#worldwide handsome fanfic

[secretsecretbunny]

bf!seokjin snapchats? 🙏🏼

here's your worldwide handsome, pookie 😌💕

photo editing by: @runbulletproof 🐈‍⬛

all captions added by: me

masterlist

[jooniperbonsai]

Thanks For The Sub (ksj) | Chapter One

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

Rating: 18+

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

Release date: Fri. January 19, 2024.

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

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

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

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

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

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

xo - h

That’s it baby cum for me. 

Such a good little slut for Daddy.

Wish that dildo was my cock. 

Fuck this is so hot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two Years Ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was ready to rekindle his love for the moon. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The entire room went silent. 

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

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

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

Oh. That’s exactly what Jimin was saying. 

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

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

Seokjin winced. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jin, the moon. 

That’s it. He was the moon.

Present

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But try telling his dick that.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t. That’s the problem. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That all depends on how much you practice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Snow is really romantic.

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

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

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

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

“What do–”

“I just–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart plummets. “Oh,” you squeak. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you reply lamely. 

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

Then, he leans in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Turn around,” he says. 

Wait, what? 

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

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

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

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

“Wha–”

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

Fuck.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your best girl?” You ask lightly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seokjin rakes his free hand through his hair. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I–I’m sorry!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait,” he says, and you freeze. 

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

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

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

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

His head droops and he looks down, clearly ashamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” you moan at your screen. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please, Daddy. Please let me cum. 

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

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

Ah, it’s a blindfold. Of course. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this what you’re begging for?” 

Yes, you shudder a breath. Yes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

©2024 by jooniperbonsai

[not7wu]

Title: Tonight (Our Fingers Touch the Sky)

Status: Ongoing

Total Word Count: 57.3k in progress

Pairing: SeokjinxReader, Friends to Lovers, The Gang is Here (Platonic)

Rating/Genre: Mature; Idol AU, Canon Divergence, Thriller, Amnesia

Summary: You find yourself in Seoul, Korea with no memory of how you got there.  All you know is that you woke up naked–in Jin’s bed!  And you’re friends with BTS.  You’re told the life you knew is a dream, but you can’t shake the feeling that BTS are hiding something from you.  Whatever it is, you’re determined to get to the bottom of it. 

Preview: He knows your name? Kim motherfucking Seokjin knows your name. “And you’re Kim Seokjin, Worldwide Handsome, also known as Jin of BTS.”

Your word vomit has you wanting to die on the spot. Jin huffs a laugh. “Are you gonna start reciting my birthday, astrological sign, and MBTI results next?”

December 4, 1992. Sagittarius. INTP. You think it, but self preservation has you blessedly silent. His eyes twinkle like he knows what you’re thinking anyway.

Chapter List:

Ch. 1 - Where are you? - f/a/c; 6k

Ch. 2 - The Rules - f/a/c; 5.2k

Ch. 3 - Best Friends - f/a/c; 4.7k

Ch. 4 - A Crappy Day - f/a/c; 5.8k

Ch. 5 - Family - f/a/c/s; 6.5k

Ch. 6 - A Symbiotic Relationship - f/a/c; 6.5k

Ch. 7 - House of Cards - f/a; 6.8k

Ch. 8 - A Trusted Friend - f/a; 5.7k

Ch. 9 - Building Bridges - f/a/c; 4.7k

Ch. 10 - Branded - f/a/c; 5.4k

Ch. 11 -

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Warnings: Amnesia, Anxiety, Swearing, Depictions of and Implied Violence, Abandonment Issues, Stalking, Gun Violence, Coma, PTSD, Trauma, Set in 2020 during the Pandemic

A/N: Yallz have no idea how excited I am to finally be sharing the fruits of my labor. This fic is something I wrote during the pandemic in my Baby Army days when the few fanfics I read didn't satisfy me. It took me a while to learn how to navigate to find the good stuff. The ones I stumbled upon were too insta-love/smutty with NO plot; of course this was back when my love for BTS was at the stage of innocent adoration in contrast to where I am now in my delulu derangement. :D

Holed up with my roommate/cousin, "S", and our friends Garrett and Marlena in 2020, I wrote this to pass the time and to entertain them. S is a Jin-bias, so some of the scenes are catered to her.

This is a completed fic that I am rewriting, so don't worry that I'll fall off the face of the earth. The end will come and I hope it will satisfy your Jin loving, plot driven heart! A new chapter will be posted every Monday. I hope you enjoy the fic!

Here's the Youtube / Spotify playlist I listen to on shuffle as I write this.

Also, last but not least, thank you to my betas, @justamomnamedamie and @miksancheese ! I seriously could not do this without you!

Click here if you prefer to read on AO3!

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[imgeekgirlfan]

Renegada♱

Pairings:  Amado Carrillo Fuentes x f!reader(Latina Reader) x Walt Breslin  [From Narcos: Mexico TV Series]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

Synopsis: You have to take on the role of a musician to infiltrate a restaurant filled with high-level international drug dealers.There, you meet Amado as expected, However, it seems that everything is not going according to the plan anymore.

AN : Just in case you're wondering, in this story, Pacho is the same person as in El Paraiso de las Pandillas. I imagine him as bisexual. (Please don't attack me; it's just my imagination and has no relevance to real individuals.)

I used to think that I wouldn't continue this fanfic, but because there are still people waiting to read it, I thought I would give it another try. However, if it doesn't really work out, I probably won't update it anymore. Thank you to everyone who has been following and reading it all along. I truly appreciate it.

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𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➡  Previous : Next

[1]ᅳ 𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐬 𝐝𝐞 𝐥𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚 ✟

Havana, Cuba

1830(Military Time)

It has been over three hours since you sat and played the grand piano in the restaurant of the capital city. Your fingers ache from pressing down on the black and white keys as you continuously perform well-known classical pieces to entertain the sole guest here, who is seated at the large table in the middle of the restaurant.

A tall, dark-skinned man with an unruly beard and disheveled hair, always dressed in black and adorned with brand-name sunglasses hanging over his chest on the edge of his shirt

That is Amado Carrillo Fuentes, the target you've been waiting for.

You watch this man intently, alert and attentive. Since the mission began, this is the first time you have seen this man so closely. Close enough for you to shoot him dead without missing a beat.

But that's not the objective this time, and you're not playing the role of an assassin or a CIA agent. Here, you're just a "Camila," an ordinary female musician hired to provide some entertainment during an important meeting of the Latin American drug cartel.

"It's too long." Diego's voice crackles through the earpiece, sounding irritated. "Are you sure the intel is correct?"

It's not just him who feels irritated; you feel the same. "I risked my life to obtain this information. If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't be here," your words barely whispered, but the tone sounds like a shout

"I think this should be enough," says the voice that comes back, belonging to Waltz, with a Texan accent that is so familiar to you. "You find a way out, and then we'll discuss what to do next."

No way, you think, but you don't say it out loud.  You deliberately ignored that command.

Suddenly, your bare back under the yellow floral-patterned dress shivers as you notice three more individuals walking into the empty restaurant. They are dressed in vibrant, tailored suits, adorned with thick gold chains and expensive watches 'drug lord uniforms.' That's what Diego told you—the first rule of identifying suspicious individuals—and it proves very useful this time.

Those people are the most powerful drug lord syndicate in Colombia, called "Gentlemen of Cali" Today, they have appeared together, all three of them. You discreetly observe the two Rodríguez brothers, Gilberto and Miguel, They both seem like ordinary old men with no apparent threat. No one knows that beneath that façade, they are the heads of 'Cali Cartel' the most powerful drug cartel in Colombia, controlling over 90% of the cocaine market worldwide, ever since Pablo Escobar fell.

However, the most frightening person is Pacho Herrera, the second-in-command of the gang. He is still young, handsome, and charismatic, with a strong sexual appeal to both men and women (mostly men, as confirmed by one of the prostitutes who is your informant that Pacho is bisexual). His appearance is strikingly different from that of other drug dealers. The reason why this man often takes on the role of negotiating and bargaining for the gang's benefits is that Pacho is always able to fulfill his duties and responsibilities. He is clever, cunning, and ruthless.

Nevertheless, Pacho's relationship with Amado seems to be going well. As far as you have learned, Pacho greatly admires this Mexican drug dealer. Although it is uncertain whether their relationship is strictly professional or romantic, there is a high possibility that this negotiation will succeed without any issues.

Although you are sitting closest to them, you are still considered distant. There is no way for you to hear their conversation, but you can read their lips to some extent.

—I want to make an offer.

—What offer?"

—A transportation exchange with Cocaine and market sharing in America

—You want to compete with my gang?

—I don't want to compete, and what I'm doing will help your gang in America.

That's all you know, albeit not much. However, it's enough to confirm that these two gangs are indeed negotiating a drug trafficking agreement.

There was a tense whispering between the Rodríguez brothers before they abruptly stood up without touching the food on the table. They didn't look upset but rather seemed deeply engrossed in their thoughts about that proposal. As for Pacho, he remained seated at the table, continuing to sip his drink, and began to casually ask Amado, "How are you, friend?" while spraying empty words for several minutes before finally getting up and patting Amado on the back, saying, "Wait for a phone call tonight."

"What happened then?" asked Diego anxiously, but you didn't respond. At that moment, nothing else on that table could divert your attention from the remaining Amado.

Suddenly, he raised his face—the only moment you and he made eye contact without intending to. He smiled at you, and you felt an instant chill when you realized it was the most dangerous smile in both America and Mexico.

And the man slowly stood up before confidently walking towards you.

You stopped playing the piano immediately. The last note resonated in the air before it fell silent. One of your hands instinctively reached to the back, a familiar gesture, only to realize later that you hadn't brought your gun with you.

This was an unexpected situation for you, and the most unsettling part was that you had no idea of his intentions or what kind of danger might arise within the next few minutes.

Perhaps this plan leaked to Amado. Maybe you would die at his hands.

No matter how nervous you were, you tried to smile calmly back at him, the calmest you could be. Your heart pounded when he stopped right in front of you, closer than ever.

"You play the piano very well," was Amado's first sentence. "May I ask your name?"

"I'm Camila."

"And I'm Amado," he said, extending his hand. You shook hands, feeling like it was a dream, but the firm and rough palm confirmed it was real.

The man fell silent, contemplating something deeply in his heart. You didn't dare move again; you remained seated, still wary what was happening.

He must have a plan. That's what you're thinking right now

And Amado also had a plan for you, just not the kind you had imagined.

"I think I'll have to stay around here for a while. It would be good to have a friend with me. If you have no business and don't mind being my friend," he said,

You raised an eyebrow, almost letting your jaw drop.

You didn't react immediately. You knew what he wanted from you.

"Well, I'm just a musician. If you need..." You left a small gap for him to figure out. "I think you can contact some women from outside."

"No, no, not like that." Amado quickly waved his hand, looking surprised and chuckling at the same time. "I just want you to join me for a drink and sit with me as long as I stay here, that's all."

You blinked in astonishment, realizing that everything happening was beyond the mission and beyond expectations. No matter what, you have obtained what you want now, and you should leave as soon as you have the chance before anything bad happens.

But deep down, you also knew that this was an opportunity—a once-in-a-lifetime chance that might never come again.

You tried to smile again and chose to do the opposite of what you should do.

"Sure, why not, if you're paying"

You accept his offer

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Inside the modified black van, loud conversations in Spanish resonated. Before Diego's face emerged from the van's window, he glanced at his boss, who was waiting outside with American officers, his expression not looking too good.

"We can't contact Y/N anymore, but we know she's with Amado now."

The deputy police chief, who had just finished smoking a cigarette, exhaled a puff of smoke before squinting at Diego. "What does it mean that She's with Amado? Did they catch her?"

"Nah, I think she chose to stay willingly." Diego took off his glasses, a rare occurrence unless he was feeling stressed. "That idiot lured her to drink, and she said yes!. I've invited her before, and she refused all the time. But now she chooses to go with that scumbag drug dealer without a second thought!”

Julio chuckled, He smirked before extending his hand to slap him on the back. "Because you're not as handsome as he is, little boy."

"I don't see what's so funny." Walt spoke up, leaning against the van door with a tense expression: "She's in danger, and we need to get her out of there quickly."

"Calm down, White Boy." Julio's voice remained relaxed, knowing that the American officer genuinely cared for their lone teammate. "She's C.I.A. Somehow she managed to survive, right?"

"But the C.I.A. isn't God," Walt retorted. "She could have been shot and killed just like me and you."

Diego glanced at Walt and immediately decided that this was not about himself. So he quickly turned his face and stepped back into the van. There was a faint shout from one of the Mexican soldiers on the other side, suggesting, "If you guys want to fight, do it in a secluded place." Walt responded to the advice by raising his middle finger in return.

Such situations were common in the battle against drug trafficking. Sometimes the tension of the mission led to heated arguments

If Americans were like tongues, Mexicans were like teeth. Julio knew this truth well, as did Walt himself.

The Mexican man calmly lit up another cigarette, exhaling a cloud of white smoke from his mouth and nose. "Listen, Walt, I know that the C.I.A. is not a god. Americans like you have never been my gods, and I know Y/N is going to do something by herself. No one is controlling her. That means she believes in herself, and you should have faith in her too."

With his long, pointing finger, he directed it straight at Walt, locking him in an intense gaze. Fatigued eyes still held a spark. 'We're all tired, and we don't want anyone to die’ conveyed Julio through his gaze, leaving the DEA agent at a loss for words.

Walt wanted to trust in you, as Julio told him, but that didn't help alleviate the anxiety in his heart.

Because you were the youngest agent Walt had ever worked with. You were the same age as his younger brother, and you had a bright future ahead of you. Walt didn't want you to make a mistake, and he didn't want to do anything that would restrain you in any way.

Walt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he saw a fresh cigarette being offered to him by Julio. Walt accepted the gesture by taking it and holding it between his lips, whispering a soft thank you. As Julio lit the cigarette for him,

They both stood there, smoking side by side, exchanging understanding through the smoke and silence. Walt gazed at the darkening sky as the streetlights gradually turned on one by one, illuminating both sides of the road. He took another deep smoke before turning to the person beside him and asking, "So, what do we do next?"

Julio smiled briefly, tapped the end of his own cigarette against the side mirror of the van, and let the ashes fall to the ground.

"All we can do is wait," he said.

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[forevercaroline]

This chapter is so big that I have broken it into three parts, this is part 1, part 2 will be coming out soon, and part 3 shortly after that all before the new year.

Tagging: @midnight-2411, @crazychicke, @austennerdita2533, @misssophiachase, @ceceswriting, @charliewrites99 @things-that-make-sa-happy, @karinanic, @riverdalelover2, @dumb-bitchculture, @xoxoloverb, @raaliyo, @midnightstaylorswift, @missmystic-vampirebarbie

"You look so handsome, thank you for coming tonight."

"Of course, I'm looking forward to see businesswoman Caroline."

The blonde avoids his look as her hands slide down the lapels of his black suit. He smiles down at her and can see that there is a smile on her face too.

Caroline returns to the mirror in the foyer and runs her fidgeting fingers across her black strapless mini diamond embellished dress that she has matched with silver heels. She has a black jacket and a diamond ball clutch. "I need to change."

Conrad reaches out for her wrist before she can leave the little ingrove that has the mirror and two benches and a vase. His thumb runs over her wrist he looks into her eyes and can see she is stressed. "You look Beautiful. You've already changed three times. Talk to me."

