#so that people fixate on it and start searching desperately for this 'treasure' at its heart

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (16) || atz

The three of you are walking along in town.

Unsurprisingly, after the crazy celebration the night before, majority of the crew had woken up with massive hangovers, most retching over the side of the ship or trying to nurse pounding headaches. To be honest, the only ones who weren’t drunk were you, Seonghwa and Mingi.

Technically, Yeosang hadn’t been drunk either, but he had left for town earlier in the morning to go search for Wooyoung, who still hadn’t returned to the ship. When you had started to worry, Yeosang had simply reassured you that this was normal Wooyoung behavior, and he’d have their head gunner back on board before the ship set sail.

The biggest problem was, however, the fact that the ship’s resident healer was also suffering from a hangover.

“You’re such a lightweight, master.” You had chided him this morning as he groaned in his bed, half buried in a mountain of stuffed plushies. “Everybody needs you to cure their hangovers, you know?”

“You can do it, apprentice.” San mumbled weakly from beneath a pig stuffed toy. “You have a good master.”

“Red ginseng, lemon and ginger tea and prickly pear cactus.” You recalled diligently from your studies, glancing at the lump that was your master. “Am I right?”

The only answer you got was a snore in response.

So, that explains why you, Seonghwa and Mingi are together, walking along the town’s marketplace, searching for a hangover cure for your poor crew mates. Seonghwa had offered his services to help you carry the groceries back, while Mingi simply didn’t want to get in the way of his crewmates’ projectile vomiting.

You don’t blame him. The stench was absolutely awful.

“So, what are you looking for?” Seonghwa asks as you make your way through the crowd. There’s a soft buzz in the air, a little subdued, but you chalk it up to being early in the morning and that nobody is quite awake yet.

“Opuntia, or prickly pear cactus.” You tell him as you weave through the throng of people selling their wares at every corner of the long street. “Its fruit helps to ease hangovers, so that’s what I’m looking for.”

“Anything else?” Mingi asks, checking through his coin pouch. As the quartermaster and also the treasurer, all funds go through him before being spent.

“Lemon, honey and ginger.” Bending over to check out some of the fruits, you study a lemon carefully for any defects and put them in your basket. “I’m also looking for red ginseng to reduce hangover severity, but it’s an eastern root herb, so it may be a little difficult to find here.”

“We are in the Caribbean, after all.” Seonghwa remarks, using his superior height to his advantage as his eyes scan the multitude of stalls selling every sort of exotic plant, fruit, and even animal. “I do recall seeing a shop selling eastern herbs the last time I was here, though.”

“Ah, Master did tell me to make sure we stock up on eastern herbs if I found any!” You chatter excitedly, turning to Seonghwa. “Did you see any worm grass (cordyceps) or fish bladders (fish maw)?”

Seonghwa nods, a smile blossoming on his face. “Yes! I can’t believe I even found some dried black mountain ants there!”

Mingi stares at the two of you with a weirded out look on his face. “I’m not even going to ask any questions. None at all.”

“There, I see it!” Seonghwa points over the heads of the crowd at a stall tucked all the way at the end of the street, his grin widening. “We did it, Chin Hae!”

The two of you exchange high fives and dash for the stall faster than Mingi can blink. He simply sighs, following the pair of you at a more sedately pace, shaking his head dryly. “Are all cooks like this…?”

When he finally does catch up with the two of you, you’re gushing over the different herbs and spices with Seonghwa, picking up a piece of black root that looks suspiciously like a thin, black stick. You hold it to Mingi’s nose.

“Hey, Mingi-hyung, look what I found!” Mingi frowns as he stares down his nose at it, going a little crossed eyed. It’s black, thin and looks rather boring. Mingi doesn’t understand why you’re so excited over it at all.

“A stick?” He answers, a little befuddled to what it could be to get you so excited about it. Seonghwa clucks his tongue disapprovingly, reaching to take the stick from you and waving it in front of Mingi’s face.

“No, Mingi.” The cook shakes his head dramatically, brandishing the stick as if it is the cure to all the world’s troubles. “This wonderful, powerful herb is the cordycep!”

Silence.

“It looks like a stick to me.” Mingi grumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets. Honestly, he’s never been one for herbs and medicines like San is, but that’s why they have San and Seonghwa and now you, right?

“Yes, but you don’t get it!” You cry in horror, waving the black stick at him. “The cordycep is a worm-”

The quartermaster freezes, his eyes widening as he takes in the black thing so close to his face.

Then he screams like a ten year old girl and dives behind a stack of barrels, as if you’ve just pulled a musket at him.

“Uhh, Seonghwa-hyung?” You turn to the cook, who’s simply shaking his head in amusement.

“He’s afraid of insects and the like.” Seonghwa nods at the too tall shape that is Mingi crouching behind a cask of alcohol, his eyes peering over at the worm in your hand like a cat staring down a bath of water.

You can’t help but laugh at the sight as you turn to the shopkeeper and order a tael of cordyceps, red ginseng and ginger. Honestly, you would have never thought that the silent, strong quartermaster was afraid of insects.

The shopkeeper smiles at you. “Know your herbs, do you, dear?” She packages the dried herbs into paper and ties each up with a red string, before passing them to you. Each package is worth its weight in silver or more. “A gold coin and three silvers.”

Mingi carefully counts out the money before diving back into the relative safety of his barrel fort.

“Honestly, Mingi-hyung.” You say, going over to him. He doesn’t look at you, eyes fixated on the paper package that he knows has the cordyceps inside of it. “These are dead worms. The cordyceps are actually just fungi that grow on the worms.”

“Dead, alive, stuffed with mushrooms, worth a thousand golds, I don’t care.” Mingi hisses, eyes still trained on the bag like he’s ready to fight them. “I hate insects.”

You and Seonghwa burst out laughing at his hostile tone.

“Alright, alright.” Seonghwa steps towards the quartermaster. “Let’s get back to the ship and brew up a nice lemon honey ginger tea for the rest, shall we-”

Suddenly, a small boy shoves into you, knocking you to the side abruptly before dashing off. To your horror, you feel the package of herbs being torn from your fingers, the force leaving rope marks on your skin as you stumble to the ground, hands barely saving you from a nasty fall.

“Hey!” Mingi shouts, but the boy is already fleeing. He glances at Seonghwa. “Hyung, you and Chin Hae take the other way from the square, I’ll cut him off.” Then he pauses for a moment, staring at the cook, his gaze softening in worry. “Will you be alright, hyung?”

That seems like a strange question to ask, but Seonghwa must understand what he’s talking about because he nods, already pulling you in the opposite direction towards the town square. “Don’t worry about me!”

The two of you dash through the street, where people are filing out of their houses. It’s rather easy to move, considering that everyone is moving towards the town square, the same direction the two of you are. You simply move with the flow, following the crowd to the main square.

“There must be quite some commotion happening.” Your crewmate huffs for breath as the two of you tear along the town, bumping into several other people and apologising furiously. You’re sure one of them even curses you rather creatively in his native tongue.

“There are a lot of people today.” You pant, glancing around you as the pair of you finally emerge in the square. There weren’t this many people the last time you and Jongho had come to town, so you’re a little puzzled. “Why-”

Suddenly, the ringing of the town bells fills the air.

You’re instantly jerked back by the hand on your wrist and you nearly stumble to the ground. You turn back to stare at him urgently. “Seonghwa-hyung, we need to hurry!”

But Seonghwa merely stands still, face bloodless, lips moving without sound. You’ve never seen him like this, so afraid, so petrified with fear.

He looks so emotionally raw, bloody, haunted by the ghosts of his past.

You turn to look at Seonghwa in worry. Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. “Hyung? We should be going.” But he doesn’t seem to hear you. His eyes are wide and unfocused, dark pupils dilated with fear, his breathing erratic and irregular. You tug at his hand once more, only to jerk back in shock, it’s slick with cold sweat. Your blood turns to ice inside you as you take Seonghwa’s face, cradling his cheeks with your hands. Your voice is gentle, afraid of pushing him over the edge into whatever abyss he’s dangling over.

You’re terrified.

“Hyung

? What’s wrong?”

His breath comes out in shallow pants, chest heaving. He doesn’t look at you. His eyes are fixed on something behind you, and you turn to see what could have possibly caused him to react in such a manner.

“-and I hereby declare the sentence will be carried out now.”

There’s the sound of a lever being turned, the squeak as the trap doors swing open.

And the noose jerks taut.

A soft whimper leaves Seonghwa’s mouth, and suddenly he squats on the ground like a small child, hands over his ears, shaking his head desperately as he whispers the same words again and again under his breath.

“Hyung!” You cry out in horror and panic, kneeling next to him to wrap your arms around him. What do you do? What’s happening to Seonghwa-hyung? He barely seems to be aware of your presence anymore.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers between soft, quiet sobs, raw and hoarse, from somewhere deep in his chest. You’re completely confused to why he’s apologising to you for a moment, until he begins to mumble names you’ve never heard under your breath. “I’m so sorry, mother, father, Hyunjung, Ha Rin.”

