you rack your brain thinking hard if you had done something unintelligible and embarrassing. 

Your brazen advances last night finally dawn on you, face cringing as you remember bits and pieces of how you were the night before. ‘It must have been a nightmare for Seokjin,’ you think to yourself, already conjuring up a lame apology for your inexcusable behavior. 

Pushing your robe away from Seokjin’s legs, you take notice of the erection hidden beneath the confines of his pants. You make an attempt to not stare at it perversely but it was standing tall and proud like that, and oh - your eyes widen as you see it twitch, as if demanding all of your attention.

Wasn’t this a common occurrence in the morning? You might have felt it a few times during your rising when Seokjin spooned you in his sleep, but your timidity can’t seem to address the concern to your own husband. 

Looking away, you shift in your position to share your blanket with your husband. Seokjin unexpectedly wakes up at the action though, giving you a small fright. “Sarang, you’re awake already? Seokjin is talking slower than usual, voice still groggy from sleep. 

You nod at him with a shy smile, embarrassed at the fact that you almost got caught eyeing that thing between his legs. “Are you alright? Dizzy, perhaps?” 

“Just a little, but I’ll be okay. Thank you for taking care of me last night,” you place a kiss on his cheek as Seokjin hums delightedly. “You must have taken quite the beating last night.” Fiddling with your fingers as you apologize for your behavior last night, Seokjin grabs at your hands and takes them between his. 

“It’s fine, sarang. Actually, it was quite...amusing, if I do say so myself,” your husband comments, winking at you. Seokjin sits up, resting his back against the wooden board and beckoning you nearer to him. 

As you scoot closer, you snuggle into Seokjin’s chest. Your husband places a kiss on your temple, before playing with your hair, just silently carding his fingers through them. “Do you mind telling me what actually happened last night - the things I said, perhaps? I can’t really recall them properly…” 

“Truthfully I was worried when I didn’t see you here yesterday. It was already late when I returned from the office and I don’t really want to be that type of husband that locks you inside the palace but I became really anxious when you still hadn’t returned.” 

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” you frown, mentally noting to inform Seokjin of your whereabouts before leaving the palace. 

“It’s alright, really. Anyways, I found you practically attached to Ahro, was it? And then we went home. Now we’re here.” 

“That’s it?” With the evident Seokjin’s haste in his recollection, you’re starting to get suspicious about how the previous night could have ended that quickly - that...uneventful. 

“Nothing else happened? Like I didn’t do or say anything? Am I a quiet drunk?” Your husband looks overwhelmed with all your questions, gulping before he responds. 

“You kind of said a couple of things...but! It’s nothing really, nothing major…” Seokjin chuckles nervously, scratching at the back of his head. 

“That can’t be the whole story?” You raise an eyebrow at your husband, testing him. Sliding lower down his chest a little so you have a better view of him, you trace the faint stubble on his chin. “Tell me, my king? Please?” 

“Don’t call me that,” Seokjin mumbles, looking away. “Doesn’t seem like you dislike it though, jeonha.” Your husband heaves a sigh, knowing you’ve won again. “You do know I love you with all my heart, right? And I don’t want you to think that I might take advantage of your drunkenness - which I didn’t, really, because you fell asleep too before anything actually happened…” He was stalling, you figured, as it might involve something that made him uncomfortable. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell the whole thing… I just… why do I only remember me saying something along the lines of punishment?” Seokjin looks down at you with dilated pupils. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you...it’s just…” your husband pauses, thinking deeply about what his next statement might entail. “I can’t think about it without getting hard…” 

Seokjin looks almost strained as he looks to the side, avoiding your eyes. “If only you’ve seen - heard yourself last night, gods! It was like a different you completely” 

Just as if the universe is on your side, you’re starting to get clearer recollection of last night’s events, realization slowly dawning on you. Likewise, Ahro’s words ring inside your head, urging you to go make your move. Relying on the last possible ounce of alcohol remaining inside you, you gather all your courage and make a proposition. “Am I still up for punishment? Jeonha?” 

Seokjin dramatically exhales, rubbing at his face. “Don’t say things like that, ________!” Laughter is already bubbling in the pit of your stomach (just as much as the anticipation for what’s to come, in case your plan works out) but you control yourself, maintaining a straight face as you continue to query him. 

“Why? Did I say something, my king?” 

Your husband makes a sound, somewhere between a grunt frustration and resilience, and looks at you dead in the eye, “You saying those things just makes me really want to punish you.” Pulse rapidly accelerating, you make a final question, “What’s stopping you, jeonha?” 

Seokjin wastes no time with your affirmation, connecting your lips together. Moaning into the kiss, he shifts in his seat to cage you between him and the bed, strong arms holding him up as he deepens the kiss.

Shamelessly grinding his erection against you, Seokjin grunts, gripping at your thighs to keep them spread, “Do you feel how aroused you get me all the time?” Mewling at the sensation, you manage to choke out a reply, “As do you, my love.”

Your husband deftly unties the undergarments you’ve slept in. “Seok…” a breathy whine escapes you as he latches onto on of your nipples. The foreign feeling of his warm, wet tongue sends you shivering and it takes all your might to stop him as you remember Ahro’s advice yesterday, squeezing at your husband’s lithe biceps.

“What is it, sarang? Do you wish to stop?”

“N-no. I want to take control, Jinnie.”

Albeit slightly taken aback by your behest, Seokjin nods, sitting on his heels. “Lie down, my king. I want to pleasure you.” Shock is evident in your husband’s features as he complies with your command, cock already twitching in anticipation. “Take off you clothes too.” Seokjin obeys without further questioning, unknowingly easing the mild worry nipping at you.

Just as what Ahro had told you yesterday, you splay your hands on his chest, before bending down slowly to place kisses all over the milky expanse of his skin. Moving further south until your reach that thin trail of hair, Seokjin’s sudden intakes of air continuously urge you on, until you finally get to his crown jewel.

Licking at your lips, you hastily pull his pants down, your desperation for a mutual release guiding your actions on instinct. As soon as his cock springs free from its confines, you get into action, placing a wet kiss on the tip of his length before slowly taking the head in your mouth.

“O-oh, fuck! What did that lady tell you back at Okt…” Seokjin cries out a broken moan as you pull your mouth back up then diving back in, eventually getting lower to the base. You feel your husband tremble with your every bob, subconsciously tugging at your hair in pleasure.

Seokjin starts to squirm around you, pushing your mouth away from his shaft. “My love, please…. please let me be inside you. I can’t cum like this, please.” Seokjin beseeches, torso already covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

Your husband switches your positions as he pushes you gently onto the bed, but your hand shoots out to grab at his wrist. “C-can...can I be on top?”

There’s a slight furrow in Seokjin’s brows at your request, but he smiles nonetheless, keeping his excitement at bay. “Of course, love. You’re free to sit on your throne anytime.” 

He lies back down, both palms out to support you in your task. Gladly placing your hands on him, you crawl back on his lap, moving on your knees to position yourself to impale yourself on his cock.

Taking his length in your hand, you languidly swipe the tip against your wet folds. With one final breath, you push downward, sinking down on his cock until he’s fully seated inside you. Slowly you start, swiveling your hips just as you were told. Seokjin keeps his gaze at you through hooded eyes – a definite boost of confidence for you.

You settle on a particular rhythm, just gyrating your hips around before it gets too much like you’re almost at that point, but not quite yet. You start alternating by bouncing atop him, while your fingers find your clit, rubbing at your nether bud vigorously to push you towards your high.

Seokjin grabs at your breasts, twisting and tweaking your nipples, stimulating you further. He feels you clench around him as you orgasm nears quickly and his balls tighten likewise, painting your velvety walls white as he reaches his climax after you.

You fall to his chest, panting just as heavily as Seokjin. He decides on keeping himself still sheathed inside you for a while longer, reveling in the feeling of his cum dripping out of your pussy and onto his thigh. “The next time you go to Okta, take me with you, alright? I’ll have whatever you had back there.” 

