#i’m cleaning out my drafts oof | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stormyweaver · 6 months ago

Text

First Time For Everything || Part 1/??)

Alright, so never let it be said I'm not a hypocrite. I'm a huge one. But this has been sitting in my drafts for over two months and I need to post it since it's not going anywhere else lmao. PLUS I'm still reeling from my gnawing obsession with V/ox resurfacing after... y'know idk exactly what triggered it but it happened regardless.

Anyway I'm proud of my dialogue for this one bc that's always something I struggle with when writing, so yeah! Plus the idea of V/ox's first cold in Hell has always just been rattling around in my head. Also it's short, but sweet. So yeah! Enjoy!

Summary: V/ox finds out there are worse things than just being in Hell; like being sick in Hell. Alas/tor has a laugh at his expense every step of the way. ~~~

It had started as nothing but a minor annoyance. A dryness of the throat, which was typical for an early morning in Hell. Moisture wasn’t really a thing, even if you considered the fucking acid rain. Which Vox didn’t; that shit was genuinely the worst. But he’d at least had access to clean(ish) water, and cleared his throat a couple of times… the sensation still lingered. Well, it wasn’t anything for him to be overly concerned with. Besides, he had a meeting this morning with Alastor where they were going to discuss more hot-topic talking points for his radio show.

The cloying, scratchy feeling in his throat still hadn’t gone away, even though it had been at least a couple hours since he first woke up. He made himself breakfast, something simple - eggs and toast, which… the fact that he was even able to scrounge up the materials to have a decent meal still startled him. It was Hell after all - everything was still jarring.

He barely managed to choke down the slightly burnt edges of bread and too runny eggs (jeez, the food didn’t usually taste five star, but today was bad) before getting washed and dressed. The turtleneck he normally wore felt scratchier than normal, and he tugged at the collar in irritation. Even his antenna weren’t properly fitting into his hat… Gah - today had barely started and it was already a wash.

Well, he could at least look forward to seeing Alastor. Despite how every denizen in Hell he’d met so far had told him to steer clear of The Radio Demon, Vox hadn’t been able to say ‘no’ to him yet. Not once. Even when he’d suggested the damn hat giving him so much trouble now - silly, ridiculous even he’d thought when he first put it on. But one look at Alastor’s approving grin had dashed his worries easily. He’d do just about anything to have that look directed towards him again… Oof, was the heater on the fritz again? It was suddenly so warm.

Sniffing idly, Vox descended the steps of his apartment and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Ugh, it was warm out here too. Well… that wasn’t so much surprising as it was an inconvenience. Hell always seemed to be too warm, but today the pentagram striped sun seemed to beat down on his head with a particularly harsh intensity.

He rolled his neck with a soft grunt, fingers gripping the taught muscle with a grimace. You’d think after however many years (1, 3, more?) of living with a fucking television set for a cranium he’d have gotten used to the aches and pains that came along with it. Vox once again had to remind himself that it was Hell - there were worse things than stiff joints.

“Quite the lovely day we have upon us, isn’t it?”

“JESUS SHIT–!” Vox staggered to the side, his screen glitching slightly from the shock of Alastor’s voice directly beside him. “Wh– You have got to stop doing that, Al! One day I’m gonna get a fucking heart attack.”

Alastor’s grin seemed to widen, eerily. “Oh, I would highly advise against that, old pal! We’re dreadfully short on paramedics here in Pentagram City.” His shoulders shook lightly, obviously amused at his own joke. Vox simple deadpanned, though he fought against his mouth instinct to inch upwards at the corners. Despite being fucking sadistic, Alastor could also be pretty funny - when he wasn’t unsettling or downright terrifying.

“Anyhow~! You look a bit… disheveled this morning!” Vox tilted his head; he’d said it as if it were the most delightful observation he’d made in ages, “Sleep on the wrong side of the bed, hm?”

“No? I… Well, I looked fine in the mirror.” He argued, smoothing down his shirt a bit self-consciously. Alastor hummed thoughtfully, reached a hand out to gently tug on the tag sticking out of Vox’s inside-out jacket. “I suppose that’s the cons of not having eyes in the back of one’s head, haha!”

Vox snorted as he began to shrug out of the denim. “Right, like you do?...” He trailed off, giving Alastor a once over. “You- you don’t, right?”

“Oh, heavens no! But I do have my ways of seeing things others might easily miss.” His ears twitched slightly when Vox sniffed, and his head craned to one side unnaturally. Curious.

Vox had barely gotten his jacket smoothed out, gaze flicking back to Alastor - only to find the other’s face mere inches from his own. He flinched, feeling heat creep up along his neck as he rose a brow, tentatively inching back. “Is… something else wrong?”

After far too long of a beat, the pinstriped demon snapped back into his place on the sidewalk, giving another curious hum. “Nothing at all, dear. Now! Enough dawdling - shall we get a move on? Rolling stones and such!” Without waiting for an answer, Alastor began walking down the pavement, and Vox blinked before following after him.

'He’s being extra weird today. Wonder why?' Although Vox had long since given up on making sense of Alastor’s every behavior. He’d go absolutely insane to even try. The guy… sinner… demon was nothing short of a fucking enigma, someone most insisted was to be feared and meant to stay FAR FUCKING AWAY from. Maybe Vox was foolish to still consider him good company, but it wasn’t as though he had other sinners breaking down his door to befriend him, let alone ones he actually found himself sharing common interests with.

Plus… the guy was charming, when he wasn’t being wholly off-putting. And even then, Vox didn’t really mind that side of him. He was just quirky.

As they walked and made conversation, Vox found his throat going from scratchy to genuinely sore and aching. He was clearing it more often, and trying not to be off-put by the odd, static distorted quality it would get every now and again. Alastor for his part seemed to be indifferent - thank goodness - but Vox felt a small mound of worry forming in his gut. Not for his throat, but something else was… well, no other way to describe it but itching in the back of his head. Like a clothes tag itching at the back of your neck, except it was directly behind his eyes, insistent and growing steadily as they walked.

Eventually, Vox’s steps slowed, and he began to blink rapidly.

Alastor matched his pace until they were both standing still, the radio demon looking both curious and… oddly expectant.

Vox gave his head a trembling shake, the feeling seeming to pulse before climbing higher.

“Hahh…?” The inhale swept through his lungs, causing them to seize up as his chest rose and fell unsteadily. His screen flickered as he continued to pant unevenly, a hand raising to mid-chest. Wait, this was all oddly familiar: the gasping, the build up, this itch... was he going to…? He hadn’t even noticed Alastor taking a precautionary step back before–

“heh’AAKKTTSCHHUE!!”

His head snapped forward, and Vox barely - just barely stopped the rest of his body from joining it in tumbling down. The raised hand held onto the top of his head in an attempt at steadying it, and he managed to right himself with a huge gasp.

“Fucking shit–!!” He exclaimed, chest muscles heaving from the absolute workout straightening back up. He blinked again, before wincing and gripping the side of his head with a groan. “Fuck, fuck my head...”

“Well, well!” Alastor tittered, clapping his hands together a few times, “Quite the performance, my good man! Quite the show!” Giddiness radiated from him, a stark contrast to the pained misery staining Vox’s features.

“Nghh… did I just… sneeze?” It felt far more arduous than Vox recalled it *ever* being when he was alive. Then again, he’d never had to sneeze while trying to keep himself from falling on his ass. This really was Hell, wasn’t it?

“That’s the the term most would use, yes! Not quite used to it with your new hardware, eh?” Vox winced at the tap of Alastor’s staff against his head.

“No, I’m not. Fuck, that was awful… snf!” He raised a finger to scrub against the middle of his face, and Alastor laughed gleefully when his companion realized he didn’t have a nose to actually rub. “... you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, most assuredly, my dear!” His smile didn’t falter once when Vox began to pout, “Now don’t give me that look, it’s all in good fun!”

Despite his insistence, Vox rolled his eyes. “I don’t see what’s so ‘fun’ about feeling like absolute shit.” Maybe if it was some other sucker sure, but it wasn’t.

“So you are feeling unwell!” Alastor interrupted his thoughts, then clasped his hands together in delight, “Oh, I’d hoped that was the case!”

“Wait, what?”

Now it was Alastor’s turn to roll his eyes. He stepped closer to Vox, lifting the bottom of his head with his staff. “Tell me, dear - does your throat ache? Do you feel a bit warmer than usual? Perhaps a little… fuzzy in the head?”

Vox made a slight face. “How… did you know all of that?” He hated when Alastor would do this - toy with him instead of just getting right to the point. He was already feeling like garbage, what was the point of making him think when– wait…

“Ah, the cogs seeme to be turning now, yes?” Alastor’s grin was almost too eager. Vox shuffled back a bit, rubbing the side of his head as he tried to process the conclusion he’d come to.

“Wait, I… I can get sick? In Hell? That’s a thing?!”

“Oh, you just make this better and better, truly!” Alastor grinned gleefully, completely ignoring the panic radiating off of Vox. “But yes, you can fall ill in Hell, of all places. I assumed you knew that–”

“HOW would I have ever known that? it’s fucking news to me!”

“Well obviously,” The way Alastor rolled his eyes was enough to potentially give Vox an ulcer. Was he capable of having those, too? Why didn’t he put the pieces of still being biologically able to fall ill together sooner?! Or better yet - why hadn’t Alastor told him, since he seemed to be so fucking knowledgeable on the subject! However it seemed that his flaring irritation would have to take a momentary backseat - that awful sensation was back, almost worse than before, and a shudder rippled along Vox’s spine before it grew uncomfortably stiff. “Hahh… hhh…?” His screen flickered with static as his breathing continued to waver, a hand rising in more impulse than actual desire to cover his mouth. Even through his fluttering lids, he could feel Alastor watching him, eager and yet patient. As if this entire situation wasn’t confounding enough, embarrassing enough, the person he least wanted to be present now had a front row seat. Take a picture, it’ll last longer nestled just on the tip of his tongue, but another sharp inhale reminded him that talking likely wasn’t the smartest option. Not while his head still felt like it was full of fuzzy, restless static–

“ehh-hahH! EA’KTTSCHHHUE!”

Though not as large as his initial sneeze, it still sent him staggering forward harshly. His screen was almost parallel with his hips in the process, and when he righted, it felt as if rising from being submerged in water for too long. His head, his neck, his core - everything ached, all from a sneeze. He didn’t bother masking a groan.

“Fuck…” Although his discomfort might as well have meant jack-shit when countered with Alastor’s reaction. The bastard was laughing, as if seeing Vox nearly topple over from a sneeze was just about the funniest damned thing he’d seen in decades. Vox’s temple throbbed painfully as he glared at the Radio Demon, who was dabbing at the edges of his eyes with one corner of a handkerchief.

“Oh goodness me - you certainly don’t do anything by halves, do you?”

“You act like I did that on purpose.” Vox countered with a roll of his eyes, sniffling which… if he didn’t have a nose or sinuses, shouldn’t have been an action he could carry out. But there were multiple facets of Hell that technically didn’t make sense. Apparently this was just one among the hundreds of others.

Alastor didn’t offer much in the way of a response. If anything, he was eerily silent, but his gaze penetrated Vox straight through to his damned soul. Vox felt warmth creep up along his neck.

“If you’re waiting for it to happen again, you’re shit outta luck.”

Though he said it with confidence, he was internally dreading the moment another sneeze would grab hold of him. Alastor simply shrugged, but his gaze still held that air of anticipation.

“Suit yourself. It’s certainly no skin off my nose.” His smile widened a fraction when Vox growled under his breath.

Cyan-tipped fingers scrubbed along the surface of his screen, a bit harsher than was necessary. The irritation wasn’t as strong as before, but it lingered just out of his reach; strong enough to make it’s presence known, but not enough to trigger another sneeze.

By the time he’d grown tired of uselessly assaulting his own face, Alastor was already a good couple of steps ahead of him. Apparently he’d grown tired of waiting for the ‘show’ to continue.

Shoulders sagging with another liquid-tinged sniffle, Vox reluctantly broke into a jog in order to catch up with him.

Yeah. Today was definitely going to be… entertaining.

#greywrites;#(i've gotta get a fucking tagging system going)#next on my long long incredibly long list of things to do #but yeah i'm super happy that i finally finished this #hope y'all enjoy~#btw couldn't find someone to beta read this we goin' in RAW #greydoeshazbin;

36 notes · View notes

honeymoonjin · 4 years ago

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 13k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: fxf smut, sub!reader, dom!hoseok, dom!bee, shibari/bondage, sex swing, fingering, safewording situation, aftercare, exhibition, voyeurism

A/N: chapters may not come every week, but i am continuing to post them now xx i appreciate your patience

DAY TWENTY-TWO

Normally, getting a text at ass o’clock in the morning would annoy Hoseok. Normally, he’d deny the offer to get out of the warmth of his bed and go down and have ‘a chat’ with someone at ass o’clock in the morning -

But then again, his bed is a little too warm with an extra body in it. Perhaps going downstairs is the better option. He rolls over gingerly, glaring at the man in bed beside him, separated by a wall of spare pillows. His blue hair doesn’t seem as harsh in the dim pre-dawn light, and his lips are plumper than ever, slightly pouted in his sleep. He looks peaceful, no lines on his face even though he’d gone to bed wearing makeup. One tiny hand rests propped underneath his face, making his cheek bulge, and the other clutches intermittently at the duvet, like he’s caught up in a dream. Park Jimin looks so content and angelic in his sleep. Hoseok narrows his eyes. Little shit.

It’s easy enough to get dressed and ready without disturbing the sleeping demon. Well - truthfully, he’s just shrugged on a hoodie over his sleep shirt and sweatpants to make them look less like pyjamas, but still.

By the time he gets downstairs, grimacing at the sharp lights of the kitchen, Namjoon is practically chewing a hole through the lid of a plastic bottle, gnawing at it with eyes rounded with worry.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Hoseok rushes forward, gently tugging the half-empty bottle out from between the younger man’s teeth, giving him a soft but reproachful look. “What’s going on, buddy?”

Namjoon startles with the sudden motion, eyes blinking slowly in a way that speaks to a lack of sleep the night before. “Oh good, you came,” he mutters absentmindedly, “I’m kinda freaking out.”

Hoseok’s brow pinches with concern. “I did notice that. You seemed pretty carefree yesterday; what’s changed?”

The academic bites his lip. “Sunmi was talking to me. Did you know basically everyone else is in a relationship?”

Whatever Hoseok was anticipating, it certainly wasn’t that. “Huh?”

Namjoon nods, frantic. “Y/n got together with Jimin and Tae, but now they’re kind of not? - I don’t know, Sunmi wasn’t that bothered about the details - and then Yoongi and Jin had their thing, obviously, but now Jungkook has a thing with Yoongi, and Tae and Jungkook have been fooling around too, and it’s like we’re the only ones left out. I didn’t even realise it, but we’re the leftovers, Hobi-hyung.”

Even as that comment sends a dagger right through him, Hoseok keeps his face neutral. “I’m sure that’s not the case, Namjoon. Nobody’s trying to leave us out.”

“I know that,” Namjoon replies quickly, an earnest nod, “it’s just that- Well, I want that, Hobi-hyung. I want to sneak around, I want to hold hands, I want to feel what it’s like. It’s not that I’m annoyed at the others, it’s just… it’s highlighted yet another area that I’m a total virgin in. I’m sick of always feeling behind on these things. I’m sick of it never being me.”

