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kyloswarstars · 3 years

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ROOMMATES • Part 9

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

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The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

Waking up the next morning, you didn’t immediately realise in what bed you had slept. You had to turn around for a couple of times to notice the first foreign but very captivating scent. That smell had evolved to be your favorite sent over the last couple of weeks. Eric.

You opened your eyes. Stared at the wall, the wrong side of the wall. Eric’s bed. It was his bed you had slept in. You turned around and were glad he wasn’t there. By the way you were wrapped up in his blanket and totally claimed it as yours, he might just surrendered to losing his territory and went to sleep in your bed instead. Your feet tried to kick yourself free and stopped for a moment before you got out of Eric’s bed.

He held your hand as if his life depended on it. He didn’t do anything else and he didn’t say a word. All he did was grab onto it, brush your thumb and lay next to you for the time it took you to fall asleep.

With a smile on your lips you stood up, carefully opened the door a crack and observed the hallway. Clear air, so you rushed to your room. Your bed was empty. The new semester only started next week so he couldn’t be in class – where was he?

You changed into new clothes, took care of your morning routine and couldn’t stop thinking about where Eric had vanished to when you sat down at the dining table. All of your roommates were still gathered there and enjoyed their bowls of cereal.

„Are you ready for our beach day, Y/N?“ Uriah flopped down in the chair across from yours, which felt incredibly wrong because it was Eric’s spot.

You still returned his smile and asked what he meant.

„We just decided today is the day! After we didn’t manage it all summer to have a day at the beach, we wanna use the perfect weather today. Are you coming?“ You vaguely remembered Tris suggesting a day at the beach with all roommates. And that everyone was all for it – except you, which you didn’t express in words to them. Nothing had changed about that, though.

Uriah was smiling so brightly at you and the fun you possibly would have with them made you nod. „Sure, I’ll come.“

„We are all going,“ Uriah sang and darted into his room.

You didn’t want to reveal yourself by asking if ‚all‘ included Eric who wasn’t there right now. You also didn’t stand not knowing, so instead of asking them you texted Eric if he would be coming to the beach gathering as well.

He replied a minute later.

You bet your ass

The memory of your hand in his shortly banned the beach situation. And a being half naked in a bikini situation. Until Christina threw an orange skin at you to get your attention.

„Y/N, pack your swimming stuff, we’re heading off in fifteen.“ She pushed her chair under the table and left for her and Will’s room as well. Swimming. You abandoned your cereal bowl and followed after her, asking Will to give you a minute alone with Christina in their room. He left with a smile.

„What’s up?“ She asked while rummaging through her closet.

„I…“, you started but nothing else came out. You were nervous, could feel sweat building on your forehead. You hadn’t been swimming nor showed yourself in a bikini publicly since that specific night had happened.

Christina stopped searching and turned to you. When she saw you fumbling with your trembling fingers, she came over. „Are you okay?“

„There’s a lot you don’t know yet.“

„That’s okay, you don’t know everything about me either. What’s wrong?“

You shook your head. It had took you months to take off your shirt in front of Peter. It was strange that you had been mentally more ready to sleep with him than reveal your chest. That came long after. You had always kept a shirt on until you pushed yourself to ignore the insecurities one day. Logically, the thought of having sex with someone must’ve disturbed you more than getting naked. In reality that just hadn’t been the case. Revealing your torso had been the hardest thing ever. Because it showed everyone who saw it, if you wanted or not, that something had happened. And you found that not every random stranger deserved a look or even an explanation to your past.

Christina carefully shook you with a hand on your shoulder to get your attention once more. You had drifted off.

„Insecurities,“ you just said. Pushing out the thoughts running through your mind was impossible.

„Do you even have a bikini?“

You shook your head under her stare. Chris went back to her closet and fished a simple, black bikini out. „There you go,“ she shoved it in your hands. „And remember: every body is a beach body.“

Her efforts of easing your ‚insecurities‘ were sweet. You just wished you had the guts to tell her here and there that it was little bit more than ‚just’ those stupid body issues a woman was facing nowadays. With a smile you left for your room and stared at the bikini in your hands.

There was no way you would actually dress down to that thing at the beach. Just for the worst case scenario, to be prepared if shit would go down, you pulled on the bikini under your clothes. Maybe you would get away with just sitting at the beach or only going in the water with your feet. But if one of your roommates would drown and you were the only person left at the beach to help them not to, you would thank yourself for being able to shed your normal clothes and make it faster to them with proper swimwear.

You shoved some other necessities and a big towel to sit on in your backpack and waited in the living area for everyone to head out. The tension subsided once you sat next to Uriah in Christina’s backseat and her car started on the way to the beach. Will was next to her in the passenger seat and Tris and Four were taking Four’s car.

Will mentioned that Eric let him know he had gotten all the things and was waiting at the beach already. When you arrived there you knew what he meant. Eric had rammed a sun umbrella into the sand, a very crooked one, it looked like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. He had spread a couple of blankets and a barbecue grill, along with a big cooler was placed next to it.

„You, Eric, are my favorite person of all times,“ Uriah shouted when you got to the blankets. He was almost jumping up and down in excitement.

Eric’s eyes were glued on you, yours on his. You looked down at his hand you held for who knew how long last night. He only smiled when he noticed your stare and waved at you.

Chris and Tris dragged you down to the blankets, between them. They ordered Eric to get some beer out of the cooler and he did as he was told. When everyone was served a can and had opened it, Christina got to her feet for a toast. „I would like to make a toast to our new-not-so-new-anymore roommate, Y/N. Thank you for always paying your rent on time and your future help with my statistics class as soon as the new semester starts.“

You laughed at her, with her. She was the purest friend you ever had.

„To Y/N,“ everyone repeated and, with some burning cheeks, you toasted with them and then downed your beer in one long go. It didn’t do much for the nervousness that had come back as soon as you stepped out of the car.

„Cool,“ Christina said. „Now, let’s go swimming.“ She beamed at Tris and pulled both of you to your feet.

No. You watched them get out of their clothes so carelessly. They stripped down to their bikinis and you… you just froze. Your arms were pressed to your sides, your eyes were staring right through them. You were probably looking like a complete fool. You were a fool. You were–

„Y/N?“

„I can’t,“ you almost shouted it out only to cover your mouth right after, startled by your own voice.

„The water is warm. You have a body, so you also have a beach body. It’s just us. We won’t judge, you know that.“ Tris was once again extremely sensitive and that made you realise that not only Chris had become a very good friend but Tris as well.

„That’s not it,“ you bit your lip. You shut your eyes. You were only facing them, the guys sitting behind you. You were nervous. Were they listening in on the situation? Was Eric? Or were they drinking their beer, not even caring? Would Tris and Christina back down and just let you sit there at the beach – in your clothes? Probably not, but they would understand if you tried explaining, right? „There is something on my chest.“

„Two boobs,“ Chris tried to loosen the situation which actually caught you off guard and made you chuckle. It relaxed you a little.

„Yeah but no. Everyone who sees it would have a million questions about it and I don’t want to answer them.“

„Then we don’t ask questions.“ Christina stated that as a fact.

You were stepping on your spot, your palms sweaty and your ears didn’t hear the chatting of the guys anymore. They had caught up on your exchange. Gladly, they were facing your back.

„Come on, Y/N. Make yourself free,“ Tris started to cheer you on.

„Have fun with us in the water,“ Chris joined in.

They were both starting to jump a little and then made you dance with them to no music. They were jumping up and down, ignoring the stares from people around you. They just didn’t care for them. Your friends were beaming at you, they made you feel comfortable and save within their presence. And you allowed yourself to let loose instead of forcing yourself.

They boosted your confidence with their own insouciance so much that you stopped caring for what ifs or who could hear your words or see your chest. Since that one night you had managed to accomplish so much. Nothing had held you back, no flashbacks, no pleads to stay in Florida, no people – even though that had took some time. This stupid scar on your chest shouldn’t either. Not anymore. The world was yours and you were perfectly unperfect, just like everyone else. And today, you wanted to have fun.

„Fuck it.“

Within a few seconds you peeled yourself out of your shorts first and then lifted the hem of your shirt over your head. You tried to do it fast so you wouldn’t backpedal. Your breathing stopped when Tris and Christina stopped dancing around you.

They stared right at the big scar on your sternum. They saw it. It possibly caused them to think all the terrible things people would think when seeing such a poorly healed, hypertrophic scar. And they smiled. They smiled at you with the biggest of smiles in the smile-universe. They didn’t question it, just as Chris had said.

Christina cupped your face to make sure that this time she had your full attention. „You, Y/N, are the most beautiful human bean on this planet.“ She gave you a tickling kiss on the tip of your nose and then dragged you, together with Tris, down to the water.

And you had fun. FUN. So much fun in the water. You splashed the water around you, were a kid again for ten minutes and tried to push all the waves to your friends. You dove under the surface just like the penguins you had observed with Eric at the zoo. Christina and Tris made you float with them, pushed you under and then surrendered when you threatened to do the same with them.

Letting loose felt incredible. Would have you expected to do so this morning? No. Did you want to do it more often now? Absolutely.

The water was filling your ears, drowning out all the people sounds as you floated on the surface. The sun kissed your skin, lit up every cell of your body and made you live.

Sometimes, when doing things that seemed so big, so scary, and then successfully accomplishing them, your brain couldn’t recall anymore why it had been so hard in the first place. Like all the reasons that had prevented you from doing the thing were suddenly not seizable anymore. Puffed into thin air. Sometimes, it would be really helpful to get to that realisation before the thing you were so scared of held you back from simple joys such as swimming in the water.

Eventually, you got out of the water with Christina and Tris. You rushed after them to the roommate gathering and grabbed the towel from your backpack to dry your hair some. Within that movement you caught someones eyes.

He stared at your chest, his expression totally unreadable, and his eyes found yours. You delicately wrapped the towel around your shoulders to hide your chest. Eric’s glance was so demanding that you just couldn’t sit down. A million questions were popping up in his eyes and you were close to feeling uncomfortable again but then you decided not to be. You just decided. You found out that you could decide how to feel. And then you smiled because today you had learned more than one lesson. When Eric smiled back, you finally sat down and enjoyed being at this beach.

You decided to shed your insecurities for today and breathed the sea breeze as if it was Florida air and that night had never happened.

/////

A delicious barbecue, a lot of swimming and a couple of beers later, the sun slowly began to set. The roommate gathering collectively decided to break it off and head home for a good old living area bender.

„I’ll ride with Eric,“ Uriah stated and was almost at his car.

Eric was packing things up in his trunk and shook his head. „Sorry, but my passenger seat belongs to Y/N.“

„Okayyyy.“ Uriah turned around to you and smiled mischievously.

You shut your eyes in embarrassment of your other roommates stares. No problem, you told yourself, took a deep breath and quickly got into Eric’s passenger seat. He came to sit next to you a second later. „What are you waiting for then?“ You gestured to his steering wheel. „Drive.“

And so he did. He pulled out of the parking lot and started on the way home. You just didn’t get far. You got stuck in traffic pretty soon, unable to drive around, turn to a side or reverse. Cars were everywhere and… oranges on the ground. Oranges were everywhere. For a second, just to make sure this was not an option, you looked up at the sky to see if there was an odd occasion of orange hail. That was not the case, though. A big truck was blocking the street way ahead of you – that must’ve been the orange source.

You heard some smacking to your right. When you turned, you saw Eric peeling a big orange and shoving one piece after another in his mouth. „'ant one?“ His question was mumbled with all of the orange slices bloating up his cheeks.

The sight made you laugh and for a second you wondered if it was stealing that Eric had picked the orange from the street. But then you just shrugged, reached out and got a piece yourself.

He tossed the skin out of the window and turned the radio on. Only bullshit music on, so he turned it off again after thirty seconds. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, you pulled your bare feet up to the dashboard and rolled your window down and up and down and up and down.

„Do you think this will take long?“ You were maybe stuck for five minutes only and your patience was wearing thin already.

„I don’t know.“ Eric’s patience didn’t seem to the best as well. He rested his head against the steering wheel. Before your hand could develop a mind of its own and reach for Eric’s, he sat up and looked at you with an Eureka expression. „Truth or dare?“

„You’re first,“ you immediately replied, thankful to be able to do something, only to realise a second later that playing truth or dare with Eric probably wasn’t the best idea.

„Dare,“ he chose.

It might wasn’t the best idea but you could at least make it as hard as possible. „Touch your elbow with your tongue.“

„Y/N,“ Eric gasped but this time it was real consternation. „That is anatomically impossible.“

You winked. „I know. Point for me.“

„So we’re cheating? Fine. Truth or dare?“ He turned in the drivers seat and rested his back on the door, but not without taking an attempt to touch his elbow with the tip of his tongue. Just to make sure it was really impossible.

„Dare,“ you said unafraid but still a little distracted by watching his tongue.

A devilish grin spread on his face in the sunset glow. Holy shit did he look pretty. „Compliment the most handsome person you see,“ Eric said as if he had read your thoughts. He even pointed at his own chest, to make you laugh.

You had no oomph to make it an easy win for him – or to admit how attractive he was. There were a lot of people around, you were stuck in a damn traffic jam. A deep laugh escaped your body.

„Watch this,“ you pushed out between laughs, rolled down your window and waved to a guy in the car next to Eric’s. He rolled down his window as well, when he saw you waving at him. With full volume you shouted over: „Just wanted to let you know that your tires are sick!“ You pointed at them and he just nodded with a knowing smile.

The whole car started shaking with the fit of laughter you had sent Eric in. His voice was roaring in your ears and it activated those butterflies in your stomach again. It made you feel warm, so warm that you couldn’t stop smiling anymore. „Two points for me I think,“ you stated already in triumph because this game was all yours to win. „Truth or dare? Or are you giving up already?“

„Never!“ A hand clasped onto his belly to stop the pain in his muscles the laughing must’ve caused. „Truth then.“ He leaned closer instead of back against the door again.

That was your chance. „Why did you take those classes, Eric.“ You didn’t form the question with a question mark at the end. You wanted to know, your face serious, and this time he couldn’t just brush it off. „And don’t lie! Truth or dare rules apply.“

His cheerful mood dropped within a second, reflecting your own seriousness. „I first took them with the thought of possibly solving some of the problems I was facing. I knew there had been more strategies than only the medical way. And then I saw you.“ His eyes locked with yours. In the setting sunlight they almost seemed to glow just like his skin. He was orange like the fruits on the asphalt. He was beaming and it made you nervous but for once it was the good, anticipating nervousness. „You initiated all of those mind-blowing debates and no-one seemed to fully understand on what level they were on. Your cleverness slipped over all of their heads and I couldn’t let that continue. And I enjoyed it thoroughly to debate with you. So there was no way I could stay away for long. Even after I had found a good amount of knowledge in that classes that helped me with my project.“

Your throat went dry with his words and the way his glance softened but also got more intense. The butterflies collected around your heart, made it speed up. „And why always pissing me off?“

Eric leaned a little closer once more and flashed a grin. „You’re cute when you get angry at me.“ Fuck. The butterflies made your heart stop because they ripped it right out of your chest and placed it in front of Eric. But he didn’t seem to notice or decided not to pick it up.

Eric tried to break that tense moment but not your eye contact. „Truth or dare, Y/N?“ He asked and you didn’t care for winning this lethal game anymore, yet you answered.

„Truth.“

„What happened?“ Two words from his lips and all the remaining, unsaid words were provided by his eyes.

„My scar?“ You had to make sure that this time, you were reading him right. He nodded.

That liberating feeling you had felt at the beach today suddenly flooded through your veins again. Somehow letting loose had been the key. „Life isn’t always sunshine and rainbows.“ Even though you decided to tell Eric and that his reaction or questions couldn’t throw you out of track, you still closed your eyes for a moment. His stares were intense but so where the nearing flashbacks that came with the words which would describe how you got that scar.

Before you opened your eyes you heard the seat’s leather squeak when Eric moved. He had gotten, again, closer and would’ve been able to close the gap between your sides if he moved another inch in your direction. He didn’t close it and you just looked back in his eyes. The way he was talking about his past in the zoo came back to your mind and it eased you in opening up about yours. „Life is harsh. And people are not nice all the time. People can get very angry at times when they don’t get what they want.“ Instead of pictures before your eyes from that night, this threatening feeling of being hunted creeped in your muscles. You decided to ignore it, to be stronger than that feeling because it was only a memory. And a memory wasn’t the actual thing itself.

You sighed. „Someone wanted something and I didn’t want to give it to them. They decided that my rejection was unforgivable. That it justified hurting me.“ You didn’t see that disgusting smile in front of your eyes but you could hear the bewildered cursing. For a second you smiled at Eric but you didn’t know if you did in sadness or relief. „Turned out they only knew very little about the human anatomy. I don’t recommend stabbing someone into the sternum from above. It won’t work out too well because the blade gets stuck and you get caught and you have to face more than a bloody rejection.“

For a while it was quiet. The cars around you didn’t move, just like you in your seat. Or Eric. His hand was close to grab yours but instead of doing so you heard him speak.

„Can I see it again?“

„I’m not gonna undress in front of you,“ you whispered – in real consternation.

„Please, Y/N.“ He was super serious. Eric had never been so serious. Ever. „I need to see it from a doctors point of view.“

„You are no doctor yet.“

His frustrated groan made you think over and over why it was so important for him. It was okay that he didn’t respond anything to your story. To be honest you hadn’t expected a response because what should someone say to this? Maybe ‚glad that bastard got what he fucking deserved‘?

Eric didn’t stop rubbing his face and seemed more agitated than you were. „Damn, fine,“ you exclaimed. With a quick look out of the windows you checked the people around you. No-one in the other cars cared what happened in this specific car. You pulled down the collar of your shirt to reveal the scar. The fabric was tight when you held it down because you never wore shirts or tops with a deep cleavage.

He observed the big scar that looked more like splash of paint instead of a blade wound. It wasn’t uncomfortable to reveal it as you imagined it would be. It was… natural. Eric looked at it from different angles and was suddenly startled by himself when he realised he had almost touched it without your consent. He quickly removed his hand as you let go of your collar and the shirt went back into its original shape.

„I mean…,“ he started and it took a few more seconds for his eyes to divert from your shirt to your own eyes. „Christina was absolutely right, you know.“

„With what?“

„That you are the most beautiful human being on this planet.“

That was the exact moment when you felt your body spiralling out of control and leaning in. You leaned in. To kiss him. Your body got closer to his, closed the gap Eric had left. Probably for you to decide if you wanted or hated it being there. Your heart deafened your hearing. You couldn’t hear bis breathing, when his nose touched yours. You only heard: „No. Stop it.“

„I didn’t start,“ Eric whispered, not moving away from your face.

It had been your own voice that told you to fucking stop yourself. „I know. I’m talking to myself, Eric.“ Still, you lingered exactly where you were. You just couldn’t remove yourself.

Eric swallowed and bit down on his lip. His head was micro-shaking. „I’m not gonna kiss you if you don’t want me too.“ He swallowed again. It must’ve taken him all of the self-control someone could muster up. You sensed his hands clenched into fists, still he didn’t move away yet to relieve the pressure he was under. For you it wasn’t any different, though. He was being so damn understanding that your heart wanted to explode in your chest. And still something held you back.

What was holding you back? You couldn’t grab it. Was it the time you still needed? No, you didn’t need more time. Was it the insecurities? No, he accepted you they way you were and not even your dumb, always misunderstanding brain could believe anymore that Eric didn’t care for you in some sort of way. Was it the fear of falling for him, right into him like that meteor, that let dinosaurs die out by falling down to the earth? Because you knew deep down that falling for Eric would be just like that. It would have such an impact on you that you would still feel it fifty years later. You didn’t know if you were ready for that.

You didn’t know if you could fall for someone again only to find out that you weren’t meant to be with them.

You couldn’t kiss him.

You ripped yourself from him, crashed back into the passengers door and breathed in deeply because you hadn’t done that in over a minute. You stared at him, could feel the tears burn in your eyes and felt so, so incredibly dumb.

Self-protection was one thing but this was close to the border of self-destruction. And you couldn’t escape it. You were stuck with Eric in this car, in a stupid orange jam and all you wanted to do was kiss him but the sheer thought of loving someone again freaked you out to the point where your brain won the fight over your feelings. And it left you sitting in his passenger seat with a burning face and your nails digging into the palm of your hands.

/////

Taglist • @longlostinanotherworld • @dosentier • @dhunhdchrih • @coryisagee • @liiinetti

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moonjosjongwoo · 3 years

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Something that has been on my mind for a while: What would happen if Kihyuk killed (or well, tried to at least) Jongwoo?

i'm not sure if this is a fic request or just a question but i'm gonna go with the latter because my mind went crazy with a bajillion different thoughts and i'm not sure i could even put it into a fic anyway lmfao

first and foremost, i think that depends on if it happens earlier or not. if we go with the canon storyline and kihyuk's short-lived time there, i'm not sure it would affect moonjo much at all, considering he doesn't really start seeing who jongwoo is until after kihyuk is killed. that whole scenario is really hazy and debatable though, because while it's shown that moonjo isn't really around eden until after episode 2, that doesn't mean he isn't actually there.

it's been theorized that moonjo killed kihyuk because he found his masterpiece in jongwoo and was ready to cast kihyuk aside, which would imply he's known about jongwoo a little longer than the show lets on. ms. um probably kept him in the know, too.