The last word is a wail, a cry of utter torment, so desperate that it yanks at your heartstrings, demanding you to do something, anything! But you don’t know what to do besides embracing him, watching him rock back and forth on his haunches like a deranged man.

There are tears winding down his face and you raise your hands to wipe them away as fast as you can. The sleeve of your shirt soaks with warm wetness, and suddenly, that same, tight agony wells up in you as well.

A single tear spills down your cheek.

“Seonghwa-hyung-” You manage to croak, your throat thick from unshed tears, but the older man merely stands as if in a daze, hands still over his ears as if that can stop him from hearing the sounds of the man at the noose slowly fading from this world.

Then he runs, tearing away from you without looking back.

[gadgetgirl71]

Amazon First Reads for April 2020

Here we are again, it’s time to choose one of eight books that Amazon First Reads lets Amazon Prime Members download for free. At the moment I seem to be downloading more free books than ever. I wonder if it’s my mind trying to get off what is happening around the world, lets just hope that I start to read more quickly.

This months book choices are:

Psychological Suspense

What we Forget to Bury by Martin Montgomery, Pages: 439, Publication Date: 1 May 2020

synopsis: Truth and deceit blur as one woman’s desperation twists into another’s desire for revenge in this mind-bending psychological novel.

Charlotte Coburn has a tragically dark past. But she’s safe now. She lives in a gated community, protected from danger. When teenager Elle knocks at her door looking for shelter during a particularly severe storm, the woman can’t help but think how lucky Elle’s been to have found someone as friendly as her. Except Elle chose her door on purpose…

She knows all about Charlotte’s secrets because they ruined her family and her life. And it is time that everyone else knew. But Charlotte’s past has left a dark void in her life, so she is concocting her own vicious plan, convinced that Elle can help fill that void.

As events unfold, the truth unravels and pulls both women into a dangerous game that will leave you wondering, Who’s the villain?

Contemporary Fiction

Little White Secrets by Carol Mason, Pages 33, Publication Date: 1 May 2020

Synopsis: A daughter pushing the limits. A marriage ready to crack. A secret that can break them.

For Emily Rossi, life may not be perfect, but it’s pretty close. She has a great career, a house in the country, a solid marriage to Eric and two wonderful children—tennis superstar Daniel and quiet, sensitive Zara. But when her fourteen-year-old daughter brings home a toxic new best friend, Emily’s seemingly perfect family starts to spiral out of control.

Suddenly Zara is staying out late, taking drugs and keeping bad company. And just when Emily needs Eric to be an involved father, he seems too wrapped up with his job in London to care. What’s more, he’s started drinking again.

When a dark secret from the past emerges, Emily’s life is turned upside down. Struggling to protect the people she loves, can she save her damaged family? Doing so may mean keeping a secret of her own…

Thriller

The Girl Beneath the Sea by Andrew Mayner, Pages: 328, Publication Date: 1 May 2020

Synopsis: For a Florida police diver, danger rises to the surface in an adventurous thriller by the Wall Street Journal bestselling author of The Naturalist.

Coming from scandalous Florida treasure hunters and drug smugglers, Sloan McPherson is forging her own path, for herself and for her daughter, out from under her family’s shadow. An auxiliary officer for Lauderdale Shores PD, she’s the go-to diver for evidence recovery. Then Sloan finds a fresh kill floating in a canal—a woman whose murky history collides with Sloan’s. Their troubling ties are making Sloan less a potential witness than a suspect. And her colleagues aren’t the only ones following every move she makes. So is the killer.

Stalked by an assassin, pitted against a ruthless cartel searching for a lost fortune, and under watch within her ranks, Sloan has only one ally: the legendary DEA agent who put Sloan’s uncle behind bars. He knows just how deep corruption runs—and the kind of danger Sloan is in. To stay alive, Sloan must stay one step ahead of her enemies—both known and unknown—and a growing conspiracy designed to pull her under.

Science Fiction

A Girl from Nowhere by James Maxwell, Pages: 442, Publication Date: 1 May 2020

Synopsis: Surrounded by fire, a girl with mysterious powers and a young warrior search for safety.

Life in the wasteland is a constant struggle. No one knows it better than Taimin. Crippled, and with only his indomitable aunt to protect him, Taimin must learn to survive in a world scorched by two suns and frequented by raiders.

But when Taimin discovers his homestead ransacked and his aunt killed, he sets off with one mission: to seek revenge against those who stole everything. With nowhere to call home, his hunt soon takes a turn when he meets a mystic, Selena, who convinces him to join her search for the fabled white city. Taimin and Selena both need refuge, and the white city is a place where Taimin may find someone to heal his childhood injury.

As they avoid relentless danger, Taimin and Selena attempt to reach the one place that promises salvation. And they can only hope that the city is the haven they need it to be…

Romance

Love on Beach Avenue by Jennifer Probst, Pages: 310, Publication Date: 1 May 2020

Synopsis: True love is in the details for the Jersey shore’s premier wedding planner in this heart-swooning series about big dreams and happy endings from New York Times bestselling author Jennifer Probst.

Avery Sunshine might not have a soul mate of her own, but she still believes in happily ever after—for her clients. Making dreams come true is her business at Sunshine Bridal, which she runs with her two sisters. When her best friend announces her engagement, Avery is thrilled to take charge of the giddy bride-to-be’s big day. Less thrilling? Her best friend’s arrogant and demanding brother, who just so happens to be the man of honour.

Carter Ross’s first instinct: call 911. He promised to always take care of his impulsive little sister, and he honors that vow. Even if it means taking over her wedding, where he is sure Avery will fail. At best, Avery is unpredictable. At worst, if she’s anything like the spitfire of a college girl he remembers, the main event could run wild.

With Avery and Carter wrestling for control, tempers heat up. So does the spark of attraction they’re fighting with every kiss. As the wedding draws near, it’s time to reconcile a rocky past and make a decision that could change everyone’s lives. Because what they’re rebelling against looks a lot like love.

Contemporary Fiction

Stories We Never Told by Sonja Yoerg, Pages: 328, Publication Date: 1 May 2020

Synopsis: From the Amazon Charts and Washington Post bestselling author of True Places comes a suspenseful novel of love, secrets, and obsession.

Psychology professor Jackie Strelitz thinks she’s over Harlan Crispin, her ex-lover and colleague. Why should she care if Harlan springs a new “friend” on her? After all, Jackie has everything she ever wanted: a loving husband and a thriving career. Still, she can’t help but be curious about Harlan’s latest.

Nasira Amari is graceful, smart, and appallingly young. Worse, she’s the newest member of Jackie’s research team. For five years, Harlan enforced rules limiting his relationship with Jackie. With Nasira, he’s breaking every single one. Why her?

Fixated by the couple, Jackie’s curiosity becomes obsession. But she soon learns that nothing is quite what it seems and that to her surprise—and peril—she may not be the only one who can’t let go.

Literary Fiction

Meadowlark by Melanie Abrams, Pages: 238, Publication Date: 1 May 2020

Synopsis: A haunting novel about the lasting effects of childhood trauma and the resulting choices we make for our children.

After growing up in an austere spiritual compound, two teenagers, Simrin and Arjun, escape and go their separate ways. Years later, Simrin receives an email from Arjun. As they reconnect, Simrin learns that he has become the charismatic leader of Meadowlark, a commune in the Nevada desert that allows children to discover their “gifts.”

In spite of their fractured relationship, Simrin, a photojournalist, agrees to visit Meadowlark to document its story. She arrives at the commune with her five-year-old daughter in tow and soon realizes there is something disturbing about Arjun’s beliefs concerning children and their unusual abilities. When she discovers that the commune is in the midst of a criminal investigation, her unease grows deeper still.

As tensions with police heighten, Arjun’s wife begins to make plans of her own, fearing the exposure the investigation might bring for her and her children. Both mothers find themselves caught in a desperate situation, and as the conflict escalates, everyone involved must make painful—and potentially tragic—choices that could change their worlds forever.

Gripping and beautifully crafted, Meadowlark explores the power and danger of being extraordinary and what it means to see and be seen.

Children’s Picture Book

Bear & Fred (A World War II Story) by Iris Argaman, Pages: 47, Publication Date: 1 May 2020

Synopsis: Based on true events and beautifully illustrated, this is the story of a friendship that will last forever—told by Fred’s best friend, his beloved teddy bear.

During World War II, Fred must leave his home and live in hiding, apart from the rest of his family, but he always keeps Bear by his side. Bear knows it’s his job to take care of Fred and make sure he doesn’t feel alone.

After the war, Fred and his family are reunited and leave Holland for the United States. And still Bear is with him. When Fred grows up, he and Bear part for the first time when Bear is sent to Yad Vashem—the World Holocaust Remembrance Center in Israel, where this book was first published—to show the power of hope, friendship, and love.

