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lets-try-some-writing · 4 months

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Action! Chapter 1

Having just graduated from Iacon's acting academy, Orion Pax is beyond excited to begin hunting for his first big role. And after vorns of doing nothing but play extras, a position has finally opened to play a part in not just any media, but his favorite novel of all things. No, he's going to play the role of Optimus Prime! A tyrannical ruler in a fantasy novel that he lived and breathed during his studies.

Unbeknownst to Orion Pax, he isn't going to be part of a high quality production. Instead, everything he is going to experience will be one hundred percent real.

(Yet another Au for yall. This one I have been sitting on thinking about endlessly for MONTHS.)

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Orion didn't like to come off as ungrateful, but he had expected acting to be a more… open field of work.

He had at one point considered taking on an archival role, but that went flying out the window the moment he saw the stars work on screen for the first time. Part of him regretted walking away from the Archives that cycle, but Ratchet, a notorious old school actor, was his original inspiration. He had been lucky enough to go to one of the elder mech’s interviews and heard all about how Ratchet walked to Iacon and dragged himself to stardome. It was inspiring to hear of the tales of struggle and strife, the corruption behind the sets, and ultimately the satisfaction of a job well done and a character perfectly played.

One thing led to another, and before long, what really got him interested in the career path was when he began meeting other stars in person. That interview had him tumbling down a rabbit hole, and from there he used his meager paycheck working at the docks to get close enough to the big names to ask them a few questions, or at least observe from a distance. Starscream broke any and all stereotypes with his unusual tendency to play both femmes and mechs in film. The advice Orion received when he asked how to become a great actor was simple.

“Kid, if you want to get big, be DRAMATIC! No one wants to spend hard earned shanix to watch a mech look bored.”

It was sound advice, and that day, Orion made the decision to understand the craft of acting. He got a chance to attend several meet and greets for other big stars such as Megatronus, a world renown actor applauded for both his heroic and villainous roles. The elder mech had smiled kindly when Orion held up his datapad for a signature and asked how to become an actor. His advice was promptly engraved into Orion’s mind alongside Starscream’s.

“Don’t just pretend when you are playing a character. You need to become the character in mind, body, and spark as much as possible. The audience knows when a performance is forced.”

Shortly afterwards, he was lucky enough to run into Arcee and Cliffjumper, a stunt double duo whose advice amounted to a simple statement. Arcee, had touched him on the arm with a knowing smile and chuckled.

“Be authentic! Do your own moves as much as you can. You want to sell the scene no matter what, even if it gets you a few cuts and dents.”

Clffjumper on the other servo had patted Orion on the shoulder with a lopsided grin and given far more… eccentric advice.

“If you can jump off a cliff, JUMP OFF THAT CLIFF!”

Orion wasn’t totally sure if it was meant to be a joke or not.

Whatever the case, he added their wisdom to his long term memory files and continued his hunt for further inspiration, a goal forming in his spark. He spoke with Soundwave, a famous actor known for his monster roles. The mech was known to be of the type to never speak on set, and his advice was grim, but undoubtedly rational.

“To act, you must know every facet of the being you are to depict. You must feel their pain, know their burdens. Only then can the weariness of their sparks show clearly in your optics through the screen.”

Ultra Magnus, a fantastic director, offered him a nugget of wisdom as well when he managed to harass the office the mech worked at enough to get his email responded to.

“Look, acting isn’t just using your vocalizer and manipulating body language. You need skills, actual abilities to compensate for anything you end up missing. The audience is far more forgiving toward an actor who gives it their all.”

Bulkhead and Wheeljack, special effects masters at the top of their field, had not so subtly given him a datapad on the production of explosives and other such materials before flicking his audial and offering their advice. Bulkhead was the most rational.

“The acting is only half the battle kiddo. You need to make a statement, preferably with explosives and a dramatic stride out of a burning building.”

Wheeljack suggested arson, and honestly upon seeing a video of some of the special effects master’s work, Orion couldn’t help but find himself pretty much sold on the concept. Wheeljack’s words were cause for concern, but they were undeniably correct when the results were in front of his optics.

“If you need to blow it up to make it look good, then by all means BLOW IT UP!”

Knockout, a makeup artist hired on every big set for his miraculous transformations, had been the most difficult to get a meeting with. But through pestering Starscream, one of Knockout’ usual clients, and through a few underhanded online transactions, Orion got the chance to ask the artist his usual question. Knockout’s advice was… interesting to say the least. Interesting, but much like all the other nuggets of wisdom, it happened to be fully applicable in light of the results.

“Darling, you have already proven to be as determined as the press. You don’t need to worry about becoming a fabulous actor. What you should worry about is getting a camera! Gigs don’t come easy, and looking as stunning as possible is the best way to get attention!”

Breakdown thankfully was not nearly as hard to track down as his partner. After having harassed Knockout, Breakdown seemed to almost sense his arrival at his next meet and greet. It wasn’t often a behind the scenes mechanic got recognized enough to have fans, but Knockout never shut up about how well Breakdown handled the lights during filming. Fans were inevitable, and Orion abused that fact to get into the rather niche interest group and meet the mech. His wisdom was much like his partner’s in rationality.

“A lot of people overlook the lighting on screen, but lighting is essential to a good production. Lighting sets the mood and adds subtle emotion to the scene. Too much, too dark, or the wrong color destroys the atmosphere. If you are ever in doubt, keep it simple and do a classic overhead light.”

With his shanix running low, Orion was unable to get in with any more big names. However, by pure chance, he won a raffle and managed to get a question in with two famous sparkling actors turned drama T.V specialists. Bumblebee and Smokescreen were beloved by audiences across Cybertron, and the former’s advice was quickly burned into Orion’s mind.

“It doesn’t matter who you are playing. Give that character justice through their connections. You must feel the bonds your character has as if they were your own. I know I cried more than once when co-stars who played a parental role in different films had to leave for another set.”

Smokescreen’s wisdom received similar treatment as he smiled widely and promptly forced himself to cry with such gusto that Orion was genuinely scared until the actor laughed it off as a joke.

“Don’t just feel it buddy! SHOW it! Every connection your character has should be plain to see on your face through their emotions! If they have any that is. Just, keep in character. Oh, and a little tip, learn to cry on the spot. It will save you so much trouble with the special effects team.”

Orion hoarded everything he learned like a drake, and despite being dirt poor by the time he sold half his spark to get in to meet a mech going by the working title of “Predaking”, he was excited to hear what the master puppeteer and monster designer had to say. He never expected to get close, but Predaking saw him amidst the crowd and called him over gleefully.

“Here’s a little secret of the trade. I am not joking when I say that accent and presence matter, even in monsters. If you are working with a character, you should know how to pronounce and announce yourself like them. If you are a beast, growl. If you are a King, dominate.”

Finally, bankrupt and with only a feeble dream, Orion held his poor financial decisions wearily in his spark and sat out on the streets, unable to pay his rent after so long chasing idols. His obsession had gone too far and he was paying the price for it. But it seemed Primus had taken pity, perhaps due to his stupidity. And on that grim cycle an umbrella had been held over his helm as he huddled, trying to escape the acid rain.

Ratchet, the mech who originally sent him spiraling down his path of poor life decisions, stood over him with a raised optical ridge. Orion had been too tired to be fully awed at the time, but when Ratchet had offered him some shanix and a hotel room for a week, Orion had listened closely to the advice the elder mech had to offer.

“Kid, your dedication is impressive, but you need to always have a backup plan. Throwing everything into your goals is admirable, but by the Allspark, make sure there is always a little something left over for you, for your survival. On set, on the streets. It doesn’t matter. You are a living being and your life comes first.”

It had been a harsh wakeup call, but it had been what Orion needed. He stopped chasing stars for a while and instead moved on to saving up, one shanix at a time to get into the most reputable acting academy he could feasibly afford. He’d learned all he could from watching with starstruck optics, and he wasn’t going to test Primus’s patience more than he already had.

And so began his journey. It was rough. He did what he could to prepare for a rainy cycle, and Ratchet’s advice did indeed save him from going without fuel more than a few times, but there were still instances where he had to cut corners. Many long cycles were spent living off cheap rations worse than the stuff given to military personnel. He had to turn off the electricity in his small apartment several times in order to avoid the bill, and he still almost cried every time he remembered the prices for the textbooks he needed once he finally got into the academy.

But vorns of hard work later, he got in and graduated in one piece. Now a certified and newly graduated actor, he was over the moon and more than ready to hunt for his first big gig. Things had been tight for a very long time, but in his mind, he was finally free of those constraints.

He found out that assumption was wrong very quickly.

Knockout hadn’t been kidding when he said getting a camera would be the hardest part of his career. Why did no sets accept graduates? Even when he applied as an extra, he usually found himself rejected because he was ‘too bright’ or ‘too distracting’. By the Primes all he’d done for one audition was lift some datapads but that had apparently been too much. They said he was too energetic for his place, too…

Enthusiastic.

He got odd jobs, worked a few small sets as a minute background character, an extra passing in the hall more often than not. But he kept up a smile, just waiting for the big gig that would shoot him into stardom just like all the actors and specialists he looked up to. He never forgot the cycle when he finally got his wish.