© joontier 2020

[teawithkpop]

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 5

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

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 9.1k words

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

Warnings: mentions of sexual acts, swearing, mentions of sexual abuse/manipulation, mentions of non-consensual sex - (these are both mentioned very briefly in the chapter and do not center around any of our main characters, but please be cautious if this is a sensitive topic for you!)

*meme voice* ah shit, here we go again.

thank you everyone for your patience regarding this update!! <3 I appreciate you for waiting patiently and for all your love in the meantime! I hope you enjoy ^^

-------

"Please, will you take this vacation?"

You stare at Namjoon, at the desperation written on his face as he begs you to accept his offer, and a war wages within your heart.

On the one hand, you have no good reason to believe him, not after you’d heard him and his members discussing you behind your back like they did. The key could be a fake, his little theory could be a ruse to let your guard down so you won’t put up a fight when he finally sends you packing.

On the other hand, you’ve never had reason to doubt Namjoon up until an hour ago. He seems to have always looked out for you, always appreciated your work. This could be a genuine plea for your cooperation in a bigger picture, like he claims.

But the shadow of doubt still covers you. The sound of him and his boys squabbling so carelessly, taking a vote on your future. You can’t let that memory go so easily.

“Never trust your client. They will only betray you in the end.” The words of Madame run through your mind again, as if confirming your fears.

You want to believe Namjoon. But you need to protect yourself before anything else.

You slowly break away from his grasp, taking the key and tucking it into a pocket on your belt. “Kim Namjoon...” you say, your eyes cast downwards.

He seems more relaxed now that you’ve taken his peace offering, and he tilts his head to the side, listening intently. “Yes?”

Your brain claws desperately at a strategy, at anything you could use as leverage. But all you have are words. What can you say? What protection do you have left? You’re putting yourself at his mercy.

“During my time in this house... I have learned many things about you and your members. Things I don’t think you want the public to find out about.”  Lies. He knows it. You know it. The only secrets you know are their kinks, which aren’t exactly damning to their characters. Even if you did have dirt on them, who would listen to you? 

You continue, though your voice sounds uncertain, even to your own ears. “If you’re lying to me about any of this, then I swear...  I’ll do what I have to, and... ensure that you pay for your mistake.” You try to imbue strength and determination into your words, but your heart isn’t in it, and you’re sure he can tell. You can’t even meet his eyes. You have no fight left in you. You’re like a frightened animal that’s been backed into a corner.

Fuck. You’re just so tired of this, of everything. You’ve been through too much recently with not even a moment to catch your breath, and you’re just… exhausted. You’ve tried, you really have. You’ve done your best, you’ve gone down swinging. But you can’t do it anymore, it’s all too much...

You feel numb as Namjoon wraps you into his arms. When did he come over to your side of the table? You don’t remember, you can’t think clearly.

“It’s okay.” Namjoon’s breath is warm against your cheek. “You can rest now.”

Can he read your mind? You must look so pathetic, your body shaking as he holds you tightly, like you might float away.

But right now, you don’t care. He’s seen you at your worst already. You choke on a quiet sob and your fingers twitch, longing to reach up and hold him, to reciprocate...

“Alright, has everything been sorted?” Yeji’s arrival carries away those ideas, and Namjoon pulls away from you with a gentle pat to your shoulder.

“I believe it has,” he says, and he stands up to greet her as the two of them start to wrap up the details of your agreement. Their words turn to buzzing as the rest of the meeting passes by in a blur. You're too dazed to pay attention, too numb to feel anything but a vague sense of resignation as papers are signed, handshakes are given, and your fate is placed in his hands.

Before you know it, you’re back up in your room again. Whatever farewell that Namjoon had probably wished you as you shut the door had fallen on deaf ears. You can’t process anything more right now.

-------

The first few hours of your sentence pass by in silence, tears slowly trickling down your face as you lay on your bed. Your brain slowly works through its state of catastrophe. Dimly, you worry that you might never pick up all the pieces. Some have blown away in the recent whirlwind of disaster, some are stained, irreparable, all of them worn from being taped and glued back together, over and over again.

You feel broken.

Is this what they wanted? To break you?

You roll over onto your other side, uselessly wiping the tears from your face as fresh ones spring to your eyes to replace them.

You know, somewhere inside yourself, that you can’t just sit here and throw a pity party all week. But damn it, it’s been a while.

You just need a little time. Soon, you’ll be back on your feet, you tell yourself. You’ll bounce back, just like always. You’ve never failed before.

But what if you do? What if you fail yourself, fail the boys? Fail your family, yet again? You want to curl up and never move for the rest of your life. The craggy void of failure at your feet has you nearly paralyzed, afraid to misstep. Afraid to get that last strike and finally be sent home.

You groan. You’re so exhausted and frustrated of picking yourself apart like this. There's no point in agonizing over what ifs.

You’re here. You’ve arrived at rock bottom. Now the question is where to go?

It feels eerily calm as you sit up in bed and survey your surroundings. No noise pierces the utter stillness of your bedroom apart from your own breathing. It’s stifling.

By now, it has to have been at least a full day since you came upstairs, right? You feel like you’ve been laying on this bed for ages. You grab your ComGear to check the time, and whimper in despair.

It’s only noon. About two hours since the meeting.

After another brief bout of agony at this revelation, you take a second look at the screen and are surprised to see over a hundred notifications. You expect it to be due to the group chat, but a fair amount of them are actually from your clients. You don’t bother to open each conversation, but merely look over their previews - the most recent messages they sent you.

[   Kim Seokjin   ]: please try to get some rest, alright? [  Jung Hoseok  ]: I’m sorry… truly. please enjoy your time off. [     Park Jimin    ]: just let me know! ^^; [  Kim Namjoon  ]: Promise. [    Min Yoongi    ]: you know where to find me [  Kim Taehyung ]: enjoy your vacation, jagiya~ ♡ [ Jeon Jungkook ]: are you coming down for lunch?

All of them messaged you, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. It hurts to see them pretend like everything’s fine and see if that makes it better somehow. It looks like most of them didn’t even try to apologize for what they did to you. Maybe you really aren’t that important to them after all.

Could they see through your attempts to befriend them all this time? Did all of their kindness to you mean nothing? Is that how they treat all of their employees?

You feel tears threatening again, and you wish you had a friend to talk to about all this.

Then it occurs to you that maybe… you do.

You flick over to the group chat, where you see that the other PhysComs are now talking about some webtoon and sending memes to each other. You tap on Sascha’s profile again. The same page greets you, the same blank profile picture and call button as before.

Yeji had said that the chat was real. If that's true, then the people in it must be who they claim they are, right? You do trust Yeji’s word, but you need to find out for yourself. You’ll never be able to fully accept this undercover group chat as a reliable resource until you know for sure.

Hey, if you’re suspended anyway, what’s the harm right? What are they going to do, fire you?

You bark out a sob of a laugh, and your finger hits the button before you can stop yourself. Yes, this might be a bad idea, and yes, you shouldn’t risk putting yourself out there on the hope that it’ll connect you to a friend, but you need to know the truth. You’ll feel better if you know that there’s still someone in this world that truly understands you.

It rings. And rings.

As the ominous buzzing stretches on through the silence, your worry starts to return. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. If the chat room is somehow compromised, you might have just given yourself away, someone high up in the industry could be tracking your location at this very moment from your cell signal or something, or maybe-

“Hello?” Sascha’s voice rings clear as a bell through the phone, and you almost start crying right then and there with relief.

“Sascha?” You can barely utter her name as all your memories of training together hit you like a sucker punch in your already fragile state.

“Oh! Hey, sweetie! How’s it going?” she replies in her chipper way, a smile in her tone.

“... It’s really you,” you whisper, pressing your fist to your pursed lips to keep your emotions at bay. “Sasch.”

“Of course it’s me, silly goose.” Her laugh is bright and airy, just like you remember it. “Who else would it be?”