I felt Fred’s small hand grab me. He patted me and whispered, “Bear, I won’t leave you here all by yourself. You are my best friend.”

*** Which book will you choose? I decided to go for Love on Beach Avenue. ***

[taeverie]

Show Off [m]

“Say, where do you get all your money from?” you inquire.

Hoseok stops himself for a second, reluctant to reply. “I-I have another job…”

“What kind of job?”

“Something interesting—different. Don’t worry about it.”

Synopsis: You always wondered how your roommate made a ton of money out of the blue; you never expected that it was because he’s a prominent camboy.

[cr.]

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader // camboy!hoseok + room mate!au

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 7005

Includes: masturbation, dirty talk, orgasm denial, sub hoseok

A/N: julia and i roamed on one of sam’s blogs and ran into a certain vid… then this spiraled out *intense sweating intensifies*

It is around four in the afternoon, another lazy Sunday evening chasing its way in the confinements of your apartment. Your roommate has been out since early morning doing god-knows-whatever, wasting his day out in the city with friends or new girls. It is a typical Sunday for him to be out the entire day, only to come back to the apartment with a substantial amount of bags with immense goods inside.

It isn’t really a problem; you have moments of silence and tranquility in the apartment while he is away. The only thing is, you are left alone and bored out of your mind until he returns to pester you.

Speaking of your roommate, he just so happens to stride past the front door with, yet another, handful of shopping bags. You raise yourself from your seat to peer at him over the backing, a stern frown sketching on your face. It is exactly the same routine, he returns with many items from outlets, malls — you name it. You always wondered how he can afford so much merchandise from two jobs, one of them working at the local bakery down the street, the other he intends to keep a secret to the grave.

After he shuts the door he swiftly turns, body freezing when he meets your demeaning gaze. “What?” he asks, corners of his lips quirking upwards.

“Back again,” you begin, nonchalant, “with more bags? How come you always go shopping on Sunday?”

He shrugs and begins to pace to the living room, heavy bags dragging his arms down. “I just enjoy going out. I really don’t mean to buy a lot—it just happens.”

“How are you not broke?” you question, sourness lacing your tone. “You spend so much money every week! And somehow we can still afford to pay off rent for this apartment… and eat out!”

A faulty grin paints on Hoseok’s face, cold sweat dripping down his forehead as well, clearly guilty. “I-well, my job does pay well.”

“I didn’t think that working at a vegan bakery can pay you enough to buy luxury items. Oh my god, do you have a… sugar mo—”

“—no!” Hoseok exclaims, bags dropping to the ground out of raw shock. “I don’t!”

You press a hand to your forehead, disbelief in your tone when you retaliate, “Then where the hell do you get all your money from?”

“I told you already,” he rolls his eyes, “I have another job. Why do you keep bothering me about this? You always spill questions when you’re stressed, are you stressed?”

“I’m not stressed!” you argue, “Answer my question!”

“I told you, I have another job.”

“But you never elaborate on what—”

Hoseok quickly gathers his new belongings and heads for his room, shutting the door to block out any more of your nosy inquiries. “God,” you mumble under your breath and toss yourself back onto the cushions of the couch. “Whatever.”

You are entirely unaware of Hoseok’s secretive action to have him underneath raining money, and even with the three long years of friendship and one year of rooming together, he refuses to let you know.

How bad can his job be anyway?

/

Later on in the evening you lock yourself in the dim of your bedroom, eyes still locking on your screen as you browse the internet to find something fulfilling to watch, or another interesting article to read. But all you find is bland headlines and monotonous mini-shows; that is, until you come across a website that holds a handful of free treasures.

From dramas to eye-catching movies, comedy and sappy romances, everything is within one website.

Everything.

And you notice that when your cursor hovers over the label called “surprise me,” only to find the pornography tab beckoning your desires. You take a moment to think, when was the last time you watched some decent quality porn? Quite a long time ago, that is.

So you click on the tab and roam the page. Some videos have a price range to watch, invitations for subscriptions so you can never miss another video or stream from your favorite cam-person. You are trying to search for more free treasures on the page, but majority of the videos require a fee to watch.

“Jeez,” you whisper to yourself, “These people must be bathing in their own riches, what the fuck? Sixty dollars for a seven minute video, how lame—”

Then, you see it. A familiar face on the thumbnail of one of the few free treasures within the website; and it is none other than your roommate, Jung Hoseok. His signature cocky grin sketches on his face, the still image alone making it look like he is indulging. You contemplate whether or not if it is a smart idea to click on the video; you know, just to really make sure it is him. Just to confirm that this isn’t his “second job.” You swallow your breath, eyes peering over the bright screen of your laptop to your shut door before you dim the lights of the device and dive into the titillating video.

You press your earbuds harder into your ear and quickly follow the action by pressing the play button, regret immediately chasing after your inner desires. The introduction of the film starts slower than you thought: his palm lightly brushing on his toned body to fuel his flame of fervor, the other hooking its fingers at the waistband of his briefs, bulge limpid with a wet spot from his sticky precum. His identity is still temporarily hidden by his face being out of the frame; the only view you have to feast on is his thighs to his chest. Though despite the steady start, the show truly begins its inclination when he brings down his tight boxers to reveal his aching long length. His member is hard to the point of foment pain, yet still holds the capability to rouse every fraction of his being from light touches. The tip is a pink coral hue, twinging with torment that swirls together with passionate carnality, both begging for relief.

The man delicately wraps his hand around his sensitive member, exchanging the air with his lungs before he proceeds to graciously pleasure himself. He is leaning on one side, a single arm holding his body up steady on the bed, face still not in the frame.

Right, you think, there is no way it can be him.

He starts to pump himself carefully, almost as if the wrong movement or pace can set him up for a crashing disaster. You divert your attention away from his great length to take a moment to admire the golden of his skin tone and how defined his body is — especially under the shit quality of the video. You would like to imagine being inside the film with him, palms running up and down the man’s illustrious chest before you sneak them into his briefs. It looks absolutely delectable and all you want to do is… touch.

The man lets out a breathy groan that is enough to swim in your ears, desperation limpid in his lewd noise. The intoxication from watching the beginning action of the video is instant, your eyes unable to glance away from the screen for a second just in case you miss a delectable moment. His hand moves up and down his shaft easily, thumb periodically running over his slit to spread the translucent wetness around his delicate head. His hand is beginning to gain its own coat from his minimal dew, the luster clear in the video enough to make you gulp.

His wrist begins to jerk faster, hand smoothly sliding on his hard member as groans pour from the petals of his lips. As your attention is high, every fiber of your being enraptured by the lascivious sight, the man grows tired, uncomfortable from his position. He shifts his body a little, just enough to still keep his face out of the frame; then you start to think, maybe it isn’t your roommate you saw on the thumbnail after all — his face never crossed the video once.

 Well, so you thought. Your previous foregoing suspicions come back to you quickly because the second you thought otherwise with retracting your impure thoughts, the camboy reveals his selfhood as he fixates his body upright against the wall.

And it is none other than your roommate, Jung Hoseok.

His legs are spread wide while he continues to mercilessly fuck his hand for relief. His jaw hangs open to have heavy breaths escape, eyes elegantly closed as he dives into the self pleasure. You stop and wonder what it is he is visualizing: who is he imagining to have him fall into such a weak state, the position he is fucking in, or if he is the one getting fucked? Shit, another crude scene crosses your elated mind of Hoseok begging for you, desperate to touch him and cum.

Hoseok looks incredibly lost in the pleasure he is earnestly prompting himself to commit. His moans that pour from his mouth become louder, mumbles blossoming into impure words. “Fuck,” he mumbles, “fuck yes.”

Hoseok uses the last of his strength that he can draw out to clasp harder around his pulsating length, increasing the much needed friction. It doesn’t take long for him to stop furiously rolling his hips into his lurching palm. He slows his pace, movements withering to desultory actions from the tiresome scene. Though, despite the appearance of Hoseok growing bored, your senses are kept keen, carnal at the enlivening sight. It is only when he turns his body over to prop himself on his arms, grinding against the soft of his mattress for more friction, for your eyes to flare wide with a sudden heat setting ablaze at your core.

Your roommate prudently rolls his hips hardly onto the surface, making sure that his whole length comes in contact with enough love to the fabric. His moans become louder, the noise echoing in your mind as your headphones feed more of the delectable melody to you. You cannot help but press your thighs together for an ounce of relief while you bite the outline of your lip.

Fuck, who would have ever thought that your roommate would be this hot?

Hoseok is nude, muscles defined as ever in the film, his chest heaving with every deep pant. You slowly notice the way he is grinding himself to the edge of his delectation to reach his goal of release. His thighs begin to quiver, eyes clamping shut like the calm before a storm. Then, it arrives.