Hoseok swallows, reaching around to pat Namjoon on the back in what he hopes his a comforting gesture. This wasn’t as straightforward as aftercare; Namjoon was seriously hurting. “Listen, Joon, if you want to get into a relationship of any sort with them, you need to talk to them directly-”

“But I don’t,” the academic cuts off, looking more vulnerable than ever. In plaid pyjamas and round glasses with lenses thicker than the frames, hair still mussed up from restlessness, he looks totally lost. “I’ve thought about it a lot. I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship. It’s like… I wouldn’t write an essay and hand it in straight away, you know? I’d write an outline, and then a draft, and I’d use the draft to make edits and write a second draft, and eventually I’d write the final product and submit it. Do you get it?”

Hoseok presses his lips together. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Namjoon bites down hard on his lip, making the flesh go white, and bloom red when he lets go to speak. “Hobi-hyung,” he begins slowly, “are you interested in any of the people here romantically? Are you wanting to get into a relationship like that?”

Fear shoots through Hoseok instinctively, but it’s soothed by the reassurance, it’s Namjoon. He can be honest with Namjoon. “No,” he admits, waiting for his face to fall.

Instead, the opposite happens. Namjoon’s brows smoothen with visible relief. “I want you to be my first draft, hyung.”

Hoseok tilts his head. “Now would be a great time for you to explain the metaphor, Joonie.”

Namjoon sucks in a deep breath and slips off his glasses, blinking owlishly like being a little blind is preferable before he speaks. “I want to pretend to date you, just for a bit. Just to see what it’s like. It can be a trial run, we’ll stop whenever we want. But you’re the only one in this house I trust like that.” He pauses, fingers twitching where they rest clasped in his lap. “Feel free to say no, though.”

Perhaps Hoseok’s mind is a little slow from waking up, but he barely comprehends the implications of what Namjoon is telling him. “You felt left out when the others were trying to have secret relationships or sneak around the rest of us… so you want to… pretend to do that?”

“Well- no, we wouldn’t have to hide it,” Namjoon says slowly, fingers reaching for the water bottle. Hoseok lets him have it, but watches out to make sure he doesn’t begin gnawing on the lid again. “I just think it would be nice to be the one doing couple stuff for once, don’t you think?”

Upon hearing these words, Hoseok begins to feel his very bones shake. It’s the uncontrollable trembling that seems to pass over him every time he gets close to breaking the seal - close to coming out. As always, he has a choice. It only takes one more look at the openness on Namjoon’s face to decide. “Joonie, I’m aromantic.”

Namjoon sucks in a silent breath of surprise. “Huh? Really?”

Now that it’s out there, the silence feels so much more deafening. “Yeah.” He doesn’t know what to say. Should he explain himself, apologise, give excuses-?

“That doesn’t change my opinion of you, you know that, right?”

Hoseok blinks. Namjoon seems more awake now, more alert and calm. “I- What do you mean?”

“You’re my best friend on this show,” Namjoon admits shyly, “you’ve taught me a lot, and I feel so safe with you. I didn’t come to you because I thought you’d want to actually date, so please don’t think I’m going to feel disappointed. It’s really special that you felt comfortable enough to- oof!”

Before Namjoon finishes, Hoseok is barrelling him over in a tight hug. Namjoon’s arms bracket around him, and the dom could just about purr with the warm fuzzy happiness that bubbles in his chest. “Oh, Joonie! You’re my best friend here too!”

Namjoon hugs him tighter now. “I’m so glad, hyung,” he murmurs softly.

Not wanting to leave this embrace, Hoseok lets his eyes slip closed and rests his chin on Namjoon’s shoulder. “I think fake-dating sounds kinda fun, by the way. We can take the b out of bromance. I wanna see how the others react.”

Just as the breathy sound of Namjoon’s gleeful laughter light his ears, a darker, more bemused chuckle drowns it out.

“Fake dating, huh?” a voice drawls, causing the two of them to jump apart like they’d been stung. “As if things couldn’t get any cheesier around here.”

Namjoon rubs his eyes, looking even more disheveled than when Hoseok first saw him. “Yoongi?”

Hoseok swallows as the raven-haired, cat-eyed beauty standing across from them scowls. “Not quite, buddy.”

The academic fumbles for his glasses and slips them on, gasping as Min Yoonji comes into perfect focus. “Oh! Uh, good morning! You can ignore what you just saw and heard.”

“Absolutely not,” she counters easily, sitting gracefully on a stool at the breakfast bar. Far more awake and presentable than the two of them, she looks sleek and fashionable in a pale silver blouse, black sash tied around the collar, and sleek black pants. Her eyes rake over the two of them, mouth turned down in a frown. “No one would believe it,” she says finally.

“Excuse me?” Hoseok questions, feeling distinctly like a petri dish being studied by a disdainful scientist. He spares a glance at Namjoon, who shifts uncomfortably and fiddles with his pyjama sleeves.

Yoonji just shrugs like it’s obvious. “If you told them now that you’re dating, they’d assume it was a joke. You need to set it up, build a narrative,” she explains. “How about this? I’ll spread a rumour that I saw the two of you making out down here, then you lay down some clues like sneaking off together or fucking each other with your eyes over the dinner table, and boom, everyone will think you’re boning. Bonus points if you can get someone else in on it.”

The two stay silent for a few seconds before they realise Yoonji is waiting for an answer. “Uh,” Hoseok states eloquently.

“Thank you?” Namjoon questions.

Yoonji huffs, eyes rolling skywards. “You two are hopeless. I’ll do what I can, but it’s going to cost you.”

“Are we- what- is this a deal? Are you negotiating with us?” Namjoon stammers, taking his glasses off to clean the lenses with the edge of his shirt even though they were fine before.

“There is no negotiation,” she explains. “I’ll keep your secret and help you. In return, you need to send me a text the second Yoongi tries to put the moves on anyone so I can get the fuck out of the house. I’m not asking for much, but it is very important to me.”

The absurdity of the situation dawns upon Hoseok suddenly, and an unstoppable grin stretches across his face. “It was never about helping us, was it? You just wanna make sure you don’t accidentally walk in on your brother getting railed.”

Yoonji grimaces sharply, shaking her head like she’s trying to dispel the thought. “If you aren’t interested in the deal, I’ll find someone else to blackmail, simple as that.”

“We can do it!” Namjoon volunteers, straightening his back.

Hoseok quickly nods in agreement, watching Yoonji’s shoulders dip in relief. “Sounds fair,” he summarises, “but we’ll need your phone number to do that.”

Yoonji does an almost perfect job of masking her pleased smile with a pointed glare. “Give me your phones, then.”

By the time everyone is seated (bar Yoonji, who has apparently taken over her brother’s room to watch Netflix while the rest of you talk ‘business’) and Sejin walks in, you’ve made your decision.

Unlike the first week, the individual doesn’t know in advance, and it’s this guilt that makes you stubbornly avoid eye contact with them all.

Taehyung had also been given the pass to not join the meeting, but he’d shown up anyway for morale. Or, rather, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly and taking a nap on your shoulder. You couldn’t deny it was comforting to feel his body heat, albeit unconscious.

Yoongi sits on the other side of Taehyung, luckily not pressuring you into conversation, and the two other couches are making conversation amongst themselves when Sejin cuts them short to start the meeting.

“Thank you for being punctual, everyone!” he begins cheerily. Perching on the edge of the coffee table, he rubs his palms together. “It’s time again for the elimination vote. Before I ask Y/n to make her decision, the current six Gentlemen have the chance to defend their position in the game. Starting from the left with you; Namjoon.”

Fuck. Now is the point where you can no longer avoid eye contact with everyone. Leaning into Taehyung’s embrace a little more - the sleeping boy grumbling as you shift beneath him - you look up tentatively towards Namjoon.

He looks a little nervous, but no more than he usually gets in these meetings anyway. Hoseok’s hand rests on the back of the couch behind the academic, who seems perfectly comfortable in the crook of Hoseok’s arm. “Y/n,” he begins, clearing his throat with a brief smile, “I’ve enjoyed the time I’ve spent with you so much, this past week especially. I know I still have some catching up to do when it comes to prowess in the bedroom, but I feel myself improving and once again I’m asking you to be patient with me, and keep me in the game a little longer so that I can do better next week, and the week after that.” He does a cute little nod when he’s finished, cheeks slightly pink.

Hoseok sighs out dramatically when his turn is signified, not shifting from his position. “I’m not above bribery, Y/n. If you keep me in this competition, I’ll take you to my workplace tonight and we can have a good time. If you vote me out, our little excursion will be to the worst Italian restaurant in Gangnam and order a margarita pizza with no cheese or sauce, extra anchovies and pineapple. And we won’t leave until you eat at least your half of the pizza.” He narrows his eyes at you, playful even in the face of elimination. “Are you willing to take that risk?”

You let out a genuine chuckle, shoulders jerking with the force of it. Roused from sleep by your movements, Tae pouts and rubs at his eyes. Even with his hair sticking up at odd angles, he looks so gorgeous that it takes your breath away. As he sits up and adjusts his position, leaning with his back against your side and tugging your arm over him like it’s a blanket, you can’t help but feel a pang of regret for voting him out so soon when you like him so much.

You bite down hard on your tongue, wincing at the pain. Would you come to regret the decision you’re making this morning, too?

Jin is next, and your heart thumps a little faster when you meet his gentle gaze. “I don’t have a lot to say,” he admits slowly, “at least, nothing that I haven’t already said to you. Spending time with you in any context is the highlight of my week, and I sorely hope that I don’t lose you just yet.”

That’s it for the couch to the left of you. Relieved nobody is expecting you to actually respond to these, you give Jin a tight smile and turn to Yoongi, staring at him over Taehyung’s bedhead.

Yoongi shrugs. “Y/n, I think you and I make a really good team. We’re compatible sexually, we get along well outside of that, and I know that you see it too. I’m pretty confident that I’m not the one going home this week.” You let out a light scoff at his faux air of certainty.

Finally, Jimin and Jungkook remain on the last couch. Jungkook is closer to you, so he’s next in line. The bright red streaks of his hair have faded a little, more rosy than before. It makes him look even softer as he sits cross-legged on the couch, the long sleeves of his baggy black shirt tangled up in his lap. He looks genuinely worried, unable to front a smile to you. “Um, I would-” He breaks off suddenly as his nose twitches. “I’d be really sad if you eliminated me,” he confesses in a small voice. “I don’t wanna guilt trip, but, um, I really wanna stay in.”

Your heart aches at the way he drops his chin and stares at the carpet blankly. Beside him, Jimin looks equally pained, and his voice is softer than usual when he speaks up.

“In terms of defending my place in the game,” Jimin says slowly, “I can promise that I’ll keep things different and exciting every week for you and that things will be a lot more fun if you keep me in.” He eyes crinkle fondly. “But I trust your decision either way.”

You suck in an unsteady breath. With everyone’s petitions complete, there’s nothing standing between you and the decision you have to make. Though his words cut right to you, the person you’d chosen earlier hasn’t changed.

Sejin clears his throat after giving you a moment to think. “Who are you choosing to eliminate this week, Y/n? As per the current rules, they’ll be removed from the competition, but allowed to remain in the house on the grounds that they do not initiate any sexual contact with you.”

Making like Jungkook, you lower your gaze to the floor. “First of all,” you start, hating the way your voice sounds so small, “you’re all amazing. Just like last week, there’s no- there’s no easy choice. No matter who I choose it’s going to suck for us both, and I’m sorry about that.”

You pause for a moment, trying to think of the right way to phrase your thoughts. “I’m choosing this person because I think that while the sex has been, um, really good-” it’s futile to fight the blush on your cheeks but you duck your head lower anyway, “-it’s maybe not as exciting week to week as some of the other guys.” The eyes on you feel like redhot pressure points, and you try and loosen the tightness in your chest. “And if I’m totally honest, I think- I really like this person, but I think I’d feel a little more comfortable being able to explore that without the pressures of the competition.”

It’s the least you can do to lift your gaze up and to the left, giving him the dignity of a proper sendoff. “I’m sorry, Jin, it’s you this week.”

Perhaps the worst part of this morning is that Jin seems genuinely caught off-guard.

Or perhaps the worst part is the way his face falls into something grave and icy, standing up so abruptly that Hoseok recoils beside him.

Your heart sinks, your voice drowned out by Sejin’s even as you call out the same name.

“Jin,” Sejin commands, “you have to come back to- Jin!”

Though he was already halfway to the front door, Jin stiffly turns around and waits in the doorway. His eyes actively avoid you, glaring at the wall. Sejin excuses himself and takes him aside to give him the instructions on how to proceed.

It feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped over you, pooling in your stomach, and you fight the tears that prick your eyes as Tae wriggles around beside you, pulling you into a hug.

You feel fingers card through your hair, even as his two hands stroke your back and hold you close. Glancing up, you’re met with the sight of Yoongi’s face, pained with sympathy, as he gently pats your cheek and continues to brush your hair.

“He hates me,” you murmur miserably.

Yoongi doesn’t contradict you, just letting out a sad sigh. “He’s upset,” he admits, “but he’s a strong guy. He’ll move past it.”

You protest weakly as Taehyung coos softly and pulls you closer, practically tugging you onto his lap so your legs hang over one side and your torso is snug in his embrace. The guilt is far worse this week than it was last time. It constricts your lungs, your veins, makes you feel weak with dread. “He likes me. He likes me and I did that to him.”

“Oh, sweetheart, we all like you,” Yoongi says, his hand falling to cup yours, swirling lazy circles on the skin of your palm.

“Not like that,” you counter, “not like Jin does.”

For a moment it seems like Yoongi is going to disagree with that, but he drops it, squeezing your hand and standing up. “I’m going to make us something to eat. Maybe a hot stew would cheer everyone up a little bit.”

The chances are low, you think, but you would never turn down his food. “Sejin still hasn’t assigned the new prompts and told us about the new week, though,” you point out, glancing over to the two men still in the doorway. Even seeing Jin for a second jolts you like an electric shock, so you turn and bundle your face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck, feeling the soft fibres of his box-knit cardigan against your chin.

“Then Sejin can make himself useful and chop some vegetables while he does it,” Yoongi counters with a pompous sniff as he leaves, and in spite of your own misery, a chuckle overcomes you at the thought of it.

“There’s that smile,” Taehyung croons, a finger tipping your chin up. His eyes are two brown pools of comfort that you can’t help but get lost in. “Jin will survive. I did!”

You straighten up once you hear the sound of shoes approaching again, smile dropping. But this time Sejin stands alone.

“Yoongi, out of the kitchen, please,” the producer sighs.

With one foot hovering over the border where carpet meets tile, Yoongi freezes. “I’ll make you an extra serving,” he bargains, “you can even pick the meat.”

“Out of the kitchen,” Sejin repeats in a stern voice, “can we have at least some decorum during the meeting?”

“But I’m hungry,” he defends. Sejin doesn’t reply, simply flattening his gaze. As everyone waits, Yoongi slinks back like a sulking cat, perching on the edge of the couch beside you and Taehyung with his arms crossed in defiance. “Do I get to pick out the prompts again?”