You wait a beat, scouring your mind for a test to prove your paranoia wrong, just in case. “What… what did I give to you on our last day together?” You ask imperatively, waiting with bated breath for her answer.

It was not something either of you would easily forget, though most people probably would. It’s also the best test you can think of, as anyone else would assume such an important day would go hand in hand with a meaningful keepsake or an important gift.

“A sandwich,” she laughs. “Pastrami and mustard on rye. You shared it with me to celebrate reaching our target weight that month. Though you never let me pay you back. I would have preferred ham, you know.”

Your shoulders visibly relax. It’s Sascha, all right. Compliments and complaints in the same breath. It’s as if hearing her voice, hearing the confirmation that it’s really her, turns on a faucet inside you that had long since dried up.

“Sascha… so much has happened.”

You didn’t fully realize how lonely and isolated you’ve been until this very moment, now that you have some true company. Your story comes spilling out, every sordid detail, and Sascha listens attentively to what you have to say, just like she used to during your training days.

“So, now I’m in my room, and… I don’t even know how I’m going to get through today, let alone a whole week,” you confess, hugging your stuffed rabbit to your chest.

“Let me get this straight.” A while into the call, you’d switched to video chat, and Sascha appears to be doing some yoga stretches while catching up with you. “You have seven men in that house, all of whom you’re supposed to pleasure sexually, and they’re giving you a paid break from pleasuring them?”

You nod. “Awful, isn’t it?”

Sascha’s face twists. “You know, I think you may be viewing this all wrong.”

Your brows furrow. “Excuse me?”

“Hear me out for a second,” she continues, now angling her warrior pose so she’s facing her camera. “When was the last time you had a real break?” She quirks an eyebrow, dipping out of frame to switch poses, her blonde hair spilling over one shoulder in a loose braid. “One where you didn’t even think about work?”

You stare blankly at the camera. You’ve had no such days. You’re always looking to improve yourself to maintain your high marks. “Um…”

Sascha laughs and flashes you a fond smile. “You were the same way in training. You know how many days a week I work?”

You feel shame start to curl in your gut. “How many?”

“Three,” she replies. “And the reason why is because we have like six Primary PCs here at the dorm.” She blows a stray lock of hair out of her face. “There are thirteen boys to satisfy at any given moment, so we each only tackle two to three at a time, and our coverage is considered thin! Most groups have at least one Primary per client.” She reaches down to touch her toes, her ass shimmying in the air, and you snort. “And that’s not even counting our Secondaries! We're practically a fucking harem over here!”

You sigh, chewing on your lip crankily. “What’s your point?”

She pokes her head up to shoot you an equally cranky glare. “Remind me, how many boys do you tackle?”

“Seven,” you mumble. You know what she’s getting at, but it’s something you don’t want to admit, even to yourself. Maybe… objectively… you do need a break, even if you don’t want one. Maybe you’ve been overworking yourself, biting off - or in this case, perhaps swallowing - more than you can chew.

“Right! That’s half the amount of our clients. Doing the math, you should have at least three Primaries there, but it’s just you.” You see Sascha’s leg rise up behind her in some sort of bizarre stretch, and her voice sounds strained with the effort of holding the pose. “I’m not saying you can’t handle it, babes. I’m just saying that... you do a lot for them. Maybe this will be good for you.”

Hearing someone put it so rationally makes you feel like maybe you’ve been overreacting. Namjoon did tell Yeji he wants to keep you, but it all still seems... off, somehow.

“What about the whole vote thing? And Namjoon’s deal?” You bring up your last few defenses at her argument, your hand resting subconsciously on the pocket of your belt containing the key to his studio.

“Oh no, that’s all highly suspicious.” Sascha blows a lock of hair out of her face as she comes back up and lifts her arms over her head. “But what’s happened has already happened. So I think you should make the best of it, and take this time to rejuvenate yourself. Just keep an eye out, and if those bastards try anything, you send them to me.”

You laugh. “Rejuvenate? How am I supposed to do that?” You roll your eyes at her playfully. “Yoga?”

Sascha props a hand on her hip. “Don’t joke. Yoga is a very valid form of rejuvenation.”

You giggle at her stoicism and she cracks a smile too before continuing. “But seriously, honey! It breaks my heart that you’ve been working so hard, you don’t even remember how to have fun. Come on, what did you do in your training days to relax?”

You think back and try to remember. Most of your memories from training are a blur of hard work, endless studying and practice. You’re about to confess that you really have no idea, when a single memory breaks to the surface, and like a dam, it releases a flood of other times you’d taken breaks. Sneaking out to get snacks, late night adventures, stargazing on the rooftop, all of the rare little pockets of time that you could call your own, and they all had one connecting factor.

“Music,” you breathe, feeling like you just stepped out of a time warp. “Listening to music, really, really loudly.”

Sascha laughs, a proud smile adorning her dimpled cheeks. “I think you know how to kick off your vacation, then.”

You find yourself grinning, too. “Thanks, Sasch.” You feel like maybe you should stay on the line a bit longer. You two really have some catching up to do, even though once you’d started talking, it had felt like no time had passed since you’d last seen her.

But Sascha makes your decision for you, blowing you a kiss. “There are tons of music streaming apps. Go crazy. And call me if you need anything, okay?”

The simple act of her being supportive of your wellbeing has you feeling overwhelmed all over again, but this time, it’s not from emotional distress. “Thanks, Sascha. Same to you.”

You’re about to end the call when you hear a door open on Sascha’s end of the line. She looks off camera and a smile pops up on her face. “Antione, come over here!” She yells, running off screen and returning a moment later, dragging a boy behind her, who seems to be grumbling in protest of her manhandling. “Antione, say hi! This is Antione from the group chat.”

The guy seems more than a little ticked off at Sascha, but when he catches sight of you on the screen, his mouth falls open.

“Oh… hello.” He flashes a smile, and his icy blue eyes are now filled with wonderment. “You’re the Primary for BTS?”

“Hi,” You wave a little awkwardly. “Yup, that’s me.” You can’t help noticing how strikingly similar he and Sascha look. With those crystal eyes and buttery blonde hair, you could mistake them for twins, the only difference being Antione’s thinly framed glasses next to Sascha’s 20/20 vision. But you suppose he wouldn’t really need glasses to have sex, they’d surely get knocked around or broken if he left them on. He probably wears contacts for work.

In fact, his similar appearance to his coworker can’t be a coincidence, especially if they’re both Primaries for their clients, and it leads you to believe that perhaps all of their Primaries bear a resemblance to each other, so that any combination of fuck dolls could be considered a set. From this, you suspect that their clients may be into incestuous role play, or perhaps they like the idea of fucking someone’s “sibling”.

Not concrete evidence, but it’s not a far reach. You’ve seen plenty of stranger kinks.

You’ll have to ask Sascha about it on your next call with her, as you’re sure she’ll ask you more about what things your clients usually request of you. With one girl among seven men, she might presume that they enjoy gangbanging you.

She wouldn’t be wrong, of course.

Kink talk was a common pastime among your peers during your training. You all had been trained to analyze a person, what makes them tick, and how it’s related to their psyche. It had always fascinated you from an academic standpoint, even though some of your fellow trainees would prefer hearing about the dirtiest cases, regardless of the psychological factors that went into it.

“Is all going well? You feeling any better about all this?” Antione’s kind voice tears you out of your thoughts, and you give him a brief, grateful smile.

“I’m getting there,” you reply. “Thank you for all your help. It’s been… a lot to take in, and I’m glad that you recognized that, and helped me ease into it.”

“Not a problem. I’ve been in that position before, and it takes some adjusting, for sure,” he replies.

“That’s what she said.” Sascha snickers. “Alright, stop flirting, you two!” She shoves Antione offscreen, and the boy yelps at once again being pushed around. “Call me if you need me, babes! Have fun! Bye!”

Sascha reaches over and ends the call, and you’re once more on your own. But you don’t feel as isolated as before.