His orgasm appears in a plethora: ripples of thrill waving throughout his delighted body, his mind being sent into a high heaven of pure jubilancy. His load spills out of his pulsating cock like rain, splashing itself into the soft fabric that adorns his bed. Along with the sweet scenario his candy-like moans melt away into the stuffy air, and he uses the tiny bit of sanity that is left to slow the rhythm until he empties himself. His arms tremble as he sheens a tired grin on his face while reaching for the camera, pressing the stop button to end the lustful video.

You didn’t realize that you have been holding your breath since his orgasm came upon him. You lean back against the wall, face still with an absent mind, for you have not the slightest clue on what to think of the situation. You really would have never guessed that behind your roommate’s guileless eyes is an expert sex beast. Not that you are complaining.

That video, in fact, is the scrumptious delight of your evening; and must you say, extremely hot. The temperature in your room has become noticeably warmer while you were lost in the high of watching your roommate jack himself off. There is an uncomfortable heat between your two thighs, a nervous sweat accumulating on your forehead. You cautiously look at the door once again before shamefully replaying Hoseok’s inviting video.

Then, you pull the perfunctory gesture of sliding your hands into your panties.

When you wake the following morning the waving feeling of guilt washes over you tide after minatory tide. It was fun pleasuring yourself to Hoseok’s video while it lasted, but all you can feel now is the polar opposite. You stare at your door as you groggily raise yourself from the bed, contemplating whether or not to step out into the apartment and see your roommate or not — to greet the newfound camboy, “good morning.”

What are you so afraid of? It is not like he knows you watched his video, or lingered on his profile — or even watched the reupload of his previous streams. He is unaware of the sinful actions you have committed, practically along his side; yet, why are you hesitant?

Reluctantly, you drag yourself to the door and swing it open, taking a peek down the hall as a cautious measure.

“You look guilty,” says a familiar voice behind you.

The hair on your skin rises as you jolt up, turning your body to face your roommate properly. “Hey!” you exclaim, “I do not.”

He laughs at your excuse of an argument and strides right past you. “Sure you don’t. Come on, I cooked breakfast not that long ago.”

The moment Hoseok becomes out of sight you feel all the heavy weight lift off your shoulders, peace rising and clearing the stagnant air. Right, you think, there is no way he can know.

And so you follow his footsteps and join him at the kitchen table.

You study Hoseok’s appearance, taking in every detail to the core: his lissome fingers, the veins visible in his muscular arms, and his perfect jawline. His digits are wrapping snugly around the handle of the coffee mug, and all you can think and crave for is to have them inside of you, his other hand holding you steady.

You grab onto your mug and take a sip of the orange juice, a cold sweat dripping down from your forehead. Thick silence becomes a present factor during breakfast — an unusual occurrence — and when Hoseok darts his eyes to your own, you immediately avert your gaze away. After all, how can you view him the same way after last night? It felt like an absolute dream, completely fictitious, but it is no mere fantasy.

“Are you alright?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m fine,” you respond, rapid.

Hoseok presses his lips into a tight line, examining your uncomfortable physique: the way your shifting in your seat, legs crossing tightly for a little pressure on your core, and clammy palms. Honestly, he finds it quite hot. “You look stressed.” He gulps.

You purse your lips and tilt your head to look at him, gaze falling onto his cherry blossom like lips. “What makes you say that?”

“You just look incredibly tense,” he informs. But all you hear is white noise. The fluid motion of his lips catch your attention, you crave to push everything aside to press against them.

“I might be a little stressed,” you reply with a smile.

“I see,” he continues, a little aroused, “you know there are easy ways to alleviate stress?”

“Like what?”

There is a long line of quietude before he replies, blocks of tension stacking one after the other. You hold your breath as you await his response. A sheepish grin sketches on his face, “Like masturbating.”

You crack a smirk, head turning away from his. “T-that’s funny,” you stammer, “but that’s also true.”

“I’m just saying,” he surmises, “watching porn really helps too.”

“Where is this coming from?” you inquire, genuinely curious. It isn’t like he heard you last night��� right?

He shrugs, nonchalant. “Nowhere, I’m just tossing the idea out there.”

“Sure you are,” you reply, dry sarcasm lacing your tone. You intake a steady breath before following up with a question — awaiting for the honest answer you know all too well, “What are you, a camboy?”

Hoseok chokes on his drink, hacking for air as a response to your sudden question. “A what?” he asks for clarification, eyes flaring wide like heated glass.

You gulp a mouthful of air. “You heard me.”

“God,” he says under his breath. “Was my secretive way of making money really that irksome to you? When did you find out?”

Frankly, you are more surprised at how he is not shielding the truth with a blatant lie; instead, desperate questions come one after the other. “Last night.” You shrug.

Hoseok dissembles his act, a cheshire expression panting on his face. “Oh,” he says, easy, “last night? You’re telling me that you were watching my videos last night?”

“I-I what?”

He takes notice of your thorny shifts under the wave of the unpleasant situation, eyes fluttering and words becoming caught in your throat. God, this truly is the last scene you wanted to experience. How come this had to be discussed right off the top of the morning of all times? You watch your roommate’s adam’s apple bob. “I heard some… things when I came back last night.”

“Are our walls that thin?” you spit out.

“No,” he shakes his head, “you’re just loud.”

But not in this case. You refuse to speak another utterance as a sorry reply to his comment as you allow the scene to imbue in your mind: Hoseok heard you pleasuring yourself. He heard your whiny groans, heavy breaths, and worst of all, the whimpers of his name leave the petals of your lips. By putting two and two together, he heard every single one, loudly he says, all due to his video.

Hoseok chuckles. “Sorry, too much for breakfast?”

You slam your palms on your table, attempting to shift gears from the flustering topic. “What the fuck were you thinking to start doing something like that?”

“I wasn’t really thinking,” he admits, almost as if this isn’t a big deal at all to him, “It was around like twelve, midnight, and I was drunk out of my mind. When I woke up the next morning I thought I made a mistake until I saw the amount of donations made by others to encourage me to keep doing it.”

“Oh my god.” You press your hand to your forehead. “You literally did this on an accident, but you carried on with it anyway?”

Hoseok chuckles. “Pretty much.”

You shoot a stern frown at him, barely able to meet his fiery eyes. “So this is your ‘job’?”

“Yeah,” he replies, nonchalant.

“You’re unbelievable.” You groan.

“What?! I make good money. Hey, and I also use it to buy us some good food. You have no right to complain.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” you confess, “It’s your silly choice.”

“I’m glad you feel that way.” He grins. “So, what did you think of my videos? Honestly.”

You gather your porcelain plates and begin to walk to the sink, shrugging away his question like a demeaning insect.

“Y/N?” he calls, fighting to pester you.

“I’m not watching them again—or anything like that. I just wanted to try it out; after all, I don’t really like porn in general,” you fib, back turned to him so he is unable to meet with your coral hued face.

He sighs, disappointed. “That’s too bad then. Well, it’s okay. There are others who still enjoy what I make.”

“That’s great,” you mumble sarcastically. And within the same five seconds, you stride to your room.

Hoseok is left slumping in the wooden chair of the kitchen, immersing himself in deep thoughts. If you really weren’t interested, why did you spend an hour lingering on only his videos?

The answer to you is clear: because your roommate is so colossally hot to watch.

/

It is a given to why you roam his profile again later that night. It is quite surprising that it only took one night dedicated to carnal desires and his steamy videos to get you absolutely hooked. His media is inviting, wild, and it sends you into a state of thrill instantly — unlike the other people you have attempted to watch to divert you attention away from your roommate.

You double check the still of the night and await for your roommate to shut himself in his chamber across the far end of the hall before you start your excursion for jubilancy. You try to hush yourself to the best of your ability, paranoid that he would somehow be awake, confirming his suspicious of your fraud statement.

And that cycle repeats for a good week.

Hoseok’s sinful content is absolutely amorous to perfection; he knows what his viewers want, and what he wants. His face is chiseled to perfection and you never dived into the attention of his beauty — not until the first night of joyous sensuality. And after that night, you became absolutely hooked. His media of teasing his audience and providing pleasure to himself in creative ways is… almost addicting.

What are you thinking? He is your roommate for god’s sake — you live with a practical sex god.

If only you can look him in the eye, or even view him the way you used to.

Every time you walk out the door you find yourself scurrying, feet quickly kicking up the pace with every step to escape the most basic of conversations with your roommate. It’s quite funny: you cannot face him in person yet you can spend hours watching his videos and previous streams.

After a good, aching week of avoiding his presence the same case still stands.

So here you are again on your bed with your headphones in, dimming the screen of your laptop to brace for the amatory content. You are not sure why; Hoseok did say he is going to be out the entire night, so what do you have to worry about?

You shift in your bed to get comfortable and prepare yourself for the long awaited videos of the night. Your eyes are locking on your screen in a furtive manner, trying to remain sneaky despite being the only one present in the household. You sail your cursor over his profile, clicking on his most recent stream — a stream from early this morning. You smile at the sight, the thumbnail being his naked body, hand wrapping around his dick with a sly smirk on his face. It is almost as of the video is beckoning for you to click it, watch it, and then indulge in your own erotic fantasies along with him.