“No. Let’s get started, please.” Taking a breath so deep it lifts his shoulders, Sejin calms himself and clears his throat, standing in front of the seven of you. “The theme of this week is Limited Edition. I’ve got five prompts here; come up in any order.”

Taehyung slides you off his lap so smoothly that you barely notice it’s happened before he’s standing up with a stretch, waltzing towards Sejin’s outstretched hand.

Sejin realises at the last minute and tugs his hand back the second Taehyung’s fingers brush one of the slips of paper. “Taehyung, you know you can’t take a prompt. Sit down.”

Without pause, Taehyung spins on his foot, strolling right back to your couch as if nothing was amiss. “Worth a shot,” he mutters when he sits back down beside you. You know this is just his attempt at cheering you up, but that doesn’t make it work any less. Tucking your arm around his, you lean into him and watch as the first actual contestant takes his prompt.

It’s Yoongi up first, clearly wanting to expedite the process as much as possible, but when he snatches the topmost fold of paper, the text written inside gives him pause. His brows furrow, then lift in realisation, before he collapses back beside you, drumming his fingers on the arm of the couch thoughtfully.

Jimin is next, selecting the next one in the splayed-out pile. His head cocks to the side, turning to Yoongi with a curious look. “Oh,” he comments mildly.

“Yeah,” Yoongi agrees, and Hoseok, who’d previously been stunned into silence with Jin’s sudden mood change, springs up with a huff.

“What is this oohing and aahing all about,” he grumbles, quickly picking a prompt and holding it close to his chest like he’s worried someone will peek. The second he looks at his, however, his face falls. He tries to recover with a light laugh, but you don’t miss the way he eyes the remaining slips in Sejin’s hand like he longs to trade his in.

He sits down though, patting Namjoon’s thigh to get him to go up. Oddly enough, Namjoon also looks stricken when he reads his prompt, showing it to Hoseok with a nervous gnawing of his lip.

Jungkook is the last one left, and at this point you’re uncontrollably curious but also wary about what these prompts could contain. Interestingly, though, Jungkook doesn’t seem disappointed or worried, but instead scrunches his nose and giggles at the prompt, tucking it into his pocket before joining Jimin and poking his side until the older man shows him his prompt, snickering even more at the sight of it.

“Alright,” Sejin starts, cutting off your train of thought, “now that we’ve finished that, the last point of discussion is the Bangasm Bomb. This week, the special challenge is called Viewer’s Choice. Each day, there will be a random poll taken on the official Bangasm twitter. It will correspond to each prompt, and the next morning, one of you will get a text. That means you have to complete your prompt that day, using the winning vote of the poll. If you fail to include this aspect, you’ll fail overall even if you successfully completed the actual prompt. Make sense?”

Jungkook stares blankly. “Could we have an example?”

Sejin shrugs. “The first poll was posted at 10am this morning. The four options are: standing, lying down, sitting and kneeling. Whichever position wins the poll must be included in the scene tomorrow. If, tomorrow morning, you get a text from me with one of these options, that means you need to complete your prompt that day using the winning option of the poll.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says slowly, mulling it over, “yeah, I get it now. So we don’t get to choose when we go?”

“Not this week, no,” Sejin explains, and then clears his throat. “Well, then. That’s all from me! I need to go make sure Seokjin is behaving.”

The mention of the recently-eliminated member sobers everyone up. Yoongi returns to the kitchen with less vigor than before, Hoseok joins him to make himself a drink, Jungkook comes over to the couch with you and Taehyung and wedges himself between the two of you, so sullen he doesn’t even speak.

In the end, the seven of you decide to eat lunch in front of the television, putting on a mindless sitcom that nobody really focuses on. Yoonji comes down once Yoongi texts her for lunch, and she sits on the floor with her bowl propped up on the coffee table.

Time passes, and Jin doesn’t return inside.

For a while, there’s an unspoken assumption that he’s still in the confessional shed with Sejin doing his exit interview, but once Jimin pokes his head out the front door and sees the producer working away in the production van, that idea is shattered.

“He’s okay, right?” Taehyung asks abruptly as a laugh track echoes hollowly around the room.

No one needs to ask who he is. Yoongi shrugs. “He’s an adult,” he offers, but the glint of concern is as much alight in his eyes as anyone else’s.

The thought only sustains peace amongst you for so long. Jungkook is glum, Hoseok looks anxious, Namjoon grows restless and begins chewing the end of one of his chopsticks. Even Yoonji has her brows furrowed, jaw tense.

Eventually, your worry overcomes you, and you grab the remote and mute the TV, pitching the room into silence. “I’m going to find him,” you announce.

“Y/n…” Yoongi says reluctantly, but your mind is made.

Not bothering with shoes, you unlock the front door again and slip outside, immediately turning the perimeter to go look for the missing gentleman.

Half-expecting him to be sulking in the confessional booth still, a strike of alarm thuds in your chest to find it empty. You inspect the poolside, the patio and outdoor dining area, but Seokjin’s nowhere to be found.

It’s just as you’re about to give up and return inside that you spot him.

Barely more than a smudge in the distance, you see his tall figure sitting, hunched up, on the very outskirts of the gravel path. He picks up pieces of rock, throws them half-heartedly, and he’s so far away that you can’t even hear them clatter. You recoil at the lonely sight, fighting the urge to run to him.

When you return inside, all eyes are on you. “He’s right on the edge of the property,” you explain miserably, “as far away from me as he can get.”

“Oh, Y/n,” Jimin says softly, eyes brimming with sympathy. From the silence around the room, there’s not much else to say.

You bite your lip. “He probably doesn’t want to talk to me, but can someone please go get him before it gets dark? I’m going to my room for a bit.”

Nobody protests, and you heave yourself up the stairs. By the time you flop onto the bed in your room, door locked behind you, you feel heavier than solid stone.

You’re too distressed to sleep, but guilt pulls at your limbs and leaves you unable to get out of bed for the rest of the day.

By the time you’re called down to go on your excursion with Hoseok, part of you wants to cancel and wallow in your self-pity a little longer. But Hoseok had clearly been looking forward to it so much, and you can’t deny the allure of escaping the Villa, even if only for a few hours.

Hoseok beams at you warmly as he greets you at the car idling outside. With his hair fluffy over his brow but his clothes sleek black, he’s like an enticing halfway point between Hoseok and Master. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting his clear skin in a rich orange glow. “Ready?”

You return his smile, albeit with a little less vigor. “Let’s get out of here.” When the two of you get inside the car and it pulls down the driveway, there’s no lone figure throwing stones on the perimeter of the property. Your heart tugs in a way you can’t quite articulate.

Though you try not to, it’s impossible not to mentally take stock and compare this experience to your previous nights out. Far more than Jimin and Yoongi, Hoseok keeps you talking. Whether it’s him trying to keep you distracted, or just his natural brand of social vibrance, there isn’t a quiet moment.

It isn’t until the car has wound its way deep into the city that Hoseok gently clears his throat, cutting off his own spiel about his favourite brand of bucket hats. “It seems we’ve reached a crossroads,” he announces meaningfully.

You frown as you glance between the seats and out the front window. “That’s a roundabout, Hoseok.”

His eyes shift. “Metaphorically.”

“And what might this metaphorical crossroads entail?” you ask teasingly, a smile curling your lips.

Hoseok stays uncharacteristically sober, leaning towards you as the car creeps forward in the blocked-up after-work traffic. “Our location, princess,” he says softly.

“I thought we were going to your work?” you respond in confusion.

“At the moment we are,” Hoseok replies. “But there’s a cinema just down the road, several great food places, even this fancy smoothie shop that lets you pick your own ingredients.”

“Okay…” The rhythmic click of the turning light echoes through the backseat, making you feel entranced as you watch Hoseok’s eyes warm, focused on you. “Do you not want to go to your work?”

“This is about you now,” he corrects in a kind but firm voice. “Do you want to go to the Red Room and play?”

“Yes,” you say instinctively, but the dom just shakes his head.

“No,” he states unflinchingly, “I need you to think about it longer than that. Do you feel emotionally, mentally, and physically in a position to do a scene tonight?”

You suck in a breath slowly, taking the time to run over them one by one. Physically was the easiest one. Your sex drive was quickly reconfiguring the longer you spent on the show, and even just a day without any action at all was making you feel a little restless and unsatisfied. Emotionally and mentally gave you pause.

How can you untangle those two when your mind and your heart feel knotted together inside you? Whenever one lights up, the other just reflects it. The moment you think of Jin, guilt overcomes you, but that just sparks your desire to flood yourself with distractions and escapism. But then the thought of being out here, enjoying yourself while he’s still stuck in the Villa, probably seething in hurt or rage or betrayal… The guilt just flares even colder in your chest.

“I don’t know,” you admit after a moment of silence. Hoseok hums once, inviting you to speak further. “I really want to. But I don’t know if I should. I just want to forget about everything, but maybe that’s a bad reason.” You blow out a deep breath, cheeks puffing up. “I don’t know; you’re the BDSM expert. Is it okay if I do it to just distract myself?”

Hoseok stays silent for a moment, eyes roaming over you like he’s searching for something. “That depends,” he answers finally. “If it’s a recurring problem in your life, and you use BDSM as a coping mechanism, then that can be unhealthy. Just like drinks or drugs. But at the same time, it’s very common that BDSM is a way of emotional or mental release. Office workers who feel like they’re working the same 9 to 5 every day with no power might want to feel like they have control and excitement in one area of their lives. Maybe CEOs or lawyers or doctors or parents might want to go to a BDSM club and submit so they finally can release the burden of expectation. To have someone else take care of them and make the decisions for a few hours.”

The dom sighs out slowly, eyes softening in empathy. “Y/n, you know that I can’t tell you whether it’s okay or not. I can’t consent on your behalf. You need to decide for yourself if you’re using this as a release, or as a dependent coping mechanism. Do you understand?”

You nod silently, not trusting your voice for a moment. Though he can’t decide for you, his explanation brings a clarity that strikes deeper than you originally intended. “I want to feel taken care of,” you offer up, voice thin like blown glass as your eyes prickle. “I just want to feel good for tonight, Hobi.”

Hoseok nods with a reassuring smile, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder gently. “Then I have another question, princess,” he starts. “You said you were wanting to forget about everything. Would you enjoy your time more if you played with someone else?”

You’re tugged out of your brief lapse of emotional vulnerability by the statement, cocking your head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Hoseok’s lip twitches as his eyes brighten a little. “Mistress Bee has an opening that she kept just for you,” he reveals in a honeyed drawl, “if you want to use it. Her and I spoke about it earlier. If you’re anything like me, the constant presence of cameras and the whole competition can start to weigh pretty heavily. I think it might be good for you to let yourself be separate from it entirely for a while. Have some fun for fun’s sake. What do you think?”

The idea is something you’d never considered, yet you can’t deny there’s something incredibly appealing about cutting your ties - even just for an evening - and not having to worry about anything to do with the show. But still, you hesitate. “Where would you be?”

Hoseok shrugs easily. “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. I could sit near the two of you, or just hang around in the main den so I’m out of sight but still not far. And if you really want some distance, I might just go next door and make myself a custom smoothie. Either way, I’m happy.”

You startle when the car suddenly halts, a jerky job of parking down a side street. You’re here. A strange feeling of urgency overtakes you, like he’ll leave any second. You reach out and clutch at his shirt, feeling the press of buttons against your palm. “I want you to stay,” you say in a rush, knuckles going white.

“I’m here,” Hoseok soothes with warm eyes, unhooking your fingers from his shirt one at a time, before squeezing your hand and resting it back in your lap. “I’ll stay, princess.”

Outside, the air is still warm with the remnants of the set sun, even as lamp posts cast white pools of light onto the pavement. On one side of the car - as it reverses painfully slowly back onto the main street - you can spot the smoothie shop Hoseok was talking about, but on the far side is a Daiso store, and on your side, just in front of you, is the entrance to a cinema complex.

You pause, frowning in confusion, but before you can turn to ask Hoseok, his hand is already on the small of your back, leading you towards the cinema.

“We’re downstairs,” the dom explains, pointing out a sign you’d missed that displays the now-familiar logo of two Rs back to back, beside the B that indicates it’s located in the basement. As he leads you past the small foyer of the cinema and down a set of modest hardwood stairs, his voice lowers. “Although all the walls and ceilings are soundproof, having a bass-boosted movie blasting above you certainly helps drown out the rest of the noise. Gives us a bit more privacy.”

“Clever,” you comment absentmindedly, but your attention has already been caught by the sight that greets you below.

The moment you round the final corner of the narrow stairs, it’s like an entirely different world. Without any natural light, the entryway you step onto is lit mostly with wall sconces, though there’s strip lighting along the very edges of the hallway that glow an ominous red.

In front of you is a roughly oval room. In the centre, a woman with a shaved head and long acrylic nails taps away at a monitor, glancing back and forth from the screen to a large black book just beside it. She glances up when you step down, smirking at Hoseok with clear recognition.

Flanking the outskirts of the room are two bulky bodyguards, and you don’t even notice them until they relax and give him a nod. They seem to protect not only the receptionist but three sets of doors as well.

On the left is a locked door marked with letters engraved onto the wood itself reading STAFF. On the far right, the almost identical door there has no lock, and displays instead CHANGING ROOMS. In the middle, directly behind the desk, are two massive doors with iron handles curved in the shape of flicking devil’s tails, complete with the pointed tips. Instead of any words, each door just has one of the Rs of the logo. Then again, it doesn’t really surprise you that there wasn’t any explicit title or description visible. This was a place that you only went to if you knew where you were going.

“I thought you were taking time off, Sir?” the woman asks in a teasing lilt. She’s almost intimidatingly gorgeous, and you fight the urge to shift closer to Hoseok’s side. Her eyes shift to you nonetheless and her grin widens. “Yet here you are, bearing a gift.”

“Not for sharing, I’m afraid,” Hoseok deflects, and it takes you off-guard to hear the audible difference in his voice compared to what you’re used to. He’s not fully in Master mode, but the bubbly ball of energy has been replaced by the suave charisma of someone who knows he commands the attention of any room. Just as you glance up at him, he looks down with crinkled eyes and lifts the hand on your back up into your hair, not quite tugging, but keeping it there for a moment before he lets his fingers slip through your locks again. He holds your eyes a second longer before turning back to the receptionist. “Red cuffs will do, Sim.”

With a sigh, the receptionist acquiesces, a small silver piercing just below her bottom lip glinting as she shifts and reaches into a drawer at the desk, producing a pair of cuffs that look exactly the same as the ones Hoseok had used on you a few days ago.

She stretches them out towards you, but Hoseok intercepts and chooses to put them on you himself. Though they come connected together by the chain, he unclips and pockets it once the leather is snug around your wrists, leaving you claimed but still free to move. The meaning of the red trim still makes you shiver when you run your fingertips over it, and the sight makes Sim chuckle.

“First time here?” You aren’t sure if the cat-eyed beauty in front of you is asking you directly or Hoseok on your behalf, but you nod anyway. She hums, closing the drawer and pulling a sheet of paper out of another one and placing it on the desktop. “Just because you’re coming in attached to the Big Man doesn’t mean you get to skip the rules. Read them over and sign anywhere on the page to show you’ve understood. And I’ll need to see some ID, verify your age and all that.”