She glances down at his thumb, it's soothing her, she looks up at him and those green eyes she takes a breath and nods. "It's the first public event we've been to since my forced engagement announcement. Giuseppe is going to be pissed that your my date, the board is going to be pissed because of my outfit. I don't know if Satan's mistress is going to be there. I'm not only going because I'm CEO I'm going to support my guys. I'm so proud of Brad and his commercial, Zero and his billboard that is going up worldwide and Brett's magazine cover."

"You should be proud but Giuseppe is overshadowing your happiness." He has both her hands in his and both his thumbs are brushing over her wrists. She nods and he brings both hands up to his lips. He smiles into the kiss he leaves and she can't help but smile too the worry leaving her.

"Untangle love birds."Damon finally comes down the stairs usually they are waiting for Caroline to finish. He is buttoning his suit jacket.

"We were just talking."

Damon glances over his shoulder as he goes to open the door. "It's never just taking with you two." As opens the door there are two people dressed in black, the guy puts his hand down, he was just about to knock. "Can I help you?"

To see who is on the other side of the door:

[yoonia]

Hi again Dia! If it’s alright, I’d like to share some fun facts about EANA. You may or may not have read them already in the outline but I’d like to share them here with everyone else. (Just minor spoilers with the 1st chapter if anybody cares ig lol)

So initially, I did consider having their roles switched, with Seokjin as Prince Edward, and Jungkook as Robert. While I was still writing the outline, I even considered “casting” Yoongi as Robert at some point. But as you know, my final decision ended up with said members. I decided to have Jin star as Robert just to give him more attention and appreciation. I feel like compared to the other members, Jin seems to be rather slept on in the fandom sometimes (imo at least). Also, I thought he makes a better dilf lol.

Imo at least, I feel like in the fanfic community, there are certain character archetypes/stereotypes the boys tend to be written as in fanfics without realizing at times. For ex, since Jin is nicknamed “worldwide handsome”, he tends to be cast into “prince charming” roles, most notably in fairytale AUs. And since Yoongi irl is known to be rather introverted, he tends to be written into the “stand-offish and distant tsundere bad boy” roles. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love reading fics where authors use some of those archetypes. I just wanted to do something different for a change :)

Having Jin and Jungkook “cast” into their respective roles was the whole point. I wanted to break stereotypes like how the movie did. Some, at least. There ARE certain parts from the movie that I loved too much to cut out in, I won’t deny that haha. I wanted to put my own spin on EANA while still keeping everything that made the movie unique. But yeah, that’s just one of many fun facts I wanted to ramble on, haha. Also, unrelated, but I think it’s kinda funny how the chapters for EANA are being released around the same time Jin discharged from the military lol. Anyway, take care!☺️💜

Ah thank you so much for sharing your thought process into this commission!! Because I know everyone has been curious about the characters and how the roles were chosen and I think the best way to explain it is through your thought process since you had a role in this too

I can't remember if I told you how happy I was when I learned about your characters' casting. I agree, Jin hasn't gotten a lot of love in the fanfic community as ever since I've been active, a lot of love and attention has been given more to the stories written for the maknae line. So I was really excited when you asked to give the role of Robert to Jin. I thought it would be a nice change and a really unexpected twist, given that the other character was Jungkook, who mainly gets the lead role in stories like this, and I was right about how the role placements are making things more interesting with the story. Then I began mapping the story and loving the way things just fell into place

Jungkook does have the perfect traits to be Edward, while Jin fits the image of Robert so well that things started to flow once I began writing the scenes where they are involved

While I feel sorry for making you wait for so long until I begin posting this chapter, it feels like the universe had a hand in things since the story comes out around the same time Jin is coming back. It does feel like the perfect timing to celebrate his return. I hope to finish the rest of the chapters soon since the progress seems to be going more smoothly now that the first chapter is out haha

[ladythornofrivia]

👹 Match Made In Hell 👹 || Aemond x Reader (My Demon AU) (Part Two)

Next Chapter

🍒summary: reader, who has now made pact with the devil, must face the difficulties by the likes of her surroundings, and Aemond, who took pleasure on tormenting her, even divulge his dirty thoughts.

🍒 warning: enemies to lovers, Dark!Aemond, violence, blood, misogyny, mentions of cheating, Aemond is a demon in a fic, he’s a d*ckhead, but charming, reader is a b*tch, spoiled brat, smut, action sequences, oral sex, rough sex, public sex, hotel sex, hate sex, contract, blood kink, religion themes, knife play, sexual tension, oral m receiving, oral f receiving, degradation, Aemond in a red suit, money kink, p in v sex, breeding kink, sex in the club, sex in a hospital bed, toxic relationship, fake relationship, possessive Aemond, obsession, jealousy, stalking, blackmail, dom/sub relationship, wet dream, cunnilingus, fingering, squiriting, reader is a virgin, aemond is experienced, moaning, reader and aemond being horny, 69, lotus, sex on the wall, praise kink, creampie, daddy kink. Demon!Aemond has powers, but needs reader to fuel and restore his power. The story from the show will be different in fanfic. Inspired by K-Drama “My Demon”.

a/n: this series is inspired by k-drama, and it’ll deviates from the canon, but still had the same atmosphere as the netflix version.

Chapter Two: Just the Two of Us—On Hellish Earth!

"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell."

- Oscar Wilde

~~~

“That’s a good girl,” Aemond purred, his breath tickled the side of your face. “If you keep behaving, I won’t proclaim dirty thoughts aloud. Show me that you’re a good, sweet girl, and I will do as I promise. I will be on my knees, if you want me to.”

In your family, everyone knows you’re a good daughter, a goodly woman. Thus the surname upholds the reputation.

Saint.

Oh yes, the future heiress and family obtained a peculiar surname, but worldwide acknowledgement on the word. Saint—a person with good values and virtue who goes to heaven after death—typically an easy description in a biblical context.

It all started with your great-great-great-great-grandfather, who was a founding member of the aristocratic society and the narcissistic psychopath decided to alter his surname to Saint, and thus, you, inherited the surname—living up to a legacy. Ironically, no one life on earth is perfect. Except for you maybe.

But you’re far from being an angelic girl, apart from your innocence—like visage, a perfect image for the company, a perfect image as an heiress, you’re just a person who loves being showered with special treatment.

A future heiress, who is sitting on the hospital bed on a highest floor, motionless and sulking, being lectured by a scolding loud mother and a quiet father who was leaning on the wall due to a lack of chairs inside the hospital room. Despite a lack volume, the tv has set in motion with similar headlines regarding to your “attempted suicide”, and notions of stock prices or profits and promotions of the Aurora company lower as well as your former fiancés’. Needless to say, your mother didn’t pursue the ideology of a sympathetic role.

Staying in bed, your anger hasn’t subsided; Aemond stayed to another side of the room, studying you and your life with a smug etched on his lips. You wished it was a dream, but it’s no dream, at all. Your virginity has been taken—unclean.

Aemond kept his violet eye on you as your body shivered with heat clamoring and pounding over your back head. It was a nightmare—a real one. To think your maidenhood ended up someone who’s a devil but appears as your favorite character—tall, white-haired, a handsome portrayal blessed with pretty privilege.

Oh how you despised him.

Your hand clenched and ache to jabbed your knuckles on his side portrait until the bones drenched in a warm shed of your blood.

“(Y/n), did you hear what I just said,” your mother demanded.

On a side table, your father brought you your favorite takeout and drink. Drink, however is undeniably sweet, yet fizzled with bubbles. You thanked him for you to replenish appetite; your mother paid for the “junky meal”, as your mother preferred to call.

“Yeah,” you said, annoyed, your hand waved dismissively.

Underneath your hospital sheets, the bed stained with your blood—hymen unsealed and stretched—ripped wide open with his monumental girth. The cherry popped out. In between your aching legs, his unforgiving vigor has set your body bruised not alight with pleasure. You don’t intend to fuck anyone unless if it’s serious. And your V-card has been taken to a toll it’ll never have the same experience as the first. Firsts are supposed to be special—as your traditional side of your family taught you. Like a flower, it can’t be repair once damaged under your claws and crumpled to thousand folds.

And Aemond crumpled the flower for you.

“The press has demanded of your comment to the matter,” she said, scowling. “This will cause our stock prices to go low if you don’t do something about it. This scandal must cease to exist. You won’t repeat this unhinged mistake.”

“You did set me up a date with that jerk, right?”

Your mother deadpanned. “It’s good for the company. And you won’t stay young forever.”

You scoffed. “Not every woman has to be involved with pregnancy and being a mother. That’s not our personality trait. Besides, he’s the one who’s been playing around with his father’s money to go after girls with Kardashian look-alike.”

“You’re different, (y/n),” your mother’s tone darkened. “You aren’t meant to be a free girl like those sluts. They’re beyond from God’s salvation.”

“That’s stupid.”

Your mother sighed. “In any case, eat. You haven’t been eating much since yesterday. You worked too hard.”

You crossed your arms, eyeing on Aemond, still smirking at you.

“There’s no reason to be mad at your butler,” your sullen mother cautioned. “I know he’s way older for you to be as your dad.”

Perplexed, veering at the other side of the room, appearing Aemond; no personal butler was in sight. Until realization hit you. You can see Aemond but not to others—another trick from the one-eyed prince—no, a sadistic devil with a sneering grin.

“Apparently, I was in a brink of death because he didn’t fix the wheels on my car,” you seethed with gritted teeth, glowering at him—Aemond.

Your mother sighed again, standing up. “Just eat your food, (y/n), you have a conference to attend to in the next couple of days or so. But if early, brace yourself. The headlines will soon be another battle.”

As soon as she left without a farewell or a hug, your father came by to your bedside.

“Your mother is only worried for you,” your father said, quiet as a mouse, taking your bruised hand to his.

“Worry she won’t have a grandchild or me leaving alone and cold in the world?”

He tucked the long strand behind your ear. “Go get some sleep,” is all he said and kissed above your hairline. “If you need anything, your butler will serve you.”

Eyeing Aemond again, you answered, “Fine, but I don’t think I need anything right now.”

Patting your hand, your father left with a gentle goodbye and slid the door closed.

“Seeing humans sputter with futile accusations and arguments enlightens me,” he purred, giddied.

“You can stop disguising yourself as my butler, Aemond wanna be,” you snapped, though your tone is implied in low volume.

“Seems you’re hanging by a thread, my lady,” he mocked.

Ignoring him, you munched on your favorite meal. It was In-N-Out, Bolognese pasta with a side of soda—Coca-Cola, but your father secretly purchased non-carbonated drinks, to which you desire at this minute. Grabbing a lychee flavored non-carbonated drink and took a swig after an empty stomach the last evening.

When you try to reach for your sweet snacks, the plastic was nowhere to found, only to be in the hands of a devilish handso—no, the devil got your edible possessions and consumed them in delight curiosity, humming.

“You bitch, give me my snacks back,” you seethed.

Munching the Cheetos, he said, “What snack? You have your own food. I barely had any proper meal since my time as a prince.” Then he wretched a little. “Too much salt. How in the Seven Hells do you survive from this…horrid flavor?”

You looked at him in disbelief. “Bitch.” Resuming back to eating another box of crispy chicken caramelized in honey and spicy sauce, teeth crunched and mouth savored in a sweet and delicate spice tingling on your tongue, already forgetting the pain between your legs, from his unforeseen touches of fingers, mouth and long, veiny cock.

Still, you weren’t sure he made a move on you when he’s not interested in you in the first place.

He was using you as his play toy. Of course he’s using me—he’s the Devil!

Work has always been your priority—first and foremost in your life long journey. But the last duty of setting up a date with another CEO’s son was the last straw, hence you like being set in a bitchy mood, fearless and reckless.

Aemond still kept looking at your direction—at the box of crispy chicken. Sighing, you gave up two chicken to him, to which he gladly took and devoured it with slow pacing. Humming, Aemond slurped and clawed his teeth into the fried layer, tugging it until it melts into his delicious—his damnable mouth and swallowed last content.

“Satisfied,” you asked, not looking at him, setting your empty takeout boxes on the side of the small table beside the bed, thudding back down on the pillows. “My grandmother will be here any minute, so whatever you have to say, say it now.”

Aemond’s composure stilled. “My, we’re getting hasty, are we?”

“Why did you disguise yourself as my butler?”

“Because I assume you have feelings for this man,” he said, laced in sarcasm.

“No, I don’t.”

“But your face says otherwise.”

Groaning, your body rotated away from Aemond. “I’m going to sleep.”

When you opened your eyes again, this time Aemond sat beside you, a little too close where you almost couldn’t breathe. You wished everything is a dream.

“I can’t, not while the mark is on your arm.”

“Why did you put this on me?”

Sneering, he replied, “Simple. Because I wanted someone who goes from being pretentious clean to someone who has a secret side of being a not-so obedient and provocativeness of Aurora’s future heiress.”

You stayed silent, gazing at him with furious and anticipation flowing through.

“Oh, I know everything about you, Saint. You’re a dutiful daughter who does everything for her family’s legacy—good student and a girl with style. But at night, you’re no different from your former fiancé. You love to party, and occasionally drink and gambling, and becoming rebellious by being so provocative with your own girlish, slender body. Masturbated—often going to porn website a lot, using your vibrator and fingers, touching yourself a lot. Sometimes you post pictures, wearing thongs and garter belt as an anonymous user on the internet. Oh, what a thrill would be if your parents find out about—”

Face reddened in wrath, your hand held high in sharp and fast motion. “Hold it right there, prince. First of all, you don’t leak someone’s private and personal life. Second, don’t ever fucking go and snoop around when it comes to me. My life is my own. Go find another girl to fuck with, Aemond.”

His tongue clicked. “The mark on your skin is the only way for me to get you know intimately, my sweet,” he purred, his violet eye glinted. “Besides, I think your life is interesting. And by interesting, I mean the most dullish and ironically not a saint as it lives up to your name.”

“Fuck off, Targaryen wanna be.” As when you pulled the blanket over your head, Aemond yanked it back. “The door is over there. My grandmother will be here.”

“I won’t repeat myself, (y/n). Either you accept that you have a devil on your back, or you’ll die in a most painful death in a slow, aggravating way.”

“Ooh, I’m scared.”

Aemond rolled his eye. “She’s lying—your mother.”

Your brow quirked.

“You’re headed to the church with her first thing in the morning to grant an everlasting peace in your…predicament.” He snorted. “But you’re aware of our contract, my little angel.”

A quiver in your tone hid so well, so well in fact that you remained unshakable from speaking to the evil deity. “Even if it is, I’m still going with my—”

His hand seized your throat, fingertips deepened and blunt nails punctured against your voice box. Your hands held in his grasp, all while maintaining eye contact.

“Don’t,” he said, the mischievous glint in his violet eye had bleaken. “You made a deal with me, dear heart.”

Snorted, you managed to find vigor. “I go to church every Sunday. Tomorrow is Sunday; I can’t miss attending the mass.”

He dug his blunt fingernails tighter. “You’re no Saint. You’re just a slut who disguises herself as one. Now listen, and listen well. On a Sunday morning, you must abide here in this room. Until then, you must behave around me. The moment the contract is sealed onto your skin, you are in no relations with your mother; I can easily kill you with a touch of plague, if have to.”

“Fuck you,” you choked.

Aemond’s teeth glistened. “I already did.”

“Why did you fuck me if you hate me that much?”

“Can’t you see, dear heart? I hated you, so I need to find a way to shut that stupid mouth of yours.”

“That’s not what you reacted not long ago!”

“You fucking cunt,” he snarled, gripping twice as hard to a point you barely couldn’t breathe. “I only use your cunt because I hadn’t got satisfaction since my death.”

“That shit again—”

“Take it however you like, but as long as I’m here, you will never have the life you wanted! So,” he inched his face closer, the grip loosened bit by bit, “are you going to be my good little rebel or not?” When you opened your mouth, he added, “Choose the wrong answer, I’ll have you killed on the spot. Even when your breath reeks with godly prayers and preaches with love and loving your enemies. What do you say, (y/n)?”

Your head felt like it was about to implode. “I’ll do it—I’ll stay here.”

“Good girl,” he hummed, releasing you. “That’s a good girl,” Aemond purred, his breath tickled the side of your face. “If you keep behaving, I won’t proclaim dirty thoughts aloud. Show me that you’re a good, sweet girl, and I will do as I promise. I will be on my knees, if you want me to.”

“On one condition,” you said, “you are going to be my bodyguard.”

Aemond is struck with paleness across his sardonic facet. “You’ll do no such thing!”

“Too bad,” you said, grinning, snickering, “You should’ve chose someone who’s more compliant and oblivious. And whatever I say, or where I go, you must follow. Like a good little dragon—sorry, beast, that you are.”

Aemond held his restraints on attacking you.

“Just the two of us—on this hellish earth. We have a deal?”

Aemond proceeded himself in quietude, knowing it gave you an answer.

By the end, the butler never came, and you’re alone with your thoughts and the princely Devil himself.