As long as you have your ComGear, you’ll never be alone again.

The thought makes you feel warm inside, though you scold yourself for being so sentimental. You need to recharge, or how did Sascha put it? Rejuvenate.

It doesn’t take long for you to find a decent music streaming app, though it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore the buzzing as your clients keep messaging you. You realize that the notifications might interrupt your music once it starts playing, so you reluctantly open all their chat threads, only to mute them.

There. Now it won’t buzz anymore. They shouldn’t care if you left them on read. They want you to rest, right? You huff derisively and start searching the vast music library, trying to recall what you used to listen to back in the day to pump yourself up.

It dawns on you while you browse that you haven’t listened to any music for the past six months, apart from whatever the boys are rehearsing at any given time. The sound always reaches you whenever they practice, even if they’re rooms away. Though their songs aren’t too bad, they’re still not something you had chosen to listen to.

You hadn’t taken any time to be yourself, since you were so busy trying to be what they want from you.

You feel a vague sort of sadness when you think about it like that, imagining it happening to someone else, but you’re too subjective of the situation to really feel sad for yourself. You hadn’t take time for yourself, however you still climbed the ranks, earned their favor, became their only Primary. You’d achieved your goals.

But at what cost, asks a little voice in your head. What did you lose to win your dream job?

And are you even happy with it? Or is it just the satisfaction that you crave? The satisfaction that you would feel after achieving any other goal? The satisfaction of a job well done?

You shake your head. Whoa there. Too deep.

This is the most mental airspace you’ve had in forever, and it’s starting to show.

You don’t waste any more time trying to remember your old favorites, and instead tap on a “Hot 100 Hits” playlist. It’ll be interesting to see what people are listening to now. Maybe you’ll find some new favorites.

Sure enough, the first song that comes on is a pop rock tune, with a catchy beat and heavy drums. It makes you bob your head and you feel a surge of instant regret at not making more time for music. You’d forgotten how it can take you somewhere else, clear your mind and help you forget all your worries in a way that sex never can.

You’re a bit jarred when the lyrics kick in, though. They don’t rhyme at all, and they seem a little… stilted, like a robot is trying to sing. Damn, is this what kids are listening to these days? You knew that those singing hologram voice programs used to be a thing, but this seems almost unintentional.

You check the screen and sure enough, it’s a Korean title staring back up at you.

Your auditory auto-translation chip is changing the song into verbatim English.

You start to laugh. The unintended consequence strikes you as ridiculous. It seems that reminders of your job are everywhere.

With a sigh of exasperation, you head into the settings of your ComGear and access the language screen. You turn off the auditory auto-translation, and the song reverts back to the original lyrics, which are much easier on the ears.

Now that that’s taken care of, you turn the music on full blast and stand up.

Alright. Music, check. Now... how to leisure?

You look around and assess your room. It’s relatively tidy, and cleaning it won’t take more than ten minutes. You could work out, you have plenty of equipment. But that’s what you usually do on your days off. Improve yourself for work the next day.

What would Sascha say? Maybe… guilty pleasures? You put your mind to coming up with the most self-indulgent thing you can imagine.

Of course, you immediately think of chocolate.

But you’re not really hungry. To be honest, your stomach is still a little knotted up from the meeting.

Maybe not that kind of self-indulgence. You’ll just feel guilty afterwards. Maybe… maybe something pointless. Something that’s fun just for the sake of being fun.

You whirl around and take a long look at your bed as the music sweeps into the chorus.

Fuck, why not? Who’s going to stop you?

You climb onto the mattress and start jumping. You feel pretty silly at first, but the longer you jump, the lighter your worries feel. It’s as if you’re leaving them in the air with every bounce. The music blasts from your night table and you get a little bolder with your jumps, really putting power into them.

You’re lucky you have high ceilings, as you go higher and higher, you could swear you’re flying. You start to laugh, throwing some twirls into your leaps, and as the music blares, you sing along, off-key and with nonsensical phonetic lyrics.

Your cheeks hurt by the end of the song, and you’re out of breath, giggles falling from your lips as you finally jump down into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.

When was the last time you jumped on the bed like this? Must have been when you were young, with your sister.

You feel the same dull ache you always feel when you think of her, though you normally make it a point not to do so. The memory must have slipped past your defenses while you were enjoying yourself.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost don’t hear the insistent pounding at your door, the music and thick walls muffling the sound. You had mistaken the noise for part of the lyrics, as they sounded like gibberish to you. But finally you noticed the person trying to get your attention, and you hurry over to the door as they continue to speak in tongues.

“Neo geogi an-e issni? Yah, mun-eul yeol-eola.”

You pull open the door and are met with the unreadable face of Min Yoongi.

“Gwaenchanh-a? Jeonhwaleul an bad-eusyeossneyo.” He continues to drawl in gibberish, and you merely stare at him, immensely confused.

It clicks for you a moment later, and you hold up a finger to him. “Um, hana… uh, shit, one sec.”

He gives you an equally confused look, and you hasten back to your ComGear to turn the auto-translate back on as well as pause the music. “There, that should do it.” You turn around to see him peering curiously at you.

“You were speaking English,” he says it halfway between a question and a statement. He must be used to hearing you speaking auto-translated Korean, just like you’re used to hearing his words in English.

“Yeah... I forgot to turn my translator back on.” You explain halfheartedly, your shields already locking back into their familiar place. It was a nice, if brief, moment of total freedom, just jumping around to music, but the carefree bubble has popped, and you're once more faced with reality.

Yoongi's eyebrow raises at the mention of the technology, but he merely shrugs a shoulder.

A few awkward moments of silence pass before you realize that he isn't going to explain himself on his own. Something about that, about the expectation for you to move things along, has your hackles raised in irritation.

Just like always, he's expecting you to do all the work.

"Did you need something?" You try to stay professional, even now, but you can't keep the edge out of your voice. All traces of your previous enjoyment have shriveled up and vanished in the face of the man who told your other clients that you were something replaceable.

He prods his cheek with his tongue, his face mask shifting from where it rests below his lips. "You weren't answering your phone," he says by way of an answer.

You stare at him, already growing weary of this interaction. Does he expect you to be as accessible as you were before? You don't plan on contacting any of them if you can help it, at least, not for right now.

Wait, did Namjoon tell them what happened? He must have. But if he didn't, then maybe that's why Yoongi is here. There’s no point in having any more misunderstandings; you have to make the situation clear.

"I'm suspended." Your voice grows quiet, and you look off into the hallway, shame coloring your cheeks. You know you shouldn't be, but you still feel a sting from vocalising your current demotion.

Yoongi gives a hum of affirmation, confirming that he already knew, as his eyes roam over your body. "Forbidden fruit..."

You tense, your body reacting involuntarily to his offhand comment as heat rushes to your core. Your most primal senses want him to give into the temptation and pin you against the wall... No, snap out of it. You’re still mad at him, no matter how attractive he may be.

But thankfully the moment of tension passes just as quickly, and his gaze returns to your face. "It’s a shame I already ate, unlike some people.” A flicker of humor in his eyes. “Here."

He hands you a paper bag, with a takeout logo on the front. You can't do anything but stare at it. It seems that your processors are still down for maintenance.

“You didn’t have breakfast.” Yoongi finally says, after it becomes clear you aren’t saying anything. “You’ve been up here since the meeting.”

It finally dawns on you, though the logical conclusion seems hard to believe. “You were… concerned about me?”

He tugs the face mask up over his mouth, concealing most of his expression. “Jungkook,” he corrects you with a slight cough. “He sent me up here. Poor kid was worried sick about you.”

You hesitate to take the food, even though your stomach is curling with hunger. Is this an attempted peace offering? Does he think this will make things better?

Before you can question his motives, he sighs and shoves the bag towards you. “Take it. You still have to eat, you know.”