Fumbling to pull your ID out of your wallet, you hand it over and take the photocopy and the outstretched pen from her in turn, scanning the numbered list of rules. There aren’t any surprises, luckily; it reiterates the cuff colouring, safeword systems and staff on site, as well as emergency exits and procedures. There are places to buy drinks and snacks inside, but only spectators can consume alcohol.

“There’s a station for toy rental inside,” Sim explains, handing you back your ID after noting down your details, “with its own set of rules and everything, but I’m sure your Master here will be using his own stash. Our staff wear black clothes with red logos and arm bands, you can’t miss ‘em. Just sign if you’re good, and you two can go on through.”

Hoseok waits while you read, sharing some smalltalk with the two bodyguards in the meantime. Once you sign off and hand the items back to Sim, who dutifully stamps the sheet and files it away, your dom turns to you with a pleased grin. “Shall we?”

The moment Hoseok wraps his slender fingers around those devil tail door handles and pushes them inwards, sound fills the room, no longer held at bay by the seal of soundproofing. Chatter, laughter, the general hum of crowds - they all fill the space around moans and cries and cracks of whips, every possible noise you’d heard on a porn video or experienced over the past three weeks.

It was debauchery in every sense of the word, and Hoseok slipped into the thick of it like a duck in water.

With a single finger hooked onto one of your cuffs by the silver loop, he pulls you in with him, letting you soak in your surroundings as he leads you.

Though you didn’t really have any clear expectations, you’re shocked by the sheer amount of people inside, all gasping at Hoseok and parting in front of him like an adoring sea. The first area is relatively cosy, clearly just meant for socialising.

Couches surround the edges of the room, except for a small bar manned by two insanely hot guys. One effortlessly shakes up a drink, biceps pumping with the motion, and the other chats up a middle-aged woman who appears to flirt back, ignoring the older man kneeling at her feet with a pleading look in his eyes.

They fall out of your sight quickly as you move through a doorway, the sound dropping off just as suddenly. It’s not quite silence that greets you in the next room, however. Just about bumping into a row of occupied seats, Hoseok adjusts your direction so that you move around the back of the room, but that doesn’t stop you from glancing towards the front, where a whimpering girl is strapped to what looks like a medieval set of pillocks by the neck and wrists, her face wet with tears but alight with ecstasy as a gloved man demonstrates to a rapt audience how to fit an entire fist inside her.

Your eyes widen at how openly they display the obscene act. Then again, how is it any different from what you’d been doing in the Villa? Whether it was an audience at home watching through a screen, you’d still let yourself be viewed in much the same way. As Hoseok keeps you stumbling down the back of the room and out a different doorway, you think more about what being that girl on the stage might feel like.

Moving so quickly through the seemingly endless basement, you’re startled when suddenly you’re jolted to a stop in front of an elevator. Hoseok punches in a code that has to be at least seven or so digits on a little keypad beside the doors, before pressing the down arrow.

“Where are we going?” you question, voice still hushed as if you were in the theater.

“Bee’s office,” Hoseok answers simply, but the realisation that you’re about to play with the gorgeous spitfire - with Hoseok watching, no less - fills you with a restless arousal. “She doesn’t know whether you chose to even come here tonight or not, let alone play with her. We’re going to give her a little surprise, princess. I guess I did come bearing a gift after all.”

Once the lift arrives, he steps inside smoothly, no longer holding onto your cuffs. You jump inside, watching him select B2 off the limited selection of floors. “This used to be a carpark,” Hoseok explains casually as you’re slowly lowered down. “But when it got bought by the cinema, they didn’t really need it, so they leased the first below-ground floor to us for a pretty low price. We originally just kept this lift for wheelchair access, but once we got bigger and expanded a little, we decided to move our offices downstairs for an extra layer of privacy.”

The elevator chimes, opening its doors to reveal a hallway similar in appearance to the entrance foyer you first walked into. “But we aren’t going to your office?” you ask, curiosity making your skin itch as he walks right past a door with the letter H on a placard beside the knob.

“Not this time, princess.” Hoseok halts again, and you catch sight of a new door, this one with a B. Spinning on his heel, your dom turns to you and pats your cheeks with a grin, lowering his voice conspiriatorially. “If you’re Bee’s present, we better wrap you up nice, hm?”

Things start to feel distinctly more real when Hoseok undresses you right in that very corridor. You can’t help but worry that somebody could come down in the elevator at any moment, or the service stairs behind you. Watching you squirm with a barely-contained grin, Hoseok does nothing to assuage those fears.

He allows you to keep on your panties, kicking the rest of your clothes to the side and slipping off his own jacket to lay over your shoulders. Though it’s a little big on you, it’s laughably inadequate in covering you up, made of some less-than-opaque black fabric that betrays everything below down to the moles and freckles on your skin. Hoseok looks somehow even more intimidating without the piece on, a fitted tank top exposing his taut shoulders and modestly sculpted arms.

“Knock, princess,” Hoseok instructs, not without the warm hint of fondness that colours his voice.

You do so with a shaky hand - shivering partly from excitement and partly from the chill of air conditioning that fills the hallway.

“I’m busy!” a muffled voice calls out brightly, making Hoseok tut with a rueful smile.

He leans in so that his cheek almost brushes the hard wood. “Do you want to be busier?”

A pause, then footsteps drawing closer.

Before the door even opens fully, Bee is cooing loudly on the other side, clapping her hands in clear joy. “I knew it! Come in, come in!”

Her bubbly personality is at odds with the glossy red latex that covers her body, heels clicking with every skipped step back into her office. Bee waves you in first, letting you enter before you hear her voice lower, asking for permission to touch.

“She’s all yours, feel free to play with her to your heart’s desire,” Hoseok explains easily, making arousal pool between your legs, “the red is for you and me tonight.”

“Splendid,” Bee chirps from behind you, and you jump when you suddenly feel fingers brushing up your spine, even through the thin fabric of Hoseok’s jacket. “Take a seat, chickie, let’s talk.”

In her office, the Mistress shows that same duality of a cheery personality with her dominance. A large corner desk sits in the corner, with a small board of polaroids pinned to the wall and a little terracotta pot of violets and a spray bottle of water just beside it. A small cup with various items of stationery is complete with a tall pen with a fluffy pink pompom on the end, and even from what you can glimpse, it looks like her screensaver on her computer is some stylised LINE friends character.

Yet move your eyes anywhere else in the room, and you see a metal cage in one corner, a flogger hanging from a clothes peg behind the door, various fixtures on the walls, ceiling and furniture that speak of restraint and punishment.

As you perch delicately on a lowset sofa across from her desk, you wonder if Hoseok’s office is much the same. It certainly looks like Bee would take in subs here to play with her, judging by the equipment. Had Hoseok spent evenings with submissive women and men in his office, making them kneel and beg and serve?

The thought stirs something inside you, and for a moment you think it’s jealousy. But then Hoseok beams at you with a salacious wink, settling onto the corner of Bee’s desk, and you realise that it’s less envy and more the feeling like there were parts of him you were missing out on. That there was still so much you had to discover of him, to experience with him.

You wonder if he’ll let you come back to see him here one day, after all this is over.

Suddenly, your view of him is obstructed by the deep red of Bee’s corset and latex pants, her hands on her hips. “You’re looking a little too much at him and not enough at me, chickie,” she croons, almost conspiriatorially as you crane your neck to meet her gaze. She tilts her head, lips curled. “Do we have to send him out?”

You shake your head adamantly, unable to stop your eyes from quickly darting behind her.

She chuckles. “Cute. So soft for her Master.” Your head feels hazy as she slips her fingers into your hair, stroking your head fondly. “I think your Master is soft on you too, baby.”

Without much fanfare, Bee swivels and sits herself down beside you, so close your shoulders and thighs press together. You suck in a breath at the closeness, but the domme just gets closer, flicking your hair over your shoulder and rubbing at the nape of your neck as she watches you intently.

“Did Hobi give you the full tour?” she asks in a low voice, the slight graze of her fingernails making you shiver. “What was your favourite room so far, I wonder?”

You go to shrug, put on the spot so suddenly, but before you can Hoseok pipes up. “The theater,” he states without room for disagreement.

At the thought of the room, you feel desire swim within you. The image of that girl, so vulnerable as a room of at least thirty strangers watched her, analysed her, enjoyed her pleasure just as much as she did. That image hadn’t really left your head since the moment you saw it. Before you even realised it yourself, Hoseok had known. Something about that made you dizzy with your want for him.

But tonight was about Bee, about the intoxicating feeling of being so close to a beautiful, powerful woman. The lady herself hums, pleased. “The theater,” she repeats in a low voice. “Do you like watching, baby?”

“She’s on a porn show,” Hoseok butts in again, his eyes like pointed furnaces on you, wetting his lips between words, “give her more credit than that.”

This time, Bee straightens up and narrows her eyes at the man across from you. “You can stop answering on her behalf, Hoseok, or I’ll put you out myself. You said I get to play with her tonight.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he retorts in a slightly sarcastic, petulant tone, but shoves his hands in his pockets and presses his lips together anyway.

Bee turns back to you, letting her fingers tuck beneath the collar of Hoseok’s jacket so that her palm rests against your bare back. Stroking slowly, she smiles, her eyes glittering. “We can play on the big stage if you want, baby. Would you like that?”

The opportunity, a little bit frightening but mostly extremely arousing, makes you squeeze your thighs together with a hard swallow. “Yes, please,” you mumble in a small voice.

Her smile widens, caramel skin positively glowing in the warm light of her office. “Perfect,” she drawls happily, before standing up, back arching slightly as she stretches. “Then there are a few rules you need to know before I take you out there.”

The two dominants share a look, Hoseok lifting his brow at something written on Bee’s face. “Really?” he questions in surprise, chuckling reluctantly. “You’re going all out, huh?”

Even as confusion overtakes you, you watch in rapt curiosity as Bee shrugs, slipping past him to open a tall, skinny cabinet just behind her desk. There’s a large, dark brown coat there, but her hand delves deeper, pulling out a thin yet tough-looking strand of nylon rope, a suggestive deep red almost the same shade as her bodice.

“I dyed these myself,” Bee explains, her voice light and warm like honey. You watch as she lets the length pass over her palm loosely. “I don’t know if Hoseok told you, but rope bondage is my specialty. If you wear this, everyone out there will know you belong to me.”

You bite your lip, heart racing as she slips off Hoseok’s jacket, chucking it towards him without a glance as she keeps her focus on you. Her eyes gleam as she slips the rope around your back, beginning to loop and fold it. “What are the rules?” you ask, voice already airy with the arousal that peaks your nipples and sends shivers down your spine with every drag of the rope.

If it was possible, Bee appears to have even more subdued prowess with ropes than Hoseok does, her fingers nimble and practiced, moving so quickly that it leaves lines of hot friction against your skin. “The rules?” she repeats casually. “Well, the first one is that I expect you to address me by my proper title. Do you know what that is?”

Swallowing the dryness in your throat, you nod. “Mistress,” you croak out, almost stuttering on the word that feels so unfamiliar on your tongue. Your cheeks heat up, embarrassment only heightened by how close she stands to you, flooding your senses.

“That’s right, chickie,” she praises, tugging the rope suddenly, making sure there’s no give as your bare chest is yanked forward. Satisfied, she tucks the ends in neatly and places her hands on your waist, taking in her work. It’s a basic chest harness, like one you remember Hoseok putting you in, but there’s beautiful flair all over, with arches and keyholes and braids that slip between your breasts, along your spine, shoulders and ribs. Almost like a bralette, the main difference being that your breasts themselves are fully exposed to her - and Hoseok’s - roving gaze.

“Now,” she continues, “rule two. You don’t have permission to speak unless I ask you a question. I used the limit sheet for you that’s on the Bangasm website, but if there are any changes throughout the scene, the only words you can say at any time are your safewords. I’m sure you’re familiar with it, but here at Red we use the stoplight system. Is that clear?”

It’s easier to say the second time. “Yes, mistress.” Still, the excitement low in your belly just grows with the way she nods in approval. Your desire to please sets in quickly, and the rope on your chest and the leather around your wrists feel like a promise of what’s to come if you continue to please her.

Jerking her head to indicate that Hoseok should open the door for her, Bee turns to you and hooks a finger under a strand of the rope, just under your breast. “And the final rule is more important since this is my first time playing with you. If something feels good, you thank me for it. Like this.”

Before you can even process it, lips softer than silk press against yours, chaste but unforgiving as you’re pinned in place by the harness in her grip. She smells sweet, slightly floral like gardenia or jasmine, and she tastes like strawberry chapstick.

When Bee finally pulls away, your head feels hazy, on a lag. Your lips still tingle from the missing contact, but you let out a dreamy, “thank you, Mistress,” without even thinking.

She grins at your reaction and turns towards the door, pulling you behind her with that finger caught on the rope. “God, it’s been so long since I’ve had a sweet girl like you to play with,” she croons back at you, before patting Hoseok on the chest with her free hand. “Thank you for the gift, Hobi.”

There’s a strangely smug feeling inside you as Bee leads you out of the office, back into the chill hallway and up the elevator. Hoseok trails behind, and some part of you is thriving in that feeling of being the focus of his and her attention. And even as you’re led back into the theatre, going right through the middle of the seats before veering off to the right to go behind the wings, the eyes on you feel electric.

Just like that woman that was on the stage earlier - it now sits empty in an interlude, the audience chatting amongst themselves - you feel like a pillar of desire, a pretty thing for everyone to look at, but only for a few to touch. The red cuffs and red rope lift you higher into that headspace, submissive yet superior in a way.

The attention of those strangers is addictive, and any uncertainty disappears with the need for them to replace those brief glances of curiosity with full stares, the kind of intense focus that you’d only receive by being out on that stage.

There are a fair amount of people backstage. At least three or four people in black shirts with STAFF printed in glossy block letters flitter around, chatting to the others or checking equipment. The lady from earlier is still behind there, wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, like one you’d see in a sick bay in high school. A large man, beefy like a body builder, tenderly hugs her from behind as they sit on a couch, and takes a bottle of lemonade from a staff member, gently encouraging her to drink.

You hear Bee catching the attention of a staff member holding a clipboard, chatting to him, but your attention is caught by the woman. Her face is glistening with tears, sweat and even some drool, and she looks exhausted yet elated, giggling weakly when her dom pats her clean with a paper towel. With a kind of delicate care and patience that seems at odds with his rather aggressive appearance, his lips move close by her ear, words just meant to be shared between the two of them.

When you did intense scenes with the guys, did you look like that? The thought sticks in your mind as Bee’s bright voice remains in the background. There was something so loving and meaningful about the connection that you felt to the guys after a scene like that, and the couple in front of you seems like a physical representation of that emotion.

Suddenly, pain spikes in your chest at the reminder that you’ll never have that connection with Jin again, that every week you’d have less and less moments like those. And instead of cherishing them, you were here, about to do a scene with a near stranger, in front of actual strangers.

Suddenly, your original idea of escaping the Villa doesn’t seem to be as appealing.

Glancing up, that pain turns to alarm as there’s a missing presence around you. Bee is finishing her conversation, waving away the staff member before turning to you, but the two of you stand alone.