It had been an inconspicuous thing at first. A small advertisement online for a film production based on a fantasy series that was neither particularly popular nor necessarily unknown. Orion had read his fair share of novels over the course of his life, and while he wasn’t exactly proud to admit it, he’d gone down the rabbit hole of poorly written or otherwise unknown works of fiction to make his life more bearable when things got tough. As such, while it took him a moment, he quickly recognized the series being turned into film.

It was a simple fantasy series set in an alternate version of Cybertron, one where the Primes of old still reigned. It was a historical piece in a sense, in large part due to the inclusion of actual practices and traditions from the past ages of Cybertron, before the Quintessons arrived and were promptly driven back. The main character of the series wasn’t exactly static, often jumping between the sons of the Prime, Smokescreen and Bumblebee, and the Lord High Protector, Megatron of Kaon. Looking back it was rather odd that they were named after the actors, or the actors after them. But Orion didn’t linger on that fact.

The series was a dramatic revolution. Optimus Prime, the last reigning Prime, was a tyrant who ruled with cruel disregard for the lives of others. His inner circle planned to assassinate and ultimately did kill him later on in the novel after a series of puzzles, political schemes, and secrets being brought to light. It was a fascinating book, one that Orion was rather fond of and would even consider his favorite. So while it was certainly odd for a film company to turn such a series into anything meant for the holoscreen considering its lack of popularity, Orion said a quiet prayer and sent in an application to the studio.

He almost spit out his energon when exactly a cycle later, he got a confirmation message from the studio letting him know he had not only gotten a role in the film, but that he had been given one of the most influential roles in the entire production. He wasn’t going to be the Lord High Protector, nor was he to be either of the Prime’s sons. No, he was to be Optimus Prime himself.

He may or may not have run around his apartment giggling gleefully and giving thanks to Primus while clutching his cracked datapad like his life depended on it. He checked his device again and again, not believing what he was reading until he received a second message from the studio asking him to come in for pre-shoot training and preparation for his role. Orion did not hesitate to gather up his small stash of belongings that he thought he would require and hop onto the nearest train heading west toward the ruins of Crystal City.

Sure, it was really strange that filming preparation was being done in the abandoned Crystal City, but he didn’t feel like judging when he finally had his big gig. Nope, he wasn’t going to question it. Not when he was going to be playing Optimus Prime. The biggest villain of the series. What could be a better debut than that?

“Welcome Orion. I am the director of this set. We already have everything set up so we can begin your preliminary training immediately.”

“Oh! Of course. But may I have your designation Sir?”

“I am Alpha Trion. It is a pleasure to be working with you. Please head over to the tent over there so that you can receive your schedule for the next few stellar cycles.”

It felt rather rushed, being brought onto set and then immediately kicked into an intensive training program. But once again, Orion didn’t want to doubt. Alpha Trion was a nice enough director and took great care to ensure Orion knew all the rules of the set and how filming was going to happen.

His Co-stars were apparently already on set filming the prologue and backstory sequences. Orion was a late hire since the last mech who signed on as Optimus Prime had apparently been in a bad accident and was no longer able to perform. He was not going to be able to have any behind the scenes meetings with his Co-stars since filming was already in progress. He would need to get to know them on set and while in character. Orion was also explicitly told that filming was going to be done differently than what was typically normal.

Filming would run almost like a reality T.V show. There would be cameras everywhere hidden throughout the set in all public areas. Essentially, Orion would be in character all the time except for when he was in his assigned quarters and perhaps the washracks if there weren’t any extra scenes planned. He didn’t remember there being anything incriminating or… suggestive in the series, but directors were known to adapt novels to their liking. He would have to be careful either way.

The only other serious thing he was told was somewhat unnerving. He would have no direct contact with the crew, access to stunt doubles, or the ability to speak to the director once he was on set. The reasoning behind it was that they wanted everything to be as realistic and immersive as possible. It seemed a lot like hogwash to Orion, but once they began his preliminary training, he decided to lodge those concerns away and focus on his studies. He wanted to play his role well. If he flopped here, no studio would ever hire him.

Sword training, dueling etiquette, anything relating to politics, royal manners, proper resource management, strategy, warfare, language, literature, history, arts, economy, geography, survival training, public speaking, and so much more were on his todo list. He lost track of the classes and cycles bled into one another. It felt rather silly learning the twenty seven made up languages used in the novels and the similarly intensive made up history of the fantasy world. But he endured it all diligently. It was kind of fun having to memorize the fantasy maps and learn how to sing elegantly so that ancient rites seen in the novel could be replicated.

It was tiring work, and he was fairly certain that a few million shanix had to have gone into the replication of models and teachers that were hired to educate him. The studio must have had high hopes for their film to put so much into him. The director himself didn't seem concerned in the slightest about profits the whole time. He never even talked to Orion outside of that first instance until he had spent roughly eight stellar cycles studying.

“I believe you are ready to head to the set and meet the makeup team. Do not be alarmed at any frame augmentations. They are all perfectly natural. A chip will be inserted into your processors to feed you information on set, largely so that you need never break character.”

Alpha Trion looked like he would rather be chewing on rocks as he spat out the information. Orion was rightfully suspicious in his opinion. But after almost a full vorn of dedicating his very spark to learning everything under Luna 1 and 2 needed to play the role of Optimus Prime, he would be slagged before he backed out now. Besides, he enjoyed feeling tested and trained cables strain beneath his armor, a side effect of never ending sword training.

“Thank you Sir! I will be sure to play my part perfectly!”

Orion assured as he was led to a space bridge and ushered through. He smiled as he passed to the other side, meeting the gazes of over a dozen rather malicious looking mecha who grabbed him and laid him down on a medical berth before he could wheeze out a greeting. Next thing he knew, he was injected with a sedative of some sort and promptly awoke aching absolutely everywhere in a berth that was not his own.

He sat up, rubbing his helm and feeling the definitive change in structure. He frowned and stood up on wobbly pedes, gawking at his newfound height as he shakily made his way toward the only mirror in the room. He gasped when he saw his reflection. The mech in front of him was, by all definitions, gorgeous. Strong and quite clearly made for war, a stunning set of armor adorned him. Gold highlights graced his plating and strong shoulders now guarded him. Blue hips swayed with every step and long strong legs shone in the light, covered in small glyphs he couldn’t even properly read from how well they blended in. His arm guards were equally ornamented, and he hardly had time to process his wide yet sharp optics before the door to his room burst open and a terrified looking servant crashed to the ground.

“Forgive me my Lord!” The servant wept, curling up on the ground as they hurriedly tried to gather up what looked to be a cube of energon. Instinct told Orion to help, but before he could act, a message flashed across his vision.

[[You are on set now. Play your part Orion Pax. From this cycle forward, you are Optimus Prime.]]

Was it highly unorthodox and probably breaking at least a few labor laws? Absolutely. Was Orion backing out now? Not to save his life.

He took a deep vent, feeling a new weight pulse in his spark chamber. When he refocused, he cleared his mind of distractions and settled himself on one designation. Over and over he repeated it.

‘I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Cybertronian Empire, and I am a tyrant worthy of death.’

He repeated to himself internally as he scowled at the servant, a pleasant frown adorning his seemingly untarnishable face.

“What is your designation?” He questioned sharply. The servant shook in renewed terror at his words which flowed so smoothly from his glossa that Orion, or rather Optimus, almost choked. The language of the novel came easily to him now, more so than he was otherwise sure it was meant to. But he did not question as he grabbed the servant by the back of their neck guard and threw them out of the door, doing his best to use his training to ensure that his fellow actor wasn’t actually damaged.

The servant skidded across the ground, slamming into the wall of the hallway with a groan. Orion- Optimus cringed internally. He had limited practical experience. He would need to do better in the future to ensure his fellow actors weren’t damaged. As much as he loved a dramatic role, he didn’t want to make any actual enemies. He would need to find out the actor’s name and give them a gift basket or something when he had a free moment.

But for now, he had a part to play and a landscape to very hastily memorize.

“How dare you. Insolent whelp. Have you no experience using the frame Primus granted you?” Optimus stalked forward, his voice deep and resonating, yet also surprisingly smooth. Even when portraying anger, his voice still flowed like a perfectly calm stream. Whatever mods the makeup team gave him, he desperately wanted to keep once he finished with this role.

“Forgive me my Lord! It was an accident! Y-Your presence startled me! You’ve been in stasis for almost a vorn!” Oh? So that was how the director was playing off his absence. Optimus couldn’t help but find it odd that he had been told his co-stars were filming other scenes while apparently the main story was still progressing, but perhaps there were details he was missing. He would have to talk to his co-stars.

“A vorn.” He practically growled, his perfectly modeled frame not even instinctually turning to flared plating to get his point across. By the pits the makeup team had done him up nicely.

“I’m sorry!” The servant wailed, clutching at their chassis to protect themselves from a potential attack. Optimus internally wanted to praise their acting. It was honestly phenomenal how well they could force their tears and the sheer terror in their optics. He would need to ask for lessons off set sometime.