You’re tired of fighting, and take the path of least resistance by accepting the bag. “Thanks,” you say, half-hoping that this will be the end of it and he’ll just leave. But the other half still holds the whimsical notion that he actually cared enough to check up on you.

“It’s fine,” Yoongi shrugs again, looking off to the side.

You'd only ever known Min Yoongi as a salacious dom, stuffing you full and showering you in filthy praises. It feels surreal to be standing here now, holding a normal conversation.

After another moment, it becomes clear that his business here isn’t finished, and quite frankly, you’re getting impatient. “Is there anything else?”

At this, he seems to remember his reason for coming. “Ah, yeah. Can I come in?”

Into your room? You blink in dismay, the answer should be obvious to him. “No.”

You think you can see his mouth lift into a smile beneath the mask. “Good. That’s the spirit.” He gives a slight nod, as if appraising your disobedience.

You aren’t sure if this is normal behavior for him, as you’ve barely spoken to him out of character. You know probing him about it will only drag out this interaction, but your curiosity gets the better of you. “What… what are you talking about?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m just glad to see that you have some backbone. You’re usually so willing to follow orders.”

You bristle at this. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says, lifting an eyebrow. It would have looked like a challenge if it had been more deliberate, but the way Yoongi carries himself is effortlessly casual and careless. "He gave you his key, right?"

It takes you a moment to discern that he’s talking about Namjoon. You nod once, and he scoffs.

"I knew he would. Poetic bastard." Yoongi sighs, then fixes his gaze to you once more. “That means I have to share my studio with him until all this is fixed.” He clicks his tongue in annoyance.

You aren’t sure how to reply, or if he’s even looking for one. If he wants an apology from you, he’s out of luck. Namjoon’s questionable decisions are not your fault.

But he doesn’t wait for any words from you, and instead turns around to go back downstairs. “Anyway, enjoy your break.”

“Wait.” You aren’t sure why you stop him. Maybe because he doesn’t seem like the type to bullshit you. “Min Yoongi.”

He pauses and looks over his shoulder at the sound of his name, an indiscernible expression in his eyes.

Your resolve turns to steel, using the last ounce of your strength to try and get some answers. “Tell me what’s going on. Why is he doing this?”

Yoongi glances up to the ceiling as though thinking of what to say.

His next words do not inspire confidence.

“I have no fucking idea.”

Your shoulders slump down a fraction. You aren’t sure you believe him, but it’s too much effort to hope for anything beyond his word. You can’t handle any more disappointment right now.

Yoongi scratches the side of his temple and gives a weary sigh. “If I could look inside his mind, then maybe I’d have a clue...” He stares at you intently, and his gaze trails down over your body again. You resist the urge to cover yourself, though now you realize you don’t have to resist. Your body doesn’t belong to him right now, and it won’t for the next several days.

Your arms cross themselves protectively over your chest, testing the waters of your newfound independence. “My eyes are up here, byeongsin.”

His eyes widen a fraction at your cheek. He tugs the face mask down below his chin again, a bewildered smile twitching onto his face, no doubt surprised to hear you cursing him out in Korean. “Who taught you that?”

“Taehyung.” You smirk, proud of yourself for catching him off guard for once. You remember when Tae had told you how surreal it sounded to hear you swearing in his language.

“Doesn’t it sound the same?” You ask him, confusion furrowing your brow. “The translator…”

Taehyung shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear and practically bouncing from excitement. “It sounds different! Like… like you have an accent,” he giggles. “Say it again.”

“Shibal.” You repeat the word hesitantly, the syllables feeling strange on your tongue. Mouth shapes for Korean are so different compared to English.

Taehyung bursts into a fit of laughter, clutching his sides as he rolls onto his back. You whack him with a couch cushion. “That’s not fair! You already know all the English profanities.”

Tae’s eyes dance with laughter as he sits back up. “All thanks to Namjoon-hyung. Shit, bastard, damn it to hell, and of course...” He sticks out his tongue, running it over his lips. “Fuck you.”

There’s a flutter in your stomach from the look he’s giving you. You snort and whack him with the pillow again. “Yup, you got all the highlights.”

His hand slides over your thigh. You meet his gaze, that flutter returning as you see the lust swirling like smoke in his pupils. “Jagiya...” His hand grazes farther up your thigh. “I want to fuck you.”

Things had obviously escalated after that, and you might have gotten lost in the memories if Yoongi hadn’t let out a low chuckle, bringing you back to the moment. “Wow. What else did he teach you?”

You grin, about to let loose a string of foul language, but he holds up a hand before you can, waving off whatever you’re about to say. “Nah, forget it. Leave it a surprise.”

“I’m full of them, you know.” You can’t help feeling a little proud.

“I know.” He stares at you for another moment before turning and heading downstairs. “Make sure to eat,” he calls over his shoulder, and soon enough his footsteps fade away.

A warm feeling fills your chest in his absence, and you can’t quite explain why. His last words prove that he must care about you a little, even if he doesn’t try to show it. The Yoongi you just spoke with feels like a completely different person than the one you overheard in the kitchen. Different even than the one at dinner, who suggested Seokjin should use another slut in your absence.

The memory taints the feeling of warmth, and you sigh. Why are things so fucking complicated?

You head back into your room and devour the takeout with less grace than would be expected for a seductress such as yourself, and mindlessly scroll through your ComGear, which is now more of a standard cellphone, exploring all the newly accessible features.

You’ve missed a lot of news, both locally and globally. Celebrity gossip. Politics. Entertainment.

Wait, whoa. What?

New Witness “B” Comes Forward About Sexual Manipulation in the K-Pop Industry

Sorry, what?

You click the article, your mind reeling with morbid fascination. Why would there still be any “manipulation” now that groups are given PhysComs? Why would they need any other sexual outlet, when they’re given vessels that are willing to serve?

  Our witness, who wishes to remain anonymous, has independently corroborated with Witness A’s story. “B” has told us that, like “A”, they weren’t given a choice when it came to filming private sessions with their clients.

  “[Group] told me that it was my job. That it was what I was there for. But they filmed me without my consent. They posted the videos online and made money from it. It’s not right. I got out, but there are still others like me who need help. It shouldn’t matter that sex work is against the law. What these people are doing, taking advantage of us… it should be just as illegal. We need a voice, too.”

  You may recall that Witness A’s shocking story from earlier this month sparked rumors about illegal sexual companions being provided to entertainment companies, a practice which up until now had been considered hearsay.

  However, with this new testimony, it seems that “A” may have had some truth to their story. We tried to contact [Group]’s agency, but they were unavailable for comment.

Holy shit… you had no idea any of this was happening. Thinking on it, it stands to reason that not every PhysCom is treated equally, given the vast multitude of people who have access to them. But where are these PhysComs’ handlers? Why aren’t their networks helping them?

You find polarizing comments beneath the article, most angry that the companies would allow the sex work to take place, very few praising B’s decision to speak out, and some disbelieving that PhysComs even exist. There are also a few very lengthy comments that catch your eye, demonizing the witnesses and making threats towards other companies, should the commenter’s “oppas” be caught in this scandal, too.

You feel uneasy as you click away from the article. The rest of the takeout is put away in your mini fridge, your appetite gone as you try to make sense of things.

That article gives you the feeling that something is happening, not just here in this house, but in the world. Like floating pieces of a magnetic puzzle, you know they’ll all come together somehow, eventually, but you still can’t see the big picture.

You send the article to the group chat, and they confirm that they’ve seen it.

[ PCsv02_svt  ]: scary, right? TT-TT [ PCsv02_svt  ]: I don’t know what I’d do if I were them, poor thing [ PCsv03_twc ]: they should’ve gone to the police [ PCsv04_blp  ]: why did they wait until now to come forward? [ PCsv03_twc ]: if my clients ever treated me badly I would have done something [ PCsv09_$px ]: it’s not always that simple [ PCsv01_svt  ]: yes consider the repercussions… [ PCsv01_svt  ]: an illegal sex worker reporting nonconsensual sex? [ PCsv01_svt  ]: that’s like a robber reporting another robbery

You mull over this as you let them debate the topic. You imagine what it must be like to be in that position, taken advantage of by your clients… you shiver at the cold injustice of it.