“Mistress,” you offer up, biting harshly on your tongue when you realise belatedly you’re breaking her second rule already, “where is Hoseok?”

Before she can furrow her brows for your disobedience, they knit together instead in concern. “He’s getting a good seat in the audience, chickie. Were you not paying attention?”

Your cheeks heat, and you apologise in a rush, letting your eyes dart over to the post-scene couple one last time. She’s fallen asleep, his chin propped up gently on the crown of your head, and you feel like you’re intruding by observing them any longer.

Bee notes your distraction, but just sends you a bemused smile and grasps your chin so that you’re forced to face her. “We’re going to go on now,” she enunciates clearly, and the reminder of reality clears your mind a little, “I’m due to teach a demonstration on bondage, are you okay with that? It’s nothing too intense.”

You nod quickly. Perhaps there was something wrong with you, or perhaps you were just kinkier than you thought, but in your experience, being tied up or tied down felt calming and grounding in a way that you think is necessary given the whole new world of live exhibition that you’re about to undertake. “I’m okay with it, Mistress.”

“Good. Keep our rules in mind, chickie; let’s go have fun.”

For some reason, applause is not something you’d considered, expected or prepared for. Your cheeks heat the moment you step out, lights so bright that the audience is swimming silhouettes, and are met with passionate clapping.

Though you know it’s for Bee - she drinks it in with a proud beam, totally in her element on stage - it’s an audible reminder of the attention on you right now. If your panties weren’t soaked through before, you can definitely feel wetness on your thighs now.

“Thank you, thank you, it’s good to be back up here!” she cheers out, and you jump when her voice reverberates. The sound carries in here so well that just a speaking voice seems to fill the room. You wonder if later on, your own moans will surround you in much the same way.

Bee lets go of her grip on your harness and ducks her head in, quickly instructing you to kneel in a ‘comfortable way’. You’re surprised when the stage floor is solid, yet not as painful as you’d expect on your bare knees. You adjust a bit so that the pressure is off your kneecaps and ankles, and look up at the domme, listening to her spiel.

“Welcome back to our Red Members, and welcome for the first time for any newcomers. My name is Mistress Bee, I’m the resident bondage, suspension and shibari expert here.” She pauses while a few scattered claps ring out, and you preen when she shifts to the side, stroking the top of your head as she continues. “Last week I did a demonstration with the lovely Mikey on some common suspension ties. From week to week, I want to teach you all the ins and outs of suspension, because it’s a very rewarding craft for the dom and the sub, but it’s also pretty complex. So before we get into off-ground suspension, this week I want to show you my favourite intermediate step: sex swings.”

Your heart thuds, glancing up so quickly that her hand falls over your forehead and eyes, but she just smiles placidly down at you and pinches your cheeks playfully, making a few of the audience members chuckle.

“I have a pretty little chickie here with me today to help me out. Seems like she didn’t guess what we were playing with today, huh?”

Unsure whether it’s rhetoric or not, you carefully mutter a, “no, Mistress.”

“It’s a fun surprise, then,” she quips, before turning back to the audience. With slow, clicking steps, she makes her way to the side of the stage you’d come from, gesturing to a couple staff members.

Your mouth goes dry as a industrial-looking metal post gets lowered from the ceiling, running parallel to the ground, but taller than your arms could reach standing up when it groans to a stop. Two guys rush on stage with a black pile of leather and metal, connecting the chains to the metal pole in two different places. The major component is a flat piece of stiff fabric, clearly meant for your body, with two leather loops on one side to prop up your legs. With the way they’ve hooked it up, you’ll be side-on to the audience.

“Sex swings seem a little cheesy,” Bee begins, and you jump when her voice comes from behind you, varnished nails running over the bare skin of your upper shoulders. “But they’re actually a really good stepping stone for suspension. The dom gets used to maneuvering someone else that’s off the ground, and the sub can experience what it’s like not having their weight supported by the floor at all. They’re also far more cost-effective than good quality suspension gear.”

As Bee explains, your eyes wince against the lights, trying to make out the blurred lines of people in the audience. Hoseok was in there, right now, watching you. But you couldn’t see him. Your heart beats a little harder in alarm, but you force yourself to keep in the scene, wanting to make the most of this unique experience.

The jingle of metal echoes through the modest theater as Bee checks the stability of the sex swing, and soon enough she’s instructing you to stand up and come stand in front of it. You do so as quickly as possible without running over, so excited about being put up in the swing for her to play with that you can barely stand still.

“Let’s get these panties off first,” she decides, hooking in a finger and snapping the waistband against your hip to make you jump. You push them down before you can secondguess it, and just like that, you’re naked in front of a room full of strangers.

Getting up into the swing would be a little awkward normally, but Bee’s unending charisma and charm makes it feel easy. She holds it steady while you do a little jump to rest your ass onto the flat bed, then gets you to lie down, praising you warmly even as she gives professional advice to the audience.

Lying down is okay - your head hangs a little off the edge, so that your vision is upside down and your neck is arched, but the fabric is surprisingly comfortable so it’s no imposition - but one she slips those loops past your feet, resting them in the crooks of your knees, everything suddenly feels very real.

This is exposure in a very different sense. There’s not much give in the chains for safety, but it means that your thighs are spread wide open with no way to cover yourself.

Bee’s rapport with the crowd watching is a steady stream of reassurance, but by the time she lifts your wrists, using the clips on the chain and the loops on your cuffs to bind them straight up, leaving you entirely vulnerable, your chest begins to heave, breaths quick and shallow.

“Still with me, chickie?” Bee questions, and you let out a choked moan when she circles round to your top half, cupping your breasts and rolling your nipples between her fingers softly, the contact grounding you. “Give me a colour.”

Remembering Hoseok’s advice, you pause and take a moment to really think it over. “Green, Mistress,” you decide, trembling when she rewards you by sliding her hand down your chest and stomach, two fingers dipping lower to feel how wet you are, stroking your clit. Your back arches, thighs tense, but there’s nowhere you can go to escape the pleasure she gives you. “Th-thank you, Mistress.”

Leaning over you, patting your cheek fondly, Bee beams down at you. “Good girl,” she praises warmly, before glancing out towards the audience. “So well-behaved, isn’t she? Should I give her a quick reward before we continue?”

Your eyes slip shut in bliss as you hear the audience cheer and clap in your favour, imagining one of them to be Hoseok, watching you from below.

After hearing out the crowd, Bee adjusts her position so that instead of up by your head, she’s between your legs, that hand still lazily rubbing over you as the other grips your waist. “Alright, I won’t argue with that,” the domme quips teasingly, and chuckles as you go rigid suddenly when those two fingers plunge inside of you, crooking up to massage your walls.

There’s nothing you can to do move towards or away the touch. The swing has you completely at her mercy, and that just makes every stroke that much more overwhelming. Bee fucks you on her fingers with a swift, unforgiving pace, and you whine as the obscene wet noise echoes throughout the room.

You feel dirty; dripping on stage as your fists wrap around the chains and your pussy tightens around her. But the taboo and debauchery just turns you on more, and the moment she increases to three fingers, you no longer try to hold back or muffle yourself. A loud cry spills from your lips as she presses against your g-spot, and her gleeful chuckle arouses you even more.

The knowledge that an entire roomful of people are watching you is so hot that you feel electric, but it’s the reminder that Hoseok is somewhere amongst them that sends you over the edge. You spasm in the swing as you cum, hard, and Bee doesn’t let up for a moment, taking advantage of your restraints to continue to fuck you through your orgasm, her other hand joining to rub roughly at your clit to make you sob in oversensitivity. It’s not until your toes and fingers tingle with the force of it that she finally slows down, taking her hands off you with a cheery sigh of exertion.

“Thank you, Mistress,” you try to say, though it probably comes out slurred or garbled. You shiver as aftershocks periodically thrum through your veins, making your muscles twitch, and your eyes slip open to the feeling of Bee pressing a chaste kiss of approval to the back of your hand, still bound to the chain.

“Now,” she says, still a little breathless, “onto the main event. One of the more difficult things of…”

Though you try and stay alert, your body is exhausted and satisfied, and the suspension just makes you feel even more floaty than you normally would after a good orgasm. Your mind flits in and out, and you feel at peace until you hear the echoing click click of heels on hard floor, and see the blurry figure of Bee disappearing backstage.

Alarm flares red inside you, making your heart beat overtime and your nerves screech. You wriggle your arms and legs, but there’s no give, and even as you crane your neck to the side, the stage lights prevent you from being able to find your dom in the audience.

There’s no use in trying to stay calm. Even as that clicking returns, Bee already returning to you, you feel unsafe and anxious, the safeword on your tongue.

But it’s not the safeword that comes out when you find your voice. “H-hobi,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as panic flares in your chest.

Before his name has even fully left your lips, there are hands on your shoulder, rough with callouses. There’s the familiar musk that grounds you, and the heat of a body that cradles your head and presses his lips to your temple, cooing sweet nothings to calm you.

Bee’s voice floats around you, apologising profusely not only to you but to the audience too, but as you open your eyes and see Hoseok, his eyes brimming with concern, you burst into tears of pure relief, wishing you could reach out to him.

Like he knows your needs without you even articulating them, he unclips your wrist cuffs from the chains one at a time, slowly helping you sit up as Bee’s hands are on your legs, taking off the loops that had held them spread open earlier.

The moment you’re up, you fall into Hoseok like he’s a lifeline, clinging to him as your tears wet his sleeveless shirt. His skin is hot against yours, and his chest seems to rise and fall faster than normal as he holds you tightly, stroking your hair.

“I’m here,” he chants over and over, the words like liquid comfort cocooning you. The audience slips away, even Bee taking orders from Hoseok on what to go get is tuned out as you lean into that feeling of security that Hoseok’s embrace gives you.

At one point, he wants to move you offstage for some privacy, but your legs won’t stop shaking. Without a word of complaint, he’s lifting you up with one arm under your ass and the other around your back, guiding you to wrap your arms and legs around him.

It’s all too easy to burrow your face into the crook of his neck and breathe in his scent, your heart rate slowing from the spike of adrenaline. By the time his weight shifts, and you feel the smooth, cool leather of a couch beneath you, exhaustion has seeped into your very bones. You barely have enough energy to focus back on his voice, but you force yourself to, blinking blearily as he cups your cheek and meets your gaze.

“I think I know what happened there, what spooked you,” Hoseok says slowly, his eyes deadly serious even as his fingers gently stroke your jaw. “Did you not like not being able to see or touch either of us?” You manage to nod weakly, and Hoseok’s brows furrow in internal guilt. “I’m so sorry,” he apologises hoarsely, “I should’ve warned her before, I should’ve been closer-”

He breaks off as Bee rushes over, face pinched, and hands Hoseok a folded up blanket. The feeling of the soft, yet slightly weighted fabric covering your naked skin feels like heaven, and it calms you just that little bit more.

Hoseok meets your gaze again. “Bee wants to chat to you, princess, to say sorry. Do you want to see her now or talk with her later?”

You feel guilty for saying it, but you just want to selfishly indulge in Hoseok now, no one else. “Later,” you admit, and the domme nods in solemn understanding, bowing her head at the two of you before departing.

“What do you need, Y/n?” Hoseok asks, in a voice so low it could be a whisper. You blink at him, at the deep concern on his face. “What can I do to make you feel okay? To feel safe and calm?”

You know the answer. It’s not something you’d admit normally, not something you’d request were you not feeling so terribly adrift and in need of comfort. You fist your hands in his shirt - wrists still adorned in red cuffs that said you were his - and wet your lips. “Kiss me?”

He pauses long enough that you think he may deny you, but then you feel his chest rumble with the words, “just this once,” before he dips his head and kisses you, slowly and carefully, like you might break. Your heart swells with every slight movement of his lips, but they’re gone all too soon, replaced by your own fingers as you touch your lips in wonder. “Better?” he asks in a strained voice, still stroking your back through the blanket.

“Better,” you reply, though already you miss his lips on yours. But feeling his arms around you, and his heart beat against your ear when you lie down is good enough for you, enough for now.

#bts smut #hoseok smut #bts x reader #hoseok x reader #ot7 smut #ot7 x reader #cypherwritersnet #kpopuniversenet #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #jin x reader #namseok #bts fanfic #bts series

797 notes · View notes

idy-ll-ique · 4 years ago

Text

Didn’t Know Where Else To Go.

Pairing: Mob Boss!Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff and Angst

Warnings: violence, assault, death, mentions of smut at the end and curse words

Requested: Nope

The hero shows up at the villain’s doorstep one night. They’re shivering, bleeding, scared. There’s also a slightly dazed look in their eyes- they were drugged. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they’re close to passing out, they mumble “...didn’t know where else to go...” then collapse into the villain’s arms.

Summary: Sebastian Stan: a mobster boss. Everyone in the city hated him. When he meets Y/N, a new bartender at his favourite bar, she makes it clear that she also doesn’t like him. What changes?

Author’s Note: Hey peeps! The aforementioned prompt is something I read on Tumblr and really liked it. So I decided to write a fic loosely based on it. I hope you guys enjoy this! (This has been in my drafts for a long time, I’m currently working on 2 requested fics)

---

Sebastian POV:

"Boss, there is someone at the door."

"Send them in," I commanded, looking up from my book. The person who walked in with him was… instantly recognizable. My jaw dropped— she had been crying. Her pupils were dilated, she was taking short, fast breaths and her voice was frail. "What are you doing here?"

"Didn't know where else to go."

With that, she did the most YA-Novel-Female-Protagonist thing she could do— faint.

It all began 7 months ago. The person who was at the door was Y/N Y/L/N, a bartender at one of my favourite bars ever in the city. The thing is, when we first met, she hated me. Let me take you back 7 months.

Flashback:

I entered the bar, smirking when everyone turned to look at me. They looked away just as quickly, their voices becoming hushed. I looked around, stopping when I saw the bartender. Whoa, this was someone new and damn was she cute. Smiling, I walked over and sat down in front of her.

"Hey, was— oh. What will you like, sir?" I rolled my eyes at her. "Come on, why does everyone do the same thing? What is it about me?" I joked, winking. "Um, the fact that you're a fucking mobster and have been terrorizing the city for the past few years and would kill anyone if they question you? Uh, I don't know, actually," she snapped.

I froze. The woman seemed to really hate me. Here I was, thinking if I buttered her up enough she'd come home with me. I told her my order and looked away from her. "So, why here?" she asked me as she prepared my drink. "I really like this place, I've been here before loads of times. I don't plan to stop," I shrugged.

"Ugh, just my luck," she mumbled under her breath, rolling her eyes in disgust. "Look, you don't have to be fucking rude, okay?" I retorted. "Oh yeah? What are you gonna do? Shoot me? That's what you like to do, right? Kill people. Innocent people, let me be precise. No wonder everyone in the city except your goons hate you."

With that, she slammed my glass on the counter and stormed away from me, going to serve another customer. I was left staring at the glass, my figure shaking with repressed anger. She knew damn well I never laid hands on innocent people. No one in the city hated me.

Or did they?

The shaking stopped. What if she was right? I mean, she was much closer to the civilians than I was, what if they all hated me? "Uh, excuse me," I called out, hating how my voice cracked slightly. She glanced at me. "What do you want?"