“Enough. Cease your pathetic whimpering. I require an immediate update of all that has come to pass during my absence.” The servant scurried to their pedes, weeping even as they shakily bowed and gestured for Optimus to follow. He obliged without question, taking care to stride forward with elegance that had practically been beaten into him during training. He felt stupid walking with a gentle sway of his hips while his shoulders were held back in his old frame. But with these augments, it felt right.

He was going to have so much fun making scenes as the notorious tyrant the people of the novel feared.

“Your office my Lord. W-Would you like me to summon your Council?” He had a Council? Optimus wracked his mind for who the mecha in question could be as he stared at the gaudy doors before him.

“Who would that entail?” He questioned with authority lacing his tone. The servant shook even harder and again Optimus applauded their acting abilities. True skill from a mere background character. The director had not spared a single detail it seemed.

“Currently they are scattered, according to your will prior to your fall into stasis. T-The Lord High Protector, the Young Lords, and of course your personal physician can be summoned if you desire. We can also begin summoning your spymaster and anyone else-” Optimus raised a servo, silencing the servant as he opened the office doors and stepped into a room all but drowning in paperwork. He wanted to cry as soon as he witnessed the pile of work to be done. Did the director really have to make things this detailed? It felt overkill really.

“Summon all of my Council, everyone of importance. I refuse to be left in the dark.” He ordered as he strode forward, calmly and regally taking a seat at his desk. His expression remained perfectly composed as he sifted through the datapads before him, seeing incredibly detailed documents that looked real enough to pass into law if Optimus didn’t know they had to be forged for realism’s sake.

“By your will Lord Prime.” The servant hurried away, closing the door behind them and leaving Optimus to his monstrous pile of datapads. The director had said there would be cameras in all public areas. Considering this area was not exactly private, Optimus elected to keep in character. This was a good chance to put his training to good use anyway.

“Primus protect me.” He muttered in the old tongue used in the novel. It felt right strangely enough, but he chalked it up to the thrill of being on set as he picked up the nearest datapad and promptly dug through every conceivable loophole in the document in order to get the best deal. Sure, he was playing the role of tyrant, but these documents were all for show. If he simply took the time to actually make it seem as though he were dutifully working on them, then his task would be complete.

He would rather not sit around being bored for groons on end. So he might as well actually try and make something of the documents for the benefit of the Empire. Would they actually come into law? No. This was all a set after all. But was it rather fun putting together the perfect little documents to improve efficiency as if he were playing a real time strategy game?

Absolutely.

“My reign shall endure, regardless of the price.” He smiled, taking care to gaze off into the distance in what probably seemed like a really stupid way to an outsider but was sure to appear amazing to any camera. Then, maintaining his new persona, Optimus allowed himself to drift into his work. No use wasting energy until his co-stars arrived. The director had mentioned that the set was rather large and that it was taking place on a whole new colony world to add to the realism.

He couldn’t wait to see who was playing the roles of the other characters in the novel.

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jooniperbonsai · 4 months

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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.

#seokjin smut #bts smut #jin smut #ksj #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #kim seokjin

120 notes · View notes

comradekatara · 4 months

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if you had to give bolin a good personality/arc, what would it be? mako has (hardly touched) parallels as the repressed, protective older sibling. bolin, like katara, is the younger sib who wears their heart on their sleeve. but while she's a prodigy on top of being the last bender of her tribe, he has mediocre skill, and probably would get looked down upon as a mixed earthbender in neocolonial republic city. but instead he's just written in cringy ships that are esp hard to watch

this is a great question. the thing about bolin is, he’s actually a pretty talented earthbender. obviously not toph level, but you know, good enough to be a pro athlete, and to lavabend! the problem with bolin isn’t that he’s untalented per se, it’s that he’s stupid. katara may be naive, but she’s still incredibly smart, witty, and practical. no one in atla is straight up dumb tbh (even zuko has his moments). but plenty of characters in lok are dumb and serve no narrative purpose other to be annoying UHH I MEAN “”funny”” . bolin was actually fine at first. in the first couple episodes, he’s confident, outgoing, and optimistic, but he’s also grounded and has at least one brain cell. then i guess they decided they wanted bolin and mako to fight over korra but for mako to “win” korra in the end, and so they had to nerf (or perhaps lobotomize) him. which makes perfect sense, of course. it’s clear from then on that the show never really has any idea of what to do with him, which is a problem with pretty much every facet of lok.

bolin reaches his peak of character usefulness in the book 3 subplot wherein he and mako get stranded in the lower ring and run into their extended family. this is a very good mini-arc and exactly what i wish we had seen from mako and bolin throughout the entire show. i don’t care about their misguided career choices (apart from insofar as it is informed by their trauma), i care about their roles as they problematize the neoliberal fantasy lok largely uncritically glamorizes. not saying that all my favorite children’s cartoons need to be marxist propaganda (although……… im not NOT saying that), but their entire backstory conflicts w the ideologies being presented in the show, and they’re ostensibly main characters!!! so where is that tension???? why are we focalizing capitalists and nepobabies (sorry tenzin i forgot ur not actually defined by ur famous parents) when mako and bolin are supposed to be significant players?? and not just in a “oh teenage boy romantic drama” or “wacky buddy cop sideplot” way. in a “how do they reflect the themes” way.

i don’t really know what exactly i’d do with bolin if i rewrote lok right now (because i tend to forget he exists tbh), but i do know that he NEEDS to have more depth, nuance, and like… a modicum of intelligence. the class, racial, familial, and romantic aspects of his character would need to be teased out more and actually cohere. he would need to have feelings that aren’t simply played for laughs, and his role in the narrative would have to be more than simply being the show’s little jangling jester. maybe some people enjoy the “dumb comic relief” archetype (and if anyone says “but what about sokka? you like sokka” i will find where you sleep) but he literally has no depth. and what’s the point of a PRIMARY CHARACTER who serves no thematic function. his function is mainly to be proximate to mako, and of course to annoy the viewer with his wacky subplots. also i guess to introduce the avatar world to red pandas, but again, that first happens before they nerfed him, so im not even gonna count it as a positive. actually you know what? since the beginning of writing this paragraph ive given it some thought and decided that bolin should’ve been a communist revolutionary 👍🏼

#surelyjtemple #asks #bolin #lok crit #the last sentence is a joke if you disagree and dead serious if you agree. btw

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sammy-deserves-better · 5 months

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Hey people who definitely didn’t follow me for my AUs here’s another AU I thought up on the spot!!!

Fantasy/Royalty AU bam lets get into it

Julia and Bowie are the princess and prince of the kingdom, as you do, it’s gay and lesbian hostility in that castle every day

Axel, Wayne, Raj and Emma are knights with Axel being the head of the knights, Emma is also secretly a florist because why not

Priya is the head of the guards while Caleb is the personal guard/advisor to the king

Chase is a travelling bard who loves to talk about his ‘amazing’ adventures of ‘helping’ people

Nichelle is still a famous actress but instead of movies she’s like, famous from plays and all that jazz

Ripper’s a barbarian that’s pretty good at his job, unfortunately he is not taken very seriously

Millie is a famous writer but she’s so damn difficult to find at times and only a few people know where she actually lives

Damien is a wizard’s apprentice, he’s still learning but he’s got some real talent within him

Zee is the court jester, he didn’t even like try out for the role he just started talking one time and the king thought he was hilarious

Scary Girl is a famous necromancer because she is, funnily enough, scarily good at her job

And MK, silly ol’ MK, is a master thief who is wanted all over the world, but can never be located, always managing to escape at the last moment

Alright here’s some more details yippee

Raj and Bowie are like, in love, obviously, knight x prince romance! Forbidden love that isn’t really forbidden but like it’s super cute and Raj is so smitten and Bowie just loves this handsome knight that would do anything for him

Wayne and Emma are friends here because I also think they’re silly, Wayne’s the only one who knows Emma’s secret florist job because she trusts him enough and also he accidentally found out but it’s fine!! But he also nearly gives away Emma’s secret so many damn times because he’s just a little bit stupid

‘Man I wish I could get Bowie a nice bouquet…’

‘Oh well Emma is actually a fl-‘

And then Wayne gets elbowed so hard he can’t breath for 2 minutes

Emma also definitely has a thing for the cute court jester but she has no idea on how to actually approach Zee so she just sends him flowers anonymously and sighs while looking at him lovingly

Julia and MK meet because MK climbs up the damn castle walls at 2am and sneaks into Julia’s room just to rob her, gets absolutely slammed by the princess, wakes up and is tied to a damn chair with Julia right up in her face about to rip her to shreds and all MK can say is ‘you are REALLY attractive oh my gods’

This throws Julia off, they start talking, Julia realises that despite the fact she is holding one of the most wanted criminals hostage in her room, she wants to keep seeing MK because she’s entertaining and mean and just slightly pathetic, so she lets MK go on the promise that the thief will come back every night and so she does and yadda yadda lesbians toxic yuri wins