You click on the media and raise your volume, unsure of what to expect as its content. The beginning starts slow, Hoseok fully clothed in a white tee and loose basketball shorts, his erection already formed. He stares at the screen like he is watching the views rise bit by bit before he begins his show. He starts by taking a hold of the hem of his tee, tugging on it a few times while he reads the comments that scream for him to remove it.

And so he does.

Slowly and slowly, at such a tormenting pace, he peels off his shirt to reveal one of the many wonders of his body. The scene alone causes a pulsation at your core, making you inhale a shaky breath as you await for him to continue.

“I was going to wait ten more minutes, but if the donations get to a hundred within ten seconds, I’ll start right away,” he teases, a sly smirk painting on his face.

You raise an eyebrow at his proposition, pondering if the viewers at the time would aid in having him reach his goal — and they did. To your surprise Hoseok strips off his shorts like nothing, the glamour that is his hardening member showing itself off. Hoseok smirks as he peers at his own cock past the blanket of his lashes. He scoots back on the bed to provide an even better, easier view for his lovely watchers — for you. He begins by smoothly running his index finger up his shaft and back down, almost like he is teasing himself.

He releases another chuckle. “I bet you guys really want me to start,” he says, “it’s only eight in the morning and my roommate’s asleep, what if I wake her up?”

Your eyes widen when he mentions you, your face immediately flushing the shade of roses. “Not that I would have cared,” you mumble.

Hoseok takes a few moments to read the comments on the screen, his act evanescent. “Alright, fine,” he says, voice falling to a whisper, “I’ll start.”

He gains a tight grip around his cock, pleasure already reaching him as it shows on the expression on his face. His mouth hangs open, delicate lids slowly closing, and he starts to pump himself. Like always, he starts leisurely. He brings his hand all the way to the tip and spreads his hands out, allowing his dick to enter the gaps of his fingertips. His thumb runs over his leaking head to spread the wetness around, digit quickly becoming drenched.

“Fuck,” Hoseok pants and looks straight at the lens. For a moment, it feels like this whole entire stream is dedicated towards you and your secret desires. “It’s so early, but I’m so fucking horny.”

A groan that has been caught in his throat finally releases itself and Hoseok throws his head back, revealing a beautiful canvas to mark. “Fuck,” you whisper. Every video you watch of your roommate is more pleasing than the last — he really does not disappoint.

“Faster?” Hoseok reads off the comments on the screen. “You want me to go faster?” he cracks a smile, and begins to slow his action.

Your mouth begins to water at the sight; Hoseok is putting himself through his own version of hell. His member is pulsating, twitching, and his tip is an angry red.

“I’ll think about it.” He swirls his member with his index finger, toying with himself for a few moments before he coasts his hand away from his cock.

He paths to his inner thighs, digging deeper until he reaches his hole. He shudders at the dull contact of touching his entrance, his other hand giving diminutive attention to his twinging dick. You hear an airy moan that swirls with intense pleasure, and it echos in your mind over and over. You press your earphones deeper into your ears and bite onto the outline of your lip to hush yourself. Shit, is he seriously starting to finger himself? “Holy fuck,” you let out, palm sliding into your pants. “Why is this so hot?”

You then hear a couple of sinister snickers, but they don’t appear to be emitting from your headphones. Wary, you slowly raise your eyes to your door, only to find your roommate with a sheepish grin adorning his face. You yank out your headphones and shut your laptop, raising your blanket up to your chin. “I thought you said you don’t like watching porn in general?” he asks cockily and raises a single eyebrow to toss together his smug expression.

“Why are you back?” you spit out, “You said you’d be gone all night!”

“Answer the question, Y/N. What happened to what you told me about you not liking porn?”

You roll your eyes. “I-I don’t,” you bite back, “I was just… curious.”

Your hesitation confirms Hoseok’s assumption and he brushes off your puny defense like a demeaning fly, “Sure you were.”

“I was!” you repeat and rake a hand through your hair. “I was roaming out of, ahem, curiosity and your stream from today happened to be on there!”

Your roommate lets out another silly laugh. “Wait, you were watching my stream?”

You tilt your head, spotlight on you, and the mere sight of locking eyes with his own is enough to make you feel incredibly dizzy. After days of ignoring his presence, the one day you two spark contact again is when he catches you watching his videos. “Y-yeah,” you respond, braveness feign.

Hoseok remains silent for a few moments to think, drawing out his thoughts from the surface of his mind. “Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Because.” He starts to skirt to your mattress, taking a seat on the soft of it. He starts to inch closer to you, lust clouding his eyes. “I’m here. Instead of watching that stream, I can just give you a live show.”

Your lips part at his exclusive scheme; people would kill to be in your position. Immediately, you respond, “I-I guess.”

“You ‘guess’?” he repeats, rakish. “Well then I guess I’ll be heading to bed.”

You furrow your brows together out of sheer frustration, gaze dropping to his crotch where is solid member is standing out from his shorts. Then, you realize he is wearing the same outfit as the stream. You see a wet spot on his shorts and you lick your lips as a response; oh, what you would do for a taste right now. The second Hoseok begins to raise himself to head to his room, you crawl over your bed to latch onto his wrist. “Wait,” you utter.

“Yes?” he asks, innocence artificial.

“I-I wouldn’t mind the live show,” you admit, sight not meeting his.

“You wouldn’t… mind?” he echos and allows himself to fall back onto your bed.

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Well then—” Hoseok begins to slide off his shorts like he is racing against the clock, quickly and bringing his boxers down as well to show off his semi-flaccid member. He grasps around his length at the base, slowly sliding it up to the tip. He moves himself back on your bed to be situated next to you.

He lightly grabs onto your hand to bring it to his sensitive cock, but the moment your fingertip comes in contact with it you pull away.

Hoseok freezes for a moment and looks at you with a confused expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to watch you,” you vouch, tone coming out somewhat authoritative.

He swallows his breath, refusing to retaliate words of defiance, and remains idle on your bed for a few moments. The initial excitement you hold while watching his videos still lingers, the opposite of what he feels. He feels nervous, gaze downcasting to his solidifying cock. “Okay,” he agrees, war in his mind coming to an end.

Hoseok moves himself to press his back onto your headboard to get comfortable, staring at you intensely past the curtain of his bangs. His shirt is still clinging to his chest, causing him a hint of unease. He starts to swirl his thumb over the miniscule bead of precum to spread it around his head. You hear him intake a sharp breath, eyes locked on his own before he clamps them shut at the sensation of his fragile member being satisfied by a light touch.

He starts to pump himself at a medium pace to allow himself to grow under his own graze, pulse starting to kick up when his imagination begins to run wild. You watch his hungry eyes as he begins to jerk himself off turbulently, cock hard to the touch. His mouth hangs wide open, heavy groans that sound like your name rip from his throat. You wonder what images of you he is imagining to have him give into his desires so quickly.

Hoseok moans, momentum losing itself when he takes a couple of quick breathers. But he carries on like nothing happens. There is a certain element to having you gawk at him like he is the most delicious of eye candy, him being nude and needy. “Hoseok,” you murmur. And the sound of your name sends him on another raging mission to push him to his relief.

The thought of you being in his position — so incredibly needy — of fucking yourself until your senses gives out crosses his mind, and it quickly shifts to an erotic fantasy of him pounding into you from behind, every thrust he makes inside of you earning an extravagant moan from your mouth. “Mm, Y/N,” he says in between unsteady breaths.

“What are you thinking of?” you ask with a sly quirk of your lips.

You watch how he grips onto his pulsating cock tighter; the sound of your voice practically sends his mind to overdrive. “You,” he replies instantly.

“What about me?”

“Y-you being wet,” he urges, “and needy the way- ah- I am. Me fucking into your pussy so hard…”

You giggle, the sight of Hoseok molding into your words one of the best scenes you have ever come to experience. “Do you want to fuck me?” you offer, raw intention of it being a jest.

He slowly bats his eyes open, darkened eyes boring straight through your own empty gaze. “Y-yes,” he pleads.

“Well, that’s too bad,” you hum, a bright grin crossing your face. “I think you’re fine on your own from what I’ve seen.”

“But- agh- Y/N…” He holds himself back from begging.

“Just keep touching yourself,” you extol.

Hoseok remains silent when he starts to jack himself off quicker by the second, eyes closing to dive into the pleasure. You snake your hands to his chest, running them up and down before snaking them up underneath his flimsy tee.

“How about we take this off? I want to see all of you,” you muse.

Your roommate hesitates before frantically nodding, arms raising in the air to allow you to strip himself of the pesky piece of clothing. Once the soft material is off he promptly meets with his sensitive length again to satisfy his needs.

You smirk at his desperation. “Do you need to cum?”

“So bad…”

“Alright,” you reply in a singsong manner, observing his relentless actions. You rub your hands on his chest prior to sailing them to his crotch.