ANYWHO,

love at first sight, but not in an exclusively romantic sense. if this is the case, moonjo knows without having to think about it that jongwoo is 'the one'. his masterpiece-to-be. if that's the case and kihyuk tries (regardless of success or failure) to kill jongwoo, he's a fucking dead man lmfao. moonjo has just started making plans about how he's going to get to work on his new project and kihyuk steals it away? moonjo will end him and probably in the worst way. half of jongwoo's tooth bracelet will wind up being kihyuk's teeth as markers for just what moonjo went through for his beloved work of art

now, there's also the potential of an au where kihyuk survives, and this is where my mind decided to go galaxy brain and formulate this scenario:

imagine moonjo decides to let kihyuk live rather than throttling him to death in that car. moonjo is so clever and quick-thinking that he's probably already got some big convoluted reason for doing so. he plays it off like kihyuk is getting demoted (because yanno, he comes in and takes over the role kihyuk apparently had) and essentially treats him like one of the other residents

now, how kihyuk handles that treatment is a whole different topic of discussion, but imagine moonjo keeping him alive for the crazy shitstorm of events that happens in episode ten. whether or not kihyuk is compliant (he's volatile and undoubtedly feels betrayed so probably not lmfao), imagine jongwoo displaying that he really is the masterpiece by taking out the scrapped work that is moonjo's interpretation of kihyuk

i don't know if the final fight between jongwoo and moonjo would happen at that point or if jongwoo would be too tired to keep going once he gets rid of kihyuk, but i'm definitely going to let the image of moonjo running off with him live in my head rent free

but to answer your question, anon, i feel like in any situation, kihyuk is hammering the final nail into his coffin by trying to kill jongwoo. be it out of jealousy or just general bitterness at the situation, i could definitely see kihyuk wanting to get rid of jongwoo, and not just to prove himself to moonjo. knowing and/or learning that jongwoo was the reason he was scrapped would piss him off regardless of how he views moonjo

i can definitely see him plotting to kill jongwoo even in this au idea, but i can also see that being a part of moonjo's crooked plan. he probably already knows what moves kihyuk will make and plans accordingly until he has jongwoo coming at the guy with a knife blade

did i answer your question? the world may never know lmfao

#strangers from hell #hell is other people #seo moonjo #yoo kihyuk

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shijas · 3 years

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touched-starved megumi slowly being acclimatised to touch really lives rent free in my head.

like, his childhood was pretty all over the place, and he clearly spent middle school getting into fights and straight up brooding, so it’s make sense for touch in megumi’s mind to be associated with strength and violence and pain and vulnerability, the latter two things would especially be hard for megumi to live with i think???? i don’t really know how to explain??? but like we see that uncontrolled vulinerabilty, and leaving yourself vulnerable is like putting yourself on a wanted list for shamans. and so touch, in megumi’s eyes, should only occur with a few specific purposes and those purposes usually weren’t the most pleasant experiences in his mind. i assume people only touched him for: training/sparring, which is literally allocated time when someone can just straight up, inflict harm; someone deciding to fight him out of jealousy or revenge or fear or some sort of negative emotion; and in the worst case scenario people are touching him to heal him because in some capacity he’s weak, he was not strong enough to do whatever he needed to do without injury. i think healing touches, when the touch has to be gentle because fundamentally megumi is already vulunerable and already hurting would sting the most, like emotionally and physically because sometimes touch, even gentle touch, do he hurting tho... (this got long, but for how nobara/yuji break this pattern keep reading!)

and then nobara and yuji arrive and it’s like a hurricane of positive touching. yuji is affectionate!! physical touch is definitely a part of his love languages and so yuji just enjoys giving hugs!! yuji likes high fives!! and fist bumps!! and holding hangs while swinging them in the space between eachother while walking, even though it’s kind of childish. and megumi doesn’t know how to say no to these things, to the boundless enthusiasm that is yuji!! and he also feels a little guilty because he kinda dragged yuji into this world, away from his friends and the familiar comfort/touch he was used too. so megumi doesn’t like, consciously, try to stop any of the touch despite his general aversion. instead he indulges yuji to the best of his ability, because he comes to find that it’s not always bad and he doesn’t really mind; it takes a while to fully like not have a defensive, fight or flight response to the touches and he defo judo flips and sucker punches yuji over and over, because yuji is 1000000% a sneak affection attacker. the closest touch has ever been to ‘nice’ for megumi is probably healing for his stupid amount of serious wounds, and as both an apology and his first steps in reciprocation, megumi applies the gentleness of healing touches he remembers to the injuries he (accidentally??) gives yuji, because all he really about touch that isn’t supposed to hurt is how to rub softly against a spot that will probably bruise, and how to wrap or plaster a cut from a judo flip that led to some scrapes, he’s very good at icing bumps and twists and strains; and so they put themselves back together like that, and yuji keeps up his ‘surprise back hug events’ like they don’t straight up lead to a bruised sternum.

nobara breaks down the ‘touch is violence, touch is pain and pain is bad’-thing even faster than yuji, because she’s lived by her philolosphy as an affectionate puncher, a sweet kicker; she’s defo the type to bite your fingers and pinch your arm, but it’s well and truly out of all the love she cannot contain in her heart (which frustrates her a little bit so she will give you a sharp jab in retribution for feelings). what helps uncross the wires of megumi’s learnt behaviour (or maybe cross them idk) that ‘touch and violence and therefore bad’, is that her teasing and, honestly barely painful, ribbing is always interspersed by the softest of touches that aren’t tinged by the smell of antiseptic, blood or pity. this type of touch gets more frequent the more comfortable they get with eachother (think learning to lean on eachother post yuji death), like nobara will say ‘ew’ while forcing megumi to lay his head in her lap when they’re tryna catch their breath during training, and if his towel is nearby she’ll pat the sweat off his forehead and then complain about said sweat just because she knows he likes listening to her complain about mundane stuff; and she’ll make a million and one spiky sea urchins puns (did you know the japanese word for urchin is uni and linguistically meguni is a hilarious pun that i can see happening in canon) but is the first to rake her fingers through the mess of megumi’s hair, if she noticed he’s tried and hasn’t been taking care of himself. like yeah she throws her pens at him when he tries to help her with their maths homework, but her aim is so scary good it’s funny, and he can always throw them back and she won’t really get any more angry, and so they throw pens at eachother and laugh about it and nobara sketches random patters on to megumi’s skin with the pen she almost used to impale his eye.

anyway the point i’m getting at (probably incomprehensible into this mess of hc and meta) is: yuji and nobara come along, and suddenly, touch isn’t something that burns a little, isn’t something that spooks, isn’t something that requires the tightening of megumi’s jaw and his ribs and his spirit, and of course, sometimes it gets a little overwhelming (WHICH IS OKAY!! TOUCH AS STIMULATION IS OVERHWELMING SOMETIMES AND THATS OKAY AND VALID, EVEN IF YOURE AN AFFECTIONATE OR TOUCHY PERSON!!) and megumi needs to like take a couple of steps back. and they talk about it, because communication is key, and boundaries are healthy things to put in place, and by god the first years will try and build as safe and healthy a relationship between the three of them as they possibly can! and yeah they talk about it, and some days touch is too much for of them and that’s okay, affection, fondness, compassion can be shown in other ways, through other actions and they’ll utilise those a bit more as easily as they utilise touch a bit less, and slowly but surely, megumi becomes a lot less touch-starved and starts to seek it out on his own and initiate it in ways that are comfortable to him, like learning to braid hair so he can play with nobara’s or grabbing yuji’s hand first while their walking or just pressing his thigh into whoever he’s sitting next to in class and that’s fine and that’s good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and i’m very much attached to this idea.

bonus gojo (as per usual): when megumi became his ward, for obvious, bitter, reasons he wasn’t really tryna like touch. this kid. riling megumi up was easy enough with just words and i feel like firstly, teasing is a part of gojo’s love language in a mirror of how it’s a part of nobara’s (mmmmmmm gojo and nobara parallels are another brain worm that EATS me) and secondly, gojo goes through his own thing with touch, and like affection. as someone whose essentially raised on an absolutely, ridiculous, pedestal and then successfully surpasses even the heights of that pedestal to basically become a living legend AND the whole physical, literal thing with infinity or limitless (or whatever his cursed technique is i’m sorry i didn’t pay attention to the cursed energy explanation any of the times it came up) ANYWAY, so gojo and megumi probably both touch-starved idiots. but, like gojo does care for megumi, like as his student and as this kid he watched grow up, like ofc he does because he’s not a completely useless person. and so he definitely encourages nobara and yuji’s plan to positively reinforce touch in megumi’s brain and slowly, for fear of being straight up bitten, endeavours to extend the casual affection he easily applies to the other two, to megumi too. idrk the logistics of it, but i think it’d be cute for one day gojo putting his hand out to ruffle megumi’s hair, but like not imposing his hand, like it’s just out and about really, and usually megumi nopes or hisses or whatever other gremlin mood he’s decided to incorporate to the finite number of facial expressions he’s willing to make, but today he’s feeling charitable and lets gojo ruffle his hair, kinda like a cat ya know, like leans into it a bit in a very clear you have permission to pet!!!! and gojo’s just jojo sobbing through his blindfold like “oh my god my son loves me” and megumi is regretting not biting him.

#fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #itadori yuji #kugisaki nobara #gojo satoru #HMMMM I DO BE PROJECTING THOOOOOOOOO #JAJSJDJJDJDJDJD #like i do be projecting jsjdjdjdj #but yeah guys clearly i have a lot of feelings about being touchstarved and megumi #i the gang just gets really close and comfy and i also think megumi wouldn’t be a good at touch person #some of us like affection and some of us get overstimulated when people keep touching us and we deserve to be represented #lmaoooo i’m really sticking to my plan to saturate the tag huh #i’ll rb this with actual blog archive tags after #ALSO!! people write more nobara megumi friendship please #like they spent months together as the only first years #they have shared trauma from it all #let them bond #healthy f/m friendships please i’m begging you

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alkalinefrog · 3 years

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LawLight headcanons on these settings: If L lived and was there when Kira was finally cornered, possibly collage roommates and they don't know who they really are to each other, or maybe if Light confessed to L about being Kira but L decided to hide this secret and helps him?

Omg so much to unpack, I’m stoked. General disclaimer now, I’m gonna give all of these a happy ending because that’s just how I roll. Putting it all under the cut because I don’t want to flood peoples’ feeds with a dissertation-length fluff fest.

If L had been there when Light was cornered

If you’re specifically asking about the warehouse scene, I actually read this great fanfic series by Shadow-of-Quill on AO3. It’s one of those fics that treats Light and Kira as two separate entities (favourite trope, leave me my naivety). While still being Kira, Light’s soul leads L out of Hades just like in Orpheus and Euridice. L then confronts Kira at the warehouse (and this gets a bit heavy, warning)------ he ends up executing him right then and there because he believes that there’s no traces of Light left in the man. It’s really tragic, but if you read the entire work it DOES have an incredibly joyful ending in the third part of the trilogy. (spoilers; they’re both fine in the end)

This is one of the scenarios that lives in my head rent free whenever I wanna make myself feel better about canon events. Any other headcanons would be highly circumstantial depending on how L survives.

Emotionally though, I think the more in love they are, the more L dreads the end. If L had survived he definitely would have solved the case. It’d be a train wreck in slow motion, as he watches himself barrel towards the end of his small world with Light. Even though he sees it coming, he would still feel a massive amount of betrayal because he couldn’t help hoping that he would be proven wrong against his better judgement.

College roommates

MY FAVOURITE AU ALONG WITH SOULMATES because I’m boring like that :’D

This one’s easy; L’s the worst roommate ever and Light hates it here. The computer clickity-clacks and glows all night, and L just HAS TO show Light when he solves some big equation or school project and whatnot. Every. Single. Time. Life happens though, and he finds himself seeking L and only L for comfort. Because L has absolutely no shame and no judgement, which Light desperately needs in his highly-performative life. They bond, Light being inspired to live authentically, and L being forced to sleep.

EDIT: Someone brought to my attention that L is very much autistic coded and is canonically a neat/clean freak. I’m sorry for having implied that he was ‘gross’ because of this, and sincerely apologize to anyone who might’ve been hurt by it. I’ll be more careful going forward from now on!

For a splash of hurt/comfort, one of them has nightmares they never want to address until they’re forced to sleep in the same room with another person. Later they push their twin beds together so that they can sleep in each other’s arms, and its the first time neither of them dream.

Fanfic-wise, I’ve heard great things about “Stories About Stars: Relight” by lawlietismyfavourite. It’s been on my to-read list for a while. I’m saving it for a special event; maybe if I finish a personal project I’ll reward myself with it.

Light confesses / L decides to keep his secret

The thing is that I have a hard time thinking up scenarios in which Light confesses that don’t involve some other external force. I like a lot of the soulmate fics where they’re fated for each other and that’s enough fulfilment/motivation for Light to give up being Kira. I also like a lot of AUs where Light meets L earlier on and doesn’t even become Kira in the first place.

I think my favourite storyline is just plain and simple; Light falls in love with L, Kira or not, and shows his hand to save L from dying by is own mechanisms. His love for L would outweigh his ambitions and after an internal war within himself, he throws it all away so that his love might live.

How L responds would, again, be highly circumstantial. I think, if he arrested him, he would do it in secret to avoid the death penalty. If at that point they were genuinely friends, I don’t think L would relish in parading Light around like a trophy as initially planned. It would be a waste of potential if he were to die, and I could see a timeline where he enlists Light to work with him and towards some form of redemption (in character anyway, since there’s no taking the thousands of lives back).

One of my favourite fics for this is “Is This the Way It Ends Now?” by Seastar98 on AO3. It’s a fic where the characters watch their own show during the Yotsuba arc, and Light and L witness the whole timeline from when Light picks up the death note to when he dies in the anime. It’s basically a confession, and they work together to ensure their future is better than the one they’re shown.

Thanks for sending me such a fun ask!

#blackbutlerfandomnerddomain #ask #head canons #text #lawlight

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actualbird · 2 years

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I read as much as I could and I just can't believe how accurate you are in your analysis! This comes from a person with a bachelor's film degree, with specialisation in scriptwriting and script editing, so when I say you're absolutely incredible in your writing I even have some authority to say that as a fact! 😂❤️ (Vyn's "I have two degrees" moment is living in my head rent free). You're the only one blog on Tumblr I have notifications on for and genuinely get excited when you post!

I'm not sure if you mentioned this but I think the hardest part about their relationship would be how impulsive Marius is, while Luke always takes a step back and thinks it through, planning things ahead. I can easily imagine them arguing quite a bit because of this. But hey, that's just my opinion 🤷‍♀️

P.S. I sent like an ask a few days back (might even be weeks at this point) and you haven't responded to it? If Tumblr ate it, I can resent it, if you need more time to answer it just please say so, because I've got a few asks get lost in the Tumblr void in the past! ❤️🌺

wahhh, hibiscus!!! you are so sweet!!! (つ﹏<)･ﾟ｡

im....ridiculously glad that u both enjoy my analyses and find them accurate, ESPECIALLY, given ur background omg. im mostly just going crazy at canon information with a shovel, digging DEEP into what we have to answer burning questions i have in my mind. what i end up finding isnt Absolute or The Perfect Answer, but i do like sharing what i get at the end, along with the deranged digging process of how i got there, HAHA

OHHHH MAN YEAH THAT IS VERY INTERESTING!!!! i agree with ur opinion very much!!! marius, while he is smart and does think ahead, is much more impulsive than luke who has planned for probably every single worst case scenario possible KJBKSJFG. DEFINITELY, this is an argument point for them, because neither of them are like....wrong

there are times where going with the flow is more suitable. same way that there are times where being prepared is more suitable.

i actually explore marius' impulsivity in my one marluke fanfic "making out with your bro for fun and for profit" where marius just does or says SO MANY THINGS without thinking and then luke busts into the room and says HEY! CONSEQUENCES, ASSHOLE!

also, oh my god, did you read my mind?? because for ch4 of my other marluke fic "got james bond as a bodyguard over here, lucky me", i was planning for another go of marius doing things without thinking and luke going HEY! CONSEQUENCES!!! but this time....much angrier. like, it's gonna be a whole Argument. capital A. im very excited to write and post it >:3c

but huh, now this is making me think that i want to write something where marius is actually in the right zone. where overpreparing gets luke into trouble and it's marius' turn to get his ass. That's Equality!

EDIT: THO, i do think that, by virtue of being in a relationship with each other, theyll learn to balance each other out. they wont drastically change, itll just be like....luke doesnt worry as much about every detail, marius takes a few more moments to think something through. a relationship, among other things, is about putting in work to make all parties better. a relationship is always, always about growth.

(also!!! i havent gotten an ask from you lately!! the last thing you sent me was a submission screencap from the RRG puzzle which i havent posted bc kjfbgkj im tryna figure out how to fix my submissions. i think ur ask did indeed get eaten by tumblr omg. i'd love to see it, if u could resend!!)

hope you have a nice day :DDD

#hibiscus!anon #asks #my inbox may be a mess but i still have eyes

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winetae · 4 years

Text

wall to wall (m.) 01

↳ in a pornographic movie, refers to a series of sex scenes with no plot.

⇁ female reader x hoseok

⇁ smut, porn star!au

⇁ sex work, insecurity, jealousy, slut shaming/objectification (not the sexy kind), role played scenario that includes: d/s dynamics - dom!hoseok, porn star level dirty talk, stuff that should never happen in a kitchen bc hygiene, daddy kink, impreg kink, rough sex, spanking, a lot of finger sucking, this fic is a poor attempt at social commentary

⇁ 22.5k

. . .

Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman. Your agent comes forward with a proposition to help put you back on the map.

↳ or, my contribution to the lights, camera, action collab : )

part 01 | part 02 | part 03

author’s note | inspired by the piece ‘slut-shaming: pornstars are humans too’ & the life after porn documentaries on netflix. thank u to jordan, eva, amy, venus, addie and lu for being a part of this collab !! *inserts a million heart emojis and a big fat NUT emoticon*

re:warnings, the slut shaming is done by others and can also be considered as internalized oppression. it’s something the reader struggles with and eventually works to overcome. this first part isn’t as smutty as the second but regardless i hope u can bear with me lol. ty, as always, for giving my writing a chance. i hope u enjoy it or at least take something from it !

wall2wall can be read as a sequel to my fic money shot. same disclaimer applies: this story does claim to accurately portray the world of adult entertainment

SCENE 01 - YOU’VE GOT MALE. TAKE 01. ROLL A.

Today is just one of those days you wish you had slept straight through. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t be dying from the sheer dullness of having nothing to do.

You huff out a sigh, bored out of your goddamn mind.

Head cradled in the crook of your left palm, you use your available hand to refresh your instagram feed. Much to your disappointment, nothing new shows up. The same video of a dog chasing its own tail plays on but you pay it no heed, the novelty having worn off after the first few times.

The next half hour passes by in a similar fashion, each result proving to be as unavailing as the last. You’d think that after a while you’d give up and find a new distraction to pass the time but whether out of habit or boredom-induced insanity, you persist with your fruitless attempts.

Today really fucking blows, you think glumly, the curve of your mouth thinning into a grimace. As the adorable corgie keeps the infernal cycle going, yapping and running around incessantly, you’re struck with a terrifying thought. Maybe this is how you will die - condemned to live your life stuck in the worst sort of monotony imaginable.

What you had expected to be a “quick and easy” shoot has turned into a tedious ordeal that you don’t see ending anytime soon. And whilst on-set complications and prolongations are frequent enough that they’re almost expected, today really takes the cake. Even during your rookie days, you can’t recall running into delays of this scale.

To top it off, the weather app announces a record-breaking heat - which in itself is bad enough. As luck would have it, it gets worse. The place rented out for today’s filming lacks proper air conditioning, equipped instead with electric fans that look like they’ve been around since the 1980s.

A quick glance into the vanity mirror confirms that you look as frazzled as you feel. Because of the humidity level that weighs down the air, your hair is in a right state. You fight a grimace off your face. The straggly hair coupled with the oily sheen on your face...it’s far from your best look, to say the least.

And to think thousands of people will get to see it up close in 1080p resolution... It’s a terrifying concept.

You’re already dreading the upcoming sex scenes that you’ve yet to film. It’s always a messy affair - fluids of all kind end up literally everywhere - but the sweltering heat undoubtedly makes it ten times worse. A shudder works its way down your spine.

Frankly speaking, the mere thought of having hot and wild sex in these less than ideal working conditions kills your libido. Under the glaring studio lights, surrounded by sweaty crewmen and pressed up an equally feverish body - it’s basically the porn equivalent of a fuckin’ barbecue party.

Yeah, no thanks. You’d rather be at home, with the air conditioner at full blast, nestled in the comfy cushions of your sofa as you marathon a series of your choice on netflix. Only the promised sum of money keeps you from bolting and calling it quits altogether.

“So when are you gonna drop the new boy toy?” a voice buzzes in your ear not unlike a pesky fly.

Tempting as it is to ignore it, you peel your eyes away from your reflection just in time to catch Seokjin shoot you the most unimpressed look in his repertoire, one perfectly groomed eyebrow arched in judgment.

In the background, an old ceiling fan whirs on but does nothing to cool you off. If anything, its constant rattling only exacerbates your growing headache.

“What are you talking about?" You flick a piece of imaginary lint off your dressing robe, your tone neutral.

Seokjin’s brown eyes see right through your feigned air of indifference. Months of working by your side have made him an expert at reading your body language, be it naked or clothed. A wolfish grin adorns his face as he swoops in for the kill.

“Oh come on. You know exactly who I’m talking about. Jongmin. He’s short - comes up to right about here.” Seokjin holds a hand up to his chest to illustrate his point, deliberately shaving off a few inches off your boyfriend’s height in order to antagonize you.

You bite the inside of your cheek, careful not to spit out the retort that’s perched on the tip of your tongue. It takes a great deal of effort to unclench the muscles in your jaw but you manage to school your features into an expression of polite confusion.

Seokjin frowns, dissatisfied with your lack of response. You don’t need to be a mind reader to know that he’s currently thinking of new ways to provoke you.

When the silence stretches on and he’s yet to riposte, you allow yourself to relax again, believing that he’s given up on being an asshole.

To your chagrin, you’re sorely mistaken. The last of your self-restraint is finally put to the test as his next words do nothing to quell your irritation.

“Jongmin.” He repeats slowly, like you need it spelled out for you. “He follows you around everywhere like a lap dog. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so, you know, pathetic.”

“His name is Jimin,” you correct for the nth time.

Instantly, you reprimand yourself for playing into his games and granting him the attention he so craves. Fulfilling his twisted desire is the last thing you hope to achieve. Staying silent would be the sensible thing to do but your brain completely bypasses the memo. The moment your mouth opens it’s impossible to quash the urge to justify yourself.

Maybe it’s your pride coming into play. Maybe it’s Seokjin’s uncanny ability to get under anyone’s skin at will. Whatever the case may be, you stammer out, on the defensive, “And he’s not my 'boy toy'. We - it’s not - we’re dating.” But the word feels like a weight on your tongue. You swallow.

The statement earns you a scoff of incredulity. “Dating? Him?”

You finally set your phone down and aim a glare his way, abandoning all pretense at being indifferent because—Jesus. Is the idea of you dating that unfathomable? He’s never been this worked up over any of your other relationships. Granted, none of them have ever lasted this long but is it really any of his business who you choose to see in your free time?

“I don’t get what your problem is. What’s so wrong with me dating?”

“Have you seen who you’re dating?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?!”

While this isn’t the first time your agent lets a judgmental comment slip from between his pearly white teeth, it’s usually not laced with spite. Seokjin is never outright hostile, preferring sweet words of manipulation and thinly-veiled insults to shows of aggression. The attempt to get a rise out of you does not go by unnoticed. His anger, this time, feels personal.

You wrack your brain, quickly sifting through your recent memories to try and figure out why he’s chosen to be such an ass today. You’re certain that you’ve filled out all the necessary paperwork required to proceed with today’s filming, and yes, after thinking it over, you know that you went to the obligatory medical checkup last week. So there really is no reason for him to bitch at you unless—

The proverbial light bulb flickers on and it all suddenly makes sense.

You’re willing to bet a hefty sum of money that the high-paying gig you turned down two weekends ago is to blame for his abnormal crotchety behavior.

Yes, that would explain it.

Due to Seokjin's well-known propensity to hold a grudge for longer than average, the odds that he’s still hung up over the lost deal are pretty high. And as much as his disappointment and frustration are understandable from a business standpoint, you don’t appreciate being used as a verbal punching bag for him to expel all those pent-up feelings.

Seokjin hums, a knowing smirk pulling the sides of his mouth upwards. Fleetingly, and not for the first time, you find it a shame that his cockiness tarnishes his otherwise handsome face. “I give it another couple of days until you get bored. How long has this gone on for? A month? How are you not yanking out your hair from the sheer boredom of dating...that."

A muscle in your jaw ticks.

“He’s not Voldemort, you coward. Would it honestly kill you to say his name?” Seokjin’s expression begs to differ. You cut him off before he can add fuel to the fire. “And I won’t get bored. Jimin’s - he’s a perfectly nice guy. We’ve been seeing each other just fine—not that it’s any of your concern.”

“Yes, he’s nice,” Seokjin concedes easily, brushing off any attempts at putting an end to the conversation. He grins, wide and smug, like he knows you can’t refute what he’ll say next. “Perfectly nice and boring. The kind of guy you’d bring back home if your parents were straight-laced folks that wanted to marry you off to a choir boy. Seriously, how the fuck did a guy like him end up in the porn industry? He belongs in a church or, I dunno, maybe some neighborhood book club - not behind a camera filming you getting flogged by a daddy dom.”

You sniff. “Just because he tucks his shirts in doesn’t—”

“It’s not just the shirts, honey.” He leans over to pat your hand in a gesture of consolation. Used to his antics, his attempt is easily blocked by a swat of your hand.

You muster the dirtiest look you’re capable of, the kind of look that sends men to early graves, but he simply smiles in response, completely unfazed.

Any person with the minimum amount of tact would know to politely change the subject. It’s unfortunate that your agent does not belong to that pool of individuals, choosing instead to be selectively blind to overt social cues.

He continues on, unperturbed, like he has a point to prove. “Believe it or not, I know you. Sometimes, for whatever reason, perhaps a lapse in judgement but who the fuck knows, you like to venture out of your comfort zone and experiment. Like with the chickenshit gingerbread spice concoctions they come out with at Starbucks to celebrate turkey season and Christmas or the cream cheese makis they make for the white crowd who want to eat sushi but don’t like anything other than white rice and seaweed. And, trust me, while I’m all for diversity and broadening your personal experiences, don’t you think there’s a reason why you always go back to your preferred choice of an iced latte with two sugars?”

“Did you just compare Jimin to a gingerbread latte?”

Okay, so admittedly you’ve made some questionable food and beverage choices in the past, but the comparison is a fucking reach.