~~~

On Sunday morning, you stayed in the room, but had your television programmed to Sunday mass. But it didn’t end there, you needed more prayers—attending the church with your parents, providing cash and coins to donate for the poor. Aemond found this to be foolish, but each time.

By the end, your personal butler came with your grandmother with an ivory domed-shaped birthday cake in her hands, decorated with red and blue roses fondant above after taking it out from the silken fancy box.

Aemond stayed himself invisible—he exited the hospital room, announcing he had other duties to attend to. You didn’t bother to ask, sickly and ghastly as you go.

Your grandmother noticed you haven’t ate your cake—your favorite cake—layered with vanilla and white chocolate smooth frosting, and strawberry flavored fondant red roses and tangy blueberry flavor on the fondant blue roses. You can even spot white roses blended and edible yellow flowers.

“You have missed your chance on celebrating your birthday last night,” your grandmother said.

Sighing, fingers massaged your pounding head. “Sorry, it’s been a real nightmare for me.”

“That silly boy will go straight into jail, for one thing. For ditching you on your date is one thing, but to put his hands on the girl’s body is another.”

“How can it be a date when we already know he doesn’t like me for me and likes for the money? I can’t allow to happen; he’s too greedy and sleazy and greasy like a smelly rat.”

Your grandmother tsked, shutting the tv off. “I know you only do it to save the company and your inheritance. I did the same myself, and I’m still ongoing with coordination, but on my terms, not the old tradition from a previous generation.”

“Mom doesn’t understand; she wants me to have a baby. But I hate babies. Babies will ruin my body, my face, my diet and my plans for the future,” you complained.

Her hand landed atop yours, squeezing your palm. “When it comes to love, there’s all sorts of forms. As love we yearned to have, I’d rather have someone stabbed me in the heart to know how your heart can be alive and cut off short in unison. That’s what love is. To feel alive and be numbed by a single knife.”

Biting your bottom lip, your mouth dried with uneasiness. Too many boys have fooled you, but work life has saved you and your time to consent, adrenaline with rage. Of all things, of all people, why Aemond? Why the devil?

“Don’t be sad, sweet girl,” your grandmother said, stroking your cheek with the back of her index finger. “Today’s the day where we make up your birthday last night. I’ll talk to your mom of the situation. In the meantime, the world is your oyster—so taste the flavors of journey while you still can. Leave everything to me.”