There is a certain degree of trust that's employed in any kind of sex work. You're still offering intimacy in some form, which can't be fully given without trust. It must be utterly horrific to see that trust broken and be unable to stop it.

You want to help these people somehow, but right now you need to help yourself. One sea of turmoil at a time.

You click out of the chat and switch to each conversation with your clients, copy and pasting the same message to each of them.

Please don't contact me for the rest of the day. I need time alone.

Since you're suspended, you figure they can't punish you for making yourself unavailable. Though it pains you to think of them relying on the other PhysComs at their disposal. Seokjin already has. You forcibly push away the thoughts every time they bounce against your mind.

With the boys out of the way, you assess your options. You need more information about what the hell is happening, and the most likely place you'll find it is obvious. What did Yoongi say? If he could look inside Namjoon's mind… then he'd have an idea.

You happen to have the key to his mind right in your belt.

-------

It's surprisingly difficult to sneak out of the house without alerting anyone. You left your door locked and music blaring. Between that and the text you sent, you thought leaving from your window would be a piece of cake.

You neglected to account for the height.

Your room is on the third story, too far to jump without damaging yourself. Thankfully, you've seen enough movies to have the idea of fashioning a rope out of extra bed sheets. Unfortunately, bed sheets are not the best rope material. Too slippery.

You mull over what to do for a few moments, and you laugh out loud when you realize that the solution is absurdly simple. Hello? You have literal ropes in among your sex toys. Even better, they're designed not to give the user rope burn, while still knotting like a dream.

It doesn't take long to shimmy down from your window to ground level, and you stash the end of the rope behind some bushes, planning to use it later to return to your forbidden tower.

Disguised in a hoodie, you feel like a spy in an action movie, or a runaway princess, and the thought makes you giggle as you make your way towards the nearest subway station.

It's been too long since you've ventured out of the house. You had nearly forgotten how invigorating the bustle of the city could be. You feel like you’re breathing fresh air for the first time in ages, though the pollution in the distant sky would say otherwise.

It only takes a quick search on your jailbroken ComGear to find the address of the building where Namjoon's studio is located. BigHit Entertainment.

You'll have to be careful not to encounter the others. They probably frequent their record label, and the last thing you need is to bump into one of them. You would have no explanation for yourself as to why you're here. You'd rather avoid the questions.

Unfortunately, it proves harder than you’d think to get into the building. A fingerprint ID scanner meets you just inside the auxiliary door.

Fuck. It’s too much to hope that they have your prints in their database, right? You place your thumb over the scanner, and it buzzes, the sensor light turning red. No go.

Well shit, what are you supposed to do now? You’ve come all this way, and you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Namjoon’s stupid key.

Wait, why the hell did he give you the key if he knew you couldn’t get into the building? Bastard. You groan and kick at the base of the door. You try your prints again, but none of your fingers grant you access, the scanner buzzing mockingly with each failed attempt.

You’re about to give up when you hear a voice behind you. “Here, let me.”

You swivel around and see Jeon Jungkook place his thumb on the scanner, a to-go cup in his hand and a duffle bag on his shoulder. The light turns green and the door whooshes aside to let him in. The lift in his brows tells you he recognizes you through your flimsy disguise, but he merely gestures for you to go ahead. You sheepishly walk through, knowing better than to question this stroke of good fortune.

Or bad fortune, as it turns out.

"What are you doing here?" Jungkook asks quietly, once you two are inside the sleek lobby. "You said you wanted to be left alone."

"I did," you confirm huffily, still embarrassed about your struggle to get inside the building. "I do."

"Then... why are you here?" He takes a look around the lobby, where a handful of people are milling about. “It’s not really a good place for being alone.”

You chew your lip. This is the most Jungkook has ever spoken to you. You consider coming up with a story, but it occurs to you that you don't actually know where Namjoon's studio is located inside the building. You’ll need a guide.

"Namjoon said I could use his studio," you explain, deciding to include as few details as possible about your reasons for being here.

"For what?" His brow furrows.

Why all the questions? You’ve always thought of Jungkook as timid, more the type to stay out of the way if someone is up to something, rather than grilling them. But for all you know, maybe he gets assertive in the workplace. It doesn’t matter. You have bigger concerns right now. "To release my first single, obviously,” you snark, crossing your arms. "Look, I’m here for research, okay? You can either help me, or stay out of my way."

His eyes widen. He's never heard you speak to him as yourself, let alone this brazenly. But to your surprise, he nods. “Okay. What can I do to help?”

Well, damn. You didn’t think he would actually agree. It could be that he wants to report what you do to the other boys, acting like a spy. But you’re only here because Namjoon gave you that key. He can’t fault you for using the collateral that he gave you, right?

Fuck it, you’re tired of second guessing. Now is the time for action. Fuck the consequences.

“Where’s Namjoon’s studio?” You ask him, an edge in your voice. “Show me.”

Jungkook hesitates for only a moment, and then nods. He looks wary, almost nervous, and you have to wonder why. Even with your confidant demands, he still has the power in this situation, as always. You’re a nobody who couldn’t even get in the door without his help, and he actually works here. He could have you thrown out, if he wanted.

The thought sends a bolt of worry right to your chest, and you decide to do everything you can to not remind him of that fact.

After a strangely tense elevator ride, Jungkook silently leads you down several corridors until you come across a frosted glass door.

“Here,” he says, gesturing towards the door.

“This is it?” You ask to confirm, and he nods.

You take a deep breath and retrieve the key from your belt. His eyes widen as you slot the key into the lock, and with a gentle twist, the handle turns.

“Where-” Jungkook’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and you turn around to shush him.

“It was a gift,” you explain icily. “Now, if you’re going to help me, then stay right here and make sure no one comes in, got it?”

His lips purse in suspicion and his eyes narrow, but he nods. “Fine.”

Satisfied, you turn back to the door, and it’s only then that you notice the keypad beneath the lock. Clearly the silver key Namjoon gave you isn’t the only way into his studio, as he had previously implied. Some collateral.

More and more doubts fill your thoughts, but you have no energy left to hesitate as you carefully pull the door open and slip inside their leader’s forbidden sanctuary.

-------

It’s much smaller than you thought. Really, only the size of your walk-in closet.

The silence in the room is palpable, the only noise stemming from the gentle purr of electronics. Your gaze gets stuck on all the collectibles he has on display, all around the room, in glass cases and on shelves. Mickey Mouse bodies, with skulls and crossbones for heads. Everything is black, white, and shades of gray.

They make up the only distraction in the room, but they’re everywhere.

You then notice the only clear surface, or relatively clear, as his desk, opposite the door. A grand computer screen sits front and center, with various equipment stacked around it, and a piano keyboard on a tray beneath the glass desktop.

You hasten across the carpeting, and gingerly pull out his desk chair, plush leather with a high back, ergonomically designed.

It feels like a siren will go off at any moment. You aren’t supposed to be here. You’re intruding.

But you need answers. He gave you the key.

You shake off your sense of foreboding and sit down, swiveling yourself into place. A quick shake of the mouse wakes up his computer.

Fuck.

You need a password. Of course. Nothing in your life can be simple.

After a few moments of muttering and seething in frustration, you try to calm down. Okay, so maybe this won’t be an in and out procedure, maybe this will take a little more thought.

Okay, think, think… what would he use for his password?

“It’s ‘monimoni0613’.”

The voice scares you shitless, and you swivel around to see Jungkook poking his head in the door. He gives you a half smile. “And that’s in Korean. You want help?”

You clutch your chest. “Fuck, don’t scare me like that!” You snap at him, though he doesn’t seem particularly intimidated. How does Namjoon even work with his back to the door like this? You’d be constantly looking over your shoulder. Is he really that trusting of people?