“You’re absolutely right." Seokjin gives a firm nod of his head, his expression serious. "Now that you mention it, he’s definitely a vanilla soy. Bland and boring. Targeted towards the middle-aged soccer moms that think veganism is a trend, not a lifestyle. Wants to be a people-pleaser but misses the mark.”

“I didn’t know it was Share Your Unwanted Opinion Time,” you grind out from behind a strained smile. “If I had, I would have said something about your receding hairline earlier.”

It’s a low blow but the way Seokjin’s plump lips curl in displeasure makes the dig worth it. One of his hands automatically shoot up to flatten the bangs that are usually slicked back with copious amounts of gel.

Offended, he spits, “It’s not receding! There’s a difference between premature balding and a bleach job gone wrong.”

"I'm not sure people care to differentiate. Looks like a receding hairline to me." You shrug while picking at your nails. “You’re nearing that age, too, so.”

“You just try looking this good at 30. Fucking try.”

He waits for a reply but your interest has already waned. You scroll through your phone, bored once more.

Seokjin makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat at the clear dismissal. You swear you hear him grumble under his breath - something along the lines of never going blonde again - but can’t find it in you to care, not when he’s finally ceased his nagging.

"Filming in twenty!" someone shouts from outside the door.

"They’re running behind schedule," Seokjin notes after glancing down at his gold wristwatch. "How can they take more than an hour to fix the lighting? Tch. Bunch of fuckin’ amateurs."

He aims a glare in your direction as if their incompetence is somehow your fault.

You have half a mind to glower back but miraculously withhold your sentiments. Admittedly, he isn’t wrong - the team you’re working with today keeps committing blunders even rookies wouldn’t dare perpetrate - but you’d rather get your driving license revoked forever than to acknowledge that Seokjin’s right and inflate his already unnaturally huge ego.

Something heavy plops into your lap. When you look down, the glossy surface of a magazine reflects the harsh lights suspended over the vanity table back at you.

“I didn’t want to resort to this but you leave me no choice,” he says in response to your look of confusion.

“What’s this?”

You hold up the magazine expecting the worst. It’s heavy in your hands, the pages thicker than the gossip rags you’d find in a dentist’s waiting room.

“’s the newest issue. Came out this morning. I’d actually like it back once you’re done because I haven’t finished reading it and God knows how hard it was to get my—hey, you can stop flicking aimlessly, I saved you the trouble and bookmarked the page,” Seokjin explains a bit impatiently.

When you shoot him a glance, his attention is trained on your face, not the magazine. He barely blinks. Like a snake honing in on its prey. And that kind of intense focus - that can’t be good. After all, you’ve known Seokjin long enough to suspect that whatever trick he has up his sleeve will give him the advantage he needs to deliver the killing blow.

Gingerly, you flip through the pages like you’re afraid the magazine might self-destruct in your hands. Which would be a waste, in your opinion, since Exquis is a damn good magazine - perhaps less intellectual than Playboy, but definitely classier than Hustler. Its reputation speaks for itself. Known for hiring the best photographers and carefully combing through their models, it’s selective, only picking the cream of the cr—

Everything around you stills.

Your eyes narrow at the spread because there, on the page Seokjin’s taken great care to bookmark, a model poses provocatively on a lounge chaise near a crystal clear pool. It’s similar to a shoot you’ve done in the past but you can tell right away that the quality of this is above and beyond anything you’ve ever done. The lighting is better, heck even the barely-there-swimsuit looks like it costs ten times more than whatever you had been told to throw on at the time.

The vexation you feel only worsens once it finally registers who the model is. Her youthful and pretty face carries a permanent haughtiness that not even makeup or acting can entirely mask.

The pages crease in your hold as you flick through the rest of the spread dedicated to the up and coming talents. With every new page that has her plastered on its glossy surface you feel your stomach sink.

2...3...4...

“Five pages,” you curse under your breath. For a magazine this renowned, it’s...a lot. Commendable, even. Your nose crinkles. “Well, fuck. me. sideways.”

Seokjin gloats, reveling in your outrage. “Hmph. I told you, didn’t I? Passing up the opportunity to work with Kim Namjoon would come and bite you in the ass.”

“Aha! So you have been a little bitch because I refused to shoot with Namjoon.” You whirl around in your chair and use the magazine to jab him in the chest. He easily steps aside, avoiding your attempt at wrinkling his trademark Armani button-down shirt.

“It was the chance of a lifetime and you knew it.” He turns his nose up and sniffs.

“That’s what you said about filming with Min Yoongi last month.” You roll your eyes. “I can’t take you seriously if you’re gonna say the same thing every time a new guy shows up.”

“Shooting with Agust D did help you gain some mainstream popularity. You’ve gotten love calls for catalog printings and your name is now automatically on the invite sheet for every C-list event in town. Namjoon would have given you another needed boost.” Seokjin folds his arms, lecturing mode switched on. You struggle with the instinctive urge to tune him out. “Sure, he’s got a niche audience, but he’s famous in his field and it would have helped expand your fa—“

“Not to kink shame or anything because we don’t do that, but Namjoon is a freak. And don’t deny it, I’ve seen his videos.”

“He’s specialized in particular—“

“You were the one telling me not to film all sorts of shit right off the bat,” you cut in, refusing to back down from your stance. There’s no way you’ll let him sweet-talk you out of this one, not after the multiple videos of Namjoon you’d binged one weekend. “Stick to one story.”

“Well, we’re not exactly ‘right off the bat’ anymore, are we? We’ve passed that stage. Right now is a crucial time in your career so you’ve got to make it count. Filming rehashed videos of the same pizza delivery guy scenario gets boring and fast. As pretty as you are, you’re not offering anything new to the table, are you?”

Fuck him. He’s right and you know it. Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman.

Still. “I refuse to work with a guy whose porn alias is Cock Monster.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Well I said no,” you insist stubbornly.

“Well if you had said yes, maybe it would be your ass cheeks getting their own two page spread in Exquis instead,” jabs Seokjin, hitting you where it hurts.

Ugh. The reminder that Joy’s bested you yet again riles you up even more. That, coupled with the likelihood of your career ending imminently, makes you stop and think.

Your agent goes on to say, “Don’t you want the AVN for best newcomer? Where did that competitive edge go? At the rate this is going, Joy’s going to steal it from right under your nose.”

“Like fucking hell,” you hiss. The magazine bends under the strength of your grip. “That one’s mine.”

You absolutely refuse to lose out to her. Every fiber of your being rejects the idea of letting her one-up you again.

“Not if you don’t start branching out. The last time you did anything substantial or interesting was about a month ago. It’s already old news. People are going to forget you shot that sequence altogether if you don’t do anything that puts you back on the map.”

A pause. “…I really don’t want to film with someone who willingly named himself Cock Mons—”

“Fine.” Seokjin heaves a resigned sigh. “You don’t have to fuck the monster willy. Willy monster? Hm. Wouldn’t it make more sense to name himself Monster Cock and not Cock Monster? Wonder why he does th—”

You suppress a snort. “Please spare me while you can. It’s amazing, that talent for making everything sound a lot worse than it already it is.”

“Why, thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“You trying to insult someone who’s willing to find you someone else to work with? I can always ask Monster Meatstick if he’s up for—”

“No! No, that’s - not necessary.” You force out a smile that wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking its genuine. “Why would I ever insult you? You’re the best agent one could ask for.”

“That’s what I thought.” He takes your compliment, forced or not. When he smiles, smugness rolls off of him in waves. “One day you’ll realize you’re taking my talent for granted. I’ll find you another onscreen partner even though you don’t know what you’re missing out.”

“Thank you.”

“But!” He interjects and this time you don’t bother swallowing down your groan, already dreading the stipulations he has in store for you. “You have to promise to hold up your end of the bargain and try your best.”

Indignation colors your face. Your mouth falls open, retort at the ready. “When do I ever slack off on the job?! I’ve never given a half-assed blowjob in my life - and trust me, the temptation was there. Do you have any idea how hard it is to stay focused when the guy can’t cum on command? I once had to get my jaw realigned.”

“I’m not saying you’re slacking off,” he backtracks, switching tactics. His expression is soon replaced by the business-like smile you’re used to seeing on the regular. Tone buttery and appeasing, he tries to convince you through flattery instead. “You work hard and do a good job… I wouldn’t have signed you on otherwise. The problem isn’t with the quality of your work but with - all the rest.”

“The rest?” you parrot back dumbly, trying and failing to comprehend.

Seokjin scowl returns, unable to keep his genuine emotions under wraps.

“D’you honestly think you’re at a point in your career where you can pick and choose your jobs like this? Ever since you started dating that - that thing - your workload has significantly decreased. And not because you lacked opportunities. You had them but you turned them all down.” Visibly getting worked up over the issue, his voice rises an octave, then two. “What should’ve been a good spring board, only brought you back to square one. I know I can’t force you to take jobs if you refuse to, but I can say that your potential is going to waste. I’ve never seen someone sabotage herself like this before and it’s driving me up the wall. While I get that you’re under the delusion that you’ve found true love or whatever Disney fantasy Jungmin has sold you, you can’t turn down projects over and over again without there being serious repercussions. You’re smart enough to know this. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

Seokjin’s chest heaves as he takes in several big gulps of air, visibly out of breath after his monologue.

For him to explode like popcorn kennels in the microwave... You reckon he’d let his feelings pile up inside him for a while, silently stewing.

You’ve never seen your agent look so visibly distressed. He’s normally the picture-perfect image of composure so the sight that greets you is enough of a shock to render you speechless.

Deep down, Seokjin probably means well. There aren’t a lot of agents like him; you’re one of the lucky ones. Most girls are discarded by their agencies as quickly as used tissues once they get milked for all their worth.

Thankfully it’s never been that way with Seokjin. He claims that he’s in it for the long run. According to him the quick buck isn’t worth seeing the light die out in girl after girl. Perhaps that’s why he takes the task of ensuring your safety so seriously. How many times has he warned you to steer clear of this or that seedy director or ban you from attending drug-heavy parties? While his behavior can come off as overbearing on the worst days, at least he cares.

Sadly, it’s more than you can say for most.

In a way, he’s the only one in this business rooting for your success—if only because his paycheck depends on how well you perform. You like to pretend there’s more to it than that.

“I’m not - what’s Jimin got to do with any of this?” you splutter, still digesting the long tirade you’ve just been subjected to.

“Are you serious? That’s all you got from what I said?”

“Well, no, but I still fail to—”

“Do you think me a fool?” He crosses his arms tightly across his broad chest. “The only scenes you’re willing to shoot are when he’s on set. Are you a kid or something? Since when do you need supervision to shoot a sex scene?”

“N-no. It just worked out that way, okay?” In reply to his dubious expression, you force yourself to explain. “Okay, okay - I get it. Maybe I might’ve lessened my workload recently but it has nothing to do with Jimin, alright? My vagina needs rest from time to time. Just because it’s my job doesn’t mean I don’t need a break. I’m human too, not some blow-up doll.”

“You expect me to believe that he has nothing to do with it? You were perfectly fine before he entered the picture. And now that you’re all loved up you only pick—”

A knock, so timid you barely catch it, cuts off the rest of his sentence.

“Yeah? Come in, I’m decent!” you yell - not that you care whether someone sees you naked or not. The concept of modesty has long been lost on you. Some might call it shamelessness or vanity, but you take pride in how you look. And why wouldn’t you? Your body is your bread and butter. You spend hours in the gym every week so that your ass looks good no matter what camera angle.

“It’s me.”

The door opens a crack and the speaker tentatively sticks his mop of hair through the small opening. As soon as you recognize him, your heart leaps at the sight and you quickly tighten your robe together.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Seokjin mutters under his breath.

You resist the urge to throttle him and plaster on your brightest smile instead.

“I wanted to see how you were doing. Sorry I took so long... I would’ve come earlier but they needed my help.” Jimin scratches a spot behind his ear, sheepish. “Someone tripped over the cables and smashed a camera lens so we had to find a replacement. The director threw a fit and wanted to call it quits so we’ve been trying to calm him down this entire time. He did - eventually, anyway, after he called his dealer on set.”

A disapproving frown tugs at his mouth corners and mars his otherwise perfect appearance.

You take a moment to swoon internally. You’ll never get tired of admiring your boyfriend. Unlike the majority of the on-set personnel, he doesn’t reek of weed or booze or stale cigarette smoke. His ironed clothes and immaculate appearance always make it easy to spot him amidst the hungover crew.

“That’s fine! I kept myself busy.”

Jimin returns your smile, his eyes creasing into beautiful half-moon crescents. You don’t know what kind of love-struck expression covers your face but next to you Seokjin makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a gag and a cough.

“Oh! Here, I brought snacks. I didn’t know what you liked so I just grabbed everything I could get my hands on.” He holds up a paper plate stacked with treats no doubt stolen from the catering service. “I know I kind of went overboard but I wanted to make sure you kept your sugar level up.”

“That’s sweet of you,” you coo, reaching to take the plate from him. He’s piled on the sweets so high that it’s a miracle nothing has toppled over yet. You aren’t especially hungry but take a bite out of a chocolate candy to show how much you appreciate the effort. Its gooey consistency melts on your tongue, the taste so sweet it sticks to your teeth.

“How adorable,” chimes in Seokjin, his hand grabbing a licorice stick from the mountain of candy before you can swat him away. “Thanks Jongmin.”

“Jimin,” he corrects good-naturedly, his smile not budging an inch. You think, privately, that’s what you like the most about him. Not many have the ability to block out Seokjin’s bullshit so effectively.

“Mmh,” your manager says around a mouthful of candy. “Seokjin. Pleasure.”

You elbow him while gritting your teeth. “Can you...give us a moment?”

Seokjin swallows down the treat and opens his mouth in protest. He has the audacity to look betrayed. “You’re kicking me out of our room so the two of you can get it on? Really?”

Jimin’s cheeks flush and you quickly cut in before your agent can make matters worse.

"I just want to talk without you breathing down my neck. Weren’t you going off earlier about how I didn’t need adult supervision anymore? Well?”

“Fine. Fine! But you owe me. Again.” He grabs his portable phone charger from the vanity table before making his exit. “And don’t forget what we talked about!”

What a fucking drama queen. You have no idea why he always insists on making a scene when you know for a fact that he would’ve left of his own volition in five minutes anyway. For reasons he has no trouble disclosing, he can’t stand Jimin’s presence.

“I won’t,” you grumble just so that you can get him out of your hair faster.

The door slams shut with more force than strictly necessary. Silence hangs in the air for a brief moment before Jimin turns his warm gaze towards you.

“What was that about?”

“Uh, nothing. You know how he is...” You play with the ends of your braided hair. “He can’t go very long without throwing a tantrum.’

“He seems very protective of you,” remarks Jimin, a thoughtful expression painting his angelic face. “I think that’s why he’s not that fond of me.”

“Nonsense,” you rebut immediately as you take his hands in yours. “Who could ever not like you?”

Jimin allows his lips to quirk into a small, self-deprecating smile that you promptly erase with a kiss. His lips feel pillow-soft against yours, and you let yoruself indulge in the feeling before pulling back.

You sigh, remembering the scene you’ve yet to film. “If only my co-star was you.”

He laughs at that. “Seokjin would probably throw a fit, huh?”

Jimin treats you to dinner that night.

He chooses the restaurant. It’s a small, quaint place, tucked into a hidden corner just minutes away from the bustling main street of the shopping district. It’s not the kind of place people stumble across by accident but judging by the occupied tables, business is doing fine by reputation alone.

The owner comes out to greet Jimin by name. They exchange warm greetings, the woman asking him how his brother’s been doing and whether he’ll stop by anytime soon.

“Ah - I’m not sure... You know how he is... I’ll let him know you said hi.”

“Tell him I’ll give him an extra serving of ribs. That was his favorite, right?”

When her eyes trail over Jimin’s shoulder and spot you, she grins so wide you’d think she won the lottery or something. “Park Jimin! You’ve gone and found a girlfriend! And so pretty, too. Ah, really...time sure flies by. I remember when you first started coming here - and now!”

You smile back, greeting her with a polite handshake. The owner is quick to usher you into a small booth in the back. She hands you the menus while patting Jimin on his shoulder. “I’ll get you drinks. It’s on the house.”

“You don’t have to do that!” protests Jimin, shaking his head. “Really. It’s not—”

“Nonsense.” She waves a hand at him. “You’ll get two more if you keep that up, Park Jimin.”

Once she knows she’s earned Jimin’s compliance, she leaves with a satisfied smile. You can tell by their genuine interactions that she’s close to Jimin. Family, perhaps? Either way, this isn’t a place Jimin tracked down on yelp. He flips through the menu with ease, like he’s done it hundreds of times before.

“Sorry about that,” he says once she’s out of earshot. “I used to come here all the time with my family when we all still lived here. They moved and live in a different town now so we haven’t had a meal together here in years, but. I still come here. The food is good, of course, but - I dunno. I have good memories here so I thought I’d share it with you. It sounds stupid now.”

He laughs quietly, cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

“I love it.” You can’t help but smile, cheeks hurting from the force of it. Invisible liquor runs through your bloodstream, a ball of warmth unfurling in your belly. “Thank you.”

A pause ensues. It’s one of those moments in which you’re unsure if you’ve said too much or not enough. Being here with Jimin means a lot. You’re not the most verbose person but you hope that Jimin can feel your sincerity.

Maybe your stare comes off as too intense because Jimin breaks the eye contact and clears his throat.

He fiddles with his earring and says, “The food is really good!”

Pink dots his cheeks as he attempts to change the subject. “I don’t know how long the place has been around for but the food is exactly the same. Apparently it’s the sauce they use? Auntie still won’t share the recipes with me and I’ve known her since I was a kid.”

He chatters on, gaining confidence when he notices you’re not put off or bored by his numerous anecdotes. As time passes by, he’s visibly more relaxed. His laugh is more natural, less restrained, like he’s using all the muscles in his face and not just the ones near his mouth.

It’s a stark difference from the first date, you think. Back then he had come off as quite shy, preferring to let you lead the conversation, only offering up tidbits from time to time. Now the conversation flows easily. Nothing feels forced or awkward and - it’s nice. The normalcy of it. Like a hot cup of tea before bed or the scent of the fabric softener your mother uses. It’s something you find comfort in, that you can see yourself coming back to and not growing tired of.

Seokjin can say what he wants - that Jimin’s too uninteresting, that you’re too mismatched of a couple - whatever.

Jimin likes you for you.

When you’re out on dates or when the two of you talk on the phone late into the evening, he rarely brings up your job. Instead, he asks you questions about your favorite TV shows, your dipping sauce preferences, the first album you purchased. These small details might seem inconsequential to others but to you, they’re a welcome breath of fresh air.

For all the talks of Jimin being too average and too normal, men like him are in reality surprisingly hard to come by.

Because what you haven’t failed to notice since you began your career as a porn star is that people love the idea of you. People who avidly watch you from their laptop screen in the comfort of their own home think that you’re some type of sex goddess - that you’re basically up for anything. In their minds, you’re a fun girl who loves sex, all kinds of sex, any kind of sex, and who doesn’t have any qualities or attributes other than making people cum until their limbs go numb.

Your feelings? Not really important. Feelings would make you human and being human would ruin their favorite fantasy.

That’s what takes you a while to learn - you don’t get paid to have sex, you get paid to sell dreams.

It doesn’t bother you at first. In a way, you think, it’s like acting. The porn star people jerk off to daily is a character you play, a mask you can take off at your leisure once the camera director yells ‘cut!’.

Very quickly, you learn people don’t share the same sentiment. To them, the line that distinguishes you from your job persona isn’t blurry - it simply doesn’t exist.

In the beginning, you’d stayed optimistic. Once people get to know you past the image they’ve built up in their heads, surely they’ll realize you’re not a sex-craved addict who only has dick on the brain, right? But with every new date you accept to go on, the reality of your situation only leaves room for disappointment and barely reigned in revulsion.

Even in non-romantic situations, people let you down. Old classmates, neighbors... It pisses you off that they assume you have no self-worth just because you’re a sex worker. Stevie from 308 down the hall once tried throwing crumpled bills at you, expecting you to crawl over to him for a fifty. The memory is enough to set your blood boiling. You can’t wait until you earn big enough bucks to move out of your shitty apartment into a nice high-rise penthouse, away and above all the scum of the Earth.

“You okay?” asks Jimin, noticing the crease that burrows your brow. “The food alright?”

You blink several times, belatedly realizing you had zoned out. Guilt and embarrassment well up within you.

“M’yeah,” you swallow down the spoonful of stew stuffed in your mouth. “Sorry.”

Jimin chews his bottom lip. Finally, he settles with, “Tell me if I’m boring you.”

“No, no! You’re not.” His evident doubt does nothing to alleviate the sudden nausea swarming your lower belly. “I’m serious, Jimin. I’m - Sorry if I gave off that impression. I just - I have a lot on my mind but you’re lovely. I’d tell you if you were - you know. Promise.”

“Would you? Sometimes I think you’re too nice.” It’s not delivered as an insult, but it doesn’t exactly sound like praise, either.

You force out a snort. “Heh. Wish you’d tell Seokjin that.”

“He’s not too cross with me, is he?” Jimin’s expression looks awkward, like he’s forcing his facial muscles to stay relaxed and mien nonchalant.

“Wh- oh, you mean because of earlier? He isn’t. That’s not him being angry. It’s not even you. It’s me. We just have - a slight difference in opinions, I suppose. If you can even call it that.”

“He doesn’t want you to date me,” concludes Jimin.

The frustrations you’d repressed earlier in the day come back. Why does Seokjin’s opinion matter? You huff, putting your spoon down.

“He’s not my dad. And even if he was, I’m grown. I can make my own decisions.” You roll your eyes. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll get over it... It’s not like it’s any of his business in the first place.”

“Still...” Jimin says, unsure. “He’s your agent. I wouldn’t want the relation between you to sour because of me.”

“Honestly, I’m convinced it’s not even you he has a problem with. We talked about it today and I think he’s getting antsy because, um, you know, I haven’t accepted any big offers lately. Like, I’m staying too much in my comfort zone or something. He says that in the long run that can be detrimental to my career.”

It’s a bit strange, discussing your work with Jimin. You both work in the same industry, Jimin as a second camera assistant and you as an adult entertainer, but outside of filming sets, you rarely acknowledge what the other person does for a living.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. He wants me to branch out and try new things.”

“What, you mean anal? Gangbangs?”

“Um, yeah. All that, probably...” You have to blink several times because of the shock of hearing Jimin say that so casually. “...Is that okay?”

“Huh?” Jimin in turn blinks at you, like your question doesn’t properly register. “Oh, yeah, sure. I’m fine with it. You said it’ll be good for your career?”

“Apparently.”

“Then, yeah.” He shrugs like he isn’t bothered by the news at all. “Of course that’s okay.”

A part of you wants to push the issue, ask him why he’d be fine with his girlfriend filming intense sex scenes with random men, but that inner voice is snuffed out before the poisonous thought has time to take root.

Isn’t this what you always wanted? A boyfriend who is accepting and understanding of your profession?

You wash down your worries with a gulp or two of soju, determined not to let your own insecurities ruin the rest of your night.

Less than 24 hours after you’ve agreed to work on a worthwhile project of Seokjin’s choosing, a slew of texts blow up your phone.

Unsurprisingly, it’s your agent. A quick scroll through your phone reveals that your agent has left you with no less than 15 messages, 1 voicemail, and 3 e-mails.

It’s...a lot. You’ve grown to expect that kind of fanfare with him. Like any man who deals with legally binding contracts on a daily basis, Seokjin ensures that you keep your word. He can be extremely persuasive when he sets his mind to it. You’ve seen men and women alike succumb to the force of his magnetism. Back when your filmography had solely consisted of amateur sex tapes shot in bad lighting with low-grade filming equipment, Seokjin's charms alone had been sufficient to win over lukewarm casting directors and book you jobs.

SEOKJIN : hey!!!!!!!!

SEOKJIN : ???

SEOKJIN : wow. you’re leaving me on read.........the audacity.

SEOKJIN : i raised you on my back and this is how you repay me?

SEOKJIN : do you not respect your elders in your household?