"Answers."

"Ask the questions first," she huffed. "Does… does everyone really not like me?" I asked her. She stopped cleaning the glass, set it down and looked straight at me. "Yes. They don't like you. You're a mobster boss, dude! Have you seen films with mobster bosses? All of them, evil as hell. See how everyone in the bar became quiet when you came in?"

She had a point. "You know I would never lay a hand on innocent people," I defended myself, glaring at her. "Look, I'm sorry but we can never be too careful. What if you snap one day? What if you go rogue? Everyone lives in fear. They're afraid of you. And it's not like I can change everyone's mindset all at once."

"I guess you're right," I muttered, downing my drink in one go. "Hey, Mr Stan?" I looked up. "Y/N Y/L/N. I shouldn't have snapped at you," she apologized quietly, holding her hand out. "Doing this to get onto my good side?" I teased and she laughed.

"Come on, man! Doing this to show people you're not all you seem to be." I took her hand and shook it. "It's very nice to meet you, Y/N." She nodded and went back to cleaning the glasses. "Can I get one more drink?"

"I hope you didn't drive here."

"I came on foot, actually. My house is just down the block." She gasped, startling me. "Mr Stan, giving your address away to strangers? How irresponsible of you!" I couldn't help but laugh. "I guess I trust you to not do anything bad." I spent another 2 hours there, chatting with Y/N.

She was a really fun person to be around. She had completed her education but was searching for jobs. In the meanwhile, she had decided to work here.

By the time I was done drinking, I was too tipsy to even walk. "K, I'm goin'," I slurred, standing up. "Mr Stan, don't— oof," Y/N hissed as I fell off the chair in my intoxicated state. She rushed around the bar and helped me stand, wrapping her arms around my waist. "You can't walk in this state."

"I need to go home," I whined. "As it turns out, you've stayed long enough and now it's closing time. Let me get my coat." She dumped me on the chair and went to fetch her coat. I admired her from afar.

She wore a mini-skirt that was flirtatiously snug around her thick thighs and a tank top. When she wore the coat, it extended past the skirt. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun and she was looking very sexy in the dim light. "Damn," I whispered under my breath, smirking.

When she returned, she helped me stand. I draped an arm around her shoulder and we stepped out of the bar. "Okay, which direction?" I pointed to the right and we proceeded to walk. "Have you ever gotten this drunk before? Because it's obvious you can't handle booze."

"Not really, I usually have to stay sober for my job. We need real intellectuals in the mob biz, you can't have drunk idiots running a mob," I laughed, finding it hard to keep myself upright. Shouldn't have drank so much…

"Right now, sir, you are a drunk idiot," Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes. "Thank you, I will take that as a compliment. Plus, you can just call me Sebastian, it's okay." She shook her head and silence fell between us. "Tell me when we're there," she spoke quietly as I felt a headache coming.

"Being drunk sucks," I pouted, "I'm not even having a good time! It hurts everywhere—" "Probably because you fell off the chair." "—and my head hurts! I don't understand why people like to be so drunk." She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"You are seriously reminding me of my ex-boyfriend. He couldn't handle drinks either and I always had to babysit him when he got back home drunk," she muttered. "You can babysit me anytime!" I said cheerfully. "You're drunk, Sebastian, stop flirting with me."

"But you're so cute."

"Thank you, that is very kind of you."

"And se— we're here! That's my house!" She stopped in front of my house and rang the bell. "Is anyone at home or do I have to tuck you in?" she joked. "Nah, my best buddies and right-hand-men live with me. One's name is Chris—" Just at that moment, Chris opened the door.

"Wha— Sebastian? Are you drunk?"

"Sorry sir, I didn't know he couldn't handle drinks. I'm Y/N Y/L/N, the new bartender at Red Tavern." With that, she passed me to Chris. "Thank you for bringing him home, Ms Y/L/N. It's not your fault he got intoxicated, he should've known when to stop. He didn't cause trouble, did he?"

"Oh no, of course not, sir. He's fun to be around," she commented, gesturing towards me. I grinned. "Please, he's really not, you don't have to lie. Anyway, thank you so much again! Do you want a lift home? I can ask Anthony to drive you home."

"That would be great, thanks. My house is in the opposite direction, it's a bit far…"

"Absolutely no problem. Anthony!"

A few minutes later, my other friend, Anthony Mackie came downstairs, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah— oh, Sebastian is— damn." He tried to hold his laughter in. "Yeah. While I get him to his room, do you mind dropping her home? That's Y/N, she brought him home." Y/N waved at him.

"Of course, I don't mind. Thanks, Y/N, for taking care of our boss." She shook her head, waving her arms in dismissal. "Absolutely no worries, sir." They walked away, closing the door behind them. "She's cute, right?"

Chris blinked at me. "You have a crush on her!" he guffawed. "Duh, man. Did you even look at her? Girl was oozing sexiness," I smiled in fond memory. "Okay this got weird fast, I'm just gonna take you to bed." He got me to my room, placed me on the bed and left.

As soon as my head hit the pillow, I passed out.

End Flashback.

"Y/N!" I yelled, jumping out of my seat to catch her in time. "Get a suite ready," I barked angrily at a few people, who immediately ran in fear. "And you, get me some water and a blanket." The person nodded shakily and ran out of the room. I picked Y/N up and carried her to the couch, laying her down. I sat next to her, checking her temperature.

Oh no, I needed a doctor. I took out my phone and called my personal practitioner but before I could speak, Y/N coughed. "Y/N," I whispered, cutting the call. "Sebastian, it hurts," she moaned. "Don't worry, doll, I'm calling my doctor. Stay here tonight."

"I don't have anywhere else to go." I froze. "Your house?" I asked. "That's… that's where I got attacked. I can't go back," she cried. "Wait, just— just take rest, we'll talk when you're better. Get some sleep, I'm calling my doctor." I called him again, glancing at Y/N when she took my other hand and closed her eyes.

I chatted with him for five minutes; he said he'd take half-an-hour to get to my place. "Damn it," I grumbled, keeping my phone on the table. Just then, one of my servants returned with the glass of water and the blanket. I thanked her and she left the room, so it was just me and Y/N.

"Y/N, sweetie, can you please get up for me?" She opened her eyes. "What?" Oh God, she was getting weaker. "Have some water." As soon as I held the glass of water in front of her, she freaked out. Screaming, she pushed the glass out of my hand and it fell to the floor with a 'clang', the water spilling everywhere.

"No, no water, no… no…" She sobbed, pulling at her hair. "Okay, okay, no water! No water! Y/N, calm—" I grabbed her hands and clutched them in mine. She stopped sobbing; looked at our hands and then at my face. I brought her hands to my lips, softly kissing them. "No water. It's okay, Y/N, you're safe with me."

"Safe," she breathed heavily, "That's what he said to me before he poisoned me!" Who was he? Okay, she was getting insanely paranoid now… "I'm not like him, Y/N, I don't wanna hurt you," I whispered, looking straight into her eyes.

"Yes, you are! You both can't handle drinks!" she yelled, her tears beginning to flow once more. "Wait." My nostrils flared. Her ex-boyfriend, he harmed her? "Y/N, please, this is not good for your health, why don't you try to calm down? Breathe, baby girl, please," I pleaded.

She seemed to momentarily come to her senses. "Sebastian…" Without warning, she sat up and flung herself in my arms. And for once, I didn't mind holding her close. "You're okay with me. I'm not him. I am not going to harm you, Y/N, trust me," I mumbled into her hair, rubbing her back.

"I trusted him," she sobbed, "And he tried to kill me." This time, my anger won. I vowed to myself, if I don't kill her ex boyfriend in the next 24 hours— "I am nothing like him. We may have one shared trait," I rolled my eyes at its stupidity, "But I am nothing like him. For once, I wouldn't harm you even in my dreams."

Her sobs started to subside. "That's it, doll, don't cry. I'll keep you safe. Even if I die trying, I'll let no harm come to you." For 7 long months, I missed her. I missed her a bit too much. Every waking moment of mine was spent thinking about the beautiful bartender.

She was in my dreams. She was constantly on my mind. I longed for the moment when I could meet her again and ask her out. Alas, that time never came.

A week after we met, I had to go to Romania for some important work. I spent three months there and when I was back, Y/N was no longer working at the bar. She found a new job and I had no way of locating her anywhere.

I knew Anthony dropped her home that one time but when I asked him, he told me she had asked him to drop him off somewhere else. From there, he said, she was going to walk alone. He offered to drop her home again, but she refused. Having no choice, he returned without knowing where she lived.

That resulted in me not knowing where she was. I was heartbroken and told myself to stop thinking about her. I became more and more engaged in work, I became moody, temperamental and cold-hearted. Everyone started fearing me more now.

And I finally saw what Y/N meant.

What if you snap one day?

That day was closer than I thought. Even though I became a much more accomplished mobster, there was one thing I couldn't do even if I tried— forget about the love of my life.

"Seb, it hurts." I was brought back to the real world. "What hurts, baby girl?" I whispered, pulling her closer. "Head. Stomach. Legs. Arms. Heart." I smiled sadly at the last word. "I'll help you heal, Y/N, you don't have to go anywhere until you're better." She nuzzled into my neck. "I'd like that."

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "Come in," I called out, it was probably the doctor. Sure enough...

"Mr Stan? Oh, you have a guest." I tried to shift to make space for the doctor, but Y/N whimpered. "It's okay, Mr Stan, she clearly feels safer with you here." I placed Y/N on my lap, covering her with the blanket. "This is my friend, Y/N," I spoke fondly, though I really wanted to add 'girl' in front of 'friend'.

"Nice to meet you, dear, I am Dr Greenwood." With my help, he quickly ran some tests on her. "Hm, she has a fever, her heart rate is very fast and that's not good. Is there any other problem you're facing?" She nodded. "Headache and stomach ache."

"She claims to be poisoned," I added. "Oh dear me! I need to run a blood test, will you be so kind as to extend your right arm?" She did as he told her and he quickly took some blood. "Will she be fine?" I asked worriedly.

"Well, she seems to be doing okay currently, which means the poison hasn't affected her yet. How about I get back to you by the morning? Just keep an eye on her and if something happens, bring her to the hospital."

"Okay, doc. Thank you." He nodded and got up. "Bye!" Y/N called out weakly; he smiled at her and left, closing the door behind him. "You've got to tell me everything, doll," I whispered, putting her down on the couch. She lay down and I sat on the floor near her head.

"Okay, I will tell you. It was a few hours ago," she began quietly, "I was at home, watching the seventh season of Brooklyn Nine-Nine when someone rang the bell. When I opened the door, my ex burst into the room forcefully. He pushed me."

My breathing sped up. "He pushed you? How dare that asshole—"

"Let me finish?"

"Go ahead, love, I'm sorry."

"Right, so he was very very drunk. And he was talking about how I broke his heart by breaking up with him and how he was so mad at me that he wanted to kill me. In front of me, he popped open the bottle of beer with him and poured an entire bottle of poison in it! An entire bottle! Then he attacked me and pinned me to the couch, forcing me to drink the poisoned beer."

"How did you escape?" I whispered. "By kicking him in the balls. Unfortunately, I ended up gulping down a sip and panicked. Seeing no other choice, I pushed him as hard as I could and he collided with the table. He hurt himself and became unconscious. I ran out of the house to the first place I could think of— here."

"I'm glad you came to me, Y/N, you'll be perfectly safe here. Our security is top-notch," I chuckled. She smiled, too. "Where are Chris and Anthony?" she noticed. "They're in Romania. They decided to stay back."

"Wait, that's where you were this whole time? You didn't come to the bar again and until then, I found another job so I quit. I thought you would never come back. I missed you a lot," she pouted. "I missed you, too. I was actually in Romania for 3 months and when I came back, I couldn't find you. I didn't even know where you lived, I didn't know where to look."

"What matters is now we're back together again!" she squealed. "You should rest for a while," I muttered, running my fingers through her hair. I checked the time, it was almost 2 am. Laughing when she yawned, I sat up. "I guess I should."

"Come, I'll take you to your room." I stood up with Y/N still in my arms. "I don't wanna be alone," she worriedly spoke, "What if he's awake and comes looking for me and finds me here?"

"No one is finding you here," I sighed, "I'll stay with you, okay? Just tell me your address." Without thinking, she narrated her entire address and looked up at me with sleep-hooded eyes. I walked into the suite my people had readied for her and placed her down on the bed.

"I'm right here, just relax and try to sleep," I crooned, running my fingers through her hair. She immediately closed her eyes, which relieved me because she was listening now. When her soft snores filled the room, I heaved a breath and got up. Covering her with a blanket, I left the room, quietly closing the door behind me.

---

"This is the place," I spoke to myself, stopping my car under the building. I got out and entered, taking the elevator to the sixth floor where she lived. When I reached her apartment, I noticed that the door was still open. I walked in, my gun ready as I looked around the place. Wow, Y/N maintained this place well.

I searched every room thoroughly, starting with the living room, then the kitchen and then the two bedrooms. Shit, did the asshole leave? Y/N told me she left him in the living room. I was about to leave when I heard belching coming from one of the bathrooms. I opened the door to the one closest to me, only to see someone puking in the toilet.

"Ew," I whispered and he looked up. "What the fuck—" He flushed the toilet and wiped his mouth with the toilet paper, "—are you doing here?" I realized he was still under the effects of heavy drinking. "Y/N told me everything," I sneered, hiding my gun behind my back.

"She knows you? Pfft, I knew she was a whore, why would she leave me for a goddamn mobster? Everyone in the city hates you," he jeered back. "Um, why don't you consider this? You're an abusive and possessive asshole and Y/N left you because you obviously were treating her badly?" I snapped.

"Don't get smart with me," he snarled, taking out a knife from his back pocket. "Oh," he snorted when I glanced at the knife, "Yes, I came prepared to cut that bitch up if she tried to fight back." The language he was using to describe Y/N was getting to me now.

"Enough!" I stated firmly, so firmly that even he paused. "I will not have you talking about Y/N like this, you are crossing a line." He returned to laughing. "Care too much about one of your sluts? What is she, your girlfriend?" Okay, he didn't have to rub it in…

"I said—'' I whipped out the gun and pointed it at him, "—enough. If you don't stop badmouthing Y/N—" He interrupted me again by laughing. "Of course, you're gonna shoot me. You like to murder innocent people, that's all you are! A bloody, fucking cold-hearted murderer! Y/N would never leave me for a guy like you! She is your slut!" he spat.

"Are you listening to yourself?! You tried to fucking kill Y/N because she couldn't put up with your abusive ways and your disturbing habits! I do not kill innocent people and I don't plan on killing them ever," I growled, "However, I do make exceptions for abusive boyfriends who treat my friend wrong!"

With that, before he could retort, I fired three bullets at him. All three hit him in the chest and I watched as he fell against the floor, instantly dead. Some of his blood sprayed on my clothes and face, which made me scrunch up my face in disgust. But as I watched his lifeless body on the floor, a smile bloomed on my face.

Y/N was safe.

I checked myself in the bathroom mirror, washed my face and decided to go back. But before I could, I realized that Y/N would be spending some time with me and would need her necessities. So before leaving, I packed two full-sized travel bags with her clothes, electronics, footwears, toiletries and sanitation products; anything I deemed necessary for day-to-day living.