The fretfulness descended into oblivion ad your grandmother sang you “Happy Birthday.” and by the time she left, you feel asleep, unaware that Aemond infiltrated, watching you.

~~~

The night before the press conference has gotten you on edge. At the spacious store, everything is vast with expensive brands as you’re heading to the office styled fashion. You ought to wear something extravagant, but your mother insisted on wearing something that screams “victim”. But with a large shadow towering you, you were unsure.

“A little girl playing as an adult, are we?”

You have almost forgotten that Aemond is with you at this current event. Presenting to the public is as important as a runway show.

Shoving back the attire at the hanged section, you ventured to the next. There were some clothes that are cute but uncomfortable, and there are some ugly attire but wearable in breeze and affluence.

As you picked up royal blue attire, you irked with bothersome and placed it back. When you spotted the white aisle, your smile never left and rushed towards the new section in quiet pace, lifting out the right size for your waist and hips.

“Color white doesn’t suit you, little angel,” he taunted. “Do you know what ivory symbolizes? Innocent, naïveté, and virginity. You should insist on wearing the color pink instead, but pink is for little girls, maybe that color suits you. With color pink, it stands for your innocence and your virginity to be taken away—”

You slapped him. “Shut up, the attendants are here!”

“I can go loud if I want to,” Aemond replied. “Perhaps I shall remind you how you scream on top of your lungs, how you whine beneath me in the hosp—”

“Shut up!” you warned in gritted teeth.

“My, my, you’re blushing like an untainted virgin.”

The attendants suddenly shut their mouths the moment you look back.

“Do you know where the fitting room is? I would like to try this on,” you asked the assistant. The assistant pointed the fitting room nearby, one with velvet curtains. As you thanked the assistant, you stepped inside but gasp in horror when Aemond followed you behind.

“Aemond, what the fuck—get out of here!” Your hand found its way to punch and shoved him back but not to avail, leaving him in his amusements.

“I’m your bodyguard,” he reminded, a playful expression materialized.

Trembled with wrath, you finally shoved him back behind the curtains. “Stay out!”

And hearing Aemond chuckled, the notion of smiting him was in order.

Slut, he called you.

Dealing with conference and the devil was harder than what it appears to be. It will take a while for you to be settled on hellish earth with a demon. And thus, the day of press conference has come to a close. Either it will make a mark on your history, or it will fall.

@ aemondswifffeeeyyy- all rights reserved

Taglist: @daonenonlysandman @toodlesxcuddles @hufflepuff1700 @me753 @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @taintedlovesworld @kukulyarva @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @herathedreamer @fandom-maniac-anime @httpsmenace @velunis @nananeptune @domithebomi @moonseye @valeskafics @moonseye @faesspace @domithebomi @rxixo31 @tm-starr @xinthia19 @popsycles @naiaaramena @aleemendoza2425-blog @letmehavemyfictionalmen @aracelipf @ammo23 @blackswxnn @buccini555 @f1yh1gh @taangie @wolfdressedinlace @qardasngan @justyelena @jolixtreesunn @runekisses @jmii722 @colored-tr-panels @evergreen9083 @foggypeacestarlight @galactict3a

[shina913]

Scale (Series) | KSJ

Scale (Series)

Pairing: KSJ x fem!reader; with appearances by OT7

Rating: M🔞

Genre: Rich boy!AU; strangers to lovers; fluff; angst; smut; crack

Total word count: 100,702 words

Status: Completed ✅

Warnings (more written in individual chapter updates): socioeconomic imbalance; character physical disability; cussing; office banter; arranged marriages; secret relationships; medical scare; smut; crack; criminal investigation; smut; protected sex; unprotected sex; oral (mutual)

Summary: Kim Seokjin lives in a world where money is no object as he is the heir to his family's lucrative company; OC is a scrappy go-getter who has to work hard at multiple jobs to meet her financial obligations. When their paths cross, they'll have to figure out whether they can find a balance point between themselves and their lives.

A/N: This KSJ character is based off my other series, Gradation. I've made a few tweaks to the character and updated a few other roles around him so that this can be a standalone story.

Comment, reblog, or send me an ask 📩. Would love to know what everyone thinks!

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 3.5 | 4 | 5 | 5.5 | 6 | 7 | 8-prologue | 8 | 9 | 9.5 | 10-finale

➼Cross-posted on AO3

Taglist: @deepseavibez @shameless-army @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @twogyuu @jakepralta @arisud @justmewondering-recs @taleasnewastime @se0kedinluv @bangtannoonalvg @joheunsaram

[aquagustd]

influence - KSJ | M

pairing: seokjin x reader

summary: take each day as it comes, one fake smile at a time but what happens when a certain someone sees through your act, a certain Kim Seokjin, your fiancé’s cousin.

genre: angst, fluff, smut

word count: 5K

warnings/tags: strong language, strangers to lovers, mentions of domestic violence, Y/N has an abusive & controlling fiancé, soft smut, explicit smut-dirty talk, tongue sucking, fingering, unprotected sex, cockwarming, post-sex cuddles

a/n: seokjin = hubba hubba

∞

“What is this?”

He gestures to the neckline of the jumpsuit you’re wearing.

“You said I could pack this outfit.”

“No, I don’t think I would’ve let you bring it if I knew that everyone would be able to see your fucking boobs if you wear it!”

Obviously, he’s overreacting, the neckline exposes your collarbones and just the tops of your chest, your cleavage is barely visible.

“Here,” he tosses the floral bolero jacket that was kept on the dresser, “wear this, and make sure to button it up.”

You should’ve known that even on your first vacation together as an engaged couple, he still won’t give you a break. In fact, you didn’t want to come in the first place, but you were forced to abandon your responsibilities at work and attend his cousin’s wedding in the Maldives. This would also be the first time that you will be meeting a few of his extended family members who couldn’t make it to the engagement.

Arm in arm, you walk through the entrance, the beautiful smell of fresh roses and coconut fill your nostrils. This jubilant atmosphere might help lighten up your mood, so you plaster on one of your best smiles and let the laughter and chatter from the crowd around you drown out the reality of the arm that’s holding you down both literally and figuratively.

“Let’s greet everyone, and remember don’t tell them about our plans, hmm?”

He speaks through gritted teeth, and you nod, expecting him to walk forward with you when you’re unceremoniously tugged back into your previous spot next to him.

“Did you hear what I said?” Teeth still gritted, eyes still drilling into your own.

“Yes,” your voice monotone, eyes holding his, knowing he hates when you break eye contact.

You walk around, speaking to a few of his family members that you’ve met before. Most of them ask what’s your plans after the wedding, but you keep your mouth shut and let him do the talking, knowing that if you utter one word that won’t sit right with him, you’d have to bear the consequences later. And you don’t want to spend hours color correcting and concealing your face before the wedding.

“Ah Y/N, you remember my aunt, you met at the engagement.”

A beautiful lady, who doesn’t look a year over fifty, gives you a dazzling smile, capturing you in a warm hug that makes you miss your own mother at home.

“Y/N, how are you? You look beautiful today,” she holds your hands and surveys your outfit.

“I hope he’s taking good care of you,” she cocks an eyebrow at her nephew, who grabs your arm again as soon as she lets go of your hand.

“Of course I am,” he grins, “it isn’t that hard to keep a woman happy.”

She gives him a discerning look, then starts to crane her neck over the crowds.

“Oh, you must meet my son. Where is that boy?”

You and your fiancé help her look, even though you have no idea what he looks like.

After a few moments of scanning the crowd, she waves over a tall man with tan skin.

“Y/N, this is my son Seokjin.”

“Hyung!”

Your fiancé envelops him in a hug, patting his back for a while then letting go.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you! Still globetrotting?”

The tall man rubs his neck and opens his mouth to speak, when he is cut off by your fiancé.

“Remember when we said we’ll fuck one girl in each city,” he nudges the tall man in his ribs and you grimace at his words, glancing at his aunt who is engaged in conversation with the bartender.

“Ah, I’m done with all that now. I plan on settling down. Starting my own family,” he spots you, “this is your fiancée right?”

Dipping his head, he takes your hand in his, “nice to meet you.”

But your hand is ripped out of his hold when your fiancé grips your waist and pulls you into his side, “yes my fiancée, Y/N.”

“Sorry I couldn’t make it to the engagement,” his eyes meet yours, “I had some important business at the time.”

“But you,” he punches your fiancé’s arm, “how did someone like you land someone like Y/N?”

You stare up at your fiancé, seeing his lips purse and eyebrows furrow. You fiddle with a loose thread on your bolero, knowing how he reacts to comments like these.

“Y/N would you like a drink?”

You lift your head to look at the sweet lady, eyes crescent-shaped as she smiles.

“Yes, please…Uhm…Piña colada?”

She turns to give the bartender your order when your fiancé taps the counter and catches the attention of everyone within a one-mile radius.

“Virgin. Virgin piña colada.”

You stand there awkwardly, exchanging smiles with Seokjin and his mother, as you wait for your drink.

You meet the bride, who turns out to be Seokjin’s sister. You’re trying to figure out how someone like your fiancé could be related to such welcoming and humble people. But you think back to when you first met your fiancé, what a load of shit he pulled on you.

The emcee announces that the dancefloor will now be open, you just sit back and take the last few sips of your drink, knowing your fiancé won’t bother. A large hand blocks your view.

You look up to find the Seokjin, smiling down at you.

“May I have this first dance?”

You look to your fiancé, seeing him down what must be his fifth drink for the night. He just shrugs and you take it as your cue to place your palm in Seokjin’s awaiting one.

The first song is a slow one, the lights dim and he places his palm on your waist tentatively, you place yours on his shoulder while the other still holds his hand in the air. You sway to the beat for a while, until he leans in close and whispers in your ear.

“Your smile doesn’t fool me.”

You step back a bit to look at his face, seeing the blank expression that paints his features. He stares down at you, watching every inch of your face and you do the same, suddenly aware of how he has the facial structure of a prince.

The beat of the slow song stops, quiet murmurs fill the air and you look around, seeing the lights turn back on and a more upbeat song starts to play and he lets go of your hand in favor of wiggling his own, bending his knees and doing some sort of weird octopus dance and you have no time to think of how quickly his demeanor has changed when you burst out laughing at his weird chicken dance.

He grabs your arms and moves them with his, asking you to join in, so you do. Copying his movements and waving your arms in the air, clapping along to his dance, your hair coming loose from how hard you’re laughing. But obviously, all good things must come to an end and soon, your fiancé weaves through the crowd and grabs your wrist. You stare at Seokjin as he drags you away, like a mother berating her child for playing with the naughty kid in the park.

His eyes don’t leave yours until you’re out of sight, the same blank expression on his face.

You sit at the same bar later, a little after midnight, the bar is closed and all the lights are off, except for the few torches that line the corners. Hair down to cover your right cheek, tears blur your vision as you think of the exchange between you and your fiancé from earlier.

“Didn’t I fucking tell you not to tell anyone about us moving away after the wedding?”

“I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me! You told my mother.”

“I didn’t even see your mother today!”

“Don’t you dare fucking raise your voice at me. One asshole will give you a bit of attention and you think you can talk back to me.”

You place your hand on your cheek, the burn still the same as it was when it first landed on your skin.

“I’m done, I can’t do this anymore. This is over.”

You run your thumb over the new bare spot on your left ring finger.

“Where will you go you fucking bitch. You’ll come back to me like you always do.”

“Can’t sleep too?”

You whip your head to the sound of the voice, seeing Seokjin stand there with a white loose shirt draped around his shoulders.

Quickly blinking away the tears, you dip your head lower to make sure your hair covers your face. Knuckles brushing against your other cheek to wipe away the tears that fell from your lashes.

It’s quiet for a while, the only sound being the soft whistle of the water from the beach not too far away. You almost forget he’s sitting there until he sighs, catching your attention.

“You know, my cousin, he was spoiled from the time he was a baby. Always got what he wanted, never heard the word ‘no’ in his life before.”

You keep your eyes on the wooden edge of the counter, wondering where he’s going with this.

“We were in the same college, you met him after he graduated and took his father’s position. He worsened as the years went on. With women, especially.”

You lift your eyes to look at him, seeing his hands clasped in front of him, his gaze on your face.

“So when I saw you…I just knew and, and obviously I’m not someone to meddle in other people’s affairs especially when it comes to my cousin. Having experience with what it’s like when you come between him and his women,” he chuckles, the sound leaving his lips emptily.

“But I’m telling you this, as someone who knows him far better than anyone. Than his own parents, really. Get out while you can, before he-“

Your eyes glaze over, not leaving his, even when his hand stretches over the short space and tucks your hair behind your ear, seeing the bruise on your cheek.

“I’m done,” your voice shakes a bit and his eyes soften when you speak.

He grabs the legs of his chair and scoots closer to you, patting your back as you sob.

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s the only person in his family who sees through his ‘nice guy’ act. Maybe it’s because for the first time in years, someone saw through your act, your fake smiles and laughs.

But you find yourself trusting a complete stranger, someone who knows so much and so little about you at the same time.

“It’s alright. Uhm, I have my own chalet not too far from here, it has two bedrooms. I know how this might sound but if you want you can-“

“Okay,” you sniffle.

He searches your eyes, his cologne wafting over to you when a particularly chilly breeze passes by.

“Your things?”

“He must be knocked out by now,” you begin to rub your eyes when he pulls your hand away from your face.

“Don’t do that, it’s bad for your eyes,” he scolds, “trust me, I have my own optical issues.”

You give him a teary smile, dabbing with the sleeves you pull over your palms.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he switches on the light and guides you to a room, similar interior to your hotel room with a few splashes of pink and purple here and there.

He sets down your luggage on the rug, you move to the sliding door, admiring the breath-taking view of the ocean. You sit at the edge, holding your knees to your chest. He sits down next to you too, knowing your conversation from earlier isn’t over just yet.

“How did you know?”

Your voice is soft, as soft as the waves that splash against the stilts. He turns to look at you, lips in a pout.

“How did you know that he-“

“I think anyone could see it, although my mother and I know what signs to look for.”

Your eyes widen a fraction at the mention of his mother, “your mother?”

“Yeah she knows. Well,” he crosses his legs and faces you, you mirror his action, your robe riding up your thighs.

“My sister, she, uhm, had this best friend in college and he had spent years trying for her attention but obviously, she didn’t give in, knowing his experience with women. Somehow, he had won her heart and she fell madly in love with him. But he messed things up. Big time. I think I don’t have to tell you in what sense…”

You nod, flashbacks of your own making your breath quicken.

“When my mother had told her sister, they just swept it under the rug.”

“Like everything else he does,” you add.

Adjusting your position, you feel your leg start to cramp and when you put your legs straight ahead of you, next to his body, his eyes catch on your inner thighs, that particular spot. When you see him looking, you draw your legs back but he catches them, eyes glued to yours.

“That’s why it makes me so angry,” he lifts the hem of your shorts, any other time you would have slapped his hands away and then his face, but you know what he’s referring to.

Your lips start to quiver and you hate yourself for letting your emotions spill out so easily in front of this stranger who probably thinks you’re so pathetic, but the look in his eyes tells you otherwise.

“It makes me so angry that he got away with Ria, and he’s still getting away with it.”

Your eyes don’t leave the two angry scars on your inner thighs, biting your lip to keep the tears from spilling.

“But Ria is happily married now, and I don’t want you to be deprived of that happiness too.”

He speaks in a hushed tone, like it’s a secret just for the two of you. Maybe it is.

Your eyes meet again, tears brimming over his too.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen your fiancé show any emotion except anger towards you.

A lone tear rolls down your cheek and he catches it, his index finger smoothing over your cheek. You’re unable to recall the time someone touched you so tenderly, tears welling your eyes even more at the gesture.

“I don’t want you to miss the chance of finding what you deserve, Y/N.”

You’re full on crying now and he scoops you up into his arms, rubbing soothing circles onto your back with his fingers, the thin material of your robe and nighties allowing for his body heat to burn into your own skin.

When you pull away, your eyes stay on his chest, not willing to look at him in fear of your emotions taking over you again.

“How did you get those scars Y/N?”

You clear you throat, trying to fight the constant burn in your throat that you can’t seem to swallow.

“H-He. I was wearing a dress,” you hiccup, cursing yourself at the sound, but a warm hand on your head urges you to keep going.

“It c-came up to my knees and…And he got angry. H-He said I won’t be able to wear those dresses anymore looking like that,” another sob breaks from your chest and he pushes your face into his chest, your fingers digging into the soft fabric of his shirt.

“Listen Y/N,” his warm breath tickling your ear, “you don’t have to attend the rehearsal dinner tomorrow, if you don’t want to. Take a day here to yourself. I can book the spa for you.”

You break away from his hold, finally looking up at him, your heartrate picking up again.

“You don’t have to do all that for me,” you stand, making your way over to the bed, “I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay here.”

He adjusts his shirt, shoving his hands in his pockets, making his shoulders pop up to his ears. You’re acknowledging how broad they are.

“Alright, just, let me know if you need anything. Are you hungry? I can coo-“

You giggle, the sound making the corners of his mouth lift up too.

“I’m fine, thank you Seokjin.”

“Okay, I’m just down the hall if you need anything.”

He walks to the door, switching the lamp on and peeping in through the small gap as you get comfortable in the plush blankets.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Seokjin.”

The door shuts, and you’re unable to sleep, the sensation that makes your insides feel like marshmallows reminds you of the last time you’ve felt it and the man just a door away.

“How was dinner?”

Seokjin loosens his tie and removes his shoes, placing them neatly on the side of the door. The act doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Was fine,” he plops down on the couch next to you, “how was the spa?”

“I was mad at first then I decided to let it go. I didn’t know they do home spas here.”

He grins, “they don’t. I organized it.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief, “why?”

“Just feel like you deserve it.”

You sit there, electricity fizzing between you, his eyes not leaving yours, the book you were reading completely forgotten.

He’s the first to break it, staring at the black tie in his hands, “he was there.”

You swallow, pinching the corner of your bookmark, “and?”

“His mother was already introducing him to a family friend’s daughter,” he scoffs.