SEOKJIN : i swear if you’re blowing me off for jimmy instead of answering your calls .........

SEOKJIN : or blowing jimmy. either one.

SEOKJIN : ok it’s been 10 min. i’m chill but not that chill.

SEOKJIN : can you please stop sucking dick and read your emails. it’s important.

YOU : ever heard of multitasking? god gave us two hands for a reason

SEOKJIN : oh. nasty.

SEOKJIN : way to ruin my lunch.

SEOKJIN : well. suck down that nut sauce asap

SEOKJIN : cos what i sent you needs your undivided attention

YOU : i’m nasty?? me????

YOU : you don’t hear me saying nUT SAUCE you freak

SEOKJIN : nutté sauce

SEOKJIN : there. fixed it.

YOU : ...that’s not even a thing

SEOKJIN : well it should be!

SEOKJIN : adding accents makes it instantly classier, don’t you think? nutté sauce. has a nice ring to it.

SEOKJIN : honestly. sounds like some fancy four star french starter now.

YOU : ???? it absolutely doesn’t but ok

SEOKJIN : imagine. during a scene you just yell out

SEOKJIN : “i’d like a serving of your nutté sauce to go”

YOU : dicks would shrivel up on the spot

SEOKJIN : what? i think it’s brilliant!

SEOKJIN : my talent is wasted as an agent. should’ve been a scriptwriter instead.

YOU : yes i’m sure the oscars are weeping over the missed opportunity

He takes your sarcasm at face value, feeding you more ridiculous variants of faux french cum lingo—that which you very wisely choose not to reply to. Instead of humoring him, you open the .pdf file he’s sent your way, ignoring the near-constant buzzing of your phone as he’s no doubt pestering you for an immediate answer.

Had it not been necessary for business, you’d have blocked his number ages ago. In fact, after that nut sauce comment you’re seriously reconsidering, business obligations be damned.

To his credit, the film project he suggests you work on doesn't sound half-bad despite its questionable title. Why anyone would choose to name it THE SPERMINATOR is beyond you.

As you read through the proposition, you’re surprised to find it’s tamer than the initial imaginary scenario you’d played out in your head. Expecting to read through a long list of unnameable kinks and dicks, the scene description is rather domestic all things considered.

Your shoulders sag in relief. You enjoy sex as much as the next person, but even you have limits you’re not willing or eager to cross. You’re a human being, first and foremost, and, contrary to popular belief, not competing in the sex olympics.

From what you’ve read so far, nothing in Seokjin’s offer seems too strenuous or perverse. The scene in question is centered around a young, newly married couple trying to conceive for the first time and the sex acts are described as “romantic insemination” - whatever the fuck that means. The only complication you can think of is that you’ve never played the part of a married couple before. None of your previous films specifically target couples or women. Is romance something you can sell accordingly?

You’re quick to shake the concern off once you remember that no one cares if your acting is shit or not. All you probably have to do is yell out ‘Daddy’ a few times mid-thrust and call it a day.

Honestly, you’re a bit disappointed in Seokjin for choosing such a safe, no-risk project - especially since he constantly advocates the risk-return trade off as the way to live by. But you’re not about to start complaining. You’d rather shoot this type of innocuous scenario than ridiculous, hentai-like scenes involving freakish get-ups and toys of monster proportions not realistically made to fit in a vagina.

The deal is perfect. Almost too perfect.

Subconsciously, you must realize something is wrong. Maybe Seokjin’s many lessons have finally rubbed off on you because there’s a persistent voice in your ear warning you that the film proposition is a trap, one that you’ve unfortunately walked straight into.

Your wariness increases when he refuses to send you the script upon request. Alarm bells ring off but by then it’s too late.

“The thing is... Director Ryu wants to try a new type of project," Seokjin says over the phone once you call him up for answers. "He thinks he’s going to pioneer a new genre of porn and revolutionize the industry - his words, not mine.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“How do I explain this without you getting the wrong idea..."

“Is this meant to reassure me?!” Dread drips from your tone. You should’ve suspected something was off from the very moment Seokjin suggested to shoot vanilla porn as your next big project. What a joke.

“Calm down, it's not as bad as - whatever you're thinking.” Too bad that his attempts to calm you down have the opposite effect. “He’s been wanting to try out a new improvisation format for his porn movies.”

“Come again?”

A beat of uncomfortable quiet passes. Reluctantly, Seokjin explains, “Which means - there isn’t an actual script to go off of. That’s why I couldn’t send it to you - because there is none. He wants it to be as realistic and natural as possible so he’s looking for actors who can go with their gut and create their own scenario instead of ones who need to be directed.”

Your resounding silence speaks for itself.

Sure, sometimes they provide scripts to act as guidelines, roughly giving the actor an idea of how the scene will unfold, but no one is expected to follow it word for word. Most porn films rely on improvisation rather than scripts because of how notoriously bad porn stars are at acting and memorizing more than a few lines at a time, and the introduction scene never lasts very long anyway for it to make a noticeable difference. Besides, after filming a handful of movies, you’ve noticed the dialogue is more or less all the same.

What bothers you is that this director wants you to carry out a movie that relies heavily on improvised dialogue. Convincingly.

“C’mon,” Seokjin tries when you refuse to deign him with an answer. “It’ll be fun. You like acting, right?”

“Seokjin...” You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to keep your composure in check. “How do I break this down for you? I think you’re forgetting the most crucial detail here - I can’t act! The closest I've ever gotten to acting is faking an orgasm and I’m pretty certain that doesn’t count."

“And you do that very well!" says Seokjin encouragingly. "You'll be fine. Don’t stress over it. Your scenes with Min Yoongi last time were perfectly acceptable!”

“That’s the thing.” Stress makes your voice raise a half-step. “He did, like, 90% of the acting! Back then, all I had to do was moan and act like a slut! Which hardly counts - I was being myself. Whatever this - thing - you’re attempting to rope me into - I’m not qualified for it.”

“Sweetheart, we’re not aiming for the fucking Oscars here.” When he laughs, it’s practiced enough to sound sincere. “At the end of the day, it’s still porn. Nobody’s expecting you to be the next Meryl. And besides,” he presses on, clearly refusing to change his mind. “This is exactly what you need right now. Something fresh, something new. If you pull this off, you’ll gain exposure.”

“If I pull it off. Big if."

“I know it sounds like a gamble. I get it, I do. But remember what I always say? High risk—”

“Yes, yes. High reward. I get it.” Your frown deepens. “There’s no way to know this will work, though.”

“A good co-star already guarantees you half of the success. And luckily for you, the guy they signed on seems like the real deal. He’s hot, you’re hot. People will pay money to see you two fuck regardless of how good or bad the acting is.”

“Well. That’s reassuring,” you say, voice as flat as a board. “Although I suppose watching porn on mute is always an option if it comes to that.”

“It was a joke!” What worries you is that it doesn’t sound like it is. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ve seen some of your co-star’s tapes. He’s got a mouth on him, if you know what I mean. Just let him lead and it’ll go swimmingly.”

“It’s one thing to follow someone’s lead during sex but you want me to - to improvise for God knows how long! That’s just asking for a disaster to happen.”

“You said you were up for a challenge!” Seokjin throws your words back at you, his tone accusing.

“And you said this would be beneficial for my career! How is making a fool out of myself going to help me any? I don’t want to be remembered as the girl who can’t act to save her life.” You want to cry in frustration. If you had wanted to act you would’ve chosen that as your major in college. “I don’t - I can’t do this. I’m not - this isn’t what I signed up for! How do you expect me to convince viewers what they’re watching is real...”

“Just—” Exasperated, he takes a deep breath. Exhales. “Trust me. When have I ever been wrong about film projects.”

Is putting your career at risk really worth it? You’re not sure anymore.

On the bright side, it’ll finally get Seokjin off your back, you reason, trying to remain positive. That in itself is worth celebrating, right?

Fine. You’ll agree to it out of pettiness. Once Seokjin realizes what a terrible idea this entire ordeal is, you won’t hesitate to rub it back in his face. He’ll never hear the end of it.

"Who am I working with, anyway?”

"Ah, hm, well." Hesitation creeps up his voice for the first time, putting you instantly on edge. "...You won't know him. He's new to the scene - got started a month or two ago, I forget."

"Great. Not only am I being used as a lab rat for this director to experiment on but you're also pairing me with a fucking rookie. Jesus.”

"He’s not half bad! He’s not bad at all, actually. I wouldn't be insisting if I didn't trust him not to blow his load early."

"Aren’t I lucky,” you deadpan. “So I don't have to worry about him busting a nut before the director gives the signal?"

“All you’ll have to do is act like a married couple with baby fever,” he talks over you, ignoring your overflowing sarcasm. “And how hard can that be? You’ve been loved up with Jumin for a month now - that’s plenty enough practice if you ask me. I know you’ll be able to sell that romantic shit to the public without too much trouble.”

“It’s Jimin,” you correct from force of habit.

You’re promptly ignored — not that you expected anything less from him.

"Just give it a thought? And get back to me when you make up your mind. The sooner the better. The offer won't stay on the table forever." Even over the line, you can picture Seokjin raising his eyebrows at you, expectant. “If you’re serious about this job, you know what you have to do.”

You both know that you’ll accept the offer. Seokjin’s got you all figured out. As much as you don’t like being pushed around, the need to prove yourself is your main driving factor. The acquaintances who sneer at you, the family members who’ve shun you, the peers who expect you to burn out after the five month mark—you’d rather roll over and die than prove their misconceptions right.

It’s a matter of pride when you sniff and reply, “I’ll think about it.”

But the decision is already made before the call ends.

SCENE 02 - THE SPERMINATOR. TAKE 02. ROLL B.

Eight days later you find yourself squeezed into a brazenly short dress that zips in the front, more fit for a night out in a club than a dinner at home. It’s so ridiculously tight, you feel like a prey being swallowed down by a snake. There’s no room to breathe. You can’t wait for the scene to start, if only so you can dispose of the piece of fabric and never wear it again.

Unfortunately, your outfit gets worse because thrown over the clubbing attire is a frilly apron with small hearts embroidered along the hem. The mismatch is jarring. You’re not sure what look the stylist is going for but the end result is very...peculiar.

You comfort yourself with the knowledge that it could always be worse.

A quick glance at the digital clock on your phone confirms that you’re running on time. Good. After your last gig, the last thing you want is to spend hours waiting for the personnel to set up the cameras and sound equipment correctly.

Thankfully, today’s team works like a well-oiled machine. All that’s left are the last-minute preparations before the shoot begins.

Your false eyelashes are still drying when Seokjin elbows you sharply in the ribs. You crack open an eye to glare at him. “Ouch - ah, seriously? What is it now?”

“That’s him, that’s him!” Seokjin whispers under his breath, his gaze glued to a point somewhere beyond your shoulder. “Wooow. Aren’t you a lucky bitch? I’d gargle his nutté sauce for breakfast, if you get what I mean. He looks way better in person, damn.”

“Firstly - please never say that out loud again.” You fake a gag. “How do I buy myself a new set of ears?”

Seokjin ignores your dramatics. He shoots you a look. “You let that last guy draw a starfish on your face with his crème de la nut but did you hear me go sick?”

“That’s not the same and you know it!” Your jaw drops in indignation. “And can you stop trying to make nut cream a thing for the love of—”

“What’s this about nut cream?”

You whip your head around, mortification already etched onto your features. Your mouth opens, defense at the ready, only for your throat to clamp up.

“Oh.” You blink up in surprise because - well, Seokjin’s earlier assessment isn’t embellished. The guy is fit as fuck.

You’d seen photos in passing, had even googled his name out of curiosity, but the two-dimensional version of him pales to his real life physique. There’s a sharpness to his features that the camera fails to pick up on, a vibrancy that gets lost in the medium.

“Hey. I’m Hoseok.” His grip is firm, assertive, and your eyes naturally wander over his form. The loose muscle tee he’s thrown on puts his toned arms on display and makes it easier to admire the seemingly endless expanse of sun-kissed skin. He’s neither too thick nor too spindly, his muscles lean and firm instead of bulging. Strong but not intimidating. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise.” You swallow, mouth dry.

You expect him to leave it at that like most of your past co-stars usually do. Or worse - for him to abandon all pretenses and cross lines that aren’t meant to be crossed. As someone who has experienced it all - from standoffish to creepy and vile - nothing surprises you anymore.

But unlike your, admittedly low, expectations, his gaze is warm and friendly. He speaks smoothly, leaving no time for an awkward silence to instill itself.

“Yeah, I know who you are! I saw a video or two of yours before - you were featured on the agency’s main page last month, right? Fuckin’ genius, by the way. Best stuff I’ve seen in a long ass time.” An easy grin sits on his face, nothing about it fake or contrived. “I hope we get along today. I haven’t done much work myself - yet anyway - but I hope this can be a good experience for the both of us.”

“You’ll be in good hands,” Seokjin assures, patting your shoulder like a proud parent. “_____ here is the best talent I’ve signed on.”

“That I can believe,” Hoseok chimes, his smile never waning. “I’ve heard good stuff about you. I won’t lie - it reassured me a fuck ton when I heard I’d be working with you. The stuff we’re doing is, well, it’s a bit of a gamble at this point, but I’m sure it’ll go well because I’ll be working with you.”

For a brief, embarrassing moment, you’re robbed of words, unable to respond to his flattery. From experience, you know to be wary of guys like him. Whenever someone lays it on thick they always have an ulterior motive. But what could possibly be his?

“Seokjin’s saying that because I’m the only one who can stand his nagging,” you finally say, your shoulders stiff. Maybe it’s because you’ve just met, but it’s hard to figure him out and it doesn’t help that you’re naturally wary of strangers.

“Oh hush. You love me.” Sensing how guarded you’ve become, Seokjin mercifully offers you an out. “It was nice meeting you, Hoseok. Wish we could stay and chat but she has to get ready to film the pre-interview portion.”

“Oh yeah, that’s cool. Catch you later.”

You offer a quick smile he returns tenfold, its brightness momentarily dazzling you.

Slightly dazed from the intensity of it, you stagger behind Seokjin, sun spots dotting your vision. Your surroundings blur together as your mind tries to recover from the interaction.

“Sooooooooo?” Seokjin sing-songs once you’ve walked far enough to be out of earshot. His brows are raised knowingly, an infuriating type of smugness clinging to his features. “What did I tell you! He’s hot enough to single-highhandedly melt a glacier, huh?”

You scoff, not willing to admit anything. “He’s okay.”

“Oh c’mon. He’s baby daddy material for sure. Which works out well for you since he’s gonna pump one into you later.”

For once the grimace that crosses your face isn’t exaggerated. “Please. Stop. Talking. I’m this close to heaving out my lunch.”

You’re not even joking with that one. Attractive as Hoseok may be, any talk of baby-making is enough to dissipate any smidgens of lust.

The reminder of what the upcoming scene entails and the expectations people carry crash down on you like a pile of bricks. Although you’ve done your best to ignore the fact you’ll be acting today, the meeting with Hoseok yanks you harshly back to reality.

You’re going to act. As a married couple. Trying to conceive a baby.

Three things that have never, ever been on your bucket list are now about to be crossed out in the span of the same afternoon. To that you can only say - what the fuck is my life.

Like a mounting wave before the inevitable crash, panic crests within you. You feel it gradually build and build, flooding your lungs and every crevice of your body with overwhelming anxiety.

Seokjin sighs. “How are you going to make it through today? The whole point of the sex scene is to get you pregnant. Or fake pregnant. You know what I mean.”

“Um...” You try to laugh but it comes out shaky. Seokjin shoots you a concerned look. “I’ll be fine! Really! I can do it. It’s just acting like you said, right? It’s not like he’s actually gonna knock me up in real life. So. Totally fine. It’s fine. Perfect.”

Seokjin’s concern grows. His eyebrows pinch together and his expression turns serious. He asks with no trace of mockery, “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay!” you reply. It’s too rushed of an answer to convince him. Your palms feel clammy and you wipe them off your damned apron. “Just. Nervous. Y’know.”

His steps slow to a halt and he places a warm, heavy hand on your shoulder. The weight, familiar and comforting, grounds you to reality. “Hey. What’s there to be nervous about? You got this.”

“Yeah.” You nod. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll trick yourself into believing it. “I’ve got this.”

“Look. Let me be honest for a second. I’ve been an agent for eight years now and I’ve seen a lot of talents come and go. No pun intended.” You smile back at him weakly. “You’ve got something...extra a lot of them lacked. I knew the moment I saw you on film you’d go far. The energy you bring onscreen is insane. I know today might seem new and strange - but so was your first ever professionally shot film, right? And you got through that fine. You’ll do great. I know it. And, not to toot my own horn, but I’m always right.”

That earns him a laugh. The nerves are still there but thanks to his pep talk it’s easier to breathe.

Despite being a big pain in the ass, Seokjin is exemplary at his job. Without him, you’re acutely aware you wouldn’t have gotten half as far as you have. Having him by your side is a reassurance in itself.

Someone calls your name, pulling you from your thoughts. When you turn around, you’re face to face with the round, bespectacled face of Director Ryu. You reckon he’s in his early forties but he acts younger than his age. It’s your first time working with him but so far he’s been nice enough, if a little full of himself. Not that you’re unaccustomed with working alongside conceited colleagues.

“Oh good, you’re back. You can get seated for the interview bit.” He points over to a chair placed in front of a pale yellow wall. From close up, you can see a paint job is in order, the old coat chipping off in several places. “Alright, this won’t last long - just need you to answer some questions on tape and we’ll be good to go.”

“Sure thing.” You nod and follow his directions, sitting still while the hair and make-up artist steps up to give your lips a final touch-up.

Strictly speaking, the before and after interviews aren’t a necessity. In your experience, directors mostly film the short question-and-answer sequence when you’re set to film hardcore sex scenes as a way to show viewers everything is consensual and that you thoroughly enjoyed the experience despite whatever might have transpired on screen.

You reckon the director wants to film you today to document the process behind his “groundbreaking film project”. Cue roll of eyes.

Somebody needs to tell him he isn’t inventing anything, you think while watching him fiddle with the camera until he’s completely satisfied with the angle. All he’s done so far is add unnecessary pressure on you. You hope Hoseok is faring better because the amount of performance anxiety you’re experiencing is an instant boner killer.

“You nervous?” the director asks once he’s done adjusting the camera lens.

While by some standards you’re still considered a newbie in the industry, you’ve done this enough times to fall into a routine. Wake-up, breakfast, get ready, arrive before call time, fill out all the paperwork and get ready to shoot your solo stills. It’s familiar enough that you’ve long stopped getting pre-performance jitters.

Today’s rush of anxiety is as surprising as it is unwelcome. They don’t want to hear that particular truth though, so you keep your reply sweet and bubbly.

“Nah,” you grin, wide and easy. “I’m super excited to film today!”

“Oh yeah? Is it perhaps because of your co-star?”

Your smile freezes for a second. Somewhere over the director’s shoulder you can see Seokjin nodding enthusiastically while giving you the double thumbs up. “Hoseok? He’s hot, sure.”

“Ooh. Already on a first name basis?”

“Hm?” you let out a noise of polite confusion, only belatedly realizing that his viewers know him better as his porn alias, J-Hope. But there’s no way in hell you’re going to yell that out loud while he’s fucking an orgasm out of you. Not only does it sound ridiculous but it’ll shatter whatever carefully crafted illusion you manage to build. “Um, yes. We’re getting to know each other. He’s very friendly.”

“I’m sure he is.” And there’s an implication there that doesn’t sit too well with you but thankfully Director Ryu chooses to move on and put that particular subject to rest.

“You ever shoot an insemination scene before?”

“Not yet.” You make sure to keep the smile on your face even if your cheeks are beginning to hurt. “I can’t wait to get to it. It’s a fantasy I’ve always had but never tried out for myself. I’m excited to film a first on camera!”

The director has yet to call you out for your bullshit so you slowly start to relax. Acting is a bit like lying, isn’t it? Maybe you can get through today after all.

You breeze through the rest of the questions, forcing out practiced laughs here and there all whilst keeping your voice syrupy sweet. It’s quick work, especially when you know what to expect. Before you know it, it’s already time to film the pièce de résistance. Everyone that’s allowed on set during filming filters into the kitchen, conversations between crew members dying down as they use their last recreational moments to check their phones.

The director’s filming style exempts you from shooting the customary pre-shoot sex stills which are essentially promotional pictures of you and and your partner in every sex position that you’ll be filming for real later on. You’re thankful for that, at least. Even with all of your on-camera experience, staying perfectly silent and still with someone’s dick inside you is no easy feat. It’s worse when you have to keep eye contact with your co-star and fake sexual gratification because the shot calls for it.

Hoseok waves at you from the other side of the room, the hair and makeup artist dusting some powder across the slope of his nose.

How can he look so relaxed?! You’re barely holding your lunch down. Honestly, it’s a miracle you’re able to now tat the butterflies are back in full force, making a mess of your stomach.

You feel queasy but try not to make it too obvious even as Seokjin comes around to check up on you. The last thing you want to do is make a scene, especially when your onscreen counterpart's demeanor is making you look amateurish in comparison.

Maybe Hoseok is a better actor than you’re able to give most porn stars credit for because try as you might, you fail to detect any nervous undercurrent in his tone. For someone who is supposedly starring in his first major project, he doesn’t seem all too bothered about how it might play out.

How does he do it?! In all honesty, if Seokjin hadn’t informed you of his rookie status, you would be none the wiser.

There’s an ease with which he carries himself, a fluidity in his movements that belies no anxiety or awkwardness. Even from this distance you can tell that there’s never a hint of hesitation in his movements or speech; he doesn’t seem self-conscious in the least. He talks and moves with the assurance of someone who has been in the industry for months, not weeks.

In that moment you envy him. You’re so nervous about the upcoming scene that it’s hard to feign an air of professional detachment.

His boisterous laugh is loud enough to carry across the room and interrupt your line of thought. When you look over at him again, you find him folded in half, hands clutching his sides, and wearing a grin so bright it eclipses the entirety of his face.

“He seems nice.”

You jump, startled by Jimin’s sudden appearance. You hadn’t even heard him draw near. With a sheepish expression, you turn to look up at him only to find him already staring off into the distance. There’s a strange look painting his face, and a small crease in his brow that usually isn’t present. When you follow his line of sight, you’re met with the image of Hoseok talking animatedly to the the small crowd that’s flocked around him.

“Yeah.” You aren’t sure what else to say. Although there’s no sarcasm attached to his words, you can’t help but find Jimin unnaturally tense.

Which makes sense, you concede guiltily. A mere stranger is minutes away from dicking down his girlfriend. You’re not sure how you’d feel if you were to stand in his shoes.

You breathe in deep, silently willing away the knot of distress in your belly. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing. It’s just a job. A profession that Jimin has always been fully aware of, even before you’d begun dating.

Even as you remind yourself of the facts, it does little to dispel the lingering feelings of doubt and guilt.

“Hey.” Jimin frowns at you in concern. “You alright?”

“Yep!” you say then immediately sigh, knowing that lying to your boyfriend is pointless. “I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Nervous?” Jimin’s worry grows, the crease in his brow deepening. “What about?”

“Just—” You gesture around with your hands. “All of this.”

“Oh.” He looks genuinely surprised. “But you don’t usually get nervous... Is it the impregnation thing you’ll have to do? I know you’ve said you’re not a big fan of that. Or... Is it something else?”

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. It’s a bit of everything yet at the same time nothing you can clearly pinpoint and put a finger on. In all logic, you know that you’re feeling disproportionately stressed out but you can’t stop yourself from feeling how you feel. “It’s not that I don’t want to film. I just - I’m worried I won’t do well.”

Jimin takes your hand between his, running a thumb in soothing circles across the surface of your skin. He repeats the motion several times until your heartbeat is completely synced to his touch.

“You’ll do great. You always do.” The lines of his mouth bend into a smile. “I’ll be on the sidelines cheering you on.”

“My very own cheerleader.” You allow yourself to relax and and smile back fondly.

As much as you worry about Jimin being upset with you filming sex scenes with other actors, he’s never been anything less than the supporting boyfriend you’ve always dreamed of. Seokjin calls Jimin’s constant presence on set maddening, but you’re thankful that your boyfriend sticks by your side while others might flee or shame you.