Soon, I left the apartment with the bags to go back to Y/N.

---

"Seb?"

I looked up from my book as Y/N sat up, yawning and clutching her head. "Y/N, the results came back, you're going to be fine," I told her happily, sitting down next to her. "Really?" A smile bloomed on her face. "Yes! Dr Greenwood said you didn't swallow too much poison and that you will most likely excrete the amount you swallowed." She nodded.

"That's great news! I'm glad he brought one of those cheap poisons instead of the deadly ones," she giggled. Just his mention made my temper snap. "Oh, don't even talk about that jerk," I snarled, "I took care of him last night and now he won't be bothering you anymore."

She blinked at me. "You killed him, didn't you?" she deadpanned and I blushed. "I mean— I didn't—" I stammered but gave up when she raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I killed him," I muttered, looking at my lap. When she placed her hand on my cheek, I turned to look. "I'm not mad at you. Bitch had it coming."

I burst out laughing at her word choice, which made her smile, too. All of a sudden, she leaped up and wrapped her arms around my neck, catching my lips in a kiss. I stopped laughing and put my arms around her waist, kissing back. Had this just happened? Was she kissing me?

"I love you, Sebastian," she murmured upon pulling away, straddling my lap. I kept the book away and pulled her closer. "Really? I love you, too." She snorted. "Kinda obvious, you killed a man for me. I wasn't going to make a move on you but now I'm sure."

"Hm, my intelligent sweetheart," I grinned, leaning forward to kiss her again. The problem was solved and all was well. "What are your plans for the day?" she asked me, trailing a finger down my face, jaw, neck and chest. "Hm, don't have any," I smirked, pulling her closer.

"Wanna stay and… have some fun?"

"Boy, do I?"

Y/N laughed loudly as I flipped us over, laying down on top of her. Her laughs soon transitioned into moans as I attacked her neck and jaw with kisses.

We did have fun.

A lot of it.

A bit too much of it.

But who cares?

I was finally with the love of my life and everything was good.

---

A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

236 notes · View notes

sunaswife · 4 years ago

Text

Marry Me. Ikemen Vampire

Yandere Isaac Newton X Fem! Reader

this is before he turns into a vampire and yes I play otome games lmao

Summary: Isaac just wants to marry the love of his life Okay? 🤧

Fun fact: before changing my @ to sunaswife I used to be isaacslittleapple

Warnings: Choking, Manipulation, professor and uni student relationships, sexism...uh thats it I think 🤔

“How much do you love me?” His voice was low and firm, “You know how much. I love you.... so much that I think of you when I wake up, when I sleep. And when I read a book....I wonder if you’ll like it...” you silently admitted to your professor, he loved the way your cheeks tinted and how you wore that soft smile.

You never expected to fall in love with a physics professor. But he admitted to having a bit of a crush on you because you were the only girl in the class and you happened to be the smartest. So you were now his precious assistant and pupil.

But you were also his secret lover.

In public he was so awkward and annoyed of people, but in private he was dominant and possessive. Also very manipulative but not in a charming way. You just couldn’t explain it.

He closed his book and neared your desk, you didn’t move and before you knew it he pinned you against the desk. You could feel his breath on your neck and you slightly shivered, only he could make you feel this way. “How much do you love me? I’d like to know, I think it’s only fair since I admitted my love to you.” Your face flushed as he took in your scent.

Your family worked in an apple orchard, he loved your smell. It was intoxicating.

“I love you so much that I want to lock you away in my basement and never let you see the light of day again because I worry you’ll find someone better and leave poor me behind..” he said in your ear and you gripped his shirt. Knowing Isaac for so long, and the more possessive he got with each passing day, you had a feeling he wasn’t lying.

“I would never leave you Isaac, I’ll stay through the good and the bad times, I will always be here for you. I gave you my word.” You replied and slowly moved your hands up behind his neck, he moved a bit back and he looked you in the eyes. “Why are you so good to me? I’ve done nothing but hurt you.”

He wasn’t lying.

But you knew that if you tried to leave he’d find you.

“But you love me right? I know you don’t mean it. But there are times where you’re so so good to me and I couldn’t be happier. Like that time you surprised me at the farm with my favorite flowers, or Valentine’s Day when you made me your favorite sandwich. I love those little moments with you. You’re not perfect, you don’t mean to hurt me.” You frowned. “Please don’t think like that because if you’re sad then I’m sad.” You told him and held his face in your hands.

“Do you truly accept my love? Do you accept all of me? The good and the ugly?” He asked almost desperatly and you nodded, even though you already answered him before he needed that reassurance and that satisfaction of knowing that you’re wrapped around his finger.

“Then marry me.” He said simply and rested his forehead on yours. Your eyes widened, you weren’t expecting this from him at all. Did he ask your father for permission? You couldn’t say yes unless you got your fathers blessing.

Your lack of excitement and answer worried him, do you not love him enough? Were you lying to him?

He doesn’t like liars.

“Did you ask my father?” You finally answered and he frowned, it wasn’t a yes that came out of your lips. “I’m asking for your hand not his.” He replied and you chuckled. “I know but you know how traditional my family is. I was just wondering.” You shrugged. “So do you accept or not?” He asked, he didn’t chuckle or find this funny in the slightest.

“I don’t think I’m ready for marriage yet, maybe in another year or so..” you admitted. “If we promise to wait a year for a wedding then I’ll be more than happy to accept Newton as my new last name.” You said softly and he chuckled.

His hands rested in your waist and he pulled you closer. “Love that’s too long for me. I’m resigning my title as professor to focus more on my independent researches. I’m leaving across the country and I can’t do that if you’re not with me.” He said, “But Isaac, my family is here, I’m still a University student, I’m not a physics genius like you and I wouldn’t be able to help you with your studies. What would I do?” You asked.

You didn’t want to leave your family and you wanted to finish university so you could create a public school in the next town for children who can’t afford to go to school.

“Sweetheart, your role is to play the perfect little housewife. Calm and obedient.” He answered simply, “but that’s not what I want, I want to graduate so I can open a small school for the—“

“-the children who can’t afford school.” He finished monotone with a roll of his eyes. You stayed silent as you looked at him annoyed and he smirked, “Well now I’m not asking. You made me wait long enough and I can’t wait any longer.” He said. You stood there shocked not fully understanding what he was saying.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting in order to touch you and take you?” He asked. “Isaac you know I don’t feel comfortable unless we’re married but I’m just not ready yet. I don’t want to settle down just—“ you gasped when he suddenly pushed you harder against the desk and his hand wrapped around your throat.

He’s choking you.

“Do you take me to be your lawfully wedded husband for the rest of your days?” He asked, your arms gripped his wrist. “Isaac stop, think rationally—ah!” You yelled as he squeezed harder. “I-I do, I do.” You said as your tears started streaming down. “Now repeat what I said to me.” He said as he slightly looses his grip. “I-Isaac, so you t-take m...me to be your lawfully wedded......w-wife?” You asked.

He smirked and let go, you coughed and took a deep breathe. When you finally look up at him he was still smirking. “I do.” He said and reached into his pocket. He took out two golden rings. One was a simple band and the other had a small diamond. He put the ring on your finger and he handed you his band, you shakily put it on his and he smiled so brightly.

It was unbelievably cute but you wished it was under different circumstances.

“Come on, help me clean the office. We leave in the morning.” He said and you stood there in shock.

Morning? Are you even going to have the chance to say goodbye to your family?

Oof debating if I should post part 2

This has been in my drafts since May!!! Wtf lmao thank you @aoi-turtle for pushing me to be more confident in my writing 🥺💖

#ikemen vampire isaac #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp yandere #cybrid #ikemen vampire imagines

84 notes · View notes

milkybunbuns · 4 years ago

Text

↳ in which a strange girl orders her food delivered from onigiri miya just moments before closing time

w/c: 875

warnings: haikyuu time skip!

a/n: okay okay forgive me, this isn’t a complete fic, its just I’m on hiatus and I’ve had this in my drafts for so long but I can’t be bothered to finish it lol! so for your enjoyment, here’s what i have written

Miya Osamu was a hard working man and watched as the last customer left his shop. He prepared to clean up, grabbing a wet cloth and wiping each and every table down which sometimes had left over crumbs on it. A ring from the work phone on the counter surprised him. There was still a minute left before closing hours, who could be calling him? Sighing, he picked up the phone.

“Hello? Onigiri Miya, how can I help you?”

A hushed voice responded, “Yes, I’d like your daily special and green tea delivered to Acorn Potato Oof Park, by the blue bench please,” the woman’s voice had set alarm bells ringing in his head, not only that, who in the right mind would order to a park. Yet, who was he to judge, after seeing just what his brother could do.

“Right, your food will be delivered there shortly. Thank you,” before whoever was on the other side, he hung up, opening his mouth to call for Armin, who delivered food around, only to realise that he had already sent all the workers home. It looked like he’d have to the delivery himself. Checking the time, he realised that he didn’t have time to make a fresh onigiri, opting to just get a pre-made one instead. He had made a few of the daily specials to be served, yet not all of them were sold. The green tea was quickly made, then everything dumped into a small take away container and a cup.

Upon arrival at the park, Miya Osamu couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. The park was strangely empty and also dark. There was only one place lit up, the lamp post above the blue bench. A quick scan showed that the customer was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps this was just a trick, it was already suspicious enough that they had called just before closing hours. He put his guard up at the mere sound of a rustle, ready to attack, except a cat came out. Maybe he was being a bit paranoid, the voice sounded like it belonged to some old creep. Yet, he was sure he could defend himself, years of volleyball practice couldn’t go to waste obviously.

Just then, he noticed a girl, jogging down the footpath, clad in a thick long jacket with fur at the top, cheeks a slight rosy red and puffing out smoke. She also wore a red plaid scarf, jeans/pants and some sneakers, holding onto her phone tightly so as to not drop it. Could that be the one who ordered? There was no way, he was sure her voice couldn’t sound like that.

“Thank you for the food also I’m sorry for the really late order, it’s just-”

She was abruptly cut off, “It’s fine. Enjoy your food,” he handed her the bag of food, in exchange for the various noted and coins the girl held in her hands.

“Okay, then enjoy your night sir!”

“You too.”

On his way back to his car, he counted the money closely. There sure was enough, even a tip of $20 and a sheet of folded paper. On the small slightly crumbled paper it read, ‘Hi Mr Delivery Man! Your food is absolutely delicious and I am so in love with it! I was wondering if you’d like to be friends, I mean, sure you obviously don’t want to befriend some random you’ve never met before, but if you’re interested, here’s my number! #### ### ### I promise you’ll be seeing me a lot more, so don’t worry.’

Quite frankly, Osamu was quite concerned with the last line. What on Earth did she mean by he would see her a lot more. After a bit of thinking, he had only concluded that she would be trying to become a worker at Onigiri Miya. Probably just a heads up.

He was clearly wrong, when the orders from the same girl, who he had come to learn as L/n Y/n kept coming in, same time, same order every single day. Over the short interactions they would have at the same blue bench, they had learnt to know each other quite well. So that’s when Osamu grew the courage to text her. Grabbing the sheet of very crumbled paper now, from his pockets, he typed the number into his phone.

‘Hello, is this L/n?”

Almost immediately, he was met with a response, featuring a wide variety of emojis, ‘Hi! I’m guessing you’re Mr Delivery Man! ☺💕💖’

‘I told you not to call me that. Just Osamu would be fine. Anyways, would you like to meet up at Woodland Carrot Amazing Park, tomorrow at 3? It’s a public holiday.’

‘Oh yeah, of course I’d like to meet up :) I heard from Atsumu that’s where you used to spend a lot of your time’

‘You know that piece of trash?’

‘Yeah, I heard about him through Kita. Actually, that’s how I heard about you too!!’

‘Right, that makes sense.’

‘So, I guess I’ll be seeing you at 3 am tomorrow. Good night!! 😊💕💗🥺🥺

‘I meant 3 pm you know.’

‘Of course I do! Who do you take me for, a fool?’

‘No. Okay then, goodnight to you too.’

#osamu x reader #osamu #miya osamu #osamu x y/n #osamu x you #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyū!!

18 notes · View notes

its-ya-boi-autumn · 4 years ago

Text

Oof! Another Illumi short because I haven’t written him in a while either... it’s a little difficult for me to write him sometimes but I’m still gonna try because he’s just great. Also this has been in my drafts for freaking months and I had no idea how to end it, so sorry for it being extra short.

You felt a little stupid for setting up your room just for a video call, but you didn’t want to look like a slob in front of Illumi. It wasn’t that you were necessarily dirty, you just had some extra clothes lying around and some food boxes on the ground and on your bed. You had been genuinely surprised when he had agreed to join in a video call with you in the first place. He just didn’t seem the type for such “silly things”.

It was rather late at night as well, almost around 11. You figured Illumi wouldn’t even be up at this time of night. He was rather fixed on his routines, and it was likely he’d forget you wanted to video chat him at all. Your mind fixated on things he could be doing while put books back into their shelves. He could be training, bathing, eating, most likely training. That was almost all he ever did, or at least, what his excuse for not seeing you was almost every time. Though Illumi wasn’t the type to lie, so it must be true...

Just after you had turned off the main lighting and plugged in the faerie lights you had put up earlier that day, a noise emitted from your laptop. You jumped at the sound of Skype blooping and beeping it’s little song through the small speakers of the device. Quickly, you grabbed it up and set it on the foot of your bed, answering the call.

Illumi’s pale face met yours through the other side of the screen. His dark hair was pinned up in a ponytail behind him while he glanced around his desk for something. He didn’t seem to notice you on the call.

“Uh... hello?” you giggled. Illumi stopped what he was doing and glanced at the screen.

“Oh. Hello y/n.” he greeted quietly, his voice low like usual. You adored the sound almost as much as you adored the face beyond you. You smiled in return. His room was clean, as you had expected it to be. It was then you realized he wouldn’t have even seen your room, so there was really no use in taking the time to clean it up for him. Either way, you felt more relaxed in the spotless space. Illumi picked something up off screen and threw it to his left.

“What are you doing?” you asked suddenly. You blushed at your own impulsivity. Illumi hummed.

“Nothing really, just cleaning up a little.” he spoke punctually. You figured then that this call might not last long, nor would it be very entertaining. Illumi didn’t talk much, and with how awkward you already were, there wasn’t much to say to him.

“So, was there a specific reason you wanted to call me?” he stopped everything he was doing and sat back in his desk chair. His hands were in his lap while he stared at you intently. You blushed a little deeper, your hand moving to rub the name of your neck.

“Uh... yeah but it’s nothing too important I guess...” you started, already feeling dumb. He’d probably end the call the second you told him, saying there was no need to stay with you if there wasn’t anything needed. Though, for the time being, he said nothing, waiting patiently for your response.

“I just wanted to talk to you in general. Not about anything specific, just to talk for a little.” you finished explaining. Your eyes averted from the screen to play with your fingernails, picking at them and pulling them off. “Oh, okay then. What do you want to talk about?” the reply was sudden again. Something you hadn’t expected him to say. You looked back up, your eyes meeting his.

“Oh! Uh- well...” you hadn’t thought about that. You should have thought about that... you knew he’d have nothing much to say, other than maybe something Hisoka was doing recently or something about training. You sighed, admitting defeat.