Millie’s stories actually come to life because shocker she’s actually a wizard in disguise and she needs to be really careful about what she writes so that’s why she hides herself away and is so hard to track down because if the wrong people knew about her magic capabilities oh no that’s a lot of blood and injury and angst and 10k words every chapter

Millie’s parents also had this ability to create anything from mere writing, they shared this ability with the kingdom, and so if an important figure asked them to say…make a protector of the kingdom, they would do so, and they did, and that’s where our villain/antagonist comes in but that’s a story for another day

The older gens are also involved in this one way or another as well, most are just backgrounders but some hold important to the story

Damien is the wizard apprentice to Leonard and Tammy, two great and powerful sages who spend their time helping the world

DJ is the one who taught Emma how to be a florist, he’s kind and understanding and always helps Emma choose the right flowers to give to Zee

Eva trains Ripper under her watchful eye, she’s proud of how far he’s come, but feels he can do just a bit more

Aleheather are the king and queen of the kingdom, Bowie and Julia are their adopted children

And that’s all I got for now uhhhh add whatever you want to this it’s just a silly time

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utilitycaster · 1 year

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Would LOVE that essay on combat in dnd because full agree. But not even just for people watching live play, like, combat is an essential feature of dnd as a game system and it endlessly frustrates me when i see dms be like “yeah combat is just too complicated and no fun so i dont do it in my game :)!” Like i guess thats your right, but any non-caster class is gonna be miserable in your game. I saw a video recently talking about how dnd has kind of become the default ttrpg and is marketed as the perfect system for everyone and any style of play which is just. So not true. Combat in dnd is equally as integral as roleplay is and theres really no argument otherwise. Very valid if you hate dnd combat, it sure isnt for everyone, but in that case maybe play a different ttrpg where the characters arent constructed around combat abilities, i promise you’ll have more fun.

So this is one of those things that touches on maybe 99% of my feelings on Experiencing Fiction in general and actual play in particular; I apologize in advance for the length and digressions within this response.

Here are the reasons I have seen or I surmise why people don’t like D&D combat, either in actual play or in home games:

It can get crunchy and involves a lot of rules

There are long stretches in which individuals do not necessarily act (not exclusive to combat but I think this is a factor)

It contains violence

There is a potential for character death

Now, it’s fine if you aren’t interested in D&D-style combat, for whatever reason, when you play ttrpgs. It’s just that this is a core feature of D&D. As you say, this is what the martial classes are structured around - and, frankly, no small number of casting classes/subclasses as well. By avoiding it when you play D&D, you’re avoiding the bulk of the game, and there are plenty of ttrpgs that permit open RP that aren’t combat focused that would probably fit your needs better (eg: PbtA and Savage Worlds are both generic systems that can support a heroic fantasy like D&D without the emphasis on combat skills). I happen to love and prefer D&D, but that is specifically because I love combat, and yeah, there are other games and people should seek out those games if they don’t like combat.

When it comes to D&D actual play though…skipping combat is just straight-up stupid. And to be clear I mean fully skipping it and not watching it at all; while this is piggybacking off my post about spoilers, it’s fine if you are the sort of person who needs to know how combat ends in order to enjoy it! That’s just a personal preference that I respect even if I don’t share it.

D&D combat isn’t just an inherent part of the game; it’s an inherent part of the story. The idea of D&D being split into combat and RP is a false dichotomy. There is RP and crucial story within combat scenes, and you simply do not achieve the same effects by reading an after-the-fact summary. To use examples from Critical Role, consider one of the most famous RP moments from Campaign 1, when Scanlan uses his 9th level counterspell in the Vecna fight. The weight of that moment derives from mechanics and from the fact that it is in the midst of combat and well into a climatic final battle. Or for lighter examples, there’s a ton of Beau/Yasha and Fjord/Jester mid-combat flirting running through much of Campaign 2 that informs those relationships. Molly’s death? Caleb going into a fugue state when he kills humanoids with fire? Yasha destroying Obann? Fjord dying mid-deep scion fight? Those are all moments that have deep character weight and meaning that are within the context of combat, and you cannot divorce them from that context and hope to retain the same effect.

This is what dovetails into a larger discussion of Experiencing Fiction which is a (in my opinion) worrying tendency among some people to truly believe that you can cut up media into the palatable bits and pieces and push all of what you see as icky vegetables to the side of your plate. I fucking hate this. I think it’s what drives a lot of things including a distaste for combat. This is how you get, for example, people who dislike combat because Violence And Death Bad, which, do I think that in the real world violence is most often a thing to be avoided? Do I think that in the real world death is heartbreaking? Yes, but this is fiction. There’s that great Brennan Lee Mulligan quote about how TTRPGs like D&D allow people who usually must be conflict-avoidant in real life to let out their anger and frustration in a place where it is safe and harmless, and I believe that whole-heartedly. I want stories about death because I want to know I'm not alone in how I feel about death. I want stories in which people can express their rage in ways both healthy and unhealthy, because big same. (I also think it’s absolutely not coincidental that people who believe they are ‘protecting’ people by circumscribing what is acceptable in fiction tend to be strongly associated with either bigoted, violent policies in real life, or harassment and doxxing online; maybe enjoy a fucked up movie, as John Waters once said, and you'll calm down.)

This idea that you can cut up media and only consume what you like is also what I think is behind some of the really ill-considered and overly granular timestamped content warnings I’ve mentioned previously. It is fine if there are things you don’t want to watch or which will be upsetting or even triggering to watch! It’s fine if you as an individual don’t like violence! But I think there’s a problem when people believe they are entitled to be able to watch whatever they want and have it mold to their exact wants and needs (and that it’s a failing if it doesn’t), rather than taking on the responsibility of seeking out media that already fits the bill. Actual Play D&D will nearly always have violent encounters. If this will be an issue this is not for you. It is not gatekeeping to say “you can come through this gate, but the gate is in fact here for your specifically requested protection"; and yet people think that instead, gates should be placed around everything else. So (to give an example) this is why the warnings for D20’s Neverafter strike me as a symptom of this larger problem - if you have discomfort with violence towards animals and children, that’s fine, but you are watching a D&D horror series in which over half the player characters are either animals or children. This is not something where you can skip a few seconds of a flashing gif that might be a migraine or seizure trigger, or a case where an exceptionally rough scene of gaslighting can be read instead of watched; this is inherent to the show, and if this is not for you, you need to go elsewhere.

To give one last example, I was looking for fanart for Worlds Beyond Number, and came across a picture of Suvi with a caption of “Suvi but without the imperialism” and like…Aabria has said in interviews that this engagement with the empire is extremely deliberate; that Suvi is intended to be tied into the political structures of this world as an intentional contrast with Eursulon’s status as an outsider and Ame’s role at the smaller, community level. Suvi without imperialism is not identifiable as the same character and it throws the entire story off-kilter; she is of this empire and that is the fucking point. Any story worth telling is not just items thrown haphazardly into a bowl; they are combined and mixed. Someone is giving you a plate of brownies and you are acting like it’s physically possible to take out the cocoa powder without fucking the end result, and buddy, it’s not.

(Truly, I was not joking when I said this is like, the load-bearing pillar of most of my complaints about fiction consumption patterns in general. This is about how people will deny the flaws in characters even though any reasonably intelligent ten-year-old, and I know because I fucking was one once, understands that person vs. themself is one of the core conflicts and overcoming one’s flaws is in many cases the entire story and if you start out perfect there is nothing to be said. Like…I think a lot of people genuinely just want to watch a nonstop Monterey Bay Otter Cam of their sufficiently sanitized, focus-group-tested blorbos baking cookies together, and are affronted when people with the tiniest sliver of empathy and/or curiosity want a story with plot and character growth, which in turn require conflict.)

Anyway. I think the takeaways here are that there’s this awful entitlement people have in which they think that they can simply consume anything and it is the failure of that media if it doesn’t cater specifically to them, rather than a failure of them to seek out that which they would enjoy (and I could go on this rant indefinitely; it is truly the most constant theme among Takes I Think Are Dumb); and also I really want to bake something right now, given my choices of metaphor. Combat is part of D&D as a game and as a storytelling medium, and it is incumbent upon people who do not like combat to find something that doesn’t have D&D combat, rather than try to pull out the vital organs of the story.

#answered #faltermoth #long post #to continue with food metaphors it's really like. you are going to an italian restaurant and being mad there are tomatoes there #girl why are you at the devil's sacrament and so forth #i was going to make a joke about bombing all your coffee shop aus but actually i read a coffee shop au that was like. dark. and good.#(it was also professionally published in a work specifically about retellings though)

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wlwcatalogue · 3 months

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Valentine's Special ~ Aerith/Tifa from Final Fantasy VII: Remake (Compilation)

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Since today is Valentine’s Day, and FFVII: Rebirth is releasing at the end of this month, it’s the perfect time to get caught up on Aerith/Tifa, a.k.a. Aerti, a.k.a. possibly the most unexpected F/F ship in gaming! Here is what I consider to be the most comprehensive compilation of Aerti scenes from FFVII: Remake, prepared by yours truly for your viewing (and shipping) pleasure :)

Quick sales pitch: While Aerith is famously The One Who Dies and Tifa is known for her sexy character design, they are also popularly remembered as main character Cloud’s two equally appealing love interests, as attested to by one Robert Pattinson. However, just as the elements present in the original 1997 game Final Fantasy VII were expanded on and added to in FFVII: Remake, the relationship between Aerith and Tifa was also fleshed out… to the point where it became very, very easy to ship them together. To put it in Tumblr terms, it’s like Betty and Veronica, but taken in a different – but still (subtextually) gay – direction compared to Riverdale. Check out the video above, it's just 1.5 hours!