Suddenly, you’re overcome with emotion. Maybe it’s the stress, or maybe today you’re more hormonal than usual, but your eyes threaten to well up as you grip his palm tightly in your own. “Jimin, I—”

“Okay, lovebirds!” Seokjin claps his hands once, effectively ruining your moment. “Hand-holding time is over. We’re moving onto the more R-rated stuff.”

“Seokjin!” you hiss, upset over his horrible timing.

“It’s fine.” Jimin shakes his head. “He’s right, shoot’s about to start anytime soon. I need to get ready, too.”

“Right.”

Reluctantly, you let go of Jimin’s hand.

“Don’t pout.” He laughs and presses a quick, chaste kiss to your mouth. “I’ll wait for you after filming and we can go grab dinner. Italian sound fine?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” You bob your head eagerly. “I’m literally dying for carbs. Italian sounds more than perfect.”

“Good.”

You can’t resist sneaking in one last peck before Jimin retreats behind the cameras and you’re pulled to stand in front of a granite kitchen tabletop. Director Ryu is waiting for you, Hoseok already by his side.

From close-up, your co-star looks even more striking. The make-up artist’s work highlights his features without going overboard. The lines of his face are sharp, like every single one has been meticulously drawn. What usually would give someone a hostile and unapproachable impression is balanced out by the liveliness that lights up his eyes and his wide smile that looks almost too big for his face.

“It’ll start in the kitchen and then we’ll work out way to the bedroom.” Director Ryu points down the hallway. “I was thinking of keeping it all in the bedroom but nothing screams domesticity more than kitchen scenes, right?”

“Uh-huh.” You give a polite nod. Next to you, Hoseok coughs into his fist.

“Depending on how this goes we might have to take several takes - just keep that in mind.”

That’s nothing out of the ordinary. Sex scenes are never filmed in one take. There’s always one thing or another - a smoke break, a flaccid dick, a lighting fixture that needs to be changed. A 45 minute porn movie is the result of the editing team that painstakingly goes through, cuts and assembles hours of footage.

“Remember,” Director Ryu instructs, one hand cocked on his hips. “You’re still stuck in that honeymoon phase. All the two of you want to do is fuck like horny bunnies but your husband’s been away all day. Both of you have been waiting for this reunion for hours and hours. I want to feel that level of tension, got it?”

Hoseok nods like a dutiful student, his expression comically serious. You’d laugh if it wasn’t so inappropriate.

“Yep. Ok. Got it.”

You just want the director to stop talking so that you can get this over with quickly. The monologue is just delaying the inevitable.

Director Ryu spends extra minutes setting up the scene, emphasizing how in love and passionate the two of you should behave, describing how long you’ve been wanting to try for a baby, going into explicit detail about what the sex scenes should convey to the viewers. He just goes on and on and on with no end it sight.

At this point even Hoseok is growing restless. His feet refuse to stay still and his eyes dart around the room as if his attention is drawn elsewhere. It’s Hoseok’s constant fidgeting that draws Director Ryu out of his monologue. He finally senses that there’s a unanimous decision to start filming and retires behind the camera to settle himself in his appointed chair.

Hoseok shares a long look with you. “Is he always like that?”

“God, I hope not.” You lower your voice to whisper, “Seokjin - my agent - he says apparently Director Ryu wanted to make a career off of documentaries once he graduated from film school but quickly switched genres once he saw how little filming the mating habits of koalas was earning him.”

“Ah,” Hoseok nods conspiratorially before his features shift into something more serious. “Hey. Before we start, is there anything you’re not comfortable with? I know this scene is supposed to lean towards vanilla but you never know... I’d rather make sure. Just in case.”

You blink, taken aback. Hard limits aren’t really discussed outside of hardcore scenes. Sure, everyone is given a safeword before shoots begin but even screaming out “STOP!” or “Can we take a break from filming?” is enough to put the filmed scene on hold.

“Ah... No. I’m okay. But thanks for asking.” A moment passes and you add, “Is there - are there any words or kinks that bother you?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “Not for this one. Just - if there’s anything you’d rather me not say or do, don’t hesitate.”

You nod in reply, not sure of what else to say. Unfortunately your past experiences with men have made you suspicious of any form of flattery or kindness.

Soon, though, you relax. What reason is there for Hoseok to deceive you? Maybe he still has that rookie mindset. You can relate to the eagerness and the desire to do well you’d had in your early days of filming.

“Alright. Good luck, Hoseok.”

His smile is so bright that it erases your previous doubts. Surely someone with ill-intentions wouldn’t be able to smile like that, right? You return a tentative smile of your own. Something akin to understanding seems to pass between you. Although you don’t know Hoseok and he doesn’t know you, you trust him enough for this scene.

The moment is broken when Director Ryu directs Hoseok to wait outside the camera’s line of vision and you’re left alone in front of the kitchen stove.

Any moment now, you think. A telltale silence falls over the staff members as they all anticipate the director’s signal for the scene to start.

The first few seconds are always tricky. You’re no actress. There’s no switch inside of you that flips on and off as soon as the director commands “ACTION!” and “CUT!”. The world around you doesn’t fade out, your ‘porn star persona’ doesn’t claw its way out from within you and lunge for the nearest available dick. Sometimes, if you’re not attracted to your onscreen partner, you find your mind drifting off, making an inventory of your fridge and wondering what you’ll be able to cook up for dinner with two eggs and leftover rice.

When Director Ryu shouts “ACTION!” and slams down the plate, you freeze up. Usually you have an idea of what to say or do, but the words and actions won’t come to you this time.

Someone behind the cameras lets out a light cough. Oh right, you blink down at the simmering pot of water in front of you. The cameras are recording you making an utter fool out of yourself.

The spike of humiliation forces you into action. You’re more professional than this, damn it. You give the water a tentative stir, movements wooden and stiff. It’s hard to concentrate. All you can do is watch as the water simmers to a boil, the sound of bubbling water like a roaring current in your ears.

A door creaks open, signalling your onscreen husband’s return home.

To your horror, you find that you’re unable to move, as if your limbs had forgotten their primary function.

Before the scene had started, you had envisioned yourself throwing yourself into the arms of your loving husband and welcoming him home with a shower of kisses and words of affection. You had internally rehearsed it, had even thought of what you could say to him between pecks, but the reality is far removed from what you had practiced.

“Darling?” Hoseok’s voice is soft but loud enough for you to hear him over the angry sounds of boiling water. The vowels he uses are rounded, different from the bright pep in his tone from earlier.

You want to respond but your tongue feels like lead, too heavy in your mouth to articulate and form the proper reply. What are you supposed to call him, anyway? Honey? Hoseok? A nickname derived from his name? What do newlywed spouses call each other? Why couldn’t you give this more thought before the cameras began rolling?

Panic balloons inside you, threatening to burst. For a terrifying and mortifying second, you think that you’ve gone and ruined everything. The muscles in your shoulders bunch up and you half-expect the director to shout ‘CUT!’, give you a public scolding for missing your cue and berate you for your overall ineptitude.

Hoseok’s arms wrap around your middle before you have time to agonize any further. Just as you suspected, his arms are strong, the lean muscles flexing as he readjusts his hold around your waist. What you don’t expect, however, is the unadulterated warmth he radiates. His body burns hot; even through the layers of clothing separating the two of you, his warmth seeps through. But it’s strangely comfortable, not unlike basking in the afternoon sun during the last days of summer. You let yourself melt into his embrace.

“You’re not even going to say hi?”

With your back turned to him, you can’t be sure, but you imagine the pout playing at his lips. He tucks his chin in the crook of your shoulder. If he feels any awkwardness, he doesn’t let it show.

Miraculously, your mouth seems to be in working order again. It takes you a few seconds too long to find the appropriate answer, but it finally comes before the director can cut in to make any remarks.

“If I turn around right now, I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you,” you explain. “And - I don’t want to ruin our dinner.”

Just to keep up the pretense, you add a handful of spaghetti into the pot of water.

Hoseok lets out a hum from behind you. He’s standing close enough for you to feel the vibrations low in his throat.

“I hate it,” he says after a stretch of silence.

You pout. “What? My cooking? What’s wrong with it?”

“No, silly. I hate -” he sighs, buries his face in your neck before looking back up so the camera can capture his expression. “I hate not being with you. I missed this.”

He hugs you from behind before kissing your neck. It starts off innocuous - his lips pressing short, chaste kisses down the column of your throat. Quickly, however, his mouth lingers on your skin.

“Ah - don’t. I’m cooking!” you shriek when his teeth scrape over a sensitive spot under your jaw. Your protests are half-hearted and go by unacknowledged. The pot of pasta could overflow right now and no one would care, least of all you.

Hoseok noses your neck while he tightening his grip around your waist, the movement bringing his hips flush against your lower back. You give the pot in front of you a very unenthusiastic stir, attention focused instead on the way his lips tenderly skim the surface of your skin, testing and teasing. The sensation feels nice - and keeps your mind off of the several cameras directed your way.

“But I went all day missing my princess,” he sighs, open mouthed against your neck. “Spent all day thinking about you.”

“Y-you did?”

“Mhm.” He gives your exposed shoulder a peck. Then another. “Thought about your cute little laugh.”

His line catches you off guard. Your mouth opens but no sound comes out.

Porn is often crude and to the point. You’re used to men complimenting your body parts or praising your skills in bed. You’d never minded, either. But Hoseok’s choice of words make you eager in a different way.

“What else?”

“Well, your cooking, for sure. Without you I’d be eating out of ramyeon packets for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

You let out a snort.

“That’s true. Your cooking is so horrible it’s offensive.”

“Hey now. Don’t be mean.” He pokes your cheek before pinching your chin to turn your head towards him. “I can cook a decent omelet.”

Hoseok’s a good few inches taller than you so you have to strain your neck to be able to look him in the eyes. The slight discomfort barely registers. You’re too transfixed by the way he stares at you. It’s hard to place the expression because you’ve never seen it on a fellow actor before. Normally, the men you work with stare you down with hungry and lustful intent, but there’s none of that in Hoseok’s gaze.

The expression on his face cannot be described as innocent, either. He licks his lips, drawing your attention to the pretty lines of his mouth delicately curved into a smile.

“I missed the way you feel in my arms.” His voice sounds deeper, this time. “I missed holding you close to me. Kissing you. Reminding you how much I love you. I missed the look in your eyes when - “

“When?”

He smirks. “You sure you want to hear it? What if you can’t keep your hands off of me after? I don’t want to be held responsible for soggy pasta.”

“Hoseok,” you whine, one of your hands reaching down to slap at the hold around your stomach.

He tightens his hold around you and your breath hitches, suddenly all too aware of how firm his body feels behind you. The smirk on his face widens as he leans forward to confess his next words.

“I was thinking about how I miss the look on your face whenever I make your pussy sloppy with my cum.”

“Hoseok!”

One moment he’s crooning sweet words of affection, the next he’s spitting out filth. The quick back-and-forth gives you whiplash but you can’t say you dislike it. Unlike the tired and overused clichéd porn scenarios you’ve filmed in the past, Hoseok’s unpredictable behavior has the advantage of keeping you on your toes.

“You missed it too, hm?” He kisses your neck, lips soft and warm. “Kept thinking about how pretty you sound. So, so pretty. Especially when I give you what you want.”

“How would you know what I want?” You turn your head forwards so you can pretend to check up on the cooking pasta. “You were away all day.”

Hoseok’s eyes flash dangerously.

“How would I know?” he parrots back, his tone sweet and mocking. Something about it sends tingles down your spine and has you standing up straighter. “I always know what my pretty wife wants. I know because your body can’t lie to me.”

His hands wander, one of them inching up the material of your frilly apron to reach between your breasts. The movement is slow enough for a camera to zoom in and follow its trail. Hoseok rests his hand on your left breast and gives it a squeeze.

“See?” He repeats the action. “Your heart’s racing like crazy.”

You swallow audibly, finding it hard to come up with a witty riposte.

He continues with a chuckle, “You can’t deny it, can you? Your body’s too honest for your own good. It’s okay. You don’t have to say you missed me. I know.”

His self-assured way of talking makes it easier for you to react. This - the cockiness, the playfulness - you’re familiar with.

You roll your eyes and continue to give the pot in front of you a few additional stirs only for your breath to hitch when he starts to grind his hips against your lower back in time with your stirs.

Fuck is your only coherent thought. He rolls his hips so well it’s impossible not to imagine them doing something else. Your bottom lip grows numb from how hard you bite it.

“Of course I missed you.” You keep your tone as light as possible, determined not to show that his words and actions affect you.

Hoseok’s eyes narrow. He removes his hands from around you but keeps his front pressed against your back. He smiles again, dimples poking through.

“You don’t sound convinced... That’s fine.” It sounds like the beginning of a challenge and you soon learn why.

His nimble fingers play with the knot of your apron and you tense, expecting him to make quick work of your clothes and dive straight into dessert, so to speak. Once again, he surprises you by leaving the apron alone, hands falling to his sides.

His knees hit the floor, the noise startling you. Before you have the chance to truly react, he’s quick to pull your hips backwards until your back is arched. The sudden change in position forces you to adjust your stance so as to keep your balance.

“Hoseok?” you start to question but he cuts you off with a tut and light smack to your ass.

“You just keep your eye on dinner like you were doing before.” His fingers play with the hem of your short dress, stretching the fabric until it bunches up around your hips and leaves your lacy thong on display. “You can do that, right?”

Flustered by the position he’s maneuvered you into, with your hips thrust back obscenely, legs splayed wide and pussy on show, you grip the wooden spoon in your hand with more force than necessary. “It’s just pasta. I can manage.”

Maybe you sound less indifferent than intended because Hoseok seems more amused than offended by your feinted nonchalance. He barks out a laugh, his hands spreading the meat of your cheeks aside to get a better view of your lace-covered bits.

Privately, you wish you could witness his reaction. If there’s anything that turns you on, it’s knowing how much someone else wants you. If feels good to know that you’re wanted and desired. Even if fucking is part of your job description, the act needs to be mutually enjoyable for you to be completely satisfied.

“Sure.” The lilt in his voice is so sweet that it borders on condescending. “While you do that, I think I’ll have my appetizer.”

It’s corny, overused and a little degrading - exactly the type of one-liner you’d ordinarily find in porn - but he gives you no time to call him out for it. As soon as he’s done talking, he wags his tongue out and drags it across the red lace, and the repeated up and down motions quickly dampen your panties.

You notice with great frustration that he takes care to avoid your clit, focusing instead on licking broad stripes over slit and, to your surprise, around your rim. He doesn’t stop until your underwear drips with the accumulation of your essence and his saliva. The soaked lace rubs against you, the rough texture adding pressure to your most sensitive zones, until you can’t tell if the extra sensation is a blessing or a curse. Your hips jerk forward every so often, unsure if you’d rather lean into or escape his torturous games. Because as amazing as Hoseok’s tongue feels, you know your body well enough to be able to tell that this particular tempo won’t bring you to your peak.

An appetizer, he had called it. That’s exactly what the teasing ministrations feel like - a small sampling before the main course. It’s satisfying and maddening in its own way. Good, but not enough to satisfy your ravenous appetite.

He unearths himself from your dripping core, chin shiny with your juices.

“Keep focus,” he instructs as he slots two fingers inside of you. You’re wet enough that they slide in without too much difficulty, the stretch making your stomach clench. “I thought you said you knew how to cook pasta.”

Against your will, you force yourself to focus on the bubbling water in front of you. As much as you want to push your hips back and ride his fingers until you’re pushed over the edge, you can’t take the humiliation of messing up pasta - even if it is for the sake of a porn scenario.

It’s fucking pasta! You have to be seriously inept to mess up such a simple dish...

But what should have been an effortless task becomes more challenging than expected. Hoseok refuses to go easy on you. If anything, your stubborn silence is all the motivation he needs to thrust his fingers inside of you harder, curving them at an angle that makes your knees wobble. You struggle to keep any incriminating noises at bay but despite your best efforts, several muffled moans slip out one after the other.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the logical side of you points out how dangerous all of this is. What if, during your impending orgasm, your body seizes up and knocks the boiling water everywhere during the process? You quickly switch off the gas stove at the thought. Better be safe than sorry.

Just then, Hoseok adds his tongue to the mix, his fingers relentless in their pursuit of your pleasure. You bite back a curse as the wooden spoon slips from your hold and clatters to the floor.

“Ah fu - Oh God,” you stutter, hands holding on to the edge of the counter for dear life.

You’ve been eaten out God knows how many times in your life, but not many have instinctively known what really gets you going. Hoseok laps at your core, tongue collecting the moisture that seeps through the fabric of your ruined panties, while his fingers scissor you open for his cock.

Your stomach clenches as you imagine how well he’d fill you up. Who the hell would ever want pasta for dinner when Hoseok could feed you his cock instead? Definitely not you, that’s for sure.

It’s easy to picture it. All he’d need to do is stand up, unzip his pants and spear you open with a practiced roll of his hips. Maybe he’d make you toss a salad while he fucks you from behind, slapping your ass whenever you forget to keep stirring the ingredients together. Or perhaps he’d let you ride his dick on the kitchen floor, too impatient to make it to a more comfortable surface.

Your imagination knows no bounds. Once you start, you can’t stop thinking of more lascivious scenarios, each one more daring and debauched than the last. The heat between your legs becomes unbearable and still, you ache for more.

Hoseok pulls away from the apex of your thighs and snorts, the sound pulling you out of your depraved thoughts. The pace of his thrusting slows down without stopping completely, his fingers still pressed deep within you. Your arms tremble as they try to keep you upright, knuckles white from the strength of your grip around the counter’s edge. You exhale shakily.

A whine works its way into your voice. “Why - why’d you stop?”

Ignoring your protests, he pops his fingers out of you and indulges in one last lick of your swollen pussy, before gathering to his feet. He rolls down your dress back over your bum and peers over your shoulder, acting as nothing had ever happened.

“Thought you said you’d take care of dinner, hm?” Hoseok has the gall to hum in disappointment.

Your mouth opens in outrage. “You!”

Hoseok pouts. “I thought we said you wouldn’t blame me for any soggy pasta.”

“You’re impossible,” you say without any real heat to your words.

“But you love me that way.”

He smiles as he leans in to kiss you, lips sticky and warm. You follow the pace he sets as best you can, unaccustomed to the way he takes his time - like you’re a delicacy that demands to be savored and not gulped down. On-screen kisses are usually rushed, messy, with too much tongue. They’re a scripted affair, more for show than out of real affection. When men tuck back your hair behind your ear or palm your cheek, it’s only to better angle your face for the camera.

There is something intimate about the way he holds you, the way he looks at you. Inwardly, you can't help but admire his acting skills. There’s something tender about the way he handles you that’s distinctly different from any of your previous onscreen partners. Sure, you’ve shot vanilla sex scenes before, but never of this variety. None of the male actors’ performances have made you wish, even fleetingly, foolishly, that the scene was real.

Hoseok pulls up for air before your mind can wander off completely, his panting mouth a hairsbreadth away. Lips touching but not quite.

Blearily, you blink your eyes open. You’re close enough that your noses brush against one another, your breaths mingling together. Hoseok’s eyes remain closed throughout, like he doesn’t want the moment to end. He looks so content that you can’t bring yourself to do anything else but melt further into his embrace, gaze drinking in the minute details of his face - like the tiny moles dotting his cheekbone and upper lip and the pretty curve of his eyes.

“And cut!”

You both jump away from each other, startled. For a second there, the storyline you’d been instructed to follow had slipped from your mind. You’re unsure if the lapse in judgement is good or bad but you don’t let the question linger in your thoughts. You’ll have plenty of time to dissect your performance at a later time.

“Good, good. That wasn’t what I was expecting but I don’t think anyone has any objections?” Director Ryu claps his hands. “Fifteen minute break sound good everyone? Then we’ll relocate to the bedroom to shoot the next part.”

There’s a general hum of agreement from the crew members. Chairs and various other equipment scrape the floor as the personnel prepare to migrate to the other room for filming. Jimin’s gaze meets yours briefly but all he can do is smile weakly in your direction before he’s ordered to help push some of the equipment down the hall.

Someone comes up to you with a bottle of water while another steps closer to blot the beads of sweat near your hairline and reapply a layer of lipstick. The make-up artist knits her brows in concentration until she’s satisfied with the touch-ups. She then moves on to Hoseok, make-up palette and brush at the ready, and grumbles loudly about the sticky residue covering his face. You hear Hoseok bellow a laugh, the sound so infectious that even the make-up artist joins in.

You sip your water through a straw, careful not to smudge your freshly applied lipstick, and check your phone for any missed messages.

“Was all of that okay?”

“Hm?” You look up and are surprised to see Hoseok stare at you expectantly. “I, uh, know some girls aren’t into ass play. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before jumping the gun but I figured - since you said there wasn’t anything major you were adverse to filming...”

His voice trails off.

“I liked it.” The admission is an easy one. “It did take me by surprise, but - I don’t have any complaints.”

“Ah, really?” Hoseok’s mouth corners upturn in relief. “That’s good to know. I was thinking - for the next scene - what if - I mean, are you okay with calling me Daddy?”

You tilt your head as you mull over the proposition.

“Daddy?”

“It’s not - you don’t have to. But listening to Director Ryu go on earlier made me think of something we could do. I think it fits well with the general idea. What do you think?”

“I’m fine with it.” Using the title doesn’t make you squeamish so you shrug in compliance. It’s not the first you’ve had to incorporate a daddy kink into the scene and it likely won’t be the last. You don’t see why you wouldn’t or shouldn’t do it with Hoseok. “I’ll follow your lead like I’ve been doing.”

It’s only as you’re following him towards the bedroom that you recall that you’ve yet to get to the crux of the scene - the damned impregnation kink. Even though you’re considerably less nervous than you’d been an hour or two ago, the thought of begging someone you barely know for something so intimate makes your stomach flip-flop. You don’t even have unprotected sex with Jimin and he’s your boyfriend.

Speaking of Jimin, you try to sneak in a peck or two before filming but Director Ryu intercepts you before you can make a beeline to where Jimin’s stationed behind a camera.

“How are you feeling?” The overhead light reflects off his round glasses and makes it impossible to hold eye contact unless you want to become semi-permanently blind.

“Good---”

“Wonderful. Well, we’ve positioned cameras here, here, and over there. There’ll be another camera man who’ll film with a handheld camera for closeups. Just keep that in mind. I know we’re giving you free-range to do what you feel is best and most natural but I’d hate to ask you to re-shoot because the camera couldn’t capture the both of you properly.”

You nod and he continues, “Also - please remember that you’re acting as a horny young married couple. I remember at that age I was up for anything, you get what I’m saying? People think just because you put a ring on your finger the sex automatically becomes stale. Fuck that. Show people married couples are freaks in the sheet.”

“Uh... Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He claps a hand over your shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

Freaks in the sheet? What did he expect you to do? Try out all the sex positions in the Kama Sutra?

“What did he want now?” Hoseok leans over to whisper once you’re seated comfortably on the bed. You’re hoping the mics don’t pick up the conversation but would rather not take the risk of being overheard bad-mouthing the director.

Shrugging, you say, “Just that this scene should be spicier.”

Hoseok raises his brow, lips quirking into a smirk. “That so?”

The same cockiness you’d caught a glimpse of during your escapade in the kitchen is back and the memory you associate it with makes the back of your neck prickle with heat. You clear your throat and avert your eyes.

Thankfully Director Ryu interrupts before Hoseok has the chance to fluster you further. You follow each of the director’s voiced directives until you’re comfortably seated on Hoseok’s lap, dress hitched around your waist because of how far your knees are spread on either side of Hoseok’s thighs. There’s a quick, last minute adjustment as Director Ryu ensures that the camera in the left corner picks up on everything it’s supposed to.

Satisfied, he lets you take the reins from there, then gives the cameras the signal to begin rolling.

You don’t waste a moment, taking his earlier commentary to heart. It’s your turn to pepper kisses all over Hoseok’s golden skin, leaving faint traces of rouge behind like an artist signing their own painting. You stop a few times to admire your work. Lip prints and lavender bite marks color his skin and the sight awakens a possessive streak you didn’t know you had.