You laugh, a little shocked but also, relieved. Above all, relieved.

He pats his thighs, “I’m gonna shower and…What do you wanna do after?”

“Me?”

You point to yourself, and he laughs, the flash of his teeth making you lick your lips.

“No, I’m talking to the book in your hands! Yes, you!”

Biting your lip, you rack your brain for a fun idea, when you decide to settle on what you really want to do.

“I just want to stay in, to be honest,” you shrug, looking out the floor to ceiling windows, “I like the peace and quiet.”

“Alright, I’ll be out in a bit. Have you eaten?”

“Mhmm.”

You smile to yourself, enjoying how domestic this all feels. You’ll bask in the serenity, however long it’ll last. This little bubble you’ve created for yourself and this stranger will keep you safe, for now.

“So, you’ve never been on a helicopter before?”

“No, I haven’t! Is it that hard to believe?”

You giggle, “no no I’m just saying. Like, I would expect you to, after all, you’re one of the big shots.”

He shuts his eyes, and places his hands on his knees, “I get motion sickness, okay? And I’m far from ‘big shot’, I work for my father.”

“Yeah but you’re next in line, right?”

“Only if I want to,” he pulls on a tassel from the throw you share, gazed fixed on the action. You watch his face, thinking that maybe you’ve hit a heavy topic for him.

“Okay, next question-“

“Yah! It’s my turn now!”

“Okay okay,” you smile, gesturing for him to go on.

He thinks for a while, lips curving downwards as he does, your eyes glued to the pink flesh. You don’t see him look at you again, a smirk forming slowly.

“What is your deepest, darkest fantasy?”

You cock an eyebrow, “are we in high school?”

He rolls his eyes, “this is supposed to be fun. If you don’t have one, I’ll tell you mine.”

Chewing on your lip, you try to think of something that you’ve always wanted to do, something that’s considered dark, something that’s considered a fantasy. You almost want to laugh at the fact that you have none, work and him filling your life. Not really leaving much time for you to conjure up your own fantasies.

You shake your head at him, his expression remaining blank, even when he speaks.

“Well, I’ll tell you mine. I’ve always wanted to go on this vacation, to a beautiful place with beautiful views and beautiful people. Then, I meet this woman, with a smile that could break my heart but put back it’s pieces at the same time. By happenstance, she lives with me at my chalet, she’s been hurt before and she’s guarded.”

At this point, you’re shifting in your seat, looking anywhere but his face.

“I know that we’ve met for a reason and people might call me crazy, but my intuition never failed me before. And I want this sweet, classy and beautiful lady, to be mine. To let me give her all the love that I know she deserves.”

Your vision is becoming fuzzy with tears again, and you move off the couch but he catches your hand, standing in front of you.

“I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable,” he whispers, face inches away yours.

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself, “you didn’t.”

His gaze lowers to your lips, his chest heaving as he leans in closer, your eyes shut, waiting for him to close the distance.

But the soft touch never comes, your eyes open, seeing him stare at you from a safe distance away, his hand still holding yours.

“I don’t want to take advantage of y-“

You press yourself against his chest, suddenly starving for his touch.

“You’re not. You won’t,” your voice urgent, “I-I-“

He grabs your face in his palms and smashes your lips together, moving his plush lips over yours delicately, almost like you’ll slip through his fingers if he’s too rough. But you grip on the front of his shirt, pulling him down with you on the couch, he settles between your legs, tongue flicking against your lips, seeking entrance. You part your lips for him and tilt your head, letting the wet muscle slide against yours, moaning as it flicks against the roof of your mouth.

You slide yours into his and his lips grab a hold of it, suckling on your tongue noisily, drool smearing on your chin, your core throbbing. A soft whimper leaves your mouth, and he breaks away, searching your eyes for any discomfort.

“I’m sorry, was I-“

“No,” you wrap your fingers around his neck, bringing him closer and shutting your eyes, “you’re perfect.”

Your own lips wrapping around his tongue, bobbing your head a bit as you suck the wet appendage into your mouth, feeling his weight press onto you, trapping you between the couch and his body. A few more suckles and he presses his lips onto your mouth, leaving your lips with a loud smack.

He looks at your for a while, his eyes half-lidded and lips swollen. You can’t believe how turned on you are, it’s been almost five years since you last felt this hot and bothered under someone.

You squirm under his heated gaze, feeling his hard member press into your thigh, you gasp a bit at the feeling.

“Can I take this off?”

He tugs at your shirt and you nod, sitting up to make his task easier. He rids himself of his own shirt and you rake your fingers down the toned flesh of his body.

“You’re beautiful,” he smiles, leaning down to capture your lips in another passionate kiss.

He kisses your cheeks then down your neck, lingering at the soft spot under your ear. You bite your lip to stop the sounds of pleasure leave your lips. Teeth nipping at the junction between your neck and shoulder, he comes up to place another kiss on your lips, bringing his index and middle finger to pull the flesh from between your teeth.

“Let me hear you sweetheart.”

You nod shyly, thinking of how your fiancé didn’t like the sounds you made.

His fingers continue their descent on your body, his eyes watching the movement. He lingers at your nipples, your stomach shivering under his touch as he circles your navel. His eyes meet yours as he plays with the waistband of your pants, then dips his fingers in and presses his fingers against your clit through your panties, your body twitching at the touch.

“When was the last time you were touched like this? Tell me sweetheart?”

“S-So long,” you manage, feeling your panties dampen at the friction against your throbbing bud.

“Can I?”

You nod, he pulls of your pants and panties in one go, the cool air hitting your swollen folds.

Watching him lick his lips at the sight, you hide your face in the couch cushion and he presses a finger under your chin to make you look at him.

“Don’t hide from me.”

Face buried in your neck, he continues his assault on your clit, collecting your arousal on his fingers than bringing it up to coat your clit, rubbing it in circles, then side to side, breathy moans filling the quiet of his lounge. A few more strokes against your clit and he pushes a finger into you, your body lifting up off the couch, his stops his attack on your neck to watch your face.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you squeak, “just,” you grind against his hand, shutting your eyes at the feeling of him pushing another finger into you, “so good.”

He places kisses all over your face, lingering on your eyelids. Curling his fingers into you, he brushes against that spot that has your back arching and crying out his name, making you grab his wrist, urging him to move ‘harder, faster’. Plunging his fingers in and out of you, his palm rubbing your clit, your body prickles with sweat, feeling the familiar heat take over your body, the squelching sound filling your ears, before-

“I’m cumming,” you cry, a loud, tired moan escapes your lips, shuddering with the force of your orgasm.

“So pretty when you come,” he places a lingering kiss on your lips.

Body still trembling from the force of your orgasm, you look down to see his bulge straining against his pants. Reaching down to run your fingers along the length, he lets out a soft groan, eyes shutting from the feeling. You bite your lip, watching how his mouth parts in pleasure, his Adam’s apple exposed as he tips his head back. Lifting your head off the cushion, you kiss up his throat, leaving a kiss on his chin then reconnecting with his mouth, tugging his bottom lip between your teeth.

Gently moving your hands away, he removes his pants and boxers, the size of his cock makes you gulp, large, veiny length bobbing against his stomach as he curls his hand around your waist, manoeuvring your body so that he can lay down next to you on the couch.

“Shit, condom.”

“I’m on the pill.”

He nods, pressing his fingers into your thigh and wrapping it around his waist. He brushes his fingers on the marred skin, your eyes fluttering shut, hands coming up to wind around his neck. Rubbing the blunt tip of cock through your folds, you moan, pressing your face into his neck and licking the skin there. Thoroughly slicked up with your juices, his cock presses into you, your breath catching as you’re not used to the girth and length that his cock provides. Giving you time to adjust, you feel him draw his hips back, pulling out of your walls, then pushing into you again, reaching depths you never knew existed inside of you.

“Let me hear your pretty sounds, sweetheart.”

Crying out as he pulls out again then slams back into you, brushing against that spot that has your toes curling.

“Fuck,” his voice a husk in your ear, you open your eyes to see his body flushed red and you think you must look the same.

He presses his forehead to yours, moving his hips faster as he impales you on his cock, breathy moans leaving your lips with each stroke of his cock into your walls. You feel your walls clench around him, knowing that you’re close, hearing the slick sounds of your sweaty bodies smacking into each other in the humid air. He’s close too, you can tell from the way his eyebrows furrow, jaw clenched as his cock twitches inside you. Reaching down to press his thumb against your clit, rubbing in quick circles, making you cry out his name and dig your nails into his shoulders, moving your hips with him now and chasing your orgasm.

A few more drags of his cock against your quivering walls, you cum, body trembling as you ride out your high. His is quick to follow, stilling his hips as he paints your walls with his seed, his hair stuck to his forehead.

Body limp in his hold, you feel him soften inside you, you feel so relaxed, thinking you can stay like this for a while but you have to clean up, you don’t want to ruin the expensive couch in a place like this.

After a few minutes, he pulls out of you, your body shivers at the action, feeling his cum seep. He jogs to the bathroom butt naked, you’re about to wake up to clean yourself too but he returns with a wet towel, parting your knees so he can delicately clean you up. You watch him in awe, the act so foreign to you.

“I’ll be back,” he whispers, going back to the bathroom to leave the towel then gesturing for you to lay back down on the couch.

“I-I’m too tired for round two,” your voice timid.

“I just want to cuddle,” he chuckles, settling in behind you and pulling the throw from the back of the couch over your bodies, strong arms wrapping around your frame and holding you close to his chest.

This all might be a dream, you’ve never indulged in post-sex cuddles before but you think it might be your new favorite thing. You smile to yourself, shutting your eyes and enjoying the last bit of this vacation that turned out to be your very own fairytale.

A prince behind you, pressing kisses on the back of your head, and keeping you safe in his arms.

You’ll enjoy it, however long it will last.

a/n: let me know what you guys think.

Masterlist

taglist: @ggukkieland

[sopejinsunflower]

Crack in the Armour - KSJ One Shot

a/n: i started this off with something else in mind and then it kinda turned into another thing along the way. oh well. lmk if you find the little easter egg inside this one ;)

a/n 2: a chance the title might get changed later lol

Summary: He's a worldwide, international actor you met while grocery shopping but you don't know that so he takes that chance to introduce himself as his friend instead, roping the friend into playing along with him.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x you, Jeon Jungkook, Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon

Word count: 11.1k

Tags: AU! switch identities, lies, manipulation (?), naive mc, fuckboy Jin (?), Hoseok being such a great friend, angst (maybe?)

You grew up listening to your sister relentlessly teasing you by calling you an old woman any chance she got. It started when you were in middle school as she makes disgusted faces every time she finds you buried in a book. If she couldn’t rip the book out of your hands then she’ll spend the rest of the week telling everyone how much of a nerd you are. Imagine having your own older-by-a-year sister as your biggest bully at school. You can never catch a break. The torment followed you home, made even worse that you two shared a room.

When you were in high school, she’d tell all the boys how much of a prude you are, an inexperienced virgin. It got to the point that she paid a boy in her class, a bespectacled kid that used to follow her around to try and kiss you in the school hallways. He actually tried until you upheaved your breakfast all over him. The weird thing was, everyone made fun of you instead of the guy who practically sexually harrassed you. You couldn’t even keep a diary when you sleep in the same room as someone who knows no boundaries.

So yeah, never really having a good relationship with your sister is an understatement and when you finally got accepted to a university halfway across the globe with a scholarship, you bolted out of that toxic home faster than your sister could say cherry snowflake in your face one last time. Yeah, that’s the name she used. So lame but yet smart when it comes to explaining what it meant to your parents. Of course, they bought it, too. It was obvious who was the golden child.

University came and went and you easily got your dream job as a botanical researcher in the big city. And since the day you left your hometown, you can count on one hand how many times you’ve gone back to visit. The last you heard, your sister married rich and is now the trophy wife of a successful realtor in the town. Your parents have never been prouder, not even when you gave them a virtual tour of your laboratory that first week of work. A husband was a bigger achievement, even if he was almost twenty years older.

See, after that incident with that boy in the hallway, you’ve developed a sort of indifference to the opposite gender. Call it trauma but you never looked at males the same way your other girlfriends do. Not that you were attracted to females either. Your best friend, Jung Hoseok, says you’re asexual but you refused to be labeled when you don’t even understand it yourself. And he has long stopped trying to set you up with anyone having been met with nothing but either rejection or pure disinterest from you, which in turn, put him in hot water with the people he put you up with. Sometimes he wonders if you even see him as a male but you and him have such a great friendship that it wouldn’t matter if he’s a goldfish to you.

There’s one thing he doesn’t understand about you: your hate for movies, or any content that is not written on papers. You consume tonnes of books, sometimes two thick ones in a week. It’s amazing, really, but even when your favourite books were made into motion pictures, you refused to go watch it. Not just movies, you don’t even watch drama series. Hell, you don’t even have Netflix and it always infuriates him that he can’t talk about his favourite shows or actors or actresses without you looking so clueless. He’s thankful you at least listen to music though, but the land of film cameras and TV screens might as well be a different dimension to you.

You don’t keep up with who’s who, which is why when you are idly walking through the pasta isles taking your time to go through all the pasta sauces they have, you barely notice the tall man standing next to you, weighing two jars of different sauces in his hands. When he sees you slowly getting nearer, he lowers his head down even more, waiting for you to pass.

“The one with garlic is better.”

He steals a sideway peek from under the bill of his cap but you weren’t even looking at him, too busy making your own selection. Satisfied with your choice, you walk away, leaving him to stare after you for a second. Something makes him call after you. “You mean this one?” He holds up the jar in his left hand.

You turn around, a little surprised. You look at the sauce he’s holding up over his head, looking slightly comical like he’s some sort of pasta sauce hero. “Uh, yeah. I guess. I mean, that’s what I like. I think it’s better than the other one, at least.” You shrug, ready to walk away.

“Well, which one do you actually like, if not these two?”

You pause, turning back once more and wondering if he is that helpless. You assess him, taking in the black clothing he’s in, his broad shoulders prominent even under the black leather jacket, the cap on his head pushed down low covering his eyes that he has to tilt his head up to look at you. He has a face mask that, instead of covering his plump lips and nose, is down at his chin. You wonder if he’s sick with something infectious because if he is then that is the wrong, and even pointless, way to wear a mask. You should know, you work in a lab that requires it in certain circumstances.

You go back towards him, maintaining a one-metre distance just in case, and reach out for your favourite pasta sauce and hand it to him. “This one, but if you’re allergic to nuts then, well, I guess the tomato garlic one does well.”

“Pesto?” he looks at you, arching his eyebrows.

“Well, you’re the one who asked,” you reply, annoyed.

He chuckles. “Good thing I’m not allergic to nuts.” He places the jar into his empty basket. “Thanks.”

You nod, turning your half-full cart around and leaving for real this time, not even bothered to look back. You head towards the fresh fish area, scrunching up your nose at the smell. You’re looking through the selection of salmons, the varieties of cuts, checking the prices as you go along when the silhouette of a man in your peripheral vision makes you turn. The same guy is there too, looking at some white fish. Well, it is a supermarket. You take your pick of salmon and go towards the meat area. You like to stock your fridge for a week with different types of food. It’s easier than going shopping multiple times and on a weekday night when it’s so much quieter.

You take a few packs of beef and are choosing between thighs or wings in the chicken section when he appears again.

“I’d go for wings.”

You look up at him, incredulous. “Are you following me?*

He looks offended. “It’s a supermarket? And I thought you’d appreciate my take, too.” He holds up his basket with only the jar of pasta sauce rolling around freely in there as if to make a point.

“Thanks but I didn’t ask,” you retort, putting back the wings. “And I like thighs better.”

He regards the returned wings with a pout. “Well, you’re missing out, let me tell you that.” He snatches the pack and plops it into his basket. You roll your eyes at him, walking away again.

He follows you but when you round the corner into the women’s products aisle and he’s still tailing you, you spin on your heels to jab a finger at him. “See! You are following me!”

He freezes in his steps, his head tilting to one side. He shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

“We’re in the women’s products section!” You gesture with your arms around you. “And you’re a man.”

“Wow,” he says, a playful smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You know it’s offensive now to assume someone’s gender.”

Oh, shit.

Noticing the look of panic on your face, he smiles kindly. “But thankfully you assumed right. This time.”

You relax again but still clearly irritated. “So why you’re following me?”

He makes an innocent face. “You don’t know if I have sisters, or girlfriends, or wives,” he answers in a somewhat innocent voice, his eyes wide. He turns to face the shelf full of different types of tampons and pads, frowning hard and crossing his hands over his chest, one hand at his chin as if he’s thinking hard. He glances at me. “Any suggestions?”

You groan out loud, turning around and wheeling away, your mood for shopping gone. You make a beeline for the cashier and start putting out all your things, the cashier taking his sweet time to ring up every item, a chewing gum in his mouth. Much to your dismay, you see the man coming up to the cashier area too and lines up behind you. Frustrated, you gesture to another open cashier at the other end. “There’s another free one over there,” you say in mock kindness.

He shrugs. “I’m not in a hurry.”

You sigh, relenting.

The cashier finally finishes and you use your credit card to pay while the cashier is ringing up his one jar of pesto and chicken wings. Odd combination but you no longer care, wanting to leave immediately before he finishes. You take your bags and park the cart. You’re searching for your car keys in your bag in front of the entrance when he steps next to you.

“Seriously?”

He raises his eyebrows. “What? Are you waiting for an Uber too?”