Hoseok is left anticipating every single scene that will begin to unravel, the mere touch of your hands on his skin setting him ablaze. He releases an emphatic moan when you start to fondle his balls in one hand, the other gripping tightly on his delicate, sensitive head. “Ah, f-fuck, Y/N!” he moans, squirming under your touch. His hands soar to your thin sheets, gripping onto them for dear life as you start to help him reach his edge.

“Just relax,” you say calmly.

“I-I can’t,” he pants, “your grip on my– agh!”

You tighten your grasp around his length before sliding it down smoothly to the base, bringing it back up more compactly. And that action continues for a good twenty seconds, the groans from your roommate raising in volume and echoing off your walls.

He wiggles under your touch, allowing himself to fall on his side. “Y/N, I’m seriously g-going to cum.”

“Are you?” you ask.

“Yes!” he says with a kick of a blanket, the mixture of pain and pleasure now withering stark.

You start to slow your pace and loosen your hold around his cock, touches feather light to diminish the consuming feeling. You move your hand away from his member that pulsates with eager desire and place your palm on your thigh. “I don’t think so.”

“Y-Y/N!” he whines, the profound sensation of pleasure melting away the longer you hold off. You press your thighs together for diminutive relief, mouth watering at the sight of his cock, tip heavily scarlet, and jolting itself upwards.

Hoseok’s arousing imagination excites him more than it still should, riveting him into a swirl of different scenarios. He craves to have you switch places with him — to have you nude and begging to cum under his light touches. He covets to please you for what feels like eternally, only to pull away the moment you are about to release. God, he can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, “I’ll t-take care of this myself.”

Hoseok struggles to sit upright, hand shaky as he grips his throbbing member — but it does not do him any good. He whimpers and flips himself over, chest meeting with the soft of your mattress. He props himself up on his elbows and proceeds to rally his fancies. He starts to grind his hips down on your bed, his cock gaining the much needed friction that you refused to provide.

You laugh at how he looks: drowning in his desperate desires. He acts as if you are not in the same room as him — not watching him with avid eyes — and loses his mind in his voracious need for release. He grinds bleakly on the surface and takes a few breaks here and there; he just cannot cum.

“Do you need help?” you ask, breaking his moment.

He slows his pace, heart pounding when he releases a sigh. “Yeah,” he confesses, almost shameful.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Y/N,” he says, “please.”

The stiffness of his dick provides him with so much uncomfort, tears practically sting his eyes. All he wants is for his excitement to continue running, for you to ease his pain with pleasure. You press your palms onto his chest to move him back to the headboard, one palm coasting to his thigh to hold him steady.

Hoseok’s mouth is hanging open, chest compressing as he engages in his delicious fantasies. Your hand slowly wraps itself around his hardness again, hand twisting while you move down his length, and tightening when you slide up. You watch the way his cock tinges with a heavier crimson, pain building up as he approaches his release again.

Hoseok claws at your sheets, twisting them in his hands while he shifts under your touch. He strains his voice as he takes another step to the edge, only needing one more to release.

You start to speed up your pace, the song of Hoseok’s moans becoming louder with every pump that spikes his longing. “Ah,” he says with a pant of your name, “I’m almost there…”

Anticipation is furiously pulsing through his veins as you satisfy his crave; that is, until you pull away again. The music of your giggles swim in his ears, a tune that will quickly run rebarbative for him if you keep up this act.

“God,” he mumbles, “what the h-heck, Y/N?”

Hoseok brings his legs together, shying away from you since you fooled him for the second time. “Sorry,” you whisper, hands flying to his torso. You sail your hands in all sorts of patterns over his chest and he just absolutely loves it — at this point, he loves anything and everything.

His body fires up more, mind too dazed for him to speak.

You lean to the conch of his ear and whisper, “Keep thinking of me. Do you want to cum that badly?”

“Y-yes,” Hoseok painfully groans and glances at you from the corner of his eye.

“How?” You smirk. “By fucking me? Do you want to fuck my mouth?”

The scenario paints in Hoseok’s mind. You being on your knees, hands tight behind your back as you take his entire length it. He wants to see his cum drip from the outline of your lips, watch you swallow every salty bit like it’s your favorite drink.

“Do you want me to ride you?”

Shit, the thought of you bouncing on his dick is enlivening. Your hands are on lightly pressing on his chest, and they would be the same way when you are riding him like insane. He would marvel at the sight of your body on his, mouth agape from pure pleasure as you work for your release.

“Or do you just want to cum under my touch—maybe even my words alone.”

And at this point, Hoseok would take anything. He practically loses control, a million thoughts dashing his mind, making it overdose with passionate aspirations. You pull away from him and sit comfortably away, watching as he unravels himself with his own thoughts. The loudest groan rips from his throat, enough for the neighboring apartments to hear, and he slumps down in his position.

He looks absolutely fucked out, pants swirling with huffs of your name — almost as if you are touching him and driving him to the highest level of euphoria. His cum finally escapes from his member, spattering on his chest and on your thighs on its own, not a single touch on it as he lets himself loose. The thoughts that followed your rousing words have become enough to stimulate his senses, allowing him to give into what he has been craving the most: to cum.

Once his whole load is emptied, his member shrinks back, no longer hard after his ravenous fancies have dissipated. “Fuck,” he lets out with an airy laugh, “I didn’t expect this from you.”

You grab onto a dirty tee and begin to wipe his wetness off his body and the bits that splattered on you, leaving light stains on your clothing. “Why not?” You titter. “Think of this as revenge for lying to me the entire time.”

Hoseok smiles. “Of course. Hey, I don’t really mind this if it’s a consequence for lying to you.”

“God—” you toss the shirt to the floor— “I seriously cannot believe you.”

“Why not?” he asks while looking at you past the blanket of his lashes. “Not like you’re complaining. If you ever want another live show, just let me know.”

A soft smile paints on your face before replying, “Wow, I’m getting live shows from the glorious camboy, Jung Hoseok.”

All Hoseok can do is let out a fit of laughter at that statement; after all, it is true.

After all this time of secrecy, you would never expect that your roommate would be a famous camboy; let alone, be offering to entertain you in person.

Well, not that you’re complaining.

[tigerwalk3]

Kindred Spirits

Thanks to @nattah-gudgrrl for this idea!

“I’m stuffed,” Rick said, rubbing his palm over his flat stomach, and pushing it outward for effect. They stepped out of the cozy bar and grill into the brisk, January air, and he stood in front of Michonne to block the wind that was whipping specks of snow around like confetti, as she fastened her coat.

“Me too,” she said, letting her eyes roll back to exaggerate her sated state. “That was amazing.”

“What do you want to do now? The night’s still young.”

“Let’s walk off that meal,” she said, slipping her arm through his and pressing against his side for warmth. “We can window shop, really do the tourist thing.”

They started down the cobblestone sidewalk, no particular destination in mind, and Rick allowed himself to be led from jewelry store, to antique shop, to bakery; rows of storefronts still decked out cheerily for the recently passed holiday. She pointed out numerous treasures, and he pretended to be interested, all while his gaze fixated on the way the cold brought a rosy tint to her dusky cheeks and nose, and her brown eyes gleamed with contentment. They walked until the winter sun began to prepare for its evening rest, dimming the light and pulling up a blanket of horizon to retire behind. Rick noted the neighborhood was getting less handsome as the sky became more murky, and he began to think better of their self-guided tour.

“Let’s go back to the hotel,” he said, leaning in to run the chilled tip of his nose against her ear as he spoke.

She smiled, about to agree to his proposition when something caught her eye. “Look!” She pointed to a sidewalk sign with a woman’s name written in scrolling cursive on the chalkboard finish, and a hand drawn image of a crystal ball. “A fortune teller!”

“Michonne…” Rick groaned, tightening his arm around hers and planting his feet to keep her from rushing toward it.

“Oh, please!” she begged, holding in a chuckle at his expense. This was exactly the type of thing he would hate on principle, but it could be fun. “Come on. She can tell us what the new year has in store.” She batted her eyelashes at him and he was useless to resist.

Rick hung his head in defeat, and followed her for a few more steps until they stood before a purple, velvet curtain where a door should have been, a small windchime hanging in front of it, in lieu of a doorbell. Michonne looked at Rick and shrugged, lifting her gloved fingers to brush them across the metal rods, making them ring. As if beckoned by a Siren’s song, a dark haired women appeared, wearing flowing robes and gold bangles around her wrist that jingled as she walked. She pushed aside the curtain, squinting as if they had woken her from a nap.

“Welcome,” the woman said, in a thick Eastern European accent. “You have come for me to read your good fortune?”

“Of course,” Michonne answered, with a beaming smile.

“How much is it?” Rick asked, with considerably less enthusiasm. Michonne nudged him in the ribs with a soft elbow and smiled at the woman.

“It is thirty for your reading,” she said, unmoved by his attitude. “Well worth it, I assure you.”