(Longer sales pitch / commentary below the cut)

Originally from the hit 1997 Japanese role-playing game Final Fantasy VII, Aerith and Tifa, along with the main character Cloud Strife, were one of the most famous love triangles of video games at the time, and arguably even now. (Note: Think Betty and Veronica (Archie but pre-Riverdale), or if you’re more familiar with anime, Rei and Asuka (Neon Genesis: Evangelion) or Saber and Rin (Fate: Stay Night).) Although they barely had any interactions together and really were primarily love interests for Cloud in the original game (and subsequent related works), the relationship between Aerith and Tifa was significantly more fleshed out in Final Fantasy VII: Remake (2020), going beyond your standard box-ticking “look, girl power!” exercise. There seems to have been many a fan who walked out of playing Remake who found Aerti (i.e. Aerith and Tifa’s relationship) memorable – whether read romantically or platonically – resulting in many GIFs, fanart, and even compilations of memorable scenes of their “friendship”.

Not only do they interact with each other outside of speaking about Cloud or other male characters (scraping a pass in the Bechdel test, yay!), Remake gives the relationship space to develop from “strangers who hit it off” to “individuals who care about and trust each other”. Significantly, Aerith is the one who seems to take Tifa’s concerns the most seriously and comfort her, and Tifa is also able to see past Aerith’s cheery façade and reach out to her at her times of greatest need. In my opinion, each of the pair offers the greatest emotional support to the other out of all the characters – even more than what they do for Cloud (or what Cloud does for them).

So what makes their relationship romantic rather than simply platonic to me (other than sheer force of will)? Even though there isn’t really any direct flirting or explicitly romantic lines, there are a number of moments which are framed romantically or parallel romantic moments between Cloud/Aerith or Cloud/Tifa. Perhaps the most obvious of this is when Tifa protects Aerith from falling (twice), which is animated and shot in a way which suggests that it’s just as swoon-worthy as when Cloud protected Tifa from a fall in a prior scene. However, another notable example is how the high-five gesture is linked to Cloud’s opening up to Aerith (as he has to be persuaded over the course of several scenes to do the high-five), but Aerith also high-fives Tifa in other scenes later, effectively appropriating the gesture. So while I never expect it to ever become canon, Remake’s Aerti has been a wonderful surprise and I hope to see even greater developments in their relationship within this subtextual space as the FFVII: Remake trilogy progresses.

Let's all hope for the best-- in the meantime, please enjoy this compilation!

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ficretus · 1 month

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One of the defining traits of Jaune's character journey is subversion of both in universe and outside tropes.

In universe it ties to him being Arc (famous warrior bloodline) and presenting himself as some kind of knight in shining armor in early volumes, while being incompetent goofball that got where he did thanks to cheating.

He also subverts tropes of standard battle shonen protagonists. Yeah, he has gotten more competent both as leader and fighter, but there won't be any scene in which Jaune goes Super Huntsman and beats the shit out of Demon King or whatever.

This ties well to him being Joan of Arc allusion. Joan's journey was all about defying the gender roles of the time. She was a teenage girl that was tasked to save France. Just in act of doing so, she broke many social norms: she both lied and disobeyed her parents, broke betrothal that was set up for her, crossdressed, at multiple occasions called out her superiors, and so on. Joan rejected female gender role of her time in favor of being warrior maiden.

And while Jaune doesn't reject his role, universe rejects it for him over and over again. Every time Jaune tries to be stereotypical knight or play any traditionally masculine role it doesn't go well for him.

Tries to play knight with family heirloom at Beacon, fails miserably.

Tries to court Weiss, closest thing Remnant has to princess, fails miserably.

Tries to go full avenger mode on Cinder, fails miserably.

If you look at Jaune's Rusted Knight phase, that is basically his wish fulfillment fantasy from the beginning of the series. He is dashing mature competent armored knight that has Weiss' admiration. Yet Jaune is probably at his most miserable during that phase and I don't think that's a coincidence.

Looking at his current trajectory and Joan of Arc allusion, I'd say Vacuo portion of the story will be when Jaune finally rejects stereotypical roles that are assigned to him and forges his own path.

His sword, symbol of both his role and family legacy broke. He now has a chance to either continue walking the same path by reforging it or pick a new path by finally creating his own weapon.

And looking at Joan of Arc story chronologically, Jaune is approaching important moment of Joan of Arc story, start of her journey to Chinon to see the King. Right before start of the journey, Joan cut off her hair and started wearing male clothes. Based on that, I suspect Vacuo will be turning point of Jaune's character.

#jaune arc #rwby jaune arc #rwby #rwby volume 10 #greenlight volume 10

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tossawary · 1 year

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I forgot how fucking funny Shen Yuan is. He’s such an unreliable narrator (at least in my interpretation of him) partly because he’s genuinely oblivious to some things and partly because he’s sometimes intentionally ignoring problems like his own trauma, but also because he’s just cracking jokes all the time. It’s hard to know just how seriously he’s taking things sometimes or whether or not the situation is genuinely Like That, because there’s often a chance that Shen Yuan is exaggerating or underplaying the situation in the noble pursuit of 1) The Bit or 2) dunking on Airplane.

Couple of my favorite random, mundane examples of him being hilarious at the beginning of SVSSS:

Shen Qingqiu was an easygoing person.

Since his residential address had already been changed to Proud Immortal Demon Way, and since he’d already kicked the bucket in his original world, he figured he might as well try making it work here.

He’d arrived in a cultivation setting, received a body with decent martial ability and swordsmanship for free, and was also part of a famous righteous sect. If he wanted to stand out, he could stand out, and if he wanted to lie low, he could hole up on Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s Qing Jing Peak and be a recluse. What was there to complain about?

The only slightly difficult thing would be finding a girlfriend. In this sort of male power fantasy stallion novel, any woman inevitably belonged to the male lead, as long as she wasn’t ugly. Everyone knew this.

Still, Shen Qingqiu was a man of few needs; he would have been satisfied just idling away to a ripe old age. In that way, it wouldn’t be that different from how his previous life had been going.

- SVSSS, Vol 1, Ch 1

Shen Yuan cracks jokes rather than deal with any grief over dying (handwaves over the whole thing, we don’t get to see his quiet moments in the beginning), optimistically acknowledges landing in a very sweet situation for his new life even if the character role isn’t good (kind of reads to me like he’s telling himself he doesn’t have a good reason to complain, so he’s telling himself not to be sad), and then cracks a joke about how hard it’ll be to get a girlfriend.

I read the next bit as him dunking on stallion novels slightly, although I do also think Shen Yuan has some unexamined misogyny going on even if he’s a good guy. He reads as a little sexist at the same time that he brings up problematic elements in the writing in Proud Immortal Demon Way. This flaw feels realistic to me for a young man who reads these kinds of stallion novels and I enjoy it.

And then he jokingly dunks on himself for not having a girlfriend in his past life and is up front about the fact that he doesn’t really want one anyway. A lot of the SVSSS characters give off asexual spectrum vibes for me personally, but Shen Yuan really, REALLY gives off asexual spectrum vibes. It kind of reads to me as Shen Yuan making a joke like, “Lol, imagine what I’d be complaining about if I was the type of person to care about getting a girlfriend! ‘Oh, no! I’ve died and landed in the role of a scum villain and there’s a digital tyrant refusing to let me act out of character! How will I get a girlfriend now?!’ Priorities, am I right?”

The second bit is when Shen Yuan is at the Chen Estate in Shuang Hu City, hunting the Skinner Demon. Ning Yingying has just come to his room to ask him to escort her to the market and he has to turn her down.

At the same time, how could he not want to go out and play? Up until now, he’d been hunkered down inside Qing Jing Peak’s Bamboo House, forced to fake being an awesome master of arts and literature, meaning everything he did had to be done “blandly”: blandly speaking, blandly laughing, blandly practicing the sword, blandly being a poser - bland to the point that he often had the urge to scatter a handful of salt over his head! What a damn pain!

And now when he finally got a break to take a trip down the mountain, he was still trapped in his room because of the System’s stance that “the original Shen Qingqiu liked quiet and would be unwilling to mingle.”

Shen Qingqiu didn’t even want to pretend to meditate, so he lay on the bed, just pretending to be dead.

- SVSSS, Vol 1, Ch 2

Shen Yuan has been going stir crazy, unable to talk to anyone properly, and he just wants to be loud and undignified and enjoy himself by playing the tourist for an afternoon! He calls himself out for faking everything! He admits that he doesn’t know what he’s doing! He doesn’t like being cold and calm and collected all the time. He sounds like he’s desperate for some friendly company and a distraction from his own thoughts. He wants to be nice to people.