You hold back another groan, finding your keys and fishing them out. Just then, a group of young people walk by when suddenly, just as they entered the supermarket, one of them stops, turns around and stares from the threshold. You look around, trying to find what she’s looking at when you see the man has pulled his mask back up, fixing his cap a little more firmly.

“Excuse me,” calls out one of them, stepping closer towards us. “Aren’t you Jin? You’re Kim Seokjin, right?” Her friends start to get excited, taking out their phones and talking excitedly among themselves. They sound like chirping birds, the loud noisy ones you hear in the morning.

“Who’s Kim Seokjin?” you ask no one in particular but you hear the man gives a sharp intake, staring at you from underneath his cap. You look at him, confused. “What? You know him?”

“Where’s your car?” he asks, his voice slightly urgent.

“Uh, over there?” you point in the general direction and without saying anything else, he takes your bags from you, grabs your wrist and pulls you along with him, heading in the direction of your car. In the parking lot, he stops, looking around. “Where?” He turns around and you follow his gaze to see the girls following us with their phones out. “Where?” he repeats.

The urgency makes you take the lead, unsure of what’s happening. You find the car, unlock it and get inside just as he does the same in the passenger side. “What are you doing?” you ask, alarmed.

He looks at you and, unashamedly, says, “Getting a ride from you. You can let me off a few blocks away from here.”

You’re pulling on the seatbelt, the group crossing the street towards the parking lot now. Something about their behaviour makes you panic, too, the frantic way they run, their phones out as if they’re recording something, their excited faces somewhat to the point of lunacy. They’re screaming, too, and as they are five to six of them, they sound incoherent and unhinged. You want no part of any of that. You shift into gear and pull out of the parking lot, driving away from the supermarket, the group disappearing into the distance. The man breathes a sigh of relief.

Five minutes later, you realise you’re driving towards home with a complete stranger in the car. You slow down. “Where you’re going again?” you ask, suddenly remembering that he asked to be let off a few blocks away, more aware that you’re alone with a man you know nothing of and how dangerous and foolish that sounds.

“Do you know that old record shop across that big building on that main street?”

You nod. That big building is one of the lavish apartment blocks in the area, one that you sometimes fantasised of living in someday, with the gated area and 24-hour security and a doorman that opens and closes the front door for you. But a plant scientist isn’t paid all that much these days. You’re not living from paycheck to paycheck, no, but the apartment you have now is probably the same size as one bedroom in that luxurious place. Not that you actually know for sure but guessing from the rent they advertised, you think as much. Now, the old record shop is part of the old area of town, a decrepit strip mall that’s barely surviving, a complete opposite to what lay across the street from them.

The car is silent with only the sound of the engine running. “So,” he says, breaking the silence, one hand one the grab handle above his head. “You don’t know who Kim Seokjin is?”

You glance at him sideways. “No, and take your hand off of that thing.”

He looks confused. “Why?”

“Because it makes me look like a bad driver,” you huff.

He looks at you, amused, but takes his hand off anyway, clasping his hands together in his lap. “Better?”

You don’t answer, sensing he’s making fun of you.

“Anyway, Kim Seokjin. You don’t know him?”

You shake your head. “Why? Who is he?”

You’re focused on the road so you don’t see the way his mouth hangs open at your reply, looking at you like you’re some strange animal he just found. “You really don’t know him?”

You sigh heavily. “Oh my god, you’re annoying. No, I don’t. Should I? Did he save the world? Stop wars? Make Monday a weekend?”

He laughs, a loud window-wiping laugh that reminds you of a seal a little bit. “No, he’s an actor, silly.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? That’s it? Oh?”

You stop at a red light and look at him dirtily for judging your lack of knowledge of the acting world. You shrug, trying not to care at the way he’s staring at you, the same way you would stare at a new plant specimen; part awe,  part curiosity, part fascination,.

He tries again. “He’s like the biggest actor now. He’s famous, worldwide handsome!”

You snort. “Really? Did he call himself that?”

He looks flustered. “Well, the point is, everyone knows him. He plays in international movies and his new drama series became the number one hit on Netflix, too!”

“Well, not everyone, I guess,” you murmur. “And I don’t watch Netflix?”

He gasps. “What is wrong with you? Even my grandmother has a Netflix account, and she can barely see me right in front of her nose!”

“I’m starting to regret driving you,” you complain. “Are you always this annoying?”

He ponders the question seriously. “Hm, no. I don’t think so.”

“I just don’t like movies,” you say nonchalantly.

“Wh-what? Why?” he splutters, leaning against the door as if you’re some kind of infectious disease.

You shrug again. “I just don’t. They’re much better on paper. Stories, I mean.”

He’s staring at you now like you have just grown another head and three more pairs of arms. “So you don’t watch movies? At all?” You shake your head. “Series? Dramas?” Another shake of your head. “Harry Potter?”

“Read them, but never watch them.”

What the fuck, he mouths to himself. “Lord of the Rings? Friends? Squid Games?”

“Nope, nope and what the hell is a squid game?”

“Holy-” he breathes out. “What universe did you come from?”

“Me?” you say, incredulous. “I’m not the one being chased by some group of people at the damn supermarket. And why was that? Are you wanted or something?”

It’s his turn to snort unbelievingly. “Am I wanted,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes.

A thought strikes you. “Wait, are you the genie they were looking for? Kim something, what was it again?”

He stares at you, open-mouthed again. “It’s Jin. Kim. Seok. Jin.”

“Right. Same difference.”

He truly can’t believe you right now. What an alien. A pretty one, but still an alien. He has never heard of anyone not watching movies these days. It’s ridiculous. Or maybe you’re pulling his legs?

“Well?”

He looks at you, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Are you him? The genie?”

“I can be your genie.” He clicks his tongue, making gun fingers at you.

“You’re impossible,” you say, rolling your eyes. You do that a lot, he notices. “Fine, don’t tell me who you are then.” The way you pout tells him differently, making him chuckle.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he negotiates, resting his head on his fist as he leans his elbow on the window, looking at you.

“You know, it’s only about a ten-minute walk from here to the record shop,” you threaten, slowing the car down. He looks out the window at the people walking down the streets. Not crowded but enough to become a problem if they notice him.

“Fine,” he huffs dramatically. Then, after a while, he adds, “I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Your turn.”

You toss the name around in your head. “You don’t look like a Jungkook.”

“What do I look like then?”

“A creep,” you reply in a heartbeat. “A stranger that gets into an unknown woman’s car as you run from a cult group looking for a genie.”

He lets out another laugh. He’s about to push you for your name when his phone rings in his pocket. He fishes it out and answers it with a loud, “Yah! I told you to come pick me up!”

For some reason, you find yourself trying to hear the other person on the phone. You chastise yourself that it’s none of your business but when the voice sounded like a male you feel yourself relax. Again, you mentally kick yourself.

“Forget it, I’m almost at the record shop,” he says into his phone. “Yep, arriving now.”

The car glides to a stop. On the curbside, you see a man pocketing his phone and think that must be the friend, tall, wearing a sweatshirt with cargo pants and combat boots. He sees the car and raises a hand in greeting. You notice his right hand looks a little dirty but when he gets closer, you realise they’re tattoos, all over his fingers and knuckles. The passenger side door opens and the tattooed man leans inside. “I didn’t know hyung had any other friends. Female, too.” He nods your way. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply a little hesitantly. “And I’m not his friend.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh. Girlfriend?”

“No!” You say the same time as Jungkook next to you says “Yes!” almost enthusiastically. The tattooed man grins. Up close, with his big doe eyes and somewhat bunny teeth, he reminds you of just that, the furry little white animal. The only thing he needs are a pair of big, long ears on top of his head.

“Well, miss not hyung’s friend but not girlfriend either, I’m J-”

“Jin!” Jungkook says a little too loudly. He pats the tattooed guy outside on the shoulder. “This is Jin!”

Jin gives him a funny look, unsure how to react. Your eyebrows go up. “Oh, you mean the genie they were looking for just now? Wait, then why did they chase you?” You turn to Jungkook whose ears are turning red.

“Oh, because I’m his housemate,” he replies casually. “Anyway,” he adds, getting out of the car, one bag from the supermarket in his hand. “Thanks for the ride. You saved me.”

Jin, still looking a little confused, backs away from the car and closes the door. You smile up at him. “Well, glad I get to meet you, Mr. Worldwide Handsome,” you say teasingly. Jin smiles in return, turning to look at Jungkook, looking like he hadn’t gotten a clue as to what’s happening.

Jungkook wraps an arm around Jin. “She doesn’t watch movies, isn’t that weird?”

“So she doesn’t know who y-, I mean I am?” Jin asks, realisation dawns on him.

“Yeah, sorry.” You shift your car into gear again. “Anyway, nice meeting you. You,” you point to Jungkook, “not so much. I still need to think about it. See ya guys around, I guess.”

You drive off, them waving you away as you pull out from the side of the road to merge with traffic. In the rearview mirror, you catch a glimpse of them sort of bickering, Jungkook’s hand flying around and Jin with his palm at his forehead, shaking his head a little. You wonder what they are discussing as they disappear from view.

You live not too far away, coming into your own parking space less than fifteen minutes later. You grab your things and are ready to exit the car when you notice that one of the grocery bags is too light. You look inside and see a jar of pesto sauce and a pack of chicken wings. Great. You check the other bag only to find some vegetables and snacks, the missing bag containing most of the groceries; meats and fish and other stuff for an actual meal. You groan aloud, thinking of your empty fridge.

You start your car again and back out, grumbling and cursing all the way until the record shop comes back into view and you see both the two men still standing there. It fuels your annoyance even more when Jungkook starts waving at you in big movements, Jin grimacing next to him. You roll the window the moment you stop.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Well, hello to you, too,” he says cheerfully, holding up the grocery bag with your things in it. “I believe you have my pasta sauce and chicken wings that you hate so much. And here you are, driving away with my wings.”

“I didn’t-” you let out a heavy sigh. “Just give it to me. You can have your stupid wings.”

Jungkook makes a show of transfering the bag through the window but then pulls away as you reach for it. “How about dinner first? I’m starving.”

You look at him, appalled. “What?! No! I just want to go home and cook my dinner with the stuff you have in your hand, now give it!”

“Are you sure? Dinner with the Jin right here?” He says, gesturing to the guy next to him who looks like he would rather be anywhere but here, his tattooed hand fidgeting.

“No offence, Jin,” you say, looking apologetically at the actor, “but I’m really not interested. And you look like you’d prefer better company.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Jungkook answered for him faster than Jin could say anything. “He’s very free and you’re the perfect company.”

“Are you his advocate now?” you ask sarcastically.

Jungkook nods. “Exactly. I know everything about Jin and whatever I say is what Jin feels and thinks.”

Jin glances at him but shoots you a smile that is almost as if to say I’m so sorry for my friend, please just go along for now. You check your watch. It’s half past seven right now and with all this back and forth, your energy is draining and the thought of cooking is tiring enough. You relent, rolling your eyes. “Fine. But you’re buying.”

Jungkook beams. “Of course.”

You park your car at the strip mall and walk with the guys. They surprised you by taking you to a fancy Italian restaurant, somewhere you probably won’t go if the meal would come from your pocket. You feel underdressed in your ripped jeans, plain blouse and scuffed sneakers. You feel even more inferior standing in between these two men, who invited stares and gawking eyes from the ladies and even some men. Jungkook keeps his cap very low over his eyes while Jin walks almost casually, given his so-called status as an international celebrity.

You have to admit, they don’t look like the average males; high fashion, even Jin’s combat boots look expensive, both of them walking around with the aura of Adonis, even with Jungkook’s half-covered face. You find yourself being curious about Jungkook, which surprised even yourself, because you’ve never been interested in anybody. He’s funny and doesn’t really hold back with things he wants to say. He has this airy feel to him, a sort of lightness that gives you the impression that he takes the world head on with an open heart. But something in his eyes tells you that there’s more to him, a hidden darkness he keeps away from people, for fear they might judge.

And there’s nothing more you want right now than to have that piece of him.

After dinner, you stop by Starbucks, order your drinks and sit down in one corner, waiting for them to call up your names.

“So,” you say, sitting across from Jin, “what’s it like to be a superstar?”

Jin’s eyes flit over to Jungkook once. He clears his throat, casually rolling up his shirt sleeves. You’re slightly taken aback by how much more tattoos he has, a whole sleeve up his right arm. “Well, uh, busy?” He takes another look at Jungkook. “Always flying off somewhere?”

You look from him to Jungkook and back again. “Well, doesn’t sound much if you get to be rich and famous, right? Must be nice, having everything you want.” You sigh wantingly.

“Yeah, true,” Jin agrees.

“But lonely,” chimes Jungkook from next to me. “I mean, must be lonely, too. Busy schedule, barely seeing anybody except for the crews and staff. Wake up alone, eat alone, sleep alone, sometimes even rehearse alone. It’s a lonely life.”

You give Jungkook a weird look. Jin says, “Yeah, that, too.”

“Do you agree with everything he says?”

Jungkook tuts. “I told you I know everything Jin.” He meets your gaze and you look away, scoffing.

“Sounds like you two are dating,” you say, waving your finger to point at them.

They both laugh at that. Jin points to Jungkook with his thumb. “I practically raised this kid.” Jungkook gives him a look, his mouth opening like he was going to say something but thought better of it.

“How long have you two known each other?”

“Since he was fifteen,” Jin replies with a grin. “I make him the man he is now. He grew up so well, such a fine man.”

You laugh, wondering if they were hinting at something, a private joke between the two of them.

“Orchid? Your chai tea latte is ready!”

You look up, pushing back your chair to get your drink.

“Orchid?” Jungkook asks when you return. “I thought your name was y/n?”

You chuckle. “I just don’t like giving my name out in public. Orchids are my favourite flower.”

The barista holds up another drink. “Jungkook?” Jin stands up almost automatically, pushing his chair back. “Your pink drink is ready!”

“Oh, it’s Jungkook’s,” you say, waving him back. “Not yours.”

Jin freezes mid step before his eyes slowly glide over to Jungkook who shares the same look on his face. “I, err, I think mine’s coming up so I’ll just go get both,” he stammers, tripping over his own feet towards the counter just as the barista calls out his name, doing a double take, staring hard at Jin as he approaches. She must have recognised the name and his face and you worry that it might be time to leave before he is swarmed by fans. But the barista looks away from Jin with no interest, going back to her work. See, you think, not everyone knows him.

You excuse yourself to the restroom just as Jin returns, Jungkook nodding at you. Just as you leave, the two men huddle together in furious whispers.

“What the fuck are you playing at?”

“Stop it, she might come back soon!”

“I’m not doing this forever, dude!”

“Yah, I didn’t say forever. Just for today!”

“Are you serious? She can easily find out for herself and she’ll hate you for it!”

“When she does, it wouldn’t matter anymore.”

“What does that-”

“Everything okay?” They both whip their heads around to find you standing behind Jin, eyebrows dipping, looking from one guy to the next questioningly. “What’s going on?”

Jin clears his throat, sitting back into his chair. He flashes you a smile. “Mmm, nothing. Just telling Jungkook here that I have an early day tomorrow and that I should go.”

“Oh.” You check your watch. It’s 10.15PM. “Yeah, I think I should go,too.”

They both walk you back to your car, Jin somewhat silent, hanging back a little. Jungkook, on the other hand, happily chatted away. He seems to have a lot of stories to share about people he never truly named, keeps using this person, or that guy, or this lady he knows. It’s all a little strange. Back at the car, with you in the driver’s seat, window rolled down, Jungkook leans against the car, a small smile on his lips.

“Are you sure I won’t find you at the supermarket, running from a cult again?” you ask jokingly.

Something flickers over his face but the smile never wavers. “Maybe.”

That night, as you are getting ready for bed, you realise he never asked for your contact, like what most guys do, what they’re supposed to do. You slip under the covers, wondering why you even care if he did or didn’t. You don’t even remember the last time you were interested if a guy is into you or not, your meetings with them pushed to the back of your mind like some insignificant event in your day like finding a flower growing on the sidewalk. You see it, acknowledge it but then the whole thing is erased from your mind as bigger , more important things take up the space.

Jeon Jungkook. You roll the name around on your tongue, the image of his lush lips and broad shoulders running through your head and you think, yeah, he really doesn’t look like a Jungkook.

“You met him?! The Kim Seokjin?!”

You swat against Hoseok’s arm, shushing him from being so loud. He lowers his head but his volume stays the same. “When?! How?! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?!”

“I just met you today!” you retort, glancing around to see if anyone is staring. You’re at a cafe near your workplace, meeting Hoseok for lunch. He manages a nearby designer store, a shop you wouldn’t ever find yourself in. “And it happened just last night. This is as early as it gets.”

Hoseok puffs his cheeks, scowling at me. “Tell. Me. Everything. Where did you meet him? How?”

You take a deep breath. “At the record shop, you know, the one at that old strip mall?”

“You mean the one across those big, fancy apartments?”

You nod. “Apparently, I met his housemate at the supermarket. Some people were chasing him and, one thing led to another, I gave him a lift and dropped him off at the record shop.”

“And Jin was just casually standing there?”

You nod again, taking a sip of your chocolate milkshake and making a face at how thick it is that you can barely suck it out of the straw. “I think he was supposed to pick his friend up at the supermarket.”

Hoseok’s eyes are bulging. “And you went to dinner? With both of them?”

“And then Starbucks. And then I went home.” You use your straw to mix the shake around but it doesn’t do much. “Pretty cool guys, I guess. Jin was mostly quiet, though. Jungkook, though, was the total opposite. Has an airy feel to him. Laughed a lot, too. Kept making these dad jokes.”

Hoseok tilts his head, confused. “Jin was quiet? Really? Huh.”

“Why?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “I guess everyone’s different off camera. He’s usually the loud one, the one joking around and making sure everyone is comfortable.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “Well, celebrities always have on and off camera behaviour. He looks like a college kid. How old is he?”

“A couple of years older than us,” Hoseok answers confidently.

“Really? He looks really young,” you muse. “Kind of looks like a little bunny, too.” You chuckle to yourself.