Rick rolled his eyes, pulling his wallet out of the back pocket of his worn, black jeans, and thumbing out two twenties. He held them up to Michonne with a shrug, indicating his lack of exact change, and she plucked them from his fingers gleefully. “A tip,” she said, handing the cash to the woman.

She nodded, then jutted her chin over her shoulder and turned to lead them into the small room where she had just emerged from. Their eyes adjusted to the dim, yellow lamp light, filtered by a scarf draped over the shade, and they both scanned their new surroundings. There was a small wooden table in the shape of a circle, with three folding chairs set around it and a glass orb on a stand in the center of it. The set up almost filled the closet sized room and Rick had to shuffle between a chair and the wall to find a seat. Soft, twangy, instrumental guitar music floated from an unseen source throughout the space and the dark walls were decorated with black and white photographs, featuring groups of people with their hands joined around a table and lights glowing in odd shapes above them. Rick pulled out the chair he had passed up, offering it to Michonne and she removed her gloves and slipped her arms out of her bright, teal pea coat, hanging it on the back of the chair before taking her spot.

“I am Madame Rose,” the woman said, taking the last chair. “I am a clairvoyant.”

“What’s that mean?” Rick asked unzipping his own suede, shearling lined coat that was far too heavy for the overwhelming warmth emanating from a tiny wood stove in the corner of the room.

“I can see your destiny, but also your past. I can read your soul’s journey and decipher it for you.”

Michonne glanced at Rick with a look of sudden apprehension. “Is that always a good idea?”

“The knowledge and insight I give you is yours. It can be good or it can be bad, but it is yours, whether I tell it to you or not.”

Michonne nodded at the response, settling into her chair while Rick leaned back, looking skeptical beside her.

“Each of you lay a hand on the table,” Madame Rose instructed, “palm up, then join your other hands together.” The woman hurried them along with a wave of her fingers when Rick hesitated, and Michonne urged him with her eyes to comply.

She felt him squeeze her fingers in his beneath the table and she grinned, her shoulders loosening a bit. Madame Rose closed her eyes and tipped her face to the ceiling, an almost imperceptible hum vibrating across her pursed lips as she exposed her own palms to them on the tabletop. Michonne chanced another glance at her boyfriend, while the woman was occupied, finding an incredulous squint framing his clear blue eyes. She mouthed for him to stop and he begrudgingly adjusted his facial expression to one of simple disinterest before Rose opened her eyes again.

The fortune teller reached across the table, tracing her index fingers along each of their palms, exploring the unique creases and indentations for what seemed like an eternity, until she finally spoke. “You’ve been together for a long time,” she said.

Rick’s face curled into a cocky smirk instantly. “Zero for one,” he said. “We’re here celebratin’ our one year anniversary.”

Madame Rose’s lips twitched ever so slightly into her own smile, before returning to a thin drawn line as she continued to trail her fingers across their open hands. “Ahhh,” she said. “But your souls have been dancing for lifetimes.” Rick rolled his eyes again, as Michonne leaned forward, intrigued. “Mmhmm,” she hummed, nodding to herself. “Yes. They are drawn to each other like the waves to the shore.” She stopped her feathered touch suddenly, gripping both of them tightly with a small gasp. “I see you meeting...your eyes meet from afar...through a window...no...a fence.”

“We met at a friend’s barbeque,” Rick said, not attempting to hide his chuckle.

“You did open the gate for me when I got there,” Michonne offered.

“That’s a stretch, Michonne.”

“This meeting was not the first,” Madame Rose said. “You’ve met a multitude of times, all different, all like lightning striking.”

Rick leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out beneath the table, his face wearing his disbelief proudly. “I only remember the barbeque.”

“Rick,” Michonne said, shushing him.

“The fence is around you both, a prison of your own making,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Oh.” She gasped again.

“What?” Michonne leaned forward further, riveted by the tale the woman was weaving.

Her face contorted then, a look of agony washing over her drawn features stretched with thin, pale skin. “Oh, dear.” She squeezed Rick’s hand hard, causing him to shift uncomfortably in his seat. “The pain in your heart...it’s so heavy. Guilt...sorrow. Your soul is wailing and your mind is lost in the thicket of grief and misery.” Tears started to form in her eyes and her mouth parted again, a silent sob wracking her.

Rick looked at Michonne who suddenly looked pained as well, as if she was really buying this act.

“And you,” the woman said, turning toward her. “You are a shadow. You are hidden from the world. You’re alone...wandering...carrying your own pain like a weapon on your back.”

“We’re actually pretty happy people,” Rick interjected, annoyed that Michonne seemed to be disturbed by this nonsense. He didn’t pay the woman to upset her. Her eyes bounced around Rose’s emphatic features, searching for the meaning behind what she was saying.

“You became friends,” she continued. “Partners.” Her eyes went wide, focusing on Rick. “She saved you.”

He opened his mouth to deliver a smart retort, but it got stuck in his throat. He lived a pretty uneventful life; a responsible, Southern man who did what was expected of him, but the woman beside him had certainly changed him. Maybe, in a way, she had saved him from the boring, predetermined path he would have ended up on, if she hadn’t walked into his life that day. He had built a life around duty, obligation; she showed him a deeper fulfillment.

She turned to Michonne now. “And this man revived you,” she said. “He took your shadow and gave it depth, life!”

Michonne looked at Rick and smiled. Maybe she was a shadow before she met him. She lived for her career, her independence; he sparked a different side to her, one that felt things, that giggled at corny jokes and got lost in the gaze of a man.

“You traveled together on a desperate road, lost but no longer alone, until one day you recognized each other and, when you looked into each other’s eyes, you saw all of the planes across which you were seeking each other.”

Rick swallowed a lump in his throat, swiftly overcome with a love for the woman beside him that was so rich, it ached in his chest. He pulled his hand back from Madame Rose, joining it with the one that already held Michonne’s. “This is ridiculous,” he whispered to her, his wide eyes saying the opposite. The old woman was a charlatan, he told himself. She was making it up as she went along. She was bound to get a few things right.

“It’s silly,” Michonne said quietly, her breath hitching on the words she didn’t quite believe.

“No, child,” Madame Rose said. “It’s not silly at all. It’s actually quite amazing. Some people search through all of their lifetimes and never find their soulmate. You’ve been with yours in all of them.”

Rick watched the words sink into Michonne’s expression, as she shrunk back into her chair with a sharp breath. He squeezed her hand again, leaning into her ear. “You done?” he asked her, avoiding Madame Rose’s gaze.

She nodded and released his hand so he could stand. Rick reached for his wallet as Michonne pulled her coat back on. He found another five dollar bill and tossed it on the table, then placed his hand on her back to lead her out of the room. “Thank you,” he said carelessly over his shoulder, as they exited onto the cold street, now bathed in darkness.

“That was crazy, right?” Michonne said, stepping to his chest as he joined her on the sidewalk.

“Of course it was,” he said, forcing a playful grin. He grasped the lapels of her coat and pecked her cheek with a comforting kiss. “If you're a shadow, you're the loudest one I've ever met.”

She chuckled, timidly. “And you only lose your mind during football season.”

“You make me lose my mind sometimes.”

Michonne nudged his arm again, then slipped underneath it as they began the walk back to their hotel. “It was strange, though,” she muttered.

“Hey,” he said, stopping her and bringing his hands to her face. “I love you. Right here, right now.”

“Me too,” she said. “In this lifetime you’re mine.”

“Forever.”

[bloomsoftly]

Clint&mystic being. Before Shield recruitment. Clint's captor gave him a wry smile “I'm not here to hurt you.” She traced the bridge of his nose with one finger. “I just couldn't not try to repay you for helping me.” “Then buy me a card or a fuckin' pizza, not whatever this is” Clint spat, some of the fog in his mind lifting. He cursed, managing a feeble twitch of his arms. The archer felt himself slipping away, her face seeming a great distance from him. “Just rest, it'll be okay."

treasures untold, mermaid!Darcy/Clint (T)

Okay, so I was totally stumped with this one, not gonna lie.

But then @paranoidwino reminded me that it’s MerMay and the plot bunnies took over (I thought this one was going to be short, and the muse just laughed and laughed). I hope you like it :D

tw: very, very brief threat of sexual assault

Now on AO3! It would mean a lot if you could leave a comment.

It was Clint’sfirst job in collections. At least,that’s what the mob boss had called it. He’d laughed uproariously at his ownjoke, and everyone else had laughed too, even though no one thought it wasfunny. Clint didn’t understand why people did that, but he went along with it.He was smart enough to know that he had to keep these people happy if he wantedto get paid. And he was so very hungry.

So he kept hishead down and didn’t ask questions. They were headed to the docks, to awarehouse owned by some weird collector guy. Clint didn’t know why they weregoing there or what they were gonna steal—his job was just to provide backup.He double, triple, and quadruple-checked his bow and arrows, just to make surethey were all there and accounted for. No one made fun of him for his weaponanymore. Not after he put an arrow through the last guy’s hand who tried to hithim.