Jungkook doesn’t wait for your answer and comes inside, letting the door fall gently shut behind him. “It’s after his dog,” he says, leaning over you to access the keyboard and quickly type in the password. He smells like shampoo.

Your heart picks up the pace as he hovers over you, his eyes trained on the screen. He’s only inches away from you, his necklace dangles in front of your face in a way that you should not find tantalizing.

“His dog’s name is Moni?” You ask, trying to tell your heart to kindly get a grip. You’re on a mission, no time for horniness.

“Well, ah… yeah. Let’s go with that.” Jungkook makes a slight noise of triumph as the computer unlocks, Namjoon's desktop wallpaper greeting you - yet another skull-headed Mickey.

"Wait, how do you know his password?" You can't help but ask. After the ordeal you went through just to get to his inner sanctum, this feels too easy.

"He lets me use his computer sometimes, for gaming, and stuff…" the boy trails off, looking elsewhere as though embarrassed.

"Okay…" You stare at him. "Thanks for helping."

"You're welcome."

There's an awkward silence.

"Go wait outside." You say.

"Yup." He ducks back out of the room, leaving you to your investigating once more.

You exhale once you're alone again. Okay, where to start? You scan his desktop, but the icons are surprisingly neat. A few programs, a few shortcuts, a few folders, all of which prove fruitless.

The folders contain music program files of what appear to be songs still in the works. Although interesting, not really what you're looking for.

Jesus, how could he trust you with all this? You could leak these to the public. You could sell them, and never have to worry about job security again...

He must be fucking desperate to put his entire career in your hands.

Just like your career currently rests in his own.

You shake off the idea of selling the insider information. Although tempting, right now all you really want is answers as to why the fuck he's doing any of this in the first place. Why did he suspend you? Why did things stop? You had a spotless record up until last night, so… what changed?

You check his recent files next, and happen to find exactly what you're looking for.

Theory - draft for proposal

Seems like a solid lead.

You click the link, and a word document opens up. Unfortunately in Korean.

Of course. Of course he would write in his native language, and of course, it’s only your ComGear that translates messages from the boys, you don’t have bionic vision. There are a few random English words scattered here and there, but not nearly enough to make heads or tails of what the document is about. You could use an online translator, but you need a full understanding of this material, there’s no room for error here.

Should you ask Jungkook? No, you should not. He seems innocent enough, but your sense of self-preservation now overrides any trust you might have once given him. You bite back a groan of frustration and instead mutter a few choice expletives through a heavy, weary sigh.

Then you get an idea.

If your ComGear is what usually does your translating, why not just send this there?

You fumble to highlight the document, then copy it and head over to Namjoon’s email. Yikes. Lots and lots of unread. Well, you can’t blame him with his hectic schedule. You skip over a couple of emails at the top that appear to be from law firms, and instead click to compose a new message.

Fuck, this will leave a trail, won’t it? If he checks his sent emails, he’ll see that you saw… whatever this turns out to be.

It doesn’t matter. He gave you access to this room. He knew the potential consequences.

You paste the body of the document, type in your email address and hit send. Not moments later, there’s a chime on your ComGear, and sure enough, an email has arrived. You don’t get much correspondence these days, apart from your network. Well, your old network. Now your phone constantly has notifications from the chatroom. It feels strangely comforting.

Without another moment’s hesitation, you tap the email and anxiously wait for it to load, praying that the automatic translation feature doesn’t fail you now.

Soon, the English text appears, and your worries are put to rest within the first line.

We must build a brighter future for PhysComs.

[ghostcrows]

hi. i am doing incredibly badly . me and my roommate are flat fucking broke and have bills to pay this month + necessities to buy + my car is in a constant state of falling the fuck apart and it costs them 30 bucks just to look at it and tell me what the problem is and direct me to someone else who will charge me hundreds, and basically i hate money and im going to scream but more importantly im going to ebeg. -_-

i have an unofficial min wage job that will barely hold us over when it actually starts until i can try for my old position, we have no income rn and its so ungodly stressful LOL i just want to be stable again .

paypal is skeevantas@gmail.com, anything helps boosting is great too thank u if u have donated before too and hopefully in the next few months...there will be no more posts like this

[flowesona]

The Chariot - Yandere! Yoongi x reader

The Tarot Series

No matter how hard he tried to stop it, the blood refused to cease flowing from Yoongi’s nose. Accompanied by a horrific pain and the cruel laugh of his enemy as they snatched up the crumpled envelope and walked away, counting the bills triumphantly.

Yoongi managed to stagger to his feet, breathing heavily as the blood continued to flow, staining the back of his hand ruby red. He cursed upon seeing how they’d crushed his phone out of pure spite, rendering it useless and him unable to call for help.

A few passersby stared at him and his injury, but none offered him help. None, except one young woman who stopped him as he took a shortcut through the park.

“Are you okay? You’re bleeding!” She dug around in her pockets for a tissue, offering him a crumpled one which he took gratefully.

“Yeah, I just… I need to get home.” Yoongi muttered, trying to push past her shyly but she blocked his way.

“Did someone do this to you? If so, we need to call the police!” Yoongi shook his head.

“No, there’s no point. His dad has connections anyway, they’d find out and it’d only piss them off more.” He wasn’t sure why he owed this girl an explanation yet he did, letting her dab at his nose.

“That’s not an excuse to do nothing. Hey, don’t you go to my school?” The woman gasped suddenly. “You’re in the basketball team right? Min Yoongi! I’m (Y/N), I’m part of the Judo team!”

“Y-yeah.” He hated that this girl could tarnish his reputation, make him out to be a total sissy for getting beaten up by another student. He would’ve given the world to start the day over, yet here he was being babied by one of his peers. “I need to get home. Leave me alone.”

With those words he turned away from her, still holding her gifted tissue to his nose.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

“Where’s my money, little kitten?” The oldest boy snarled, shoving Yoongi until back hit the metal fence.

“I-I don’t have it. Payday isn’t until next week.” He gasped in pain as one of the boys grabbed his arm and twisted it until they heard the crack of ligaments.

“Well. You know what I'll do. I'll hurt you until you can cough it up.” Yoongi prayed someone might pass by, a dog walker or a parent & child who could intervene. His prayers were answered when he heard a loud voice shouting “Hey!”

The boys ran as soon as they heard the voice and caught sight of a figure striding towards them, leaving Yoongi cradling his injured arm.

“Hoseok’s the one who hurt you?! Yoongi, why didn’t you tell me that?” It took him a few seconds to recognise the voice, looking to see (Y/N) standing next to him with a pissed off expression. “There’s got to be a way that you can fight back!” 

“My debts are none of your concern.” He sighed. 

“What if I teach you self defense? I took lessons for a while to protect myself, you should do the same!”

“Fine.” Yoongi muttered, hoping that a few lessons would satisfy her and perhaps help him.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

“That’s enough for today.” (Y/N) sat down, huffing. “Man, you’re getting better by the day.”

Yoongi nodded, his heart fluttering at her compliment. He wasn’t sure how, or why, but he had caught feelings for the girl. Maybe it was the long hours they spent together messing with his head, but Yoongi could swear on his life that he’d never seen someone more beautiful whilst drenched in sweat from the summer heatwave.

“(Y/N)?” She turned to give him her attention when he called out her name, making him feel slightly nervous but determined nonetheless. “Would you...maybe… like to get an ice cream or something? My treat? Since it’s so hot…”

(Y/N) nodded happily as he trailed off.

“Let’s go.” She took his hand, oblivious to the heat in his cheeks.

Once they’d settled in the corner of a local ice-cream parlour with a bowl each, Yoongi decided to speak up.

“(Y/N), do you… have a boyfriend?” The young woman paused, the spoon in her mouth.

“No.” She replied quickly, swallowing. “Why do you-”

She cut herself off as she glanced over his shoulder.