Hoseok laughs. “Really? A bunny? Never heard of that before. People call him Worldwide Handsome.”

You laugh again. “Oh yeah, Jungkook told me that. I hope it wasn’t himself who started it.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if he did,” says Hoseok through a mouthful of fries.

“I don’t know. He seems a little shy.”

Hoseok snorts. “Jin? Shy? That’s not the impression I got off him from watching his interviews and stuff.”

You shrug, crumpling the paper wrapper of your burger. “Are you done? I have to get back to work.”

You walk together towards the big intersection that will separate the both of you as you head east towards your workplace and Hoseok goes west towards the shopping area where it’s more crowded. On a whim, you say, “Jungkook didn’t ask for my number.”

Hoseok looks at you and it takes a second for it to sink in. “Wait, you wanted him to have your number?”

You shrug your shoulders again, not answering.

Hoseok narrows his eyes. “You want to see him again?”

“He wasn’t so bad,” you reply softly, feeling a little embarrassed to admit it.

Hoseok cackles loudly. “Oh, my god, this is a breakthrough!”

“You’re so loud, Hobi,” you moan, pushing him away. “I’m not sharing anything with you anymore.”

He raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Sorry, I just got excited. I mean, c’mon. I’ve known you since freshman year uni and not once did you ever pay attention to guys I thought you swung the other way.”

You give him an incredulous look. Suddenly, his eyes go wide again. “What if he lives in that fancy place?!” The thought didn’t cross your mind but now that you think about it, it could be feasible. Hoseok continues, “You could, like, hang around the strip mall and see if you’d run into him again.”

“No one goes there anymore,” you say with a pout. “It’ll be so obvious if I do see him again there.”

Hoseok laughs, putting a hand on your shoulder just before you separate at the crosslight. “Where there’s a will, there’s definitely a way.”

So that’s how you find yourself at the strip mall parking lot on Saturday morning that weekend, hesitating in the car and thinking why the hell did you let Hoseok talk you into this.

“There’s a gym there,” Hoseok had told you last night when you met up for dinner at your place to go over his plan. “I know someone who works there and I’ve signed you up for a trial week. The gym overlooks the road across the apartment so you can easily see people coming and going from there.”

You had rolled your eyes at him, disapproving everything he said. The last time you were in a ‘gym’ was the gymnasium in high school and it wasn’t even your choice to be there. You’re not the type to do sports or be active in any way and you don’t even know how a gym actually works! But Hoseok promised it would work. You take a deep breath and step out of the car, waiting for some catastrophic event to happen so the world can swallow you whole and you can go back and tell Hoseok well, you tried. But nothing happened, of course. Nothing ever happens when you want it to.

The gym isn’t hard to miss, if you can call that dark, dingy place with the signboard half-lit on the top a gym. The windows are grimy but you can somewhat see the shapes of equipment inside. It’s quiet here, even for a weekend and the only other people you saw on the way over was a couple of elderly ladies that gave you a ‘what is a young person doing here’ look. They smiled politely though. Again, you think about going back to your car and lying to Hoseok that yes, you went in but didn’t see him and left. I mean, not that he would know, right? But the thought of what if, what if you did see him again makes you second-guess the idea. You sigh heavily, opening the front door of the gym and stepping inside.

The smell of dirty socks hits you square in the face and you almost gag if not for the man sitting by the counter with his face behind a magazine. For a person working at a gym, he doesn’t look like he used the machines much. The bell over the door rings but he doesn’t look up. You approach him cautiously until you are standing right across from him and staring at the cover of an old edition of Penthouse. You clear your throat and the half-naked lady on the front cover is finally lowered. The man looks up at you lazily, waiting.

“I, uh,” you stammer. Clearing your throat again, you say, “I have a trial week here? Um, I don’t know whose name it’s signed up for but, uh-”

“Knock yourself out,” he drawls, gesturing inside and raising the magazine back up again. You stare at it for a couple of seconds before you shuffle inside, looking at the equipment that looks to be over thirty years old, some even covered in dust and other stuff that you rather not know what. It’s empty aside from an old janitor sweeping in one corner, eyes glued to the floor, his motions a bit mechanical.

The treadmills are lined up by the window and as you near it, you see that Hoseok was right; it does overlook the road and the apartment. You have a clear view, even of the huge gate that separates the apartment from the outside world. Great, you think, I’m a stalker now.

A noise from somewhere deeper in the building takes your attention and you turn around trying to locate it. Curious, you follow the sound and find that the gym is actually bigger, with another section at the back. You see sandbags and punching bags lining one side of the room and on the other side, big letters that say NO GUTS NO GLORY takes up half of the yellowed wall. In the middle of the room is a boxing ring. Two men stand in the centre, one holding up cushioned padding thingies in his hands while the other practises his swings, hitting the pads with strong punches. That was the noise you heard.

Instantly, you recognise the punching guy. It’s Jin, in a short-sleeved T-shirt, his tattoos showing over well-trained muscles. “Jin,” you call out. “Jin!”

He must have not heard you over the noise and you go closer, waving your hand over your head to get his attention. “Kim Seokjin!”

He pauses, looking up. It takes awhile for him to register who you are before his eyes go wide and he whispers something to the trainer. He takes off his gloves and comes to the edge of the ring. “Uh, hey, y/n,” he greets but with a frown. “What are you doing here?”

You grin sheepishly. “Um, decided to try coming to the gym?”

He looks around the place. “Here?”

You can’t help but feel like he was judging you and he might be rightly so. There are so many other choices for a female to go to that’s not as unhygienic as this place that looks like it’s used as a drug trading place at night and you feel caught in your little plan, a stupid plan, to see Jungkook again. You shrug, trying to play it cool. “Uh, yeah. I saw it that night and thought why not.”

He doesn’t look assured, looking at you like you might as well be doing a handstand. Then, he lets out a light chuckle, undoing the bandage wrapped around his fists. He comes down from the ring and you wonder about how tall and big he really is. You wrack your brain for something to say. “What about you? Why are you here?”

“My usual gym doesn’t have this,” he explains, gesturing to the ring.

“I’m sure there are better places,” you whisper.

He raises an eyebrow, one corner of his lips turned up. “Yeah, I can say the same thing to you.”

You cross your arms together. “Why am I being judged for coming here?”

He points towards the huge windows by the treadmills. “Because I live just over there. What’s your excuse?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Right. I figured so, being a celebrity and stuff. I’d have to sacrifice my sister to live in that place, though I’m not even sure if she’s worth as much.”

He gives you a funny look but doesn’t ask. “Well, I’m sharing the place with Ji- Jungkook so it’s not that bad.” Your heart does a little flutter at the mention of Jungkook’s name and Jin catches something in your eyes. He stares at you. “Are you…looking for him?”

“What? Noooo! Why would I be?”

Jin crosses his arms together and narrows his eyes at you. He raises one eyebrow and you immediately yield. He reminds you of that little bunny in the movie Pets, cute but tough. “Ugh, fine. I am. Happy?”

He laughs. “Well, you probably won’t see him around until next weekend. He’s out of town.”

Your heart falls, disappointed. “Really?” Jin notices your tone changes and for a second you think you see worry in his eyes. You backtrack, smiling. “Oh, that’s fine. Is it a school thing?”

“Huh?”

“Is it for his classes?” you rephrase. From the conversation you had during dinner that night is that Jungkook is in university, studying for his Masters in physiology.

“Err, right,” Jin answers, lightly scratching the back of his head. You nod, wondering where he had gone to but too timid to ask. You look down at your feet, lightly scuffing the balding carpet underneath. Jin clears his throat. “Do you want to, um, leave him a message?”

You look up at him, thinking. Then you shake your head, feeling a little stupid at all of this. “No, it’s fine. If I see him again then I’ll see him again.”

Jin nods understandingly. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite decipher.

“So, you do this all the time?” you ask, making conversation to fill in the awkward silence. “Boxing?”

He nods more enthusiastically this time. “Yeah, it’s fun.”

You gesture to the room. “But why here? I’m sure you can afford a better place with a better trainer?”

Again, he looks unsure of how to answer but then says, “Well, first it’s close to home. Second, did you know this place created legends before?”

“As in somebody died in here and some legendary story came out of it?” you ask sarcastically. He laughs, shaking his head. “No, I mean real boxing legends. Some of my favourite ones started here, back when this place was alive.”

“Oh,” you say. He laughs again, sensing your lack of interest.

“It’s not so bad, y’know,” he says defensively. “Just don’t touch anything.”

You point to his gloves. “You practically dunk your hands in those!”

“Excuse me, these are mine!”

You both laugh.

He regards you for a second. “Want to grab lunch?”

You mull over the idea. “Yeah, sure, why not.”

He chooses a sandwich shop around the corner and you both sit down to eat. It’s not busy but the place is pretty buzzing. You look around the shop, a little worried that he might feel uncomfortable that people might recognise him. He’s clearly in the open, obviously having no problem being in public.

“We can go to a quieter place if you want,” you suggest when you both sit down. He looks around with a confused look on his face. “No, here’s fine,” he says nonchalantly, unwrapping his sandwich.

“Really? You don’t mind if someone comes up to you and stuff?” you ask, starting on your food, too.

His eyebrows furrowed for a bit before it looks like he catches himself. “Right, yeah. Well, it’s fine.” He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

You’re unsure but you don’t argue anymore. It’s his choice, his fans to deal with if he does get swarmed. You both eat in silence and you see that he eats pretty fast. He ordered two sandwiches, too. He then looks up after the fourth bite. “So, why were you looking for Ji- Jungkook?”

“Is it that hard to pronounce his name?” you giggle.

He groans. “It’s the double Js for us.”

“I wasn’t exactly looking for him,” you start to say but he gives you a look that says he knows you’re bullshitting. You roll your eyes. “I wasn’t! I was just…curious. About him.”

“Curious about what?”

You shake your shoulders. “I don’t know. There’s something about him.”

He snorts. “Right, there is something.”

“What do you mean?”

He shakes his head so hard his hair is flying. “No, I mean, yeah, he’s definitely something. Annoying, for one.”

“That I experienced first hand,” you say with a laugh. “But he’s funny.”

He stares at you. “You think his lame jokes are funny?”

“It’s not that lame.”

“Boy, you got it so bad.”

You shake your head at him incredulously. “I don’t even know him.”

He pauses, picking at something on his sandwich. “You got that right,” he mutters.

You look up. “Sorry?”

He takes a mouthful of the sandwich, stuffing everything inside. “I said, there’s a lot of spice.” He points to the sandwich in his mouth.

You spend almost two hours just talking with him, sometimes about boxing, other times about his tattoos and somewhere in between, casually, you’ll ask about Jungkook and he would tell bits and pieces of their lives together. Somehow you talk about how you’ve never dated before, which shocked him, wondering if this was your first crush. He doesn’t speak much about his acting career or anything like that. You guessed it’s probably confidential or something he just doesn’t want to talk about. Then again, no one really talks about work at a hangout, much less with someone you just met once. At the end of the day, you’ve exchanged contact details, not with the one you wanted but at least he’s an international celebrity. Hoseok will be thrilled to hear this. Maybe you’ll bring him too, the next time you guys decide to meet.

But Hoseok left town for a three-day work trip and he’s so busy you barely even text. You decide to just leave the details about your hangout with Kim Seokjin for when he gets back on Friday. In the meantime, you meet up with Jin twice more; once on the next Sunday where you spend the whole day shopping, and then on Thursday night for dinner. You can’t help but feel how almost childlike Jin acts, almost as if he’s your little brother instead of a famous person. You feel endeared by him more than any romantic feelings.

The more you hang out with each other, the more things you learn about Jungkook from Jin. The more you learn, the more you think you’re crushing so hard on the guy you met only once. It’s all very strange to you, someone who has never even had a boyfriend. How would you know what it feels like to really like someone?

That Thursday night, Jin took you to a Thai restaurant, where you both agreed that the food was subpar. You told him that you can cook the tomyam better and he gave you a defiant look and said, “Bet.”

And that’s why you’re at the supermarket right now, choosing the ingredients carefully, a little flustered as you’ve never really cooked for anyone except Hoseok. Thinking of Hoseok, your phone suddenly rings. You see his name on the screen and answers. “Yellow!”

“Reeedddd!” he answers with a loud laugh. “Guess where I am?”

“On the toilet? Pooping?”

He gives out another big laugh. “No! I just got back! Are you cooking tonight? I’m hungry and tired and we have a lot of catching up to do.”

“I’m not your personal chef,” you retort, selecting some prawns for the food tonight.

“But you do wuv me, don’tchu?” replies Hoseok in his babied voice.

You roll your eyes. “Well, then you’re about to be blown away because Jin is coming for dinner.”

“Excuse me, what?”

“Yep.” You finish shopping and make your way to the cashier. “You heard that right, fanboy. And you can finally see the tattoos I told you about.”

Hoseok is sputtering on the other end. “Fuck, y/n. I leave for three days and you’re chumming up with a world celebrity?! I’ll be there in ten!”

He arrives before you do, waiting inside in the living room, using one of the spare keys you gave him the day you moved in. He pounces on you the moment you get inside the door, attacking you with more questions that you can answer. As you cook, you tell him everything. Hoseok notices how you talk more about Jungkook then Jin, the one you’ve been seeing, but he doesn’t say anything, smiling to himself. His friend definitely has got it bad. He can’t wait to meet this Jungkook guy and measure him up himself, see if he’s good enough for you.

He’s scrolling through Google, trying to find a picture of Jin with tattoos but failed. He guesses that Jin must have had a team hide them when he’s on camera. But there are just things that don't quite add up. Like, how you said you went out with him in just T-shirts and shorts, his tattoos on full display. Not one picture of Jin online, the paparazzi photos, the sneaky fan shot photos, showed any signs of him with ink, even the one where he was on a beach, shirtless. And Jin doing boxing? Not once did he ever mention it in interviews nor posted any photos of himself boxing on social media. Maybe it’s a secret hobby. He wonders how much of a celebrity’s information online is even true, how much do they have to hide away from the public to portray the perfect citizen. He shrugs, throwing his phone down. He’ll meet the man himself in less than an hour anyway.

“Alright, I’m done,” you say, throwing yourself onto the couch next to Hoseok, sighing.

Hoseok looks at you. “You’re not going to change?”

You look down to what you’re wearing. A pair of denim shorts, a tank top with sunflower pattern and a white cardigan on top. “What’s wrong with this? I’m at home.”

He shakes his head. “Your best friend is a manager at a designer shop and you dress like this? I have failed you, friend.”

“Don’t even start with me,” you groan.

“I need the potty,” Hoseok says cutely, pouting his lips together. “I’ll be back.”

“I do hope so.”

He makes a face as he walks away. The doorbell rings and you shoot to your feet, a little surprised. You check the time. He’s early, you think. You go to answer the door, opening up to find Jin holding out a fancy-looking paper bag. “You’re going to be happy to know that Jungkook sends you this.”

Your face lit up as you took the bag from him, peeking inside. It’s a bottle of some fancy champagne you can barely pronounce the name of, beaming up at Jin happily. “He’s back?” you ask a little too excitedly.

“Not yet,” he replies. “Sorry, I meant he sent the money for it.”

“What, you can’t afford this?” you ask jokingly.

Jin’s face froze for a second. “Wasn’t it better to get it from the one you like?”

You nod then stop yourself. Just then Hoseok comes back, announcing to the world that he has successfully moved his bowels. “Our guest is here!” you shout inside as a warning to behave. You turn to Jin whose eyes are wide. “I’m really sorry, I forgot to tell you that my best friend was coming over. But it’s just one person and he’s cool, don’t worry about it.”

The blood drains from his face so visibly you worry he might faint. He’s backing away from the door now, eyes so wide they might pop out of his head. “Jin?” you call. “Are you okay?”

Hoseok runs over to where you were standing in the doorway and peeks his head out just as you were asking the question. He looks up and down the hall then looks at you. “Where is he?”

You roll your eyes at him. You gesture to the man standing a few feet away, sweating bullets. “What do you mean? He’s right there.”

Hoseok looks at Jin then back to you, his frown deepening. “That’s not him.”

You look back at Jin, or not Jin, your mind racing along with your heart. Then he turns on his heels and bolts out of there, taking the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. You stare after him, blinking slowly, your head trying to make sense of what’s happening. Hoseok gently pulls you back inside the apartment and sits you down at the dining table. He takes the champagne bag and puts it away. He kneels by your legs, taking your hands in his, squeezing.

“Y/n?” You slowly look at him. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer, don’t know how to.

He squeezes your hands again. “Y/n, who was that?”

You think but you don’t have an answer. Your heart turns cold at the thought of spending time with someone you don’t even know, and even inviting him to your place. What if he’s some kind of murderer? Rapist? “He said he was Jin,” you say simply, dryly. You remember the first time you met him. No, that’s not true. Jungkook was the one who introduced him as Jin.

Hoseok finds his phone, types in something and holds up the screen to your face. “This is Jin.” To himself, he wondered how come you never thought of googling the guy. It was easy enough to find out. But, then again, you had been interested in the friend, not Jin, so he guessed it didn’t matter to you?

He watches as your empty eyes glide over to his phone, slowly focusing on the picture he opened up. You slowly shake your head. “That’s,” you say, swallowing thickly, “that’s Jungkook…”

Hoseok looks at the picture again, wondering if he got it wrong. He turns it around back to you. “You mean, this is Jungkook? The guy you met at the supermarket?”

You move your head once, a nod.

“He said he was Jungkook?”

You nod again.

Hoseok is also confused. He pockets the phone, deciding that you could discuss this another time. There’s not much he can do right now other than play his part: nurse you back from whatever you’re going through right now. If it truly was Jin, if it was truly him who lied to you, then the actor might have lost his number one fan, Hoseok thinks.

As Hoseok guides you to the sofa, your mind is far away, thinking back to that first time you met them both. You’re replaying every conversation, every little detail in your head, picking out all the times that you think something was a little strange or weird. Like how Jin, not Jin, kept stuttering on their names, how he, not once, was ever worried when they were out in public, how no one even paid any attention to him other than the hungry looks the girls gave him. The strange look you saw on his face that couldn’t decipher is now clear; it was guilt.