“Hmm... well there isn’t much going on here so, I guess I don’t have much either.” Illumi mumbled more to himself than to you. He peeked up at your screen.

“What’s been going on over at your place? I haven’t seen you in a while you know.” he asked, relaxing into his chair. You rested your head on your hand, thinking. What had you been doing in the last month?

“Um... well, not much really. I guess we got a new dog recently. Her name is Oreo. Wanna see?” you felt the excitement flood in. Oreo was a little Border Jack with black and white spots dotting around her short body. She was only 8 months old as well, turning 9 months within a few days.

“Sure.” Illumi obliged, setting his arms on the desk in front of him to watch you closer. You held up a finger and left the screen, opening your bedroom door to find Oreo. You heard snoring in the kitchen, noting that it must have been the little dog. You found her curled up against the wooden cabinets, snoring loudly.

“Hi baby~” you cooed at her. Oreo opened her brown eyes and started wagging her tail at you. Giggling, you scooped her up in your arms and shuffled back to your bedroom where your laptop still sit, humming quietly. You plopped your body down back onto your bed with an ‘oof’ while Oreo slammed down into your lap. You let you an exaggerated huff at the dogs weight.

“Jeez puppy I’m gonna have to stop feeding you so much huh?” you joked, ruffling her head. Oreo licked your hands in an affectionate manner. Illumi blinked at the image.

“She’s quite slobbery isn’t she?” he questioned, tilting his head at you. You laughed.

“Yeah sometimes, but most of the time she’s alright. She just barks a lot when the mailman goes by. Or when anyone comes by for that matter...” you explained, stroking the dogs back. The dog stared up at you with great brown eyes, its tongue lolling out stupidly as it continued to gaze upon you. Illumi stared as well, not knowing much of what to say. Instead, he threw his hair up into a bun and began searching through tabs on his laptop.

“Since there was nothing of importance here to speak of tonight, would you mind if I got offline? I do have a few things to look into before bed.” he stated plainly, scrolling through his email feeds. A part of you was saddened but knew he had a point. The two of you really didn’t have much to talk about, but seeing him was quite nice.

“Yeah, I’ll let you go then, it was nice talking to you though!”

“As with you.” he responded before ending the call without a goodbye.

#illumi #illumi zoldyck #hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh 2011 #My work #writing #fanfiction

49 notes · View notes

mcfreakin-bxtch · 4 years ago

Text

I Would

The Mandalorian x PlusSize!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, Dry Humping, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Language, Fluff, Soft Couple

Word Count: 2.3k+

A/N: Thank you to @whiskeyslasso for requesting and being very, very patient with me ❤️ if anyone else would like to request or just talk/ask, my inbox and anons are open (multifandom!)

This could also be read as Part Two to Beautiful, as they are essentially the same characters/mindset

“We’ll be okay.”

“You say that all the time.”

“Yeah, and here we are. Still.”

The Mandalorian sighs. “Okay,” he relents. “But if anything happens, anything at all, you—”

“Radio to you and have my blaster on me at all times.” You smile. “I got this, Din. But we do this every time, this isn’t my first time being left alone without a certain Mandalorian hovering over me.”

You walk to him and wrap your arm around his neck and let the other trail up his chestplate and to his shoulder; his arm wraps around your waist, resting at the base of your spine. You don’t want to hurt his feelings, but he can be overbearing at times, especially when you have the Child with you.

He sighs again, quieter this time, but nods and gives you a playful slap to your ass, making you giggle and smile up at him.

“I want this ass when I get back. Understand?”

Your heart skips a beat and you pout your lips. “Promise?”

He growls, making you giggle again and give a light kiss to the beskar. Before Din can reciprocate—in whichever way he feels like—you feel a tug at your pants leg. The both of you look down at the little goblin, staring back up at you with beaty round eyes and a grimace.

“I think he’s a little jealous.” You muse teasingly.

Din grunts in agreement. “Of course the womp rat is.”

You chuckle and bend down with a small groan—you really need to see about finding some comfortable padding for those cots—and pick the Child up and sit him by your side.

“Say ‘bye’.” You coo, waving his hand at Din playfully.

The Child babbles unintelligibly, but Din nods as if he understands him. “I won’t be long. Stay safe, cyar’ika.”

You nod and blow a kiss. “Be careful.”

“Always am.”

And it’s always hard watching him leave.

–

By the time Din gets back, you’re sitting on the floor with the baby surrounded by various items and toys you bought from a market not too long ago. The Child attempts to sit up, but stumbles in his footing; your hands hover by him, waiting to catch him. He turns to you and gurgles, one green, grubby hand pointed towards you and the other towards the hull, where you can hear Din moving around.

“You’re so cute!” You exclaim in a mimic of a mother’s adoration. “Just the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen! My little guy!” The Child laughs.

Din freezes just as he steps over the last step, but before you can ask what’s wrong he stalks towards the mess and glances down. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” You smile. “Nothing new.”

He picks the Child up, giving his head a soft caress. It never fails to make your heart glow with a fierce fondness you’ve never felt before. “Did he eat?”

You hum in affirmation as you start to clean up the messy area. When you look back up, Din is already gone with the baby and you’re left alone, sighing and throwing the various items into their respectful boxes.

“Well,” you puff with your hands on your hips. “That’s do—”

Everything goes dark. Pitch black. You can barely see in front of you, even with the small patch of light drifting through the Crest’s glass.

“Din?” You call out.

Your body starts to tremble. The fear that someone or something has actually gotten on to the ship somehow floods through you like a freezing tidal wave, and you’re about to reach blindly for your weapon when a pair of bare, soft hands stop you.

“Stars!” You gasp, resting your hand over your racing heart. “You can’t scare me like that, Din.”

Nothing but your breathing. Then, “I don’t like it when you say that.” That’s a little to the right.

Your face scrunches in confusion and you tiptoe until you feel you’re directly in front of where his lovely, baritone voice came from. “Say what?”

“What you said to the kid. It makes me feel... good, and secure when I leave knowing he’s safe but... puts ideas in my head.”

You raise your head. “Well, I would do anything for that bugger so you don’t gotta worry about him.” Your eyebrows wiggle playfully, just for your amusement. “And that’s not such a bad thing.”

“I know.” He says quietly.

“C’mere.” You bring him into your arms.

The two of you stay in the hug for a few moments, just revealing in the warmth and the close proximity of each other. It’s—it’s amazing, holding him in your arms like this. With his job, with your lifestyle, it’s hard to find moments of peace like this; to be able to actually sit for a minute and isolate from the outside world, even if just for a second. Sometimes, there needs to be a reminder; you know that Din needs this more than you do.

“C’mon,” you gently pull away from only far enough to grab his hand and start to lead him—one arm stretched in front of you—blindly to your shared bunk. “You made a promise.”

It takes a few bumps and some inaudible curses, but when you finally feel that empty space and the scratchy fabric of the blanket under your fingertips you sigh in relief. It’s short lived with a welcoming tap of encouragement by the Mandalorian behind you and you immediately take the hint and crawl onto the springy, hard cot. You wait and shiver in anticipation as you lay on your back, legs already spread and pussy wet and wanting.

Din practically collapses on top of you with a small groan mixed with your oof as the weight of him settles on top of you.

“You’re heavy, old man.” You giggle nonetheless.

An offended noise erupts from his chest, his breath heavy on your cheek as he hovers over you. “Old man, huh? I don’t see you complaining about that when I’m balls deep inside you.”

The crudeness has you shuddering and your legs tightening around his hips. “Eh, you’re not that bad.”

His fingers ghosts over your ribs and before you can fully realize what he’s up to, it’s too late.

“DIN!”

He continues his attack on you, tickling your sides as you writhe and wither beneath him in heavy fits of laughter. His own, though softer than yours, joins yours and this—these moments are nothing but treasure to you; better than any quarry, any job, any credit, and you find in this precious time how much you truly appreciate and love him.

“A-alRIGHT alright stop I yield I yield!”

Din finally, finally stops and lets you pant as your body settles from it’s electric shock. His hands travel down the slope of your body, stopping at the soft fat of your thighs and gripping, pulling you impossibly closer; your hips clash, his half-hard erection grinding against your clothed pussy, making you moan quietly at the delicious friction.

His unruly curls brush against your forehead as he leans down to give you a kiss. You moan into it, opening your mouth and accepting his tongue with an less than equal match, but you’re more than happy to lose to this battle. Your hips move against his, picking up a steady rhythm as you feel him become harder. When his lips disconnect from yours, you whine and tug at his hair to bring him back; he growls and meets your desperate kiss with a bite to your lip.

“Take off your shirt.” He orders you.

You don’t hesitate to tear the flimsy fabric up and over your head and behind him. Your nipples perk under the cold draft that seems to always come naturally with the ship and a light tap to your hip indicates that you need to lift them. Once you’re out of your pants, you hear him start to work on his, all the while one of his hands cups your now bare cunt; he whistles softly at the pool of juices gaping from your entrance.

“Maker.” He whispers, almost in awe you think. “Already so fucking wet and I’ve barely touched you.”

His thumb circles around your clit, causing your hips to lightly buckle into his touch. “Just for you, daddy.”

Din groans and dips a finger into your pussy as reward. You moan at the slight stretch, his thumb unwavering in its tease.

“I don’t think I can wait, not this time mesh’la.” He gasps and you hear a slickness that’s both coming from your pussy and him as he thrusts his cock into his hand; at least, that’s what you’re assuming, given that you still can’t really see.

“I-it’s okay.” You whisper wantonly. “I’m ready. I just need you.”

You blink and next thing you know, you’re flipped onto your hands and knees, his hand pressing down on your neck. You take the hint and lay your head down on your pillow, clutching at whatever you can find to anchor you, thrusting your ass against his hips; the tip of his slippery head slides against your cheeks, earning you a hearty moan from the man above.

“Your ass is perfect cyar'ika.” He praises with a slap. You whimper and wiggle your legs, spreading them even further apart. “A needy little one, aren’t you?” Another slap, this time harder than the first.

“Y-yes daddy.” You whine.

“‘Course you are.” He seems to mumble to himself.

Before you can say something, anything at all, you hear a lewd squelch—that doesn’t come from your pussy this time—and his hand slides up your slick folds, an extra warmth and wetness coating your cunt and mixing with your juices. Your knuckles are probably pale white by now with how hard you’re clutching the blanket and you’re about to scream at him to do something to you before you implode by your own horniness; it’s been a while for you, too.

Without any warning, he thrusts into you with one, smooth motion. You cry out as he sinks into you until he can bottom out, holding himself deep within you as he attempts to calm down as you adjust.

“Move daddy.” You beg. “Please.”

Din moans, shuddering and already panting when he slowly pulls out until the tip is in and thrusts back inside with a hard snap of his hips that sends your body forwards; his heavy grip on your hips holds you steady. You mewl as he does it again, each thrust harder and harder until the slaps of skin against skin echoes throughout the cockpit. Your pussy envelopes him, welcomes him back into your slick and tight canal until he’s a moaning mess.

“Ma—oh Din.” He stops, taking a breath and shifting his hips. That gets him to hit that spot inside you. “Shit ri—Din that’s so good, keep going.”

“Yeah?” He grunts and scoots closer to you so that his thighs are pressed tightly against the back of yours. “Gonna cum, little girl? G-gonna—kriff.”

The coil in your lower stomach is already burning you. His thick, long and beautiful cock stretching you, hitting every spot inside you that either gets you closer to your impending orgasm or hits your cervix rather painfully, but it’s a welcome pain that the pleasure he’s giving you easily soothes.

“Y-you-r pussy is so fucking tight.” It sounds like he’s talking through gritted teeth. “So w-warm and tight. Clenching around me—”

You moan loudly and reach an arm behind you to grab on to his thigh, digging your nails into the hot skin as he stutters in his thrusts; you can feel him pulsing and twitching inside you, every vein and wrinkle scratching against your walls. You clench down on him as it starts to feel impossible to breathe, incomprehensible and nonsense babble escaping your lips like a dam broken and your legs shaking under the weight of your release. Your clit throbs without any attention, and you have to beg him,

“Please please daddy, touch me.”

“I—shit I am, princess.”

“No,” you whine, tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggle to find the words you’re looking for. It doesn’t help the intense and welcoming pressure building deep in your core, travelling through your pussy. “My—my clit, Din. Touch me, use me daddy.”

He stops deep inside you and leans over and down so that you feel his hair on your face again before he kisses you. They’re short, sloppy pecks, but satisfying. He pulls away and fits his hand underneath you, cupping your pussy—to the point where he can feel his slick dick push into you on the tips of his fingers—and circles your aching bundle of nerves with a rough thumb.

“I’m—” Your throat is closing up and your tummy coils with the boiling need that’s overwhelming in its nature and fuckfuckfuck everything is going white—

“That’s it. That’s it little girl, cum all over me.” He rasps.

You do. The pressure is blazing and your cunt holds no restraints against his weeping cock, desperate to find his own release. It feels too good, impossibly and otherworldly good, and your lower body follows the rest of yours as you finally fall. Din still thrusts inside you, faster and practically putting all his weight on your lower back as he holds you down.

“Shit—princess I’m cumming.” He growls, harshly and deafeningly.

“Yes. Yes.” You encourage with breathless whines. You do your best to move with him, and after a few more thrusts he abruptly pulls out and spills all over your ass, painting the pudgy red flesh with pearls as he whimpers and groans; the soft splats of his hand around his cock and his cum spilling onto you makes you twitch and your cunt clench painfully and tearfully around nothing.

Din falls down next to you, panting along with you. You stay on your stomach, too tired and fucked out to move, feeling his cum dribble down your ass cheeks; some even drips down to your wet, abused pussy.

He says your name. It’s quiet and calm, and your eyes droop as you mumble, “Yeah?”

“Think you have another in you?”

You grin. “Always, daddy.”

Tags: @scarlett-berserker, @justlovetoreadfics, @lil-baby27, @mando-vibes, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch, @im-the-music-whore, @certifiedhunter, @softpedropascal, @domino-oh-damn, @okaydacre, @lemongrove, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd, @elusive-ivory, @dizzydazed, @bluejeancntrygrl, @dadzawas-eyebags, @moonstruck-witchy @our-mrlangdon, @parody-the-emi, @evalynanne, @purplewaterbird, @vikingqueen28, @tedpicklez, @blunt-cake-yes, @agoldin, @lustriix, @readsalot73, @kateb013, @eupphoriaaa, @imalovernotahater, @everything-lost-and-unsaid, @dlmafa1, @hoodedbirdie, @drunkenliterary, @fioccodineveautunnale, @fangirlfree, @mrsparknuts, @amarvelousmandalorian, @ironheart-hanako, @bunniotomia, @thisisthe-way, @sando-rann, @meganoid1997, @adikaofmandalore, @cahooter, @charliepeaceout, @dreamgirl-67, @phoenixhalliwell, @acrylics-and-sunshine, @sunkissed-winter, @oloreaa, @equalstrashflavoredtrash, @dyn-djarin

#i love you all #STAY SAFE AND BE CAREFUL #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x plussize reader #the mandalorian x plus!size reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #star wars #fanfic #beautiful

209 notes · View notes