Your enthusiasm to mark him up gets a little out of hand.

"Mhm." Hoseok grunts when you lick over a sensitive spot under his jaw. "Slow down, princess. There's no rush. We have all night."

He cups his chin between his hands so you have no choice but to relent and direct your gaze up at him. You’re pleased to see that he’s not completely indifferent to your touch; despite his instructions to take it slow, the smoldering look in his eyes tell a different story.

He runs the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, the pink flesh no doubt swollen. You take the digit in your mouth, unprompted, and run your tongue against its underside, wishing that his cock could fill your mouth instead.

Hoseok makes a noise low in his throat, not quite a growl but close.

"And I intend to take my time with you." The look he levels you with promises a night full of mind-numbing pleasure. Ribbons of heat curl around the base of your spine. "Want to make you feel good."

"You do," you agree, words muffled around the thumb you refuse to let go of.

You take a hold of his wrist and free your mouth, only to quickly replace it with his forefinger and middle finger. The stretch of two digits makes you moan lewdly.

Hoseok’s eyes darken. He lets you play for a few more seconds before he takes back control, his fingers pushing deeper into your mouth until they hit the back of your throat. You swallow down a gag, but his fingers don’t let you rest for long. He drags them over the flat of your tongue, watching as spit dribbles down past the sides of your mouth, and repeats the motion, pumping into your mouth steadily like he would a cock.

As nice as it feels to be filled with his fingers, whether in your cunt or mouth, you’re ready for more. Subconsciously, your hips grind down in his lap, shifting this way and that until you’re perfectly seated over his hardened length.

Drool is pushed out of your mouth as Hoseok squeezes a third fingers in with the other two. You suck harder, hoping that all your efforts will spur Hoseok into finally fucking you. The knowledge that he has to, at one point or another, keeps you from whining and begging pathetically for his cock. You can exercise patience if you put your mind to it; you’re sure of it.

Your on-screen husband decides to test that resolve.

His other hand starts to wander south, his fingers toying with the short hem of your dress that’s been rucked up even higher with all your rocking and grinding. The movement of your hips slow, your brain unable to keep up with the stimuli coming in all directions.

A crack resounds in the room, the sharp sound startling you more than the sting that accompanies it. Hoseok’s palm rubs over the heated area, only inflaming it further.

“And who told you you could stop?”

The second slap is notably harsher than the first, and your hips automatically lurch forward hoping perhaps to lessen the impact of the sting.

You know he doesn’t expect a verbal answer; his second hand keeps your mouth plugged up, making any attempt at talking unintelligible. It doesn’t stop you from trying, only because you know the muffled protest are greatly appreciated amongst viewers. And if the way Hoseok’s digs his fingers into your smarting ass cheek is any indicator, you’re confident that he also enjoys your squirming and messy display.

“Keep moving, princess. I need both your holes nice and wet.”

The way his voice dips an octave makes your stomach twist in arousal. You long to tell him that you’re sufficiently wet enough for him to slide his cock inside right away but all you manage are pitiful garbled words.

He raises an eyebrow at your delayed response and your hips move before he can smack the globes of your ass for a third time. You have an inkling he’ll only hit harder with the intention of leaving marks of his own all over your skin.

It’s a careful balancing act, but you figure it out as you go. Bounce too fast and the fingers in your mouth will make you gag. Move too slowly for his liking and he won’t hesitate to add to the collection of handprints on your ass.

You lose track of how long he makes you play this game. Your mind focuses on sucking while keeping your jaw slack enough to accomadate the width of three digits. Drool pools down your chin, and you’re certain whatever the make-up artist had done to your lips is now ruined. Worse off are your panties. At the stage they’re at now, you’ll have no choice but to throw them out. Hoseok’s pants might need be as unsalveagable as your thong, you think inwardly, judging by the large, dark wet spot you’re currently sitting on.

“Mmh, good girl.”

He gently slides his fingers out, strings of saliva attached. He hums in satisfaction at the lewd sight and rubs his fingers across your swollen lips and shiny chin, spreading the fluids and what’s left of your lipstick over your mouth. You swallow, mouth sore from being used roughly for so long.

“This hole is sufficiently wet, I think,” he appraises, eyelashes fluttering before he casts a long look down your body until it reaches where you’re seated on his clothed erection. “Let’s check this one too.”

The way he smirks at you but makes no move to check himself lets you know that he expects you to do the work.

You let your hands trail down your body slowly, cupping your breasts as you do, enjoying his hooded gaze and the way his cock twitches beneath you a bit too much. When you reach the hem of your dress, you lift your hips up to pull the fabric up to your navel giving an unobstructed view of your lace-covered pussy.

Hoseok stare intensifies but you don’t feel any embarrassment from the scrutiny. “Well you certainly look ripe.”

His fingers toy with the delicate string of lace around your hips. He lets the material snap against your skin a few times before he grows bored or impatient with his own game and gives the lace a harsh yank. It tears easily and the leftover scraps fall into his lap.

“... But just to be sure -” His hands grip your waist and manhandle you onto your hands and knees. Your head spins from how suddenly he’s moved you around to his liking that your arms give out and you fall face first into the clean smelling bed sheets. “Gotta give my favorite hole of yours a better look.”

His hands hoist your hips at a higher angle so that your soaked center is visible for the cameras to pan onto. Hoseok slides in two fingers easily, then a third. Loud, obscene noises echo in the otherwise quiet room, noises that are quickly joined by your unabashed moans of pleasure.

Your core is on fire. Hoseok’s fingers are just as good as you remember them to be. No, better. The three fingers pump into you in measured strokes, the drag slow enough to keep you dangling over the edge without pushing you over.

Hoseok spanks your ass, hissing between his teeth as you clench around his fingers, no doubt imagining your inner walls hugging his cock instead.

“Christ. You’re always such a soft, wet little thing down here,” he croons in dulcet tones. “I could play with you all day.”

You thrust your hips back, shameless.

“Please! Please Daddy, I’ll be so good, I just - please - I nuh, need it. Need your cock fucking me full. I’ll take it so good, you know I will. Want you to - please! Daddy, I need your cum.”

“Shit.”

He fumbles in his haste to flip you onto your back. He crawls over your body, and you watch fascinated as he dives down to kiss you like a man starved. He looks almost feral, pupils so dilated the brown of his eyes is almost gone.

Heat blooms in your stomach as he kisses you deeply. The press of his lips against yours renders you a little less coherent as time ticks on, every brush of his tongue making you a little more dizzy with want.

Everything about him burns. It feels like being kissed by the sun itself. Every caress, every lick and nip leaves you feverish all over, like your drunk off his touch.

"Let me," he says, pinching the zipper of your dress between his thumb and index finger.

You wrap your hand around his and guide his movements. His gaze never leaves yours and it makes shivers run down your back. Even though you're the one controlling his movements for the time being, the look in his eyes makes it abundantly clear that the control you wield is only temporary.

When your dress finally falls open, you try not to preen too much under the reverent look that falls over Hoseok’s face. Your back arches a little off the bed, pert breasts thrust towards him - an appealing offer he doesn’t dare refuse.

Hoseok circles a thumb around your nipple, rubbing and flicking until it hardens into a stiff peak.

You wonder, distantly, how this looks like from the outside looking in. The man in front of you is a stranger in all senses of the word. Yet the way he touches you - like there are years of built-up affection behind every gesture - makes you second guess everything you know.

"Fuckin' love your tits.” He sighs, awe reflected in the dark of his eyes. "Love playing with them. Love how wet it gets you, how hungry your little pussy gets."

"Please,” you mewl, his words igniting a new wave of heat. It rolls over your body, leaving no extremity untouched. You burn from the inside out with raw desire.

You squeeze your own breasts in a bid to get him to touch you more. Hoseok merely chuckles, finding your desperation entertaining. One of his hands reach down between you to play with the wetness that clings to your core like a second skin and it takes everything inside of you not to rub yourself against him like a bitch in heat.

"What is it, princess?" His lips quirk into a smirk like he already knows the answer. "You're looking quite needy. How did you manage to hold it in all this time?"

“Stop teasing,” you growl, the lack of friction making you irritable. "I need your cock. And why - why do you have so many fucking clothes on?”

He chuckles, chest vibrating in amusement.

“Take them off,” you insist. Then, you grudgingly tack on a “Please” for good measure.

As hot as Hoseok looks like in his “work clothes”, he looks infinitely better naked, you decide as he chucks off his button-down shirt and gets started on his leather belt. With each new piece of clothing that gets discarded, the anticipation building inside of you skyrockets.

You take a moment to soak in his lithe figure, not bothering to hide how affected you are by the view. He’s nicely sculpted; you can tell right away that he takes care of himself. Swimming or dancing maybe? You hesitate between the two. His muscles are lean, nothing like the bulging biceps and thick forearms typical of the stereotypical gym rat.

Hoseok’s dick is, unsurprisingly, as pretty as the rest of him. It’s long and curved, a prominent vein running along its underside. The thatch of pubic hair that rests above his dick is neatly trimmed, the dark hair contrasting with the tan skin of his abdomen and the rosy hue of his erect length. Your eyes swoop down his thighs, licking your lips unwittingly at the alluring sight presented to you.

“Daddy,” you say, the whine in your voice unmistakable. “Want your cock.”

For a brief moment you’re tricked into believing he’s given in to your demand, but find yourself disappointed when he contents himself with rubbing his hardened member between your thighs, the glide slippery thanks to the copious amount of your essence that’s pooled there.

“Like this?” Hoseok asks, tone too sweet to be anything but mocking. The head of his cock bumps into your swollen bundle of nerves one, two, three times. You keen, your hips canting upwards in a bid to get more friction. “Want to rut against me until you get nice and creamy?”

He uses his right hand to spread your slick lower lips so that he can nestle his cock snuggly between them. He rolls his hips, the undulations fluid and dirty, and smirks at how you moan brokenly beneath him.

Your stomach clenches. “Need it in me."

"You'll get it," he promises after kissing you sloppily, lips sucking on your tongue. His breath is ragged but his voice steady, firm. "I'll give you everything you need. Make you cum so many times you know who owns this sweet pussy."

He speaks so surely, carries himself with so much confidence, that in the moment you can't help but believe him. The line between staged and reality blurs and you find yourself nodding eagerly, begging him as best you can to give you what you want.

The first tentative push of his dick wipes you clean of coherency. He slowly eases himself into you, reaching forward to lace his fingers with yours. It’s - more intimate than you expected. He squeezes your hand tightly in his when he finally manages to bury his entire length inside of you.

“Perfect.” He kisses the side of your temple before drawing back, his hard cock dragging deliciously against you. With a fluid hip thrust, he slides back in and you feel the stretch moreso this time around. The curvature of his cock has him pressing up against your walls in a way that robs you of breath.

"Daddy! Hh - ah, oh God. You're too b-big."

"Mhm, that's right. Daddy's fat cock is splitting you open. I'll plug you up with it later so none of my cum will leak out."

Every time he pulls back, your pussy clamps down tightly around him, unwilling to be empty even for a second.

Hoseok’s nostrils flare in arousal. He grabs your left tit and squeezes, using it as a hold to better fuck into you. With his body hovering above yours, his hand staking claim of your breast, and his cock drilling into you, you have nowhere to go. Pinned to the bed and unable to do anything but take everything he delivers, you wrap your legs around his waist and moan.

"Daddy's gonna fuck some babies into you,” he rasps, his eyes dark pools of lust. "Gonna breed your sweet pussy over and over. You'll be so full of my cum that you'll be pregnant with my babies for sure."

“Oh fuck. Yes, yes - oh my nhhg.” You sob as Hoseok drives his cock into you with more force. While the piston of his hips isn’t rushed, he pulls out to the tip only to slam back in to the hilt every time. The stretch burns in a good way and the sound of your moans are rivaled only by the wet, obscene sounds from your coupling.

"Fuck. Your cunt just - shit." He cracks down a hand against your ass and you shriek, not expecting it. "You're so tight, holy shit."

"Want it. Want you to fuck me good."

"I will," he says lowly, the promise reverberating deep in his chest. "I'll fuck you until you're begging me to stop. Fill you up so much, you'll be bloated with it."

And it should freak you out, the imagery he paints with his words, but the thought of laying there and him fucking you so well that you won't be able to feel your legs has you gushing out more wetness.

"Mmmh.” Maybe he can feel how soaked you are because he comments, “This is my favorite hole of yours, princess. Always so fuckin' drenched. I bet we’ll have to throw out the sheets again." He chuckles. "You must be hungry for it, right? I made you wait so long. No wonder your pussy is clenching like that. It needs a big, fat cock to milk dry."

“I missed it,” you cry, body skidding a little higher up the duvet each time he fucks into you. Your eyelashes flutter, lids heavy. It’s hard to concentrate, let alone form words, when your brain feels like complete mush. “I - I need your cum. Daddy, please.”

"Don't worry, gorgeous. I've got you. Daddy will feed your cute pussy his cock."

"Th-thank you, Daddy."

"Love you," he murmurs. It’s a quiet confession, lost somewhere in between the mattress creaks, the loud slaps of Hoseok’s hips slamming against yours, and the string of whimpers and groans pulled from your throat. It’s quiet but you hear it.

One of your hands reach up to pull him down by the neck so that your lips meet. He kisses you open-mouthed. It’s a filthy kiss, one that makes you moan into his mouth. You’re certain that if you had been standing your knees would have wobbled.

When you let up for air, Hoseok’s staring you down, his red-bitten lips plump and shiny.

"Love this pussy. So sweet and wet for me. Always for fucking swollen, like it's waiting to get a pounding. Love that. Love how eager you are to be bred by my thick cock."

The impregnation kink is - a bit much. You've never really imagined having kids, at least not anytime soon. You can’t even keep your plants alive for fuck’s sake.

But the way he suggests it is nothing like what you had imagined. His suggestions are - vulgar and primal. Like the urge to fuck you full of his cum is biological and he can’t smother it.

For a moment, you let yourself entertain the thought of being his breeding bitch - of laying on your back and letting him fuck load after load of cum inside you until your pussy physically can't accommodate any more. Of not having any other worries or thoughts but take his cock every moment of the day.

"You just got tighter.” He curses under his breath, voice thick with arousal. "Such a warm little hole. Taking everything I give it. You'd take anything if it meant getting bred by me, right?"

“Yes, yes,” you chant, pleasure coiling inside of you. “Give me more! I need it."

"Shit. You can't handle more, princess," he tries to reason. "Daddy needs to be gentle with you. Your hole is so small, it'll hurt if I go harder."

"Daddy promised to fuck me.” You whine, uncaring if you sound too bratty and demanding. "B- Breed my hole. It's yours. Puh-please use me."

"God." Hoseok groans, his features twisting in what looks to be pain or pleasure. With tremendous effort he pulls himself out of you and your eyes widen in panic.

“What? Daddy why? I thought—”

He shushes you, reaching somewhere overhead to grab a fluffy pillow. "Just wait a sec, okay? There you go.”

The pillow is placed underneath your hips, keeping them elevated. When Hoseok takes his glistening cock in hand and directs it back in, you both moan in unison.

"Oh fuck, I’m gonna, ah,” you gasp as your mind goes blank with pleasure. The new angle is heaven on earth. It’s almost too much, too quick, but Hoseok’s firm grip on your hips prevents you from alleviating the pressure.

"Take it." He grunts, brows knit together. Every powerful snap of his hips makes your breasts bounce, your breath hitch. Without his hands keeping you pinned down, your head would have collided with the headboard by now. "Be a good princess and take your fucking."

He gains momentum, the new angle facilitating the slide of his cock. He drags the flat of his palm down your thigh and takes a hold of your knee before hoisting it up over your shoulder. The stretch burns the back of your calves but you’re so fucked out, you can’t even find the words to complain.

When you glance up, it’s to fall upon the sight of Hoseok brushing his sweaty fringe out of his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, his skin dewy from the film of perspiration wrapped around his body. Beads of sweat trickle down his heaving chest but he chooses to forgo a quick break. On the contrary, he pushes in deeper like he’s determined to carve out a permanent space for his cock.

"Just gonna keep you here,” he huffs, his eyes the shade of cloudless night sky. “Everyday I'll fuck my cum back inside of you so that you'll always stay full. Want to fuck you forever. Don't want this to end."

"Want it too," you sob, orgasm hovering just on the periphery. "Want you to keep me full forever. Ugh - oh fuck! Hoseok- I'm—"

"You gonna cum around my cock, princess?" He angles his hips downwards, relishing in the wanton cry it elicits. "Gonna give me everything?"

"I'm yours," you profess, jaw slack with pleasure.

It doesn’t take much more for the orgasm to crash over you, Hoseok fucks you through it, groaning as your inner walls spasm around him. He breathes out curses, lip drawn tight between his lips, and doesn’t wait for the last waves of your orgasm to abate to chase after his own end.

In the throes of your pleasure, it doesn’t register then that Hoseok has been holding back all this time. If you thought he had been fucking you hard before, it’s nothing compared to now. He growls and bends forward, forcing your leg to stretch even more, and pushes in and out of you at a pace that makes you scream.

You don’t even have time to come down from your first high that you’re already thrown towards your second. Hoseok plugs your mouth up using two digits, his fingers a firm pressure against your tongue. Your eyes roll back, too overwhelmed from the feeling of being stuffed on both ends.

“God, I could fuck your holes all fucking day.” His rhythm begins to falter as the pressure inside of him grows, his movements frantic and less controlled than they’ve ever been. “How about that? I’ll fuck my princess’ mouth properly next time, stretch it out nicely. Then you’ll let me have your ass, hm?”

Shit, shit, you whimper around his fingers, spit bubbling down the sides on your mouth. It’s scary knowing you have no way to stop the oncoming destruction.

“Yeah, I can tell you love that. You’re gonna cream my dick again, aren’t you?” You can’t tell if the sound he makes is a laugh or a grunt. All you know is that you feel like you’re about to burst. “C’mon, be a good girl and milk my cum out. You better get every last drop.”

There’s an underlying threat in his command. You do your best to obey his words, not wanting to disappoint.

Hoseok pushes his cock in as deep as it can go and grinds his hips into yours. His cock reaches so deep that you swear he might hit your cervix. And considering the nature of the scene you’re portraying, maybe that’s what he intends.

He swipes his fingers through the mess of your cunt, zeroing in on your sensitive clit. He swirls some of your fluids over it before giving it a sharp pinch that makes you cry out. Your hips fly off the pillow but Hoseok is quick to pin you back down. The never-ending drag of his cock along your walls paired with the rough ministrations to your clit is all you need for the pressure inside you to snap.

Above you, Hoseok moans, low and throaty, as he finally dumps rope after rope of warm cum inside of you. He throws his head back, exposing the collar of purplish bruises you sucked onto his skin earlier. Something about the view satisfies you immensely - not that you’d dare voice these thoughts out loud.

Hoseok’s strength gives out and he sags onto your body, his breath warm against your skin. He feels hot, like a furnace, but strangely it’s not uncomfortable. It’s almost like having a personal heating pad; the soreness of your muscles melts away with each passing moment.

Much to your displeasure, your post-coital bliss doesn’t last forever. He's given the signal to pull out and obeys, careful to keep your hips propped up so that his load of cum won’t slosh out. He’s still got a role to play, after all, and the end goal is to get you pregnant.

A cameraman walks forward to zoom in on your swollen and used pussy - physical proof of your exploits. The haze lifts. You become more aware of the people standing on the outskirts of your vision, lighting or sound equipment in hand.

“And that’s a wrap!” Director Ryu calls, his cheeks stretched to accommodate the width of his grin. “Good job everybody!”

You breathe out a sigh, glad your day is finally over. Seokjin walks up to you with a robe for you to throw on and you nod in thanks, slipping the satin gown over your sweaty body.

Around you, the staff start milling about, putting the equipment away and gathering their belongings. You pay them no heed, your attention focused on getting changing into showering and changing into comfortable clothes. You’re in the middle of taming your messy hair when your stomach erupts into growls, reminding you of your hungry state. What you’d do for a big slice of piz—

You remember your date with Jimin and speed up, not wanting to make him wait around for you any longer. It’s not hard to spot him - he’s waiting outside of your dressing room, can of coke in hand.

Something about his smile feels off.

Maybe it’s the way his eye corners don’t crease or the slight strain the curve of his mouth that betray him.

Your expression falls. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing - it’s nothing, don’t worry,” he says after a short, tense moment of silence. The look on your face must have reflected your feelings of doubt because he proceeds by reaching out and pulling you tight against him. Pressed up against his shirt, you can smell the faintest trace of the fabric softener he uses and its scent, familiar and sweet, mollifies you somewhat. “You did amazing today, baby. As usual.”

The compliment you’ve been waiting for makes the sides of your lips rise automatically. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Almost too well.” He hums, one of his hands stroking the back of your head.

“Well, I can’t take all the credit, “ you admit. “The results wouldn’t have been half as good if Hoseok hadn’t been my partner. He’s new in the game but he doesn’t act like it, does he?”

“He doesn’t, no.” Jimin agrees. “He’s... he’s something, alright.”

Your grin widens. All your worrying had been for nothing, in the end. The shoot had gone without a hitch, all of the set members coming up to you with praises of a job well done. You can’t recall the last time any of your performances had elicited such a response post-filming. Even Director Ryu looks particularly pleased, a permanent grin etched onto his features as he reviews the tapes. The knowledge that you’ve done well fills you with a pleasant giddiness that warms your insides and makes your cheeks hurt from how wide your smile stretches.

“Oh good, you’re still here.” Hoseok beams. A damp towel hangs around his neck and the ends of his hair are wet like he’s just gone and doused his head under the bathroom faucet. “I was worried you had left. I just - thanks for earlier. I had a lot of fun! If the chance presents itself, I hope we can work together again.”

“Thank you.” You want to praise him too, know that his performance deserves it, but your next words are cut off before they have the chance to form. Jimin steps closer to you, his grip on your hip tightening suddenly.

When you glance up to check on your boyfriend, he’s sporting a serious expression that you’ve rarely seen before. He doesn’t look angry, but it’s clear as day that he isn’t too pleased with the present situation. His face is closed off, cold, unwelcoming - so drastically different from the usual cherubic sweetness you’re accustomed to seeing.

You’re at a loss for words, unsure of who to address first. What’s going on?

Hoseok senses the sudden change in atmosphere and chooses to tactfully retreat.

“Good work, man.” He nods at Jimin and then shoots you a wave. “See you around sometime, ______ !”

Your eyes follow his exit before you turn to face Jimin again, hoping the smile on your face masks the worry you feel bubbling on the inside.

“Jimin what - I mean, are you sure you're okay?”

Jimin returns a strained smile of his own. “I’m fine.”

Your gaze lands on his right hand that’s still squeezing your waist. It borders on uncomfortable but you try not to let it show. You must not do a very good job at schooling your features because Jimin quickly apologizes for his behavior.

“Sorry.” Jimin lets you go once he notices your discomfort. “I just - I don’t know. You’re right, I’m not acting like myself. I think...seeing you say that stuff and act that way just - I’m not sure why, I guess - Since usually the sex isn’t like that, it caught me off guard.”

“You didn’t like that I acted like I was in love with him.”

“Would anyone?” he shoots back, smile sardonic. “It just looked so convincing in the moment. I guess it got me worked up.”

Sure, Hoseok is hot. If you had to work with him again, you would in a heartbeat. It’s not often you land a colleague you’re so sexually compatible with, who also happens to be so well-mannered and good-looking. It’s like hitting the jackpot, really.

But - just because you’d fuck him again for professional reasons, doesn’t mean that you’re interested in him beyond that.

“Jimin. I don’t want to be with anybody else but you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” The muscles in his face relax. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

It’s not until later, as he fucks you uncharacteristically hard in the backseat of his car parked in the back lot of the film studio, that you begin to wonder if things really are as idyllic as you believe them to be.

#wow so this took a decade and a half to finish but it's finally here !#final part should be up by the end of the month : )#bts smut #hoseok smut #hoseok #also warning i didn't proofread the smut scene yet so rip if there are any mistakes

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lu-undy · 3 years

Text

Chapter 92 - SBT

Here it is!