The OOC function won’t even let him chill and chat with people. Which is a little funny because when Luo Binghe was being bullied, Shen Yuan said, “Fuck the System!” and anonymously interfered with flying leaves because he couldn’t bear Luo Binghe’s suffering, even though it lost him a bunch of points. He got the points back, but he didn’t know that when he interfered! For all he knew then, he was bringing himself closer to a risk of death. He also later invited Binghe to ride in the carriage with him after another bullying incident and argued with the System as to why his actions weren’t out of character. If Binghe is involved and suffering, then Shen Yuan can’t help but rail against the OOC function.

Shen Yuan calls himself out for “pretending to meditate” before now (he knows he’s kind of a hack! He so lost and he’s doing his best anyway) and just... lies on the bed “pretending to be dead”??? It’s not stated whether he’s lying facedown or facing the ceiling, but it’s funny either way. Shen Yuan is so fucking done with the System’s micromanagement with the OOC function that he just sprawls on the bed for the day. He sounds so depressed.

#tossawary svsss #tossawary rereads svsss #shen yuan

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brielledoesastrology · 10 months

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Asteroid Makoto Shinkai (55222) in your astrology natal chart

By : Brielledoesastrology (tumblr)

“Have we...met before, somewhere else?"

asteroid "Makoto Shinkai" code number : 55222

Makoto Shinkai is a renowned Japanese filmmaker known for his work in the field of anime and animated films.

He gained international recognition for his visually stunning and emotionally resonant films that often explore themes of love, distance, and human connections.

Shinkai is often praised for his attention to detail, beautifully rendered backgrounds, and ability to evoke a sense of melancholy in his storytelling.

One of Shinkai's most famous works is the film "Your Name" (Kimi no Na wa), released in 2016. It became a massive commercial success both in Japan and worldwide, earning critical acclaim for its stunning animation, compelling story, and emotional depth. The film follows the story of two teenagers who mysteriously swap bodies and eventually develop a connection that transcends time and space.

Some of Shinkai's other notable works include "5 Centimeters per Second" (2007), which portrays a tale of long-distance love and the passage of time, and "Weathering with You" (2019), a film about a boy who encounters a girl with the ability to control the weather.

Shinkai's films often incorporate elements of fantasy and science fiction while exploring human relationships and the impact of time and distance on personal connections.

Makoto Shinkai's distinct visual style and ability to tell deeply emotional stories have made him a prominent figure in the anime industry, and he is widely regarded as one of the most talented and influential anime directors of his generation.

Makoto Shinkai's art style is characterized by its breathtaking visuals, attention to detail, and emphasis on capturing the beauty of natural landscapes.

His films often feature meticulously drawn and painted backgrounds that showcase realistic and stunning scenery, ranging from sprawling cityscapes to serene rural landscapes. Shinkai pays great attention to atmospheric effects, such as light, shadow, and weather, which contribute to the overall mood and tone of his works.

Shinkai's style tends to be more grounded and less exaggerated compared to some other anime styles. His characters often have a realistic appearance, with subtle facial expressions that convey complex emotions.

Shinkai focuses on capturing the nuances of human emotions, particularly the feelings of longing, yearning, and the bittersweet nature of love and relationships.

Color plays an essential role in Shinkai's art style. He often employs vibrant and vivid colors to create visually striking scenes, especially during key emotional moments.

The use of contrasting colors and lighting techniques helps to evoke a sense of atmosphere and depth in his compositions.

Shinkai's art style combines technical excellence with an ability to convey powerful emotions through visuals. His attention to detail, stunning backgrounds, and skillful use of color contribute to the distinctive and visually captivating nature of his films.

(source : chat gpt)

In astrology the asteroid "Makoto shinkai" (55222) could represent : where you have great talent in your art works or story telling, where your art work or story telling have emotional depth, where your artwork or story has really amazing visual beauty, where your art work or story telling have reflection on transience, where your art work or story telling is very inspirational, where your art work or story telling is greatly admired or loved by a lot of people, where you prefer to make your art works or story telling more to the realistic side

⚠️ Warning : i consider this asteroid as prominent and brings the most effect if it conjuncts ur personal planets (sun,moon,venus,mercury,mars) and if it conjuncts ur personal points (ac,dc,ic,mc), i use 0 - 2.5 orbs (for conjunctions). For sextile, trine, opposite and square aspects to asteroids i usually use 0 - 2 orbs. Yes tight conjunctions of planet / personal points to asteroids tends to give the most effect, but other aspects (sextile,trine,square,opposite, etc) still exist, even they produce effects. If it doesn't aspect any of your planets or personal points, check the house placement of the asteroid, maybe some stuff/topics relating to this asteroid could affect some topics/stuff relating to the house placement . ⚠️

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prpfs · 3 months

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🫀 hello! i am looking to write some prose-y highly literate dead dove-y content. if you want to write some pretty words about some fucked up characters, i am your gal.

i am 26, she/her and on gmt-3 timezone! my happy spot is writing somewhere between 400-700+ words and i’m happy to go even longer, but i don’t love to do shorter. no one-liners, i like to have a good chunk of introspection going at all times, so i’d consider myself adv. lit. and i hope to find partners who are the same! activity wise, i really don’t mind taking a couple days or even a couple weeks between replies, very chill with long hiatuses too, as long as we keep ooc communication open. otherwise i’ll assume you’ve ghosted me, which is fine too, but i won’t be chasing. i have a lot of free time at the moment, but i’m usually a full time uni student and i can’t always do rapid fire. besides, i like my replies hefty and long, so it’s quality over speed.

this is a request for 23+ writers preferably, and the muses will be 25+. bonus points for anyone who’s also a pinterest and playlist fiend. i really love using fcs, and i usually prefer actors, but i can be persuaded to accept descriptions only.

for my character, he’s a guy with some razor sharp edges. a functional alcoholic in most verses, roughed up, very much traumatized by life. originally lawful man who’s been corrupted. lost his unrequited love years ago to a murder and hasn’t recovered since, holds everyone an arms’ length away. big guy, manly man, “boys don’t cry” type of toxic masculinity. i’m looking for mxm or mxnb at this time. he is very much a top, but i am not looking to pair him with babyfied subby bottoms. if anything, he could use a more powerful/dominant partner he can worship and meet halfway, and i think it’d be a fun subversion of tropes with the plots i have in mind anyway.

so for the plots i want, i have a few dynamics in mind (bolded are the roles my character fits into): cop x prostitute, cop x stripper, bodyguard x famous person. verrrry into making these into low or high fantasy, or period pieces. also totally open to change cop for a vague “military man” title, and depending on the age, he might be retired. and if you have other scenarios you could see fitting and would like to play out, i’m all ears!

this will be written on a private discord server. i have writing samples ready to share and i hope you can do the same, so we can see if we match! i can share my character’s pinterest board and tell you more about him, and i hope you have a character in mind when we chat. i’ll always match energy and i’m really hoping for someone i can vibe with ooc. give this post a like and i’ll find you!

Leave a like, and anon will get back to you!

#oc roleplay #oc rp #oc x oc #m/m #m/nb #dead dove

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 2 years

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The Daughter of A Siren.

Just an in between that I felt needed to be outside of part four.

LET'S face it, when it comes to men, us women are desperate to know exactly how we can get what we want and at the same time appear irresistible.

Have you ever wondered how Hollywood superstar Angelie Jolie has the power to make most men go weak at the knees?

Or how movie femme fatale Marilyn Monroe got her "luminous quality"?

You have to be distinguished from other women. Have the ability to make men pursue you without even trying. It’s in your voice. It’s in the way you dress. It’s how you move.

That’s what it takes to be a siren.

A siren is essentially a feminine woman who plays on her damsel-esque energy to seduce. Her power lies in the fact that she makes men feel powerful, although she’s the one in power. Women, on the other hand, want to be her, but fear their sexual energy could never compare. Many men have destroyed themselves because of the siren.

A man is often secretly oppressed by the role he has to play, by always having to be responsible, in control, and rational. The siren is the ultimate male fantasy figure because she offers a total release from the limitations of his life. In her presence, which is always heightened and sexually charged, the male feels transported to a realm of pure pleasure. In a world where women are often too timid to protect such an image, learn to take control of the man libido by embodying his fantasy.

Carmella Love was that woman.

the femme fatale whose smoldering style and countless relationships made her an icon. She was a vocalist turned actress. A woman who sings with enchanting sweetness. Carmella was the purest example of a siren. Think of Carmella and certain images instantly come to mind: the pouty lips, slightly parted; the sleepy, bedroom eyes of 1950s film stars; the curly hair; and that voice, breathy, like she just woke up and can't wait for you to join her in bed. Carmella conjures up sex and – simultaneously – misery, thanks to the way her troubled personal life has been pored over from the moment she became a movie star.