~~~

Jin came back from his shooting a day earlier than expected, lounging in the living room on the big, leather couch with his phone to his ears listening to an old friend of his confiding in him about what happened last weekend.

“She doesn’t love me anymore, man,” Namjoon is saying through tears, his voice shaking. “The way she looked at me…fuck, I don’t know what to do, Jin. It’s so fucking hard. I know I fucked up but I thought…I thought we could fix this.”

Jin sighs sadly. He doesn’t know what to say exactly to comfort Namjoon although he knows all too well what happened between him and his wife, now ex. They were together for five years, married for three and then separated for two years, only because Namjoon kept dragging his feet from signing the divorce papers. Today, alas, after another year and a half, the divorce is finally official, which is why he’s hearing about it now when all he wants is to run a bath and then go to sleep.

But Namjoon is one of his oldest friends, a friend who he used to work with before he decided to quit and pursue acting full time; a total surprise for everyone. He had also been close to the wife, having BBQs at each other’s places every other weekend back when they were living in the same city. Secretly, he hopes the wife is doing better now, after the stunt Namjoon pulled. Jin sighs again. He spends another hour trying to comfort the other man before the call finally ends and he throws the phone to the carpeted floor and stretches.

Suddenly he remembers that Jungkook had gone off to your place for dinner and he feels a slight twinge of jealousy. He bought the champagne for them but when he heard about the dinner, he gave it to Jungkook to give it to her instead. He heard so much about you from him. It seems they were hanging out after meeting at that shady gym Jungkook goes to. He feels a little happy to know that you went there to spy on him.

“Hyung, she really likes you,” Jungkook had told him over the phone. “I don’t think I can keep this up any longer.”

He laughed then. “I never told you to. You can just tell her the truth and be done with it.”

That had pissed the younger man off, cutting the call short. He has suspicions that Jungkook is the one who you’re starting to grow on. He doesn’t mind it, kind of saw it coming. You matched better with Jungkook then with himself. Jin doesn’t have time for relationships right now. He’s busy carving a name for himself, a girl would just slow him down. And she was just some girl he met at the supermarket, for god’s sake. If anyone picks up on that story, he'll be the next laughing stock. The Kim Seokjin, who brings home - or in some cases goes over to theirs - models and top actresses and heiresses who all have something for him in return for bedding them, suddenly settling for some chick he only met once? The one time meeting wasn’t the problem, that was mostly the case with the others.

She’s cute, he thinks to himself, but not my type. A little too innocent for his liking, a little too naive. Just a nobody he set his eyes at the wrong time, at the wrong place. An innocent victim just for him to test his market, not that his marketability is questionable. It was really cute to watch as he winds you up, slowly but surely, charming you so well you ask about him even when you’ve only met him once. Asked about him even when Jungkook was doing his best to woo you. Jin chuckles to himself. Another notch in his long belt. He gets up, ready for that bath.

The front door crashes open and Jungkook comes storming in, looking like he ran all the way from somewhere. Your house, probably. Jin gives him an amused look. “What? Forgot your condom?”

At the sound of Jin’s voice, Jungkook whirls around before the blood rushes back into his face. “You!” he bellows, pointing at his housemate across the room. “It’s all your fault!”

Jin smirks. “Well, hello to you too, Kookie.”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook growls so vehemently spits coming flying. “She hates me now, hyung. She hates me.”

As cold as Jin’s heart is, he has a soft spot for the younger man. The smile on his face melts away as he watches Jungkook’s fighting back frustrated tears. He sighs, sitting back down on the couch. He runs a hand through his hair. “Want me to go talk to her? Tell her everything is my fault or something?”

Jungkook snorts, a look of disgust on his face before he walks off to his room, leaving Jin staring at the spot he was standing in just seconds ago. Jin sighs again. “Damn kids so fucking dramatic,” he mutters.

~~~

It’s a couple of weeks later when you finally feel normal again. Days of Hoseok nursing your wound with teas and ice creams and chocolates. After much googling and searching through social media, you know now that the two men had simply switched names, for what you’ll never know. A part of you tries to justify his actions by telling yourself he did it to protect himself, his privacy. The group chasing after him at the supermarket was proof enough. In a way, you understand it. You’d probably do the same if the roles were reversed and you stumble upon someone who actually likes being with you for you, and not for the fame and money.

So, you forgive him even when he never asked for forgiveness. As for Jungkook, the real Jungkook, the one you spent days with, invited him over for dinner, that Jungkook…well, you aren’t so sure considering he had so many chances to tell you the truth, come clean. The look on his face when the jig was up is still stuck in your mind’s eyes, how he had freaked out and ran away. No texts, no calls, no I’m sorry’s. You wonder if you’d let him talk to you if he actually did reach out.

You snap out of your reverie to find yourself idling in the cereal aisle, staring at a spot in between two cereal boxes. You come back, straighten yourself and push your cart out of there. You’re outside by the entrance, trying to find your keys in your bag when you see a man in dark clothing leaning against one of the walls. You subtly turn just to check and see that he has a black mask over his face, cap down low. He pushes himself off the wall and walks over, hands in his pockets, as casually and as coolly as if he does this all the time.

Your mouth is dry. He nods at you. “Hey there, stranger.”

You contemplate ignoring him and leaving or face him head on. You choose the latter. “Hi. Seokjin.”

He does a little bow. “That’s me.”

“What do you want?”

He gestures to his surroundings. “It’s a supermarket. Everyone comes here.”

You regard him for a little while longer before nodding. “Yeah, right. Well, have fun.” You find your keys and walk away, trying to remember where you parked. You hear footsteps behind you and you glance over your shoulders to find him following you. You stop, turn and look behind him. He looks, too, a little confused. “No cult following you, Jin. You’re safe but the Uber pick up point is over there.” You point back to the entrance of the supermarket.

“I was thinking of catching a ride with you,” he says lightly with a smile. “For old time’s sake? What d’you say?”

You chuckle dryly. “No, sorry. I don’t ride with strangers.” You turn and continue on to your car, him still following you.

“C’mon,” he calls out. “I thought you were looking for me. I’m here now. You should be happy.”

You whip around, plastering the sweetest smile you can muster when all you want is slap him across the face. “Actually, I was looking for Jungkook. Not you, right? So we cleared that up. Have a good day.”

He leans over you to push the car door back closed. You reel in your anger, breathing in slow, steady breaths. “Look,” he says from behind you. “It’s not Jungkook’s fault. I made him do it, he just went along with it.”

“And you? You have nothing to say for yourself?”

You turn and stare into his eyes. You see that same glint of the thing he hides inside, the deep dark part he doesn’t let anybody know or see. Kim Seokjin is a rising star, he can’t be nothing less than the perfect yet humble king that he is, right? That mysterious part of him that you had wanted to know so badly doesn’t look so interesting anymore, not enticing anymore. He’s just another, ordinary fuckboy that hides behind his angelic reputation. All you feel is pity.

Jin sees the look in your eyes and he doesn’t like it. He steps back, his face falling. You finally can open your door again, gets inside. You start the car and roll down the window. You give him one last long look. “I forgive you, Kim Seokjin. For all the things you’ve done.” Jin’s handsome face turns dark and for the first time in his life, he never felt so vulnerable, his perfect armour cracking. He keeps his eyes on you through the rolled up window, on your sweet little face looking back at him. Such plain beauty, he thinks, like a daisy among all the expensive roses he picked and let wither. And yet…

You shift into gear and the car glides forward, leaving him standing in the parking lot watching your tail lights disappear into the distance.

:MASTERLIST:

a/n 2: check out the rest of the one shots to catch glimpses of this story, from a different angle ;)

[cutiesexylovelybaby]

Jungkook..who are you looking at like that wtf 😳 they all look so amazing 🧡

[jooniperbonsai]

Thanks For The Sub | ksj (Teaser)

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

Rating: 18+

Teaser length: 2378

Chapter One length: 11-14k

Release date: Fri. January 19, 2024.

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

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

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

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

Warnings for Chapter One: Swearing, cheating (not between main characters), big age gap between lesser characters that can be uncomfy, sex work, gay sex work when the worker is actually not gay (but everyone is chill about it), feelings of shame and guilt, feelings of failure/depression, the existential crisis of your late-20s/30s that we all seem to go through, off-handed references to kpop culture including fanfics because I'm a clown and need to call us out sometimes, silly literary tropes, references to pregnancy, boss-employee power dynamics, allusions to queer BTS members or relationships, cameos of au Seventeen Members (Wonwoo and y/n are besties). NSFW sex stuff: big dick Seokjin (of course), f/m masturbation, dirty talk, sex toys, kink exploration, uh a lot cum (sorry), I mention the omegaverse as a joke, a sparkly pink dildo, seokjin has a massive collection of toys and he intends to use them, seokjin and reader are constantly horny, reader is kind of inexperienced, implied exhibitionism, implied voyeurism, implied public sex.

a/n: hello! i haven't written fanfic in years! I've been wanting to get back into it for a long time but I also work full time and am working on a poetry manuscript so this never manifested! This fic is inspired by a combination of fics from the lovely writing community on here, with a lot of inspiration coming from "tip 143 (for ∞ seconds of love)" by minilouvre on ao3. I feel like the camboy/person trope is so fun to explore and I wanted to try my own take on it with our Seokjin, who doesn't seem to get as many fics written about him but absolutely deserves it. I also wanted to create space for a fic that explores the weird transition of late 20s-30s that both BTS and I (and maybe many of you) have experienced in the last few years. I hope you enjoy!

xo - h

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

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

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

You don’t. That’s the problem. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

©2024 by jooniperbonsai

[yoongiloveandmine]

hello!

hi! my name is iris and i have such a love for writing and bts! i have been so inspired by some other amazing writers to begin writing fanfic for myself! i plan on writing for yoongi, jin, and maybe a few of the other boys in the future.

please look out for some new things coming in the next few weeks!

also, feel free to message me! i could always use a new friend :)

[sev-my-little-baby]

“Solo Leveling”, “Harry Potter” Fanfiction

*slides inside the room*

*crashes to a cabinet, papers full of bottom snape* T-THIS IS NOTHING! *grabs it and jammed them away in a closet *

a-anyway, I've decided to post another one about the fanfic. this time it's about what cores are and the differences between Hunters and Wizards.

Mana Core- Hunters - Physical Augmentation, an inner manifestation of magical power(uses the magic around them) MANA IS LIKE A COMPOUND

Magic Core- Wizard - Intellectual and Spell Augments Intellectual and Spell Augments, the outer manifestation of magical power(uses power from itself) MAGIC IS LIKE AN ELEMENT

Dual-Core: a person with both a Mana and Magic core.

They are focused on one side, but they share other traits

Mana Core users and Magic core users despise one another.

Dual-core users don't exist because mana and magic don’t mix so they reject each other or they either die soon after being awakened due to too much power and rejection (usually lives for a week).

Sung Jinwoo: 32 years old; shadow monarch, granted with mana core and became hunter at 21, became shadow monarch at 32(become one with previous Shadow Monarch) Jinwoo is a 6’2 muscular and handsome young man with gray eyes, sharp facial features, and neat black hair. When using his powers or agitated, his eyes glow bright purple. Sung Jinwoo knows what he looks like, but doesn’t seem to care, since his only goal is to get stronger.

Severus Snape: 32 years old; accidental magic shows at 4, granted with mana at 6 years old, trained with father(forced), became hunter at 9, false ranker up til 32, became blood monarch at 32(became one with previous Blood Monarch) Due to malnutrition and horrible childhood, Severus’s height became permanently stunted at 5’6. He has a lean body with some noticeable muscles. Black hair that goes just right below his shoulders. When using his powers or agitation, his eyes grow bright red. Due to abuse and bullying, Severus always had low self-esteem.

Mana Core: The mana core is a physical organ within the body, located in the small pressure space between the lungs, heart, and diaphragm. This makes breathing a central component of providing mana to the body. It is a clean source of energy but not potent. Mana, once it permeates the body, becomes strong enough so that anything that lacks Mana can't cut or pierce through it. If a b or c rank Hunter was shot by a normal gun then the hunter would just feel the impact and not much else. Hunters have a limit due to less potency to Mana. Can’t be born with it, only granted. There will be a black market to get a mana core. Hunters can do physical damage to wizards.

Magic core: the magic core is a spiritual organ within the body, located in the small pressure space between the lungs, heart, and diaphragm (same place as the mana core). More potent than Mana due to being more spiritual and inner. They don’t have a limit. Must be born with it. To wizards, demonic mana (mana from the gates) is deadly; causing burns all around their bodies and worsening the longer they stay inside the gate. Wizards can do spiritual and magical damage to hunters. (like their cores)

[emotionaltrashcansblog]

Kim Seokjin inspired converse 💗

[meliakim]

Worldwide Handsome

Seokjin gets one of his most famous nicknames.

Mun scrolled through her phone as she sat in her kitchen eating some leftover soup from the night before. With her sister gone on tour with BTS, she had grown accustomed to eating meals alone. She would normally put on an episode of anime, or the newest episode of Run! BTS. As a general rule, she tried to stay away from news about BTS, as she would rather hear what’s going on first-hand from Seokjinie over whatever the media had to say about them.

While randomly surfing through the web tonight, however, she noticed Jin was a trending topic, with a video from a recent interview popping up under her suggestions on YouTube. “BTS Reacts to Jin’s ‘Third Guy From the Left’ Viral Moment” it read. She remembered Seokjin recalling to her how he went viral after their appearance during the Billboard Music Awards just last week. Apparently, he captivated everyone with his good looks, so everyone was talking about him on the internet, referring to him as the “third member from the left.”

Curiosity got the better of her, so she clicked the video to see what his reaction on the interview would be, as she knew him to be embarrassed about the attention he received as is. “So, have you guys heard about the third one from the left going viral?” the interviewer asked. The boys all chuckled and whispered among themselves before they all pointed over to Jin who was standing next to the interviewer. “Yeah, that’s him,” Namjoon said to her in English. “Ah! So, you’re the man?” she asked him, putting the microphone up to him.

He looked at her nervously, as if he wasn’t expecting to be questioned. “Yes, I’m… I’m worldwide handsome…” he said nervously in English, causing the other members to laugh, and Namjoon to completely walk away for a moment to laugh. “I’m very handsome,” he added, blowing a kiss to the camera. Mun laughed out loud to herself at the sight of it, knowing his sense of humor enough to know that he was totally joking.

The rest of the interview was interrupted by an incoming call from the man himself. She calmed herself down from her laughing and took a deep breath before answering. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t ‘Worldwide Handsome’ himself,” she answered the phone. “Aishhh, Mun-ah!! You watched the interview?!” he cried on the other end, laughing embarrassedly. “I’m sorry, I HAD to! It came up under my suggested videos,” she defended herself, as he was the one who had told her to not get too deep into researching them online.

“I still can’t believe I said that… it’s so embarrassing!!” he said, still laughing. “I thought it was hilarious, honestly… and you’re trending online now, so apparently the whole world must’ve thought that too!” Mun replied, taking a bite of her soup as they chatted. “I don’t think I’m actually Worldwide Handsome, though!” he said. Mun shrugged. “I mean, you were scouted for an audition just based on your looks, so you must be pretty handsome,” she said, blushing, trying not to make it a direct compliment.

“Maybe you should call yourself Worldwide Handsome more… you’re getting a ton of free press since you’re trending… and I’m sure ARMY thinks it’s funny too,” Mun suggested. She heard her friend sigh on the other end. “I guess it was pretty funny… and if you really think I should use it more, then maybe I will,” he said, willing to take her advice. She took another big slurp of soup, causing Seokjin to ask, “what are you eating over there, anyways?”

“Some homemade soup… from your mom, actually! Since your dad is out of the country for business, she invited me over, it was so yummy… better than any soup I could make!” Mun said. “Ahh, she didn’t tell me you visited her when I talked to her! How are Odeng and Eomuk?” Seokjin asked as he prepared himself breakfast in his hotel room on his end, happy to be talking to someone who was his friend before he was dubbed as “Worldwide Handsome.”