“Hey, isn’t that Hoseok?” Yoongi felt his blood run cold, turning around to see the menacing figure lingering by the doorway. The second Yoongi met his eyes, Hoseok scoffed and walked away. He didn’t need to stay, not when his threat had been made clear.

Yoongi had given himself a weakness. And now, (Y/N) was in danger.

“We need to- fuck!” Yoongi cursed to himself. Truly, he felt like he was more stuck than ever. He had to protect her, he couldn’t let Hoseok get his filthy hands on her. 

“Yoongi, it’s going to be okay.” He couldn’t meet her eyes as she spoke, shame and guilt hanging over his head.

“(Y/N). Call one of your friends and go home.” He said quietly.

“I’m not leaving you alone. I know what you’re thinking.” (Y/N)’s hand grasped his, giving him a deep blush. “We know that Hoseok is out there. But I just can’t let you get hurt on my conscience. I’ll fight for you, if I have to.”

She pulled out her purse to leave a tip on the table, before standing up, still holding Yoongi’s hand.

“Do you want to walk me home, then, Mr Tough Guy?”

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

Hoseok didn’t strike. That would’ve been too expected, too easy. He was waiting, toying with his prey. There was more to it than the money. Hoseok loved the thrill of it, and he wanted nothing more than to crush Min Yoongi’s hopes beneath his foot.

It’d been just over a week when Yoongi next asked to meet up with (Y/N). He’d stayed away, scared of putting a target on her back and hoping to shake Hoseok off, but his heart wouldn’t let him stay away any longer. He needed her, to distract him from bleak reality and remind him what it was like to have hope.

“Why did you choose a horror movie then?” (Y/N) whispered, her smirk barely visible in the dark of the cinema. “Did you want the cute girl to cling to your arm when she’s scared?”

“Maybe.” Yoongi whispered back, his heart pounding as (Y/N) slid her hand into his.

“I’m not easily scared, Yoongi. What are you gonna do now?” The look in her eyes, the feeling of her hand in his. It was the perfect time.

“This.” He leaned in, a frenzy of butterflies in his stomach as he finally kissed her. For a moment he was terrified he’d done something wrong, only to have her reciprocate seconds later, tilting her head and allowing him further into her mouth.

Yoongi was ready to go all in, reaching down to his zipper only for her to rest her hand on top of his to stop his hasty actions.

“Look, it’s getting to the good part.”

The fire in his stomach was still burning, his passion ignited. Truly, he was happy to finally have the girl. Even though she could be snatched away just as easily.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

“Just saying, their lives would be so much simpler if they didn’t summon a ghost for the hell of it.” (Y/N) complained about the movie, swinging their hands as Yoongi walked her home.

“Then the movie wouldn’t be entertaining!” He chuckled, feeling himself get hot up as (Y/N) laughed alongside him.

“Hey, there’s a shortcut here.” She commented, pulling him towards the park. Yoongi wanted to protest. This was one of Hoseok's spots after all. There was probably even a bit of blood on one of the footpaths, from a week where he’d been underpaid at work, and paid the price severely.

“I don’t know about this, it’s dangerous.” He warned, putting one hand in his pocket to grasp the switchblade he’d started carrying around for safety. Just so he could take care of Hoseok and his goonies, in case they decided to come after (Y/N).

“It’ll only take a few minutes.” She dismissed his concerns, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

For the first few minutes, it truly did seem like they were safe. Yoongi was about to lower his guard, when he saw someone lurking in the shadows in the corner of his eye.

“(Y/N), I want you to run. Right now.” He muttered, but she shook her head stubbornly.

“I won’t leave you, Yoongi.”

“Isn’t that just the cutest, little kitten?” Hoseok’s voice came from behind the couple as he finally emerged into view. In a matter of seconds they were surrounded.

“You’ve got your girlfriend here to protect you.” The older boy snarled. “But I want my money, Yoongi.”

“You know damn well I’ve given you back way more than I owed in the first place.” Yoongi retorted, his hand’s grip on the knife in his pocket growing tighter by the second.

“And? That’s just called interest.” Hoseok pulled out his own blade. “Now, if you don’t want your girlfriend to have a few cuts on her precious face, give me the cash you have leftover from last week’s wages. And I know you have them, don’t try to lie to me kitten. How else are you paying for your little dates?”

“Go fuck yourself.” (Y/N) hissed at him. “He doesn’t owe you shit. Get out of the way before I beat your ass.”

“She’s a feisty one, kitten.” Hoseok smirked, striding over. His hands started to roam along her arms, running down any part of exposed skin he could get his hands on. “No wonder you’re so smitten. I bet she’s a real freak in the sheets.”

“Let go of me, you bastard.” (Y/N) elbowed him in the crotch, giving a momentary triumph as Hoseok doubled over in pain.

“I’ll teach you a lesson in respect, sweetheart.” Hoseok snarled. “And maybe it’ll teach your boyfriend to give me my money when I ask for it.”

Yoongi just couldn’t stand and watch this beast hurt his (Y/N). It was his responsibility - no, his honour - as her boyfriend to protect her from the cruelest parts of this world.

He withdrew the knife from his pocket, and straightened his back to appear as tough as he could be.

“If you touch my girlfriend, I’ll kill you Hoseok.” The delinquent didn’t look even remotely scared.

“Disarm the kitten for me. I’ll teach him his lesson once I’m done with his girlfriend.” He ordered the punks behind Yoongi, but when one of them reached out to grab Yoongi’s arm, the knife was planted in his shoulder and ripped out. The recipient of Yoongi’s lash tried to hide the pain, gritting his teeth as blood trickled down his arm. Nevertheless, once the two punks saw the serious threat Yoongi was posing now, they decided to run, not ready to face the consequences of their actions.

“Hey! Can’t handle a little boy with a toy knife? You fucking pussies!” Hoseok shouted after them, not ever deterred by the blood.

Hoseok shoved (Y/N) to the ground.

“Guess I have to take care of you.” He said, stalking towards Yoongi who was still holding the now bloodied knife in front of him. “Maybe when this sweetheart sees what a true man looks like, she’ll want to be in my bed instead.”

He towered over Yoongi, holding his own knife to Yoongi’s neck. But Hoseok was in a world of surprise when Yoongi, rather than cowering as he usually did, drove the switchblade into the stomach of his nemesis, twisting it and pushing it deeper as Hoseok groaned in pain.

Once he was satisfied that the damage had been done, he pulled out the knife and shoved Hoseok away, letting the boy collapse to the ground in pain. But his retaliation was far from over, as he delivered a swift kick to Hoseok’s hunched over for, not having an ounce of mercy as the boy curled up into a fetal position, trying to protect himself.

“Stay away from my (Y/N). Don’t talk about her, don’t think about her. And don’t you even dare touch her.” 

After delivering a few more beatings to the man who’d hurt him for so long, Yoongi was finally satisfied, and turned to find (Y/N) so they could leave.

But (Y/N) wasn’t going anywhere. She was frozen to the spot, utterly terrified.

“Yoongi… you shouldn’t have…” (Y/N) finally started to back away, pulling her phone out of her pocket to call an ambulance.

“No, (Y/N). I had to.” The once sweet boy was now gone, replaced by a shivering monster. “I had to teach him a lesson. He’d start hurting you, and I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.”

“You’re no better than him! I wanted you to defend yourself, not kill him!” (Y/N) protested. “If you don’t want to get arrested, you should leave. And don’t ever talk to me again.”

“I-I w-won’t leave you a-alone, (Y/N).” Yoongi stuttered, having suddenly paled as what he had done was setting in. “It’s way too dangerous for you here a-all alone.”

He offered her his bloody hand, but she refused to even touch him.

“You need help.” Before she could even dial another digit on her phone, Yoongi had snatched it out of her hand and dropped it to the ground, digging his heel into the screen to maximise the damage.

“You're the only thing that can help me, (Y/N). Please.” He took her shaking body into his arms, his breathing and heart rate slowing as he held her close. “Don’t ever let me go and I’ll be okay.”