“I’m back, luv’!”

“Meow!” Perle and Soot welcomed Mundy warmly.

After he removed his boots and his jacket, he crouched down and drowned them in scratches and affection. Soot jumped on his shoulders and Perle stood on her back legs. Mundy scooped her off the floor and carried her in his arms.

“Hm… Smells really good in here, eh?” He entered the kitchen and found Lucien cooking.

“I saw that you brought a basket full of fresh fruits and vegetables so I got busy.”

As Mundy got closer to the kitchen top, Perle escaped his arms and Soot gracefully flowed down Mundy’s shoulders to join his wife. They both sat next to Lucien’s chopping board while Mundy approached his lover from behind and laced his arms around him. The Frenchman hummed his satisfaction and raised a bit of bell pepper to Mundy’s lips.

“Oh, thanks luv’.”

“My pleasure. I presume all this comes from your parents’ garden?”

“Yeah, Mum insisted on giving me stuff. I told her she shouldn’t but uh…”

“She is your mother, Mundy, and she loves you.” Lucien finished for him and fed the cats a treat each and Mundy, another bit of bell pepper.

“Yeah.” Mundy tightened his hug and let his hands brush Lucien’s sides softly as the Frenchman added the vegetables to the bubbling pan of tomato sauce on the stove. He added half a glass of water and covered it to let it simmer.

“I didn’t know you wanted to tell her the truth today, mon loup.” Lucien went to the sink and Mundy followed him, stuck to him better than a shell to its snail.

“I didn’t know either. Came back from work early, so I thought I might just go and say hi. I took the cats with me and Mum showed me the garden. They loved it, eh guys?”

“Meow!”

“Yeah, especially you, Soot. He kept playing with everything as if it was all toys. Oh and he got curious about melon flowers and stuck his head in it.”

“Meow!”

“Yeah, you did, no way to argue, lil’ sooty ball!” Lucien laughed as he washed the chopping board and knife. “Took a while for him to get out of it. Y’liked it in there, eh?"

"Meeeow!"

"Alright, alright, I'll take it easy on the teasin'... But uh, yeah, the thing is that uh, Mum started askin' weird questions about you."

"Weird questions?" Lucien went back to the stove and Mundy followed, his arms still around his lover like vines.

"Yeah… She uh, she noticed the brand of your suit."

"Oh? Oh!" Lucien realised. "When she handed me my jacket after dinner the other day?"

"Yeah. She then started to worry cause she thought we couldn't be struggling for rent and buyin' custom-made suits. So she thought you were hiding dangerous stuff from me."

"Oh… I see."

"Yeah, she said she wanted me to come back home live with her and Dad. I asked her if she said anything to him and she said no. But Lu', she was really worried."

"So you told her the truth and brought her here?"

"The other way around. I took her here to be far from Dad and then I tried to tell her."

"It must have lasted quite long for me to come back home and find you struggling." Lucien answered. "By the way, why did you take her to our room?"

"I uh… It was hard to say the words but I thought I could show her some stuff and she'd get it. So I took her upstairs, to the room. It took her a long time to get it. She saw the bed and thought I had it all for myself."

Lucien took a bit of the sauce on the wooden spoon and blew on it gently. He then put the spoon above his shoulder in front of Mundy's lips and the Aussie naturally took a taste of the sauce.

"Mh… Pepper." He answered.

Lucien's hand went for the grinder and added a bit of pepper.

"Then she saw the photos of us. She still didn't get it. Then her eyes went to your suit valet stand and she thought it was your room, not mine."

Lucien chuckled and Mundy smiled.

"What next?"

"The clothes. I told her to open the cupboard and have a look. That's when she started not understanding anythin'. Why were our clothes together?"

Lucien took a bit of the sauce again and blew on it to cool it down.

"So I pointed at the bed and told her that one side was yours, and the other mine!"

"Did she get it then?" Lucien asked and raised the spoon to Mundy's lips. The Aussie tasted the sauce again.

"Perfect. And no, she still didn't get it!"

"How comes?"

"Cause Soot and Pearl had decided to lie on the bed and she thought I was pointing at them…! Gosh, at that point I started to doubt I'd ever manage!" Mundy said with a chuckle. "But yeah, I showed her the bed again and that's when she started to put two and two together."

"How did she react?" Lucien went to the cupboards to get the plates and start laying the table. Mundy took the plates off his hand and, finally unsticking himself, he got busy with it.

"Well, she just froze! And that's when you came in!"

"Ah, I see."

Mundy was coming and going, grabbing cutlery, glasses while answering his lover's questions.

"Yeah, and you know the rest, Lu'."

Mundy sat at the table while Lucien brought the ratatouille he made. He filled the plates and cut some bread before giving Mundy a part of it.

"Thanks, luv'."

"My pleasure." He smiled and both started digging in their plates.

"Mh! Oh, Lord, oh the flavour! It's like I'm eatin' the earth straight from the ground…!" Mundy enthusiastically said and Lucien chuckled when he saw his lover bend more towards his plate and roll his eyes after each fork of it.

"Glad you appreciate it, and I agree with you. Fresh farm ingredients will change a dish."

"Yeah…! Gosh! Thank God and thank Mum!"

Lucien chuckled.

"Oui, please thank her. I saw there were even eggs and a jar of apricot jam in the basket?"

"Yeah… Oh, Lu'... Feels so good to eat farm stuff and… and Mum knows that I love you and-and she still loves me!"

"Mundy, however she decided to react, it would be all because she loves you."

"What d'you mean?"

"Imagine that she decided, in the worst case scenario, to not talk to you anymore, hm?" Mundy nodded. "She would have done that also because she loves you."

"I don't get it…"

"She loves you so much that she would be blind to the happiness you have found with me to only see that you are not with a woman. She would be boiling on the inside to see you with a wife and children so much that she would reject what you have with me, and why all that? Because she wants you to be happy, but happy in her book is wife and children, not old yet devastatingly attractive man with eyes that make you melt…!"

Mundy chuckled.

"Alright, alright, Lu', you got your point across… I guess you're right. And that's how Dad will react for sure. He'll stop talkin' to me entirely for the reason you just explained."

"That doesn't lessen his love for you, Mundy." Lucien said and finished his plate. "Not at all, for all I think."

"Yeah, you might be right." Mundy finished his plate and leaned back on his chair.

Lucien had his elbows on the table. He tilted his head on the side and gave Mundy one of his sweet lopsided grins, his hair falling on his shoulders beautifully.

"How do you feel?" He finally asked.

"Happy." Mundy answered with an earnest smile. "Happy, and free." Lucien nodded. "Happy, free and so bloody tired…!" Both chuckled. "What about you, love?"

"Proud of you, and delighted that I could help as much as I am that it ended well."

"Yeah." Mundy drank a bit of water and sighed. "Gosh… You won't believe this but it's not just my head bein' tired. My back and belly are starting to hurt too, as if they were sore."

"In that case, follow me." Lucien stood up and Mundy followed him, intrigued. They both climbed the stairs and Lucien led his lover in the bathroom. "Remove your clothes."

"Well, that's gettin' down to business fast, alright!"

Lucien chuckled.

"Non, I was not thinking of doing that. Just get comfortable with most of your body naked. If you want to keep your underwear on, be my guest."

"Alright." Mundy started unbuckling his belt and Lucien turned to the door again. "Hold on, you're not stayin' with me? I thought you wanted to take a bath?"

"Non, I don't. I have something else in mind. When you are ready, count five extra minutes and come to the bedroom."

Mundy raised a curious eyebrow.

"Alright… Ok… Can I get a kiss though, before you go?"

Lucien smiled and turned to him.

"Of course you may. Come and take it."

Mundy had removed his trousers. He took the step that separated him from his lover and cupped his face in his hands before bending down to meet his lips. Lucien just tilted his head up and let his lover have his way with him.

He kissed his lips and then opened his eyes and stared into Lucien's heavy lidded ones. They both smiled.

"Love you, darl'." Mundy added a kiss on the tip of Lucien's nose and then his forehead.

"Je t'aime aussi, mon loup."

[I love you too, my wolf.]

Mundy wrapped his arms around Lucien and held him close, one arm around his waist and his other hand through his long, loose hair. He nuzzled in Lucien's locks and smelt the Frenchman's distinct perfume. Mundy's eyes automatically closed.

"Mmh… Love you so much… Thanks…"

"What for?" Lucien was resting his head on Mundy's shoulder, his eyes were closed too.

"Everythin' you've done so far for me and for us. Really means a lot."

Lucien smiled.

"It does to me too, mon amour." He added a peck in Mundy's neck and pulled himself out of the embrace. "I shall see you in a few minutes. Oh?"

Mundy held on to Lucien's hand. He raised it to his lips and kissed his knuckles. The Frenchman's eyebrows jumped and his cheeks turned pink as he smiled.

"Merci."

Mundy nodded and Lucien left the bathroom, shutting the door after him. He continued removing his clothes, the smell of Lucien's hand cream still lingering. Vanilla. The Aussie looked around the sink. If someone had to guess from just that, they'd say Mundy lives with a woman! Lucien had so many fancy creams and tubes of whatever the hell he thought would take care of his already perfect skin.

Mundy smiled. He remembered the few times that Lucien would complain about his age, about the lines on his face, about those on his slim hands. He would also rant about his grey hair and his tired eyes. But all those were assets in Mundy's eyes and he sometimes didn't find the words to match his feelings and intention. Sometimes it was hard to tell Lucien that his silver hair made Mundy's heartbeat jump on its own, that his light blue, almost grey eyes humbled the Aussie, and those lines that were on his skin? Mundy loved them all and when words didn't come, he would simply kiss them, one by one. It took the time that it took, but Lucien needed to understand that his age didn't lessen any of his charm, on the contrary.

The Aussie was now as naked as a worm. He sat on the bathtub's edge and waited for five minutes at the end of which he peeked his head out of the bathroom.

"Lu'? You ready?"

"Oui, you may come."

The Aussie crossed the corridor. Thank God it wasn't cold or being naked would have been quite unpleasant. Mundy pushed the bedroom door open and-

"Woah… Did you do all that?"

"Unless someone else had access to this room." Lucien chuckled. "Come and lay on the bed, on your stomach, please."

The room was dark except for a few candles on the night tables. It smelled of cherry and other red fruits. Mundy saw the incense sticks on the night table, their tips glowed in a mellow shade of orange that only contrasted slightly with the Burgundy red of the room's wallpaper.

Mundy lay on the bed, on his stomach, as Lucien asked. The Frenchman had removed the pillows off the bed and climbed on it right after Mundy.

"Y'look good all in white like that."

Lucien smiled. He had indeed changed for a white tanktop and had taken the liberty to borrow Mundy's white sweatpants.

"Good change of style, eh?"

"I needed something comfortable."

"So you're admittin' my sweatpants are more comfy than your suits?" Mundy asked with a smirk. He heard a bottle pop open and Lucien's hands rubbing together.

"I merely needed something flexible enough."

"Flexible? Oh… Yeah…"

Lucien sat on Mundy's behind and splayed his hands on the Aussie's back. He traced loops on his shoulder blades, again and again, his hands then followed Mundy's shoulders. Lucien could see and feel all of Mundy's scars on his back as he massaged him.

"Gosh… Lu'... This is… Ugh.. Amazin'..."

"Shhh…" Lucien's hands went up to Mundy's neck and he bent down until his lips were next to his ear. "Let me take care of everything, mon loup, relax…" He whispered and kissed the shell of Mundy's ear. The Aussie immediately felt a rush of blood to the head and his heart pumped harder.

"Lu'... Oh…? Y-yeah…" Mundy's eyes were closed and he hissed in pleasure when Lucien's hands slid to the bottom of his back. The Frenchman massaged his lover slowly, lovingly, and would sometimes bend down to leave a trail of kisses behind Mundy's neck. "G-gosh, Lu', orh…"

Mundy's breath followed his heartbeat and the intensity of what he felt, but nothing else. He let himself completely go in Lucien's hands and only moaned and hissed in pleasure under his delightful palms.

"Feels… so… good…"

Lucien smiled and bent down again to whisper his answer.

"And it's only the beginning, mon amour."

"Orh… God, yeah…"

Lucien then massaged each of Mundy's arms from the shoulder down to his very fingers. Mundy didn't realise it but he had started drooling on the mattress, his body had given up any kind of tension. He only lived for Lucien's hands, for the faint smell of the oil that he would get slightly stronger each time he heard the bottle pop open.

"Oh?"

Lucien moved away from his lover's behind and Mundy thought that it was the end of the session. He was about to thank his lover when he heard the bottle open again. His eyebrows twitched, and soon after, Lucien's hands were on his feet.

"Gosh… I love you so much…"

Lucien smiled. He had gently pushed Mundy's legs apart to sit between them and got busy with his feet before moving to his calves and soon, his thighs.

"Where… did you learn… that…?" Mundy asked.

"Northern Africa." Lucien answered. "People usually go to the hammam, which is public baths. Contrary to what you might expect, and due to the people's extreme prudeness, no one is naked there. Non, people go dressed in shorts for men, and wide dresses for women. Men and women are separated and enjoy a hot bath. Sometimes, the water even comes straight from a local, natural hot source."

"Oh…"

"Amongst the different services offered there, there are children, working to earn the equivalent of what you would spend on one coffee cup here, but they earn it in a week. And what they do is scrub people's back."

"Really…?"

"Oui. The mentality there is completely different. Those public baths are usually frequented by the same townsfolk, and those children are well known by them. I remember having my back scrubbed by one of my pupils…!"

"Oh wow…"

"Wow indeed. But among other things, people can receive massages in these places. They often do them with the only oil that grows easily there, which is olive oil. To hide the smell of it, they mix it with some rose essential oil. Roses bloom very well in these regions." Lucien bent down and kissed his lover's thighs. "That is where I learnt."

"Well… You're bloody good at it…"

"Merci, mon amour."

Lucien added some more oil in his palms and rubbed his hands together. Mundy expected to feel them on his thighs again, or his back maybe.

"Oh-? Orh…"

He felt them in between. Lucien kneaded and massaged the soft flesh slowly, his palms pushing his lover's tenderness with the intent to make him relax. It lasted for a while and Mundy grunted, moaned and hissed his pleasure. Lucien's hands were working wonders.

"Gosh… L-Lu', I'm… You… God… I mean…"

Lucien kissed his lover's behind.

"Please, mon amour, turn on your back."

"N-no…"

Lucien's eyebrows jumped.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah… I wanna… Stay like that… Please…?" Mundy pushed his legs open a bit more and Lucien smiled. He removed his clothes and lay on top of Mundy's oily back.

"Are you sure?" He whispered in his ear.

"Yeah…" Mundy whispered back. "Please… I'm too tired but… I-I wanna… Y'know… You do it…"

Lucien kissed Mundy's cheek and his ear.

"Very well, then. Tes désirs sont des ordres, mon amour. Your desires are my orders." Lucien translated himself before moving back down on Mundy's body.

He lay on his stomach between the Aussie's open legs and Mundy felt Lucien's hands pulling his softness apart. Then, kisses, lapping sounds that resounded in the otherwise silent room, slashing through the still calm in the Burgundy red walls as Mundy's chest shook, his breath was hitched and syncopated.

Kisses and more kisses, followed by gentle and soft bites, not to bruise, not to leave marks, but simply to taste more of Mundy in one go. And lapping, tasting.

As Lucien's tongue closed on what Mundy's body craved, the Aussie tensed.

"Shhh… Relax…" Lucien let a hand roam on Mundy's back to calm him down before he stuck his tongue out and took a slow and gentle lap.

"Gosh, Lu'..." Mundy grasped the bed sheets but his hands and arms felt like jelly after the massage.

Lucien went on and rediscovered Mundy's vulnerability. He lapped to tease, but also, to soothe him down of all that tension built in his body. He had felt it when he massaged him, Mundy's back was full of knots that he took the time to untie one by one.

But now was the time to enjoy himself as much as he enjoyed hearing the deep breaths, the grunts and groans.

"L-Lu'... Please…"

"Shhh… I take care of everything, you just relax."

"N-no, I'm… My…" Mundy slid a hand on the bed under his torso and Lucien pushed it away to go and feel it first.

"Oh… I see." The Frenchman's hand was already slightly slick with oil but now it was also coated with Mundy's impatience. He kissed the Aussie and with one hand still on his masculinity, he reached for another bottle before opening it. The distinct smell reached Mundy's nose and when it did, Lucien felt it on his throbbing end. "Impatient you are, tonight."

"S-sorry…"

"Don't apologise." Lucien coated his member and then approached a finger where his tongue was only moments ago.

"Y-yeah… Thanks… Lu', orh…"

Lucien was only slightly surprised to see that Mundy's body was remarkably ready for him. He rewarded his lover for this with a few languid strokes on his impatience.

"Y-yeah…" Mundy's hips started to roll into Lucien's hand and the Frenchman tightened his grip. "Oh-! Yeah, Gosh…!"

Lucien smiled and kissed Mundy's softness.

"I think you are ready. How do you feel?"

Mundy's body had broken a sweat.

"Been ready… Forever…"

"Very well." Lucien lay again on Mundy's back and lazily rolled his hips, just to make Mundy understand how much he wanted him too. His hands slithered around the Aussie's broad chest and ended one on his shoulder and the other on his side. Mundy moaned, he felt like a prisoner in Lucien's limbs which he couldn't get enough of.

"I love you." Lucien whispered before pushing his masculinity to meet with Mundy's demand. And he went slowly. Even if he had prepared Mundy and the Aussie was more than ready, the slowness of the movement helped both to build anticipation and to give them time to appreciate both their bodies becoming one, Lucien in the safety of Mundy.

"G-gosh… Hah…"

Lucien tightened his hug and stayed there, not moving his body by an inch. Of course he had been wanting this as much as Mundy, but he wanted to take his time. He didn't want to do it fast and cut the chase to the release. Non, he wanted to make love, to build it inside of Mundy, to make it appear and nurture it with his body and his heart. He wanted the Aussie to remember that night as a night of love, not just love making, but love inventing, love growing, and love enjoying.

Mundy being an instinctive, he felt it and turned his head more. He needed Lucien's lips on his, he needed to feel him there too. Naturally, the Frenchman obliged and met Mundy's drooling lips with his.

"Mh-I love ya-mh…" He tried to say through Lucien's kiss. The Frenchman smiled and didn't move his lips. Instead, he offered his tongue, softly and slowly, for Mundy to enjoy. "Mmmh…"

They stayed in that position, their bodies one, their tongues locked, entirely immobile on the bed for a while. They needed to reconnect, to make a deeper kind of contact, not only physical. That day marked something new for them. Mundy was free. He was free to love Lucien and build his life with him under his mother's kind eyes.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT

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dvp95 · 4 years

Text

quiet on widow’s peak (6)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 2.9k (this chapter), 19.7k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

Hope my friends and I didn't make things weird for you yesterday. We're heading to the city around noon if you're still up for helping us with the boring part.

noon?? fucking alright i guess i gotta put pants on

lmao yeah, sorry. My parents woke us up at EIGHT like that's a normal time to be awake????

desgostang

What?

ill send u the link later and also no i didnt feel weird yesterday you guys are nice

That's good! And hey I wanted to ask. You were kind of put on the spot with introducing yourself, would you rather we called you Dan or Winnie? I just wanna make sure we aren't making you uncomfortable at all lmao

no its all fine you can call me dan idc and actually its best if you do call me dan when youre in my work lmao

Are you totally sure?

why would i lie abt this. dont be an idiot it isnt a good look on you

haha okay. I’ll see you around noon.

“Christopher is a nice boy,” Phil’s mum is telling him as she helps him with their fancy new coffeemaker. There are so many buttons and Phil is so, so tired. “And Sophie is lovely, such a soft-spoken thing. Why haven’t we met them before, dear?”

“Dunno,” Phil says instead of the truth, which is that he’d had no idea how he was supposed to introduce them. “You have now, though.”

His mum laughs and reaches up to pat his cheek. “True enough. I’m so happy that you’ve got good people around you, Philip. I’ve gotten quite worried about you down there by yourself, you know.”

“I’m not by myself,” says Phil. “I live with, like, thirty people.”

“Bunch of strangers, I’ll bet,” she says, because she knows him. “Aside from those three.”

The thing is, she’s not wrong. Phil’s obviously exaggerating about the number of people under the roof of the creaky Brighton house, but the truth is that he can’t keep track half the time. A lot of the rooms get sublet out randomly, or a significant other will start spending so much time around the place that they might as well pay rent, and Phil really isn’t good with new people. He gets along fine with Holly and Dave, but they’ve been there as long as he has and the closest they’ve ever come to a heart-to-heart was comparing anxiety meds over burned pancakes.

Chris and Sophie were there when Phil moved in, and they’d taken one look at him and decided to just keep shoving into his space until he liked having them there, like they were on a mission to adopt PJ’s sad, ghost-obsessed friend from the internet.

“You might be right,” Phil says, feeling a smile tug at his lips for the first time all morning. He’s already had a coffee - and a half, when PJ declared that not even Kath could make coffee taste good and shoved the rest of his Phil’s way - but he still doesn’t feel fully awake. “I’m only really friends with Chris and Soph because of PJ.”

“PJ is a good friend to you, isn’t he?” his mum hums. That slightly pointed tone doesn’t get to Phil the way it usually does, because he knows that she’s just trying to understand him.

It doesn’t escape Phil’s notice that he’s looking into a mirror whenever he sees his parents watching him carefully, waiting for him to tell them something he hasn’t explicitly said, because he’s been doing the exact same thing to his housemates for nearly two years.

Maybe he’ll tell his parents when he’s got someone serious or even, like, semi-serious. Longer than two dates would be a record at this point. But right now he already feels like he’s been one misstep away from disappointing them, and he doesn’t want to take the gamble that his sexuality will be that misstep.

He’s not up for this conversation, though, isn’t sure he’ll ever be, so he just says, “Yeah, he is.”

Dan is late. They’re so late, actually, that Phil’s wheel of worst case scenarios has been spinning silently and getting faster and faster the more caffeine he chugs. They roll in with flushed cheeks and a jacket that looks too thin, apologies on their shiny lips that Phil doesn’t even hear for a couple of seconds because he’s too busy staring at them.

“No worries,” Sophie says, interrupting their rambling before they lose another half hour to it. “You want something? I’m getting a refill.”

“No, no, let me,” says Dan. They shrug off their jacket and hang it on one of the empty chairs. Phil and his friends have co-opted the largest table in the place so they can spread out with their laptops and notebooks, and it doesn’t escape Phil’s notice that Dan has decided to sit next to him when they’ve got a couple of options. “I get free drinks if Gabe’s in a good mood. Anyone else need a refill?”

“Me,” Chris says, not looking up from his screen. “Not Phil. He’s cut off.”

“Hey,” Phil protests weakly. His heart rate really has picked up since they sat down, so he knows Chris has a point.

Dan grins, their soft cheeks giving way to the dimples that Phil is very quickly growing obsessed with. He just wants to make Dan smile and laugh constantly, to hear them cackle and see all the lines in their round face deepen with happiness.

Right. Phil watched a horror movie with PJ instead of unpacking this fluttering start of a crush last night, and now he’s just got to deal with it for the rest of the day.

As if it’s a compulsion, Dan clears the empty mugs from their table before heading up to the counter. Phil focuses on the EMF readings so he doesn’t get caught up on Dan holding four mugs by the handles with total ease.

PJ has got headphones on and his eyes closed, so he might not even have noticed that Dan is there. He’s been going through Sophie’s footage and his own audio recordings to try and find some anomalies while Chris looks for the weird visual stuff - they’re a great team at that, and it makes Phil feel like he’s not doing enough. Sure, he could find those things on his own, but not as quickly as they can when it’s a team effort, and they’re on a bit of a tight schedule here. Well, his housemates are. They’ve got actual jobs to get back to once the weekend is over.

Allegedly, Sophie is doing research on sigils, but it looks to Phil like she’s just doodling. Not that he really blames her if she is. He’s barely been paying attention to the chart he’s making of spikes in electromagnetism because he’s been so busy watching the door for Dan.