Once they got to thewarehouse, Clint decided that he really should have asked more questions. Itwas full of the most beautiful, strange, and terrifying creatures he had everseen. And they were all alive.

The other guys spread outquickly, searching for whatever it was that their boss wanted. Clint tried hardto keep lookout and not get distracted by all the weirder animals, but some ofit was just insane. Then he heard ashout of excitement, and couldn’t help but turn and look.

It was one of the thugs, aparticularly mean one, who was leering at what appeared to be a—mermaid? Clint rubbed his eyes, surethat he must have been hallucinating. But no, when he looked again she wasstill there. The mermaid was trapped in some kind of aquarium, just big enoughto contain her contorted limbs. She looked young, around his age, and had longbrown hair. Her tail was a mixture of shimmery blues and greens, and seemed toshift colors in the light. She was…terrified. She was utterly terrified, andwithout thinking Clint moved closer.

“—that’s a pretty mouth yougot there, you little freak. I wonder, would you like to know how a mantastes?” the thug asked, pulling at his belt buckle.

Clint’s hand tightened on hisbow, and in a flash he’d knocked an arrow and pointed it at the asshole. “Leaveher alone,” he ordered, grateful that his voice didn’t shake. He definitelywouldn’t be getting paid after this. Looking at the terrified woman, hecouldn’t bring himself to regret it. She was staring at him, too, and placed apalm flat against the glass between them.

The man laughed, pullingClint’s attention back to him. “What are you gonna do about it, you littlepunk?”

“You really shouldn’t havesaid that,” Clint mocked, and released his arrow. Then, all hell broke loose.

When everything was said anddone, Clint had set part of the warehouse on fire and released all the othercreatures.

That should keep everyone busy for a while, he thought with vicious satisfaction as he made hisway back to the mermaid.

She shrunk back into thewater (as much as she could in such a confined space, anyway) as he approached,and Clint stopped several feet away from her and put his hands out in front ofhim slowly. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he reassured her. “I just want to getyou out of here. The whole place is about to go up in flames.”

“I can’t live outside thewater,” she cried in despair, but reached for him anyway. “I’m not old enough!I’ll suffocate.”

“I can get you to the docks,if you can hold on that long.” She nodded, and he scooped her out of the tankand headed for the exit as quickly as he could.

Just as he could make out thedocks through the dark, she started to fade. “Stay with me,” he said, jostling her body in his arms slightly to urge her awake. “You have to survive this, or it wasall for nothing.”

A soft chuckle escaped her atthat. “You’re so bitter for one so young,” she observed. “My name is Darcy,”she added. “What is yours?”

Clint stopped walking. He’dreached the end of the dock. “Clint,” he grunted as he slowly lowered her tothe water. “My name is Clint.”

He started to straighten up,only to hesitate as she reached up and placed her hand against his cheek.“Clint,” she murmured. He tried not to savor the way she said his name, andfailed. “You saved my life, Clint,” she said. Then she was gone.

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint grumbled,already turning to look at the devastation he’d wrought. “I just hope it wasworth it.” The place where she’d brushed her fingers across his cheek lingeredwith her warmth, and he couldn’t bring himself to be all that angry.

-:-

I knew this was a bad idea, was all Clint thought as he took a bullet to theshoulder and tumbled off the dock. After years of practice, he’d learned how tosteer clear of jobs that crossed the line. He’d developed a sense for it,knowing when a contract was likely to go bad or when he was likely to bedouble-crossed.

And damn it all if his guthadn’t been screaming at him on this one. But his stomach had been screaming,too, in hunger and starvation. So, he had taken the job against his betterjudgment, and look where it got him: shot by the assholes who gave him thecontract in the first place and left to either drown or bleed out from a bulletwound, whichever came first.

The pain in his shoulder wasexcruciating, but Clint refused to open his mouth to scream. Blood flowedfreely from his wound, muddying the water all around him. He was going todrown, down here in the dark and the cold, but all he could think about was themermaid he’d set free all those years ago. Howcould a creature so bright and fierce thrive in a place like this? hewondered hazily.

As if summoned from histhoughts, long brown hair floated into his line of sight, followed by two armsthat wrapped around him from behind. Something smooth slid along his legs, andthen he was yanked into motion. He screamed at that, swallowing bloody saltwater in agony. Everything went black

-:-

When Clint came to, he wasvomiting salt water. There was a hand at his back and a woman’s voice murmuringin his ear. Clint tried to move, but couldn’t do anything but expel the waterfrom his lungs. “That’s it, Clint. You’re going to be fine,” the voice soothed.Then a hand pressed on his uninjured shoulder, gently maneuvering him so thathe was lying on his back.

“Don’t be scared if..it’sjust a side effect….I used to treat your wound.” The words seemed to come fromfar away, fading in and out through the haze of pain. The woman leaned overhim, long hair spilling over one shoulder and onto his chest. Her grin wasfond, teasing almost. “How is it that you always manage to find yourself introuble like this, anyway?”

Clint’s eyes dartedrestlessly, trying to understand what was going on. He was in some kind ofcave, his shoulder hurt like hell, and his limbs were frighteningly heavy.Experimentally, he tried to turn his head. Hecouldn’t move. His breathing sped up, and he started to panic. Clint’scaptor—or was it rescuer? His head was so fuzzy and he couldn’t remember—gave him a wry smile. “It’s okay, Clint. I’mnot going to hurt you.”

Her smile shifted somethingin him, and he remembered. Darcy. Themermaid from the aquarium, with the gentle touch and a fiery spirit. Her namewas Darcy.

She gently traced the bridgeof his nose with one finger. Clint tried desperately to focus and not get lostin the depths of her eyes. Where was he?Why had she brought him here? His head swam, and he felt like she wascasting a spell on him. She added, “I just couldn’t not try to repay you forhelping me,” and withdrew her finger. Clint shifted forward, his bodysubconsciously chasing her touch.

As some of the fog in hismind lifted, a wave of fear swelled and crashed over him. His heart told himthat he was safe with her, but his body was fixated on its paralyzed state.After years of abuse in the circus and then life on the streets, Clint did nothave good memories of being tied up or pinned down.“Then buy me a card or afuckin’ pizza, not whatever this is,” he spat, shaking with fear. He cursed andfocused all his attention on wriggling free, but all he managed was a feebletwitch of his arms.

“Stop, you’re hurtingyourself. Clint!” she urged, concern for his well-being written all over herface. He saw it too late—understood it, and realized he had read the situationwrong. She was trying to help, hadsaved him. But a full-blown panic attack had already overtaken him, and hestarted to hyperventilate. She put both hands on either side of his face,coaxing him to breathe, but it was too late.

The archer felt himselfslipping away, trying desperately to hold on to Darcy’s face. But it keptshifting, moving a great distance from him. There was a soft brush against hisforehead, and the mermaid whispered, “Just rest, it’ll be okay.“

And then she sang him to sleep.

-:-

Clint woke to a blindingheadache. Literally blinding, as in the sun was shining directly into his eyes.He shifted his head to one side, trying to escape the ferocity of its rays,only to stick his nose and mouth directly into wet sand.

He sputtered and sat up,scrubbing at the sand on his face with a hand. A gritty hand, it turned out.“Aww, sand, no,” he whined, dropping his arm away from his face. The oceanstretched for miles in front of him, frothy and blue. Like a lightning bolt,everything came back to him.

Ignoring the sandy mess onhis face, Clint surged to his feet and scanned the waves frantically. There wasno sign of his mermaid. Worried that he’d run her off—or worse, made her thinkhe thought she was a monster—he took several rapid steps forward. The oceanlapped at his feet playfully, but he ignored it. Reaching up to shield his eyesfrom the blinding sunshine, Clint froze. A message was written on the inside ofhis forearm in feminine handwriting. Darcy.

We’re even,it read. Take care of yourself, hotshot.There was a tiny heart drawn at the end.

Clint stood there inconfusion for long minutes before he remembered the gunshot wound. He reachedup to touch the bloody mess at his shoulder and found smooth skin instead.Briefly, he considered diving back into the ocean and making her save himagain. But there was no guarantee she’d still be there, and Clint wasn’tinterested in drowning for real. He’d have to find her another way.

Months later, when Coulsonapproached him about joining SHIELD—“We could use someone with your skillset,Barton”—Clint pretended to be skeptical.

“Government agency? Soundsboring,” he taunted, daring the agent to prove him wrong. He wasn’tdisappointed.

Coulson lowered hissunglasses, staring right into Clint’s eyes. “Barton, you wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve seen.”

“Is that a promise, Agent?”

With SHIELD’s unwitting help,Clint would find his mermaid again.

-:-

(And he would find her again.Years later, and in the most unexpected place. After all, who would think tolook for a mermaid in the desert?

She took one look at thetattoo spanning his right forearm and laughed.Then she kissed him.)