A deeply traumatised and lonely woman, in love with movies and the idea of love, but desperately crippled with daddy issues that infect every single relationship she develops. the victim narrative, and the absolute essence of feminine, sexual glamour and irresistibility. There is also a mystery to Carmella, something elusive. life was one of extreme lows and extraordinary highs. She became an actress after she was already a successful singer. Carmella’s mystery is not that of her ascent, but of the extreme contradictions of her life. She was a generational talent, a movie star with undeniable charisma, charm, fantastic comedic timing and an aggressive earnestness about her that was as disarming as it was captivating…

“The American Dream is a term that is often used but also often misunderstood. It isn't really about becoming rich or famous. It is about things much simpler and more fundamental than that.”

"I don’t want to make money, I just want to be wonderful."

"I don’t mind living in a man’s world as long as I can be a woman in it."

"It’s all make believe, isn’t it?"

She never really did it for the money. Carmella had a real passion for performing for others. She revels in enjoying her senses and the pleasure she can bring as well as pushing the boundaries of what is acceptable to society. She’s confident and exotic, and she knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to speak her mind. She didn’t seek confirmation from men that she was attractive, rather having an innate understanding within herself that she is attractive and desirable.

Carmella moved from Baltimore to The Big Apple at the age of sixteen after her mother committed suicide. Her father had left them when Carmella was two days old and remarried to a woman in Virginia. Carmella found a job at Macy’s as a cashier during the day to cover her rent at her Harlem apartment and at night she would sing at a leather club in the 1980s for extra spending money to pay for studio time.

As the 1970s gave way to the ‘80s, New York City’s party scene entered a ferociously inventive period characterized by its incredible creativity, intensity and hybridity. New York City drove the music scene forward as remixers and producers entered into a mutant period that brought together disco, rhythm and blues, funk, rap, punk, no wave, new wave and dub into an undeniably heady mixture of sound seemingly beyond categorization. Much of the music released during the 1980-83 period didn’t have a name. Nobody seemed to care.

Carmella loved it all. She would sing at a popular nightclub in Manhattan and take to the dance floor. She found the fun in the mundane, enticing men without trying, like it was as easy as taking a breath, and the ability to bring out a heightened masculine feeling in those she came in contact with. Despite what she’d been through, she tried to enjoy life as much as she could.

During her nights out, she would always run into an attractively energetic and enthusiastic girl around her age named Felicity. Felicity Jones was a glamorous, ambitious, top advertising executive in New York. They quickly became great friends and after a period of time, Felicity’s older brother, Damion, took interest in Carmella. What man wouldn’t? She was gorgeous and it was easy to succumb to her.

Carmella had many unsuccessful relationships with men that she couldn’t stray away from. She just wanted to be loved. Her extensive dating history followed her well into her breakthrough career as an actress and with the fame came the gossip-mongers. As her good friend and photographer, Sam Davidson, who himself was rumored to be her lover, once said, "If Carmella slept with every guy that claims he was with her, she would have never had time to make any movies."

The 90s rolled around and Carmella was in her mid 30s when she finally took interest in Damion. It happened unexpectedly, and definitely not how Felicity would have wanted it to be. Felicity hated her brother Damion. He was an abusive, narcissistic man who often cheated on his then wife. Felicity tried to warn Carmella about her brother and why it would be a terrible idea to get involved with him, but Carmella was irrevocably in love with him.

Felicity lived in fear that Carmella would find out about the kinds of things her brother got involved in, things that could risk her life if she’d find out. Soon, Carmella began to grow jealous of Damion’s wife and how secretive he was whenever she’d ask him about his whereabouts. Their affair was one that Damion fought to keep hidden, and they bickered often about it. Damion would raise his hand to Carmella to ‘keep her in line’ and she would have to conceal her black eye with a pound of makeup the next day for a shoot.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Damion decides to leave Carmella. She fell into depression and became a pain to work with on set because her personal life began to merge with her professional one. She picked up a drinking habit and would abuse prescription drugs. It was a cry for help and also a way to cope with the stress that came with fame. She dated men here and there to help fill the void in her life but she only wanted Damion.

After rehab and therapy for almost a year, Carmella reunited with Damion when he’d contacted her. He confided in her about his rocky marriage, and over time they rekindled their affair. Carmella kept it from Felicity as long as she could, but the unexpected pregnancy would be hard to conceal. Carmella didn’t feel as if her being pregnant was a burden. She hoped that it would bring them together and as delusional as it may seem, she wanted to become his wife.

Sadly, Damion abandoned her again and wanted nothing to do with Carmella when his wife began to suspect he was creeping around on her. Felicity soon found out about her pregnancy and urged Carmella not to tell Damion. Damion would stop at nothing to ruin Carmella’s life if he found out and Carmella refused to have an abortion. She’d always wanted a child of her own, and after trying for years in previous relationships, she finally had her miracle baby. True to her word, Carmella didn’t tell Damion about her pregnancy, even growing to resent him for the way he treated her. Apparently, his image was more important than Carmella’s feelings.

Carmella purchased a stunning colonial home in Buffalo, New York where she planned to have a water birth and a Doula to provide physical and emotional support. After press tours for her box office hit, she decided to take a long break away from the spotlight to raise her child. Carmella wanted the sex of her baby to be a surprise, and only Felicity knew what the sex was so she planned to decorate her nursery for the big reveal. Carmella finally gave birth in July of 1994 to a beautiful baby girl. She named her Adena; after her late mother who committed suicide.

Carmella made sure her daughter was set for life. She’d prepared a will with her attorney and legally arranged her financial accounts, property, and personal and medical information in such a way that trusted people in her life can handle her estate and affairs with as little inconvenience as possible when she passed away or become incapacitated. Carmella never had a relationship with her family, so the only person she trusted to take care of Adena if something ever happened to her, was Felicity. She appointed Felicity as Adena’s legal guardian.

Adena was a scholarly, active child. Whatever she found interest in, Carmella would support. She enjoyed dancing, singing, gymnastics, Capoeira, archery, and playing the piano. Adena had her mother’s siren eyes and lips and her father’s mocha complexion and nose. She’d sometimes look at her daughter and wish that she’d known who her father was. After seven years, Carmella would soon find out the dark truth about Damion.

A mysterious invitation arrived on her doorstep on the eve of Halloween after picking her daughter up from private school. They were both enjoying a scoop of vanilla ice cream while strolling along the cobblestone walk-way of their home when Carmella stopped, noticing a red box with a perfectly tied satin ribbon. She picked up the box and kept it away from Adena, instructing her to get started on her homework in the dining room and she’d join her.

In her kitchen, Carmella inspected the box carefully before undoing the neat bow. She slowly opened the box, afraid that she’d find something grotesque like a severed finger. When she finally opened the box, she found a black and red masquerade mask with a black feather and black crystals. She noticed an invitation in the box with a luxury black background and golden details. Reading the fancy script, she wondered who The Court of Aje were, and why they would be sending her an invitation.

And the anonymous note.

Someone wanted her to go to whatever this Halloween party was and the entire mystery of it all intrigued her. Carmella had plans with Adena earlier that day to take her to the pumpkin patch. She could ask her babysitter to watch Adena for the evening while she went. She’d have to find a dress to wear and seeing that it was last minute, Carmella hoped she could find something appropriate to wear for a masquerade ball.

And she's going to have to come up with a secret name.

“Oh!? Miss Love! Are you okay?”

Carmella sauntered into her kitchen, disheveled and in distress, ignoring the babysitter’s concerns. Felicity walked in soon after, just as distraught, and when she’d noticed the babysitter, she quickly assured her that everything was okay and she could go home for the evening. While Felicity walked the teenage girl to the door, she informed her that Adena was fast asleep for the night after being read a chapter of her favorite bedtime story; The Princess Bride.

Felicity closed and secured the door, checking out of one of the windows on the front door to make sure she’d left. Felicity rushed back to the kitchen to find it empty, and when she walked through the open patio doors to the back yard near the lagoon pool, she found Carmella sitting by the edge of the pool, staring down into the blue waters, the glow from the pool lights illuminating what looked like tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Carmella?” Felicity lifted the bottom of her green gown, and sat next to her best friend, “Hey…hey, sister…it’s okay…it’s gonna be alright. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Felicity rubbed soothing circles on Carmella’s back.

“I can’t believe that’s what he gets involved in. And I wonder who sent that invitation…they must have wanted me to get killed that night. If it weren’t for you being there to have my back, I would have probably died…thank you.”

Felicity looked out beyond the yard with hard eyes.

“I hate him. I hate my father for even allowing us to get involved with The Stevens family. Those people are horrible. They’ve been horrible to my family since as early as the 20s.”

Carmella turned to Felicity with glossy eyes.

“…So, my family used to be as big as The Stevens’ are. Although we came from new money, we were just as well-respected as them. We had each other's backs…shared businesses together…it was as if we were a second family,” Felicity took a deep breath in before continuing, “That all came crashing down when one of my great uncles was accused of sexually assaulting a member of The Stevens Family. A teenage girl. He was wrongfully accused and my family were banished from ever doing business with them. They dragged our name through the dirt so bad that our family had to change our name…from King, to Jones.”

Carmella gave Felicity a puzzled look, “So, why does your family still interact with The Stevens family? Shouldn’t you feel…angry?”

Felicity shakes her head, “Oh…we are. But what can you do? They are powerful, Carmella. More powerful than any white man. They have the police, FBI, DA, government, and Mayor in their back pocket. Of course, being a prestigious black family, you have your fair share of white people trying to bring you down…but nothing can break The Stevens family. They made sure of that…”

Carmella exhaled a shaky breath, “So, they can just get away with murdering people?!”

“Yes,” Felicity sadly admitted,“And I wish you hadn’t gone there, Carmella. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if something happens to you. Please, promise me, you’ll leave New York behind and just start over. You have the money, I will always be here for you. I’ve seen what they’ve done to people…and I’m wrapped up in this mess with no way to escape—”

“Then come with me,” Carmella grabbed Felicity’s hands tightly, “Let’s go to London. Remember how we always talked about moving there? Just the three of us, Felicity? Adena would love it. She always gets so excited with the post cards you’d send her, and the pictures of yourself lounging in your beautiful apartments in Notting Hill…”

Felicity smiled softly at Carmella, bringing her hand up to stroke stray curls from her eyes. They stared at each other deeply, Felicity fighting the urge to press her lips against Carmella’s. She’d loved Carmella since the moment she’d laid eyes on her. To see that she fell in love with her brother, it broke her heart. But, despite that, she still cared deeply for Carmella. She’d always feel that way. Carmella leaned in and pressed her lips against Felicity’s lips softly, lingering there for a moment, eyes closed and allowing the safety of her being there with her to envelope her.

“I love you, Felicity…”

Felicity blinked back tears and pulled Carmella into a tight hug, pressing her nose into her hair, inhaling her sweet scent.

“I love you too, girl…always.”

“Mama…Auntie…”

They both separated and turned towards a sleepy Adena rubbing her right eye while carrying her large care bear. She’s wearing a nightgown with Disney princesses all over it and her favorite fluffy pink slippers. Her waist length curls are pulled back into a low ponytail with the hairs frizzy from not wearing a scarf.

“Come here, pretty girl…” Felicity held out her arms.

Adena walked over to her aunt and her mother and Felicity sat her in her lap while playing in her hair. Carmella stroked her puffy cheek that reminded her of a cute chipmunk while Adena gave her a sleepy smile.

“Did you have a good time with your babysitter today?”

“Yes. Mommy, were you crying?”

Adena touched Carmella’s cheek with her tiny hand. Carmella reached for her daughter’s hand and brought it to her lips.

“Mommy is okay. Listen, why don’t we drink some hot cocoa to help you get some sleep?” Carmella said.

“And I’ll read one more chapter of The Princess Bride,” Felicity added.

Adena nodded her head rapidly with a tired smile before Felicity carefully stood up with Adena in her arms and followed Carmella back inside of the house.

Felicity didn’t know that would be the last time she would see Carmella alive.

The following week…

Felicity was summoned by her brother one cold evening in November. She walked the darkened hall with thick, carpeted floors within his home until she found him pacing the large, oval-shaped room with clenched fists and rageful eyes. He came to an abrupt stop when he’d spotted Felicity standing there with a stony expression and folded arms. Damion’s sinister eyes peered behind her and with a tick of his chin his henchmen that had guided Felicity to her brother's office disappeared and shut both polished oak doors.

Felicity watched her brother with an untrustworthy gaze, wondering what he’d called her there for. She’d just flown back in from Chicago after meeting some people there to do business. With his arms crossed behind his back like an evil villain, Damion walked up to Felicity, staring down at his sister with anger and resentment. Felicity’s emotions mirrored his, and she didn’t show any fear towards her brother. A slow, sly smirk appeared on his face at her courage.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, Felicity,” Damion spoke with a deep baritone, “Did you think I wouldn’t figure it all out?”

Felicity quirked an arched brow, “Figure what out?”

“Felicity…let’s not play games here. The Halloween ball…what was Carmella doing there?”

Worry showed in Felicity’s eyes and she was too late to hide it from her brother.

“She was never supposed to know about that, Felicity. You…you allowed her to walk in there and see what happens…you know what has to be done when you invite the unwelcomed, correct?”

Felicity stared unblinking at her brother but her lip trembled. Damion cupped her chin aggressively to make her look at him closer.

“…They suffer the consequences.”

Felicity pushed Damion away from her and he barely moved.

“What did you do…WHAT DID YOU DO?!!!!!” Felicity yelled.

“I made a statement. I did what needed to be done…Joseph,”

Felicity turned icy eyes onto Joseph Stevens who seemed to materialize from the shadows. His handsome, dimpled smile and unblemished umber skin came into view when he joined Damion’s side.

“You…you son of a bitch!!!!”

Damion caught Felicity by her narrow wrist before she could smack the taste out of Joseph's mouth.

“Get off of me, Damion!” Felicity screamed.

“You brought this on yourself, Felicity. Now, if it were my choice, I’d have you killed…just like we did that beautiful seductress. You betrayed us. How are we supposed to trust you when you do something like this?” Joseph spoke darkly.

“No,” Felicity’s knees buckled, “What did you do to her!!!!!!!”

“It will be on the news by tomorrow morning I fear,” Damion whispered ghoulishly, “Such a beautiful, talented woman gone too soon…”

“She said she received an anonymous invite! Whoever did it set her up! Why don’t you punish them?! She didn’t know anything before going to the ball! How could you?! How could you Damion?!” Felicity wailed.

“We don’t know who sent the invite.” Joseph admitted.

Felicity turned her teary eyes onto her brother who hadn’t responded. She had an inkling that he knew who had done it and was covering for them.

“This situation could get out of hand, Felicity. Powerful people attend this ball every year. If word got out that they are involved in this type of activity…all will be lost,” Joseph stated carefully, “This was an attempt to tarnish our name. Whoever did this, was jealous of Carmella, and also willing to bring my family down.”

Felicity kept her cold eyes on her brother, but he didn’t break character.

“Did you question Maxine, Damion? Your wife?”

“Maxine knows nothing about The Court of Aje. And if she did, she wouldn’t be safe from our wrath either. Maybe you let slip about the ball to Carmella yourself—”

“I WOULD NEVER RISK HER LIFE! I’M NOT LIKE ANY OF YOU!” Felicity shouted.

“Then, it remains a mystery…” Joseph said.

“Until then, we’ve decided to revoke your involvement with The Court of Aje, Felicity, and you will be watched from here on out. If we find out that anyone else knows about this…I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Felicity felt as if a boulder had crushed her. She couldn’t believe her brother had said that to her. Not even the hurt in her eyes made him realize how evil he is towards her. She had to get away. All she could think about beyond the ringing in her ears is little Adena discovering her mother’s dead body, or worse…

“I won’t say anything. And why would I? So you can kill someone else and get away with it?” Felicity said with a shaky voice.

Damion’s jaw tightened at her words and Joseph Stevens watched her storm out the doors. She rushed out of his home and raced over to Carmella’s home. Tears blurred her vision when she charged through the doors, calling out for Carmella. She searched the entire basement, then worked her way to the main level and couldn’t find her. She wasn’t out at the pool either.

“Carmella! Adena!” Felicity shouted.

Her footsteps bounded up the stairs and all she could see beyond the darkness of the hallway was a dim light from her master bathroom. Carmella took leisurely steps into Carmella’s room that looked rather ordinary, but when she’d made it past her bed, she found the carpet soaked with pinkish bath water. The door was left ajar, but the sound of running water grew louder as Felicity pushed open the door….

“CARMELLA!”

Slipping on the linoleum floor, feet splashing in bloody water, Felicity ran to the jacuzzi bathtub, screams bouncing off of the walls like a chilling echo. She got down on her knees and turned off the faucet, too distraught to believe the state of her friend. She looked pale. Her wrists were slit and she was lying in a bloody bath. Her eyes were open and they looked empty. Felicity forced her eyes away, shaking, unable to get the image of her dead eyes out of her mind. All she could do was try and remember the light that had occupied those bewitching eyes.

“Adena?!!!!” Felicity looked around the bathroom, but there was no sight of her, “ADENAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!”

She left Carmella’s body to search for Adena. Feet heavy, Felicity combed Carmella’s room, even searched beneath her bed, when she made it inside of Adena’s room, she checked beneath her canopy bed and the closet. Just when she was about to leave, Felicity looked towards the corner of her room where a pile of Adena’s stuffed animals were. Felicity walked over, crouching down, and when she peeked over a tall giraffe, she spotted Adena in the fetal position, shaking with fear.

“Hey, pretty girl…it’s Auntie…”

Adena sat up slowly, and when Felicity noticed blood stains on her night shirt, she broke down crying.

“Is—is mommy dead?” Adena questioned with a soft-spoken voice.

Felicity felt her throat close up as she watched tears stream down Adena’s youthful face. Felicity sighed heavily, letting her head drop. Adena could hold the heartbreak no longer and she fell to the floor in a disheveled heap as her grief poured out in a flood of uncontrollable tears.

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#mirror mirror #nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger smut

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