And Dan looks… good. They’re wearing chunky boots and a shirt that falls to their thighs - a dress, maybe, but it looks like a regular black t-shirt that got extended at the hem - with tight white jeans. The only colour on them is the plaid shirt around their waist and the shiny red product on their lips to match it. Phil watches them lean against the counter and grin at the older barista, and he’s so distracted by looking at their profile that he startles when a foot connects with his under the table.

“Stop staring,” Sophie says, quiet and smiling. “He’s going to notice.”

Phil considers correcting her, but then he remembers that he probably doesn’t have to. Dan had said any pronouns, that they didn’t care how they were referred to, so it would definitely be weirder to act like he knows better than Sophie.

He knows he won’t be able to use masculine terms for Dan. Not because they aren’t true, because he’s pretty sure they’re no less accurate than neutral or feminine would be, but because thinking of Dan as a maculine person is only going to allow Phil’s brain to fall into the familiar traps of gender in ways he doesn’t want to allow.

Gay monkey brain doesn’t need any more leeway in finding Dan attractive, that’s for damn sure.

“So, what are we doing?” Dan asks, interrupting Phil’s thoughts, and, wow, four mugs is a lot more impressive when they’re full of hot liquid. Phil marvels at Dan’s ability not to trip and spill it all as they dole out the coffee and teas.

“I’m doing the boring part,” says Phil. He turns his screen so Dan can see the Excel spreadsheet and laughs at the face they make. “Yeah. It's not glamorous, but it's the easiest way to find patterns in the EMF readings. Honestly, most of my job is just staring at things and finding patterns in them. Like, uh, what's that guy? With the butterfly splotches?"

"Worcestershire," Chris suggests.

"Rorschach," Dan corrects him, lips twitching like they aren't sure if they're allowed to laugh in Chris' face or not.

“That’s exactly what I said,” says Chris.

“You know EMF meters don’t have anything to do with ghosts, right?” Dan asks, ignoring Chris completely and leaning a bit closer to Phil to get a better look at his laptop. “I mean, none of this has anything to do with ghosts, really, but you’re more or less just measuring electricity.”

Phil is aware of that. He wonders if Dan thinks he just stumbles into haunted houses with equipment he hasn’t researched and waits to be spooked. He’s too distracted by how close Dan is and how good they smell to work up to proper offense, though. “Yeah,” he says simply. “But don’t you think it’s weird that the place still has electricity to begin with? Who’s paying for that?”

“A Wilkins, I’d imagine.”

“But why? If they’ve forgotten about the property or abandoned it on purpose, surely they wouldn’t still pay the bills.”

“Maybe they don’t handle their own finances,” Dan suggests. “How rich were these assholes?”

“I honestly don’t know,” says Phil. He taps his fingers in an erratic pattern on the edge of his laptop, trying to spark something in his mind.

It’s almost disappointing when Dan pulls away to dig out their own sleek Macbook out of their messenger bag, but Phil is also glad for it. He can think a lot easier when the warm scent of spice and mint isn’t clogging his brain.

Dan slots into the work as easily as if a space was left for them. They’ve got dozens of tabs open already and they start to go through them, cross-referencing magic things with Sophie in quiet tones and digging deeper into the Wilkins family than Phil ever would have thought to. Every so often they tap Phil on the arm and drag him into whatever rabbithole they’ve fallen down, chatting animatedly.

Phil knows, objectively, that Dan is a fan of his and that Dan is weird about research. It’s another thing entirely to watch it happen in real time, to see Dan pull up local census PDFs from the eighties and explain why chaos magic is bullshit in the same breath.

An hour or so goes by like that, all of them working on their own things with minimal words exchanged by everybody but Dan, and then Chris shouts loud enough to make the barista jump. Nobody else is in the coffee shop right now, which is lucky, because Dan’s got a hand over their chest and Sophie has slopped tea down her front. PJ, with his headphones on, simply cracks an eye open.

“What the fuck was that about?” Phil asks, putting his own palm against his chest to feel his heart race. Dan raises their eyebrows and looks at Phil, seemingly distracted from the startling, wordless exclamation.

They don’t get a chance to say whatever they’re thinking, though, because Chris is turning his laptop to the rest of the table and grinning wide like the Cheshire Cat. “I found something.”

Everybody gathers round, PJ getting up to lean over the back of Phil’s chair and Sophie getting so far into Dan’s personal space that Phil is certain they’re uncomfortable with it, and then Chris presses play upside down. It’s part of Sophie’s footage, Phil standing in the dim foyer and looking frustrated. Even without sound, Phil can tell that this is when he was arguing with Sophie about going upstairs. He squints, but he can’t see whatever it is that’s got Chris being so loud.

“What am I looking at?” PJ asks when the short clip ends, and Dan hums an agreement. Chris makes a frustrated noise like they’re being obtuse on purpose and rewinds to the beginning.

"There," Chris says, excited like he hasn't been since they got to Manchester. He taps his finger against the laptop screen. "D'you see it? D'you see the shadow?"

Now that Chris has pointed it out, Phil does see something. He moves his own laptop and notebook out of the way to pull Chris’ closer with a frown. Chris lets him do that, bouncing in his seat a little bit.

“That’s straight up a person,” Phil says slowly, tracing the outline of the shadow with the mouse. It’s behind him, in the entry to the kitchen, and it looks tall. Quite a bit taller than Phil, anyway, if he’s remembering that doorframe correctly. He decides to measure it next time they go so he isn’t going off memory. “I knew we weren’t alone in there. Like. I’m not crazy, that’s a human being.”

“That’s what I thought,” says Chris. “But press play.”

So Phil presses play. He watches the shadow stay perfectly still in the kitchen doorway until, suddenly, it’s not there anymore. He blinks, rewinds, and watches it disappear again.

Phil’s caffeinated brain is firing on all cylinders now. He grins and shoves his sleeves up to his elbows before he starts fiddling with the clip. The lighting gets played with until the shadow is more obvious and then he slows it down to 0.25 times speed to see if the shadow really just vanishes.

He presses play again. This time, with a very slow-motion Phil talking in the foreground, he sees the shadow move. It runs sideways, further into the house.

“What the fuck?” Dan breathes.

“We are not going back there without some serious protection,” PJ says, even firmer on the topic now.

“What, like sigils?” Dan asks, their pretty eyes wide even as they scoff. “You’d be better off with a fucking, like, baseball bat, mate. That doesn’t look like something that wants to be your friend.”

“I’ve got a crowbar in PJ’s trunk,” Phil says, absent-minded as he plays with the clip some more.

“Excuse me? When did you put that in my car?”

“Couple months ago.”

“Huh. How have I not noticed?”

“You’re not the most observant person I’ve ever met,” says Phil. He looks up at Chris, who’s got the same exhilarated look that Phil is sure he’s mirroring. They don’t get evidence like this very often, something so clearly there that it’s even got a skeptic’s mind racing. Phil exports the edited clip and then the original, putting them both into the Cloud and emailing them to himself. “Was this the only time you saw it?”

Chris nods, accepting his laptop back when Phil is done with it. “I’ll look through everything again, now that I know what I’m looking for and all, but I think that’s it.”

“Okay, cool.” Phil looks around at his friends and Dan, beaming. “Something weird is happening. I love it when something weird is happening.”

“I hate it when something weird is happening,” PJ says, which is a blatant lie.

“Well, we can’t go snooping around until it’s darker out, anyhow,” Sophie reminds them.

“Wait, we’re snooping?” Dan asks, their voice going up an entire octave in disbelief. “Like… you just saw that someone is there and probably not happy about people sneaking around, right? Don’t you have enough for a video already?”

“We’re spending the night,” says Phil. “It’s what we do.”

“It’s what you do,” PJ corrects him.

“Okay, yeah, you guys don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m coming,” says PJ.

As if she can’t hear them bickering, Sophie turns to Dan with a sweet smile, her eyes twinkling with the same excitement in Chris’. They love this, just like Phil does. “What about you, Dan?” she asks. “Are you going to have a ghost sleepover with us?”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Dan says, their eyes still glued to the back of Chris’ laptop like they can see the shadow through it.

“Guess you don’t have anything to be afraid of, then,” says Chris.

“Uh, axe murderers, maybe?”

“We know what we’re doing, Dan,” Phil reassures them. He reaches a hand out to pat at their arm, feeling a bit awkward about it. “But you don’t have to come with us if you’re scared.”

That makes Dan’s gaze shift. Suddenly, those brown eyes are staring right into Phil’s soul, defiant and beautiful and impossible to look away from.

“Who said I was fucking scared?”

#phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic #words words words #quiet on widow's peak #this chapter is a little short thanks to me prioritizing my mental health BUT i am still happy with it #so i hope you like it too #even if you might think the plot is slow!

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an-annyeoing-writer · 5 years

Text

vampire!Baekhyun x Reader: meant to belong.

Word count: 7 998 Date of release: 06.05.2019 Warnings: blood, mentions of death, minor descriptions of violence;

The first step was difficult, but there was a sense of purpose that kept you going.

You wanted to belong somewhere. You wanted to know your place. If you couldn’t have it where you were born, then you wanted to find it elsewhere. No matter what effort it’d take.

That first step was to convince yourself that you can manage to live on your own, that your world doesn’t have to close up on what you’ve experienced until now. You weren’t brave, you didn’t really know if what you’re doing is right. But you had your purpose and you knew that the best advice you can get, is to do exactly what needs to be done.

You pressed your lips together, calming down your breathing. The pretty, elegant clothes you wore suddenly became too tight for your liking, the white shirt pressing on your chest as if it wasn’t heavy enough.

Checking the way your pants fitted in the window’s glass, she stepped inside.

“Hello, I’ve heard you have a vacancy. Could I…”

“What’s your experience?” the woman in her fifties, standing behind the cash register, asked in a bit harsh tone. Some of the customers sitting nearby spared you a glance, making you feel even more nervous.

“It’d be my first job” you replied truthfully.

The woman squinted her eyes at you.

“School?”

“I’m a college student” you admitted.

“Need quick cash, I see.”

You didn’t answer to that, not really wanting to get into details. Her eyes seemed to judge your very existence, and in her head – you could literally hear that – she was making assumptions as to what were you looking for here.

“Sorry, we look for experienced people” she replied thoughtlessly.

“I-I can learn…” you stuttered.

“I won’t take responsibility for a kid running around.”

“I’m not a kid, ma’am…” you tried to explain politely.

“Told you I won’t take you, just go away.”

“Ma’am…”

“Want me to call security?”

You pressed your lips together and forced a strained smile onto your face. Your patience was wearing thin.

“Hope you go bankrupt, ma’am” you exclaimed politely and turned around. It wasn’t the only shop in the city. And surely there were other places that could hire you. Surely.

You left the building and leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly. The conversation unnerved you more than you’d like, the woman’s attitude didn’t leave any doubt that the lack of employees must have been a result of not-too-friendly atmosphere at the workplace. In fact, who would want to work with such a b…

“Hello, you okay?”

The door of the coffee shop opened and a man stepped out, smiling softly. Your upset face did nothing to take him aback, as though he was prepared to see it. At first, you didn’t really believe he was talking to you – but when you quickly proceeded the facts, he must have been a witness to the situation that just took place.

“Oh, I’m alright” you replied quickly, smiling back with your lips pursed. The last thing you wanted to do was to bother strangers with your own problems. It was bad enough that they had to witness the situation.

“Mm, it wasn’t really nice of her” he noticed, closing the door behind himself and leaning against the wall next to you. You glanced at him curiously, but also with a doze of suspicion.

“Well, it’s up to her how she chooses her employers” you shrugged.

“But it doesn’t give her right to treat others like this.”

To that, you only nodded, pressing your lips together. A silence welcomed the two of you as you stared forward, slowly letting the tension flee away from your body. The stranger’s presence seemed peculiarly comforting.

The weather on this day was really pleasant, warm, but not hot, with soft breeze doing a good job at calming you down. You smiled.

“Well, guess it wasn’t meant to be. I’ll go look somewhere else. Thank you” you said, bowing softly.

“Is it true that you need money fast?” he asked, peeking at you from underneath his lashes. His face was a bit more relaxed now, not smiling anymore, but still somewhat welcoming.

You sighed.

“Kinda. I need to pay rent as soon as possible. But I need to have a job in order to afford it later, of course” you explained. Sensing the other’s curiosity, you cleared your throat. You felt just fine sharing with him such brief peeks from your life, but you didn’t want to overwhelm a stranger with your problems. “I barely moved out, so it’s all new to me. I need to settle down.”

The stranger nodded his head understandingly.

“You know, there are ways to get money quickly” he started carefully, glancing at you and watching your expressions, unsure as to how would you react.

The realization of what the man was – in your opinion – implying, made your whole body go stiff, and your mind automatically started imagining the worst case scenario that could occur now.

“I-I’m sorry, I think I’ll be going” you muttered, pushing yourself off the wall. Before you could take a step, a hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you from going any further. You felt your heart drop.

“Please, hear me out” the man said calmly. “It’s not what you think it is. And I’m not going to force anything upon you. I just think we could help each other out.”

It’s not what you think it is.

Was he truthful now? Could you really trust him? You needed money. Even if you found a job today, you’d still have to wait a long time before getting your first salary. You already borrowed money from your friend to pay the fee, you needed to give it back to her as soon as possible. And you had to get food, too.

You cleared your throat, glancing back at the man. He seemed somehow desperate, and that much you two had in common.

“O-okay. But if it gets fishy, I’m leaving right away.”

He exhaled and nodded quickly.

“Let’s go sit somewhere. There should be some better place nearby” he announced, and you had to admit, the coffee shop was the last place you’d like to spend anymore of your time in.

“Before we go. What’s your name?”

The man smiled gently once again.

“Byun Baekhyun. Nice to meet you.”

You nodded slowly.

“[F/n]” you replied, deciding that it’s too soon to share your last name yet. “Nice to meet you, too. I hope.”

* * *

The two of you ended in some fast food restaurant. Your stomach grumbled at the smell – you didn’t eat much for breakfast, both to save money and because of the stress tied to the task you had. It didn’t look like a proper place for business conversations, but neither of you cared.

“What would you like?” the man asked, eyeing the meal offers sprawled on the screen above the counters. “’I’ll pay. I owe you for coming with me. No big deal.” He smiled warmly. As much as you didn’t want to agree, you weren’t in a position to turn down a free meal.

“It’s up to you then, I’m not picky” you replied. “I’ll go look for seats.”

Once the two of you finally sat down, the atmosphere finally started to get less awkward. The slight smile on the stranger’s face seemed to be nothing but polite now. It was hard to tell what he was thinking – it seemed as though he was doing his best not to scare you away. And you appreciated it. It had some sort of sincerity in it, something that caused you to trust him a little bit more. In fact, even not knowing any details yet, you were almost sure that what he said before was true and he was not going to ask you for anything inappropriate.

Or maybe it was only the facade? A well-prepared way of gaining the others’ trust, learned through years of experience?

You sat in silence, glancing either at him or the surroundings every few seconds, waiting for the order to arrive. The man seemed not to hurry, letting you ease yourself in the situation. When he looked away, you took it as an opportunity to study him a little more. He seemed not much older than you, and, what kind of struck you – he was handsome. His hair seemed strong and fluffy, which you envied instantly. There was nothing about his appearance that’d seem less than perfect and it, in fact, did nothing to ease your suspicion.

Someone called your order’s number and he stood up to get it, not even giving you a chance to do it instead. You waited for him to arrive a few second later and put a tray in front of you. The tray contained two of everything: two cheeseburgers, two packs of fries, two boxes of nuggets and two cups of some sort of drink. Your mouth salivated from the smell that overwhelmed you instantly.

“Cola or juice?” he asked, pointing the cups.

“A-anything will be okay.”

“Then juice, it’s healthier” he said, taking the cola and putting it in front of himself, encouraging you to take the other cup. You couldn’t help but smile at his reasoning.

“Shouldn’t you take the juice for yourself if it’s healthier?”

The man laughed shyly, looking down at his hands. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but eventually decided not to. A pleasant silence fell upon the two of you and you decided to reach for the nuggets. They seemed like the best treat right now.

“So? What’s the deal, Mr Byun?” you asked politely. The man seemed a bit dumbfounded for a few seconds, as if not proceeding what you just said.

“O-oh, please, just call me Baekhyun.”

“W-well then, Baekhyun. What’s the…”

“Have you ever donated blood?” he asked casually, lazily swirling the straw in his cola, whatever the gesture’s purpose was.

You frowned. It was definitely the last question you’d expect to hear.

“I don’t think I’ve had the chance to” you admitted. “But it’s not a problem for me. Why?”

Baekhyun took a sip of his cola, watching you with full interest.

“It’s kind of what I’d like to pay you for” he announced straightforwardly. Your frown only deepened.

“Illegal medicine business?” you asked hesitantly, feeling slightly nervous again. Maybe the idea didn’t sound that bad, it surely was an easy money, but you didn’t want to engage yourself in any sort of illegal stuff. Once again, what if someone decided to use your body in a way you wouldn’t approve?

“Not really” Baekhyun said slowly. “It’s nothing that could get you in trouble.”

“Then what it is?”

The man bit on his lip, not looking away. He must have been thinking of what to tell you and it urged you to stay cautious – who knew how many of his words were true.

“I can show you. But I need you to promise that you won’t walk away once I do.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back.

“I can’t promise you that. I told you I’ll leave as soon as it gets fishy. And it’s already fishy.”

“Please. There’s nothing I could do to harm you now, there’s a lot of people around, and cameras. It’s technically safer than if you were to leave now.”

That was true. You were relatively safe here. If you left though, and he followed you – before you reached home (or the police station) you’d surely be passing through someplace secluded enough to make it easy to harm you. The fact he was the one to point it out made you realize just how aware he was of your doubts.

You exhaled.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll hear out whatever you have to say. But it still doesn’t mean I’ll agree.”

He nodded quickly.

“Just… try not to freak out.” He glanced around quickly, making sure there was no one nearby. He rested his chin on his palm, blocking the view of his face from anyone who could be accidentally looking in his direction. There was only you, with your frown deepening with every second.

And when you were about to ask him what’s the deal about, he blinked, and his eyes suddenly turned red. You stared at him, completely dumbfounded, unsure if your sight wasn’t betraying you now. But the way he looked at you, the way the crimson flickered when he glanced away for a brief second, it only ensured you that – in fact – it was exactly what he wanted you to see.

Your lips parted slightly in shock, still unable to proceed what just happened. Was it some sort of illusion?

Baekhyun licked over his lips briefly. With another blink, the crimson disappeared, exchanged with the previous, dark color.

“U-um…” He looked down, letting his hand fall onto the table. He sipped on his cola again, probably to ease the tension. “So, do you have an idea of what I am?” he asked quietly, seeming slightly self-conscious.

“I… Uh… no” you blurted out.

“Think carefully.”

Was it some sort of a joke? You felt like this situation was somewhat familiar, you’ve read stories, you imagined things like such being real.

You laughed hysterically.

“No, no way.”

You stood up without thought, as if to walk away just like that. You were pretty much ready to ignore the promise you gave earlier. If it, in fact, was a joke, you were only going to embarrass yourself.

But the look on Baekhyun’s face, filled with despair and sincere shame of his own nature, made you realize that in fact, you didn’t want to leave just like this. You felt annoyance at the thought of it being a lie. But no fear, no resistance.

So you sat back down, biting on your lip, crossing your arms and staring forward at the man. His face showed some kind of uncertainty, and he seemed to shrink a little under your bold gaze.

“You gotta tell me more” you exclaimed.

He breathed out, closing his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again and mindlessly swirling the straw in his cup.

“I don’t want to drop too much onto you right now. But tell me what are your thoughts right now. If you don’t want to help me, it’s the right time to say it, and I’ll just let you go. I don’t need you to promise that you won’t tell anyone, because no one would believe you. But I don’t want to tell you too much for nothing” he explained carefully.

You nodded slowly.

“I… In fact, I’m interested” you admitted. “I still need money and if what you’re saying is true, this deal is even less risky than what I originally expected.” You scratched your neck, looking away for a moment before looking at him again. “But I still need to know more. About everything. You need to understand that it’s um… new. Of course I want to know more.”

Baekhyun watched you thoughtfully.

“How about that. I’ll tell you about what we will need to do, and after we do that, I will tell you more about myself. This way, the both of us will have some sort of… security here.”

You nodded. Your eyes landed on the food in front of you. Both of your sets were getting cold already, so you decided to focus on the fries now.

“Technically, we can do it in two ways” Baekhyun started, finally letting go of the straw and starting to eat his fries as well. “I could use the supplies that are usually used for blood donation or… well… do it traditionally.” You gulped and he must have noticed your uncertainty, because he glanced up at you now. “Whichever you prefer. I’ve done it with needles before, you don’t have to worry about it. And you’d be able to see how much exactly I take.”

“Speaking of which. What about my… um, fee?” you suddenly recalled. After all, you were doing it for money.

“I don’t have a specific interest rate, but… Technically, fully recovering the amount of blood I’d need would take your body around two months. How about twice the average monthly salary, then? It should be enough for you to settle down.” Your breath hitched. The average salary is above what you’d expect from a job at a coffee shop. Getting it now would be surely more than enough. You’d be able to settle down. You wouldn’t need to worry about getting a job as soon as possible. And you’d still have time to study.

“Where have you been all my life” you muttered thoughtfully, licking over your lips. “Okay. It’s a deal.”

“Huh-”

“I mean, I agree.”

The man blinked, a bit surprised, but not opposing. Apparently, he could have mentioned the money at the beginning, and it would save him anymore explanation. Okay, then.

“In this case, do you have a free evening?”

In fact, you were supposed to spend all this day hunting for job. But if you were to actually earn money during this time, then it was even better, right?

You nodded eagerly.

“Would you mind coming to my place? I have everything we’ll need.”

“Okay.”

“[F/n]?” You tilted your head to the side, watching as Baekhyun’s expression turned soft, completely concern-ridden. “Thank you. You’re literally a life-saver.”

* * *

You didn’t really know how was it possible that knowing such a peculiar piece of information about someone’s life would be enough for you to trust them so much. After all, the fact of Baekhyun being – in fact – a vampire, should scare you away. Yet, the very moment you made decision to accept it, you found yourself putting all your trust in this mysterious man, completely dismissing just how dangerous could be the thing you were about to do.

“How often do you need to… you know?”

“Around every two weeks, but I can go on for around a month without it.”

“What happens if you starve?”

“Well, I’m… hungry, weaker, unnerved. But I rarely ever let that happen.”

“And when was the last time you drank?”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrowed when he glanced at you. These and other questions were asked in the past few minutes of your way from the restaurant to his apartment.

“Isn’t it too many questions? I promised I’ll answer everything after we’re done” he muttered. Well, weren’t you a little nuisance to him right now? But he had to tolerate you, you were aware.

“Just this one, and I swear I will shut up” you pleaded.

Baekhyun laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Three weeks, so it’s not that bad yet.”

“And do you always just walk around asking strangers for-”

“It was your last question, wasn’t it?” he smiled, politely cutting you off.

You pouted childishly, but decided to restrain yourself from asking anymore. Apparently, you would still have some time to ask him later.

Baekhyun’s apartment block was an average place, one of many doors in the staircase led to a flat that didn’t stick out at all. It was quite minimalist, with barely a few ornaments on the walls and the space filled mainly with things that were just useful, like a laptop, treadmill, PlayStation, first aid kit. These random things were placed in various places around the house, along with empty pizza boxes, chips bags and energy drink cans.

He seemed to live here alone.

“U-um, sorry for the mess” he muttered, closing the door behind the two of you and taking off his jacket. “Make yourself at home. Hungry?”

“We just ate” you reminded.

“Ah, right. Want some drink though? Juice?”

“Do you really have a juice here?” you doubted, seeing how most of the trash here was after anything but healthy foods.

“I always keep something healthy in the fridge. In case, you know, humans.”

Ah, right. It probably didn’t matter to him what he ate. Did he even need food at all?

“Maybe later” you smiled. “I know I was supposed to ask things later, but I really need to know this one.” The man turned around, looking at you expectantly.

“When you asked me about there, it looked like you weren’t really sure how to proceed this. And I don’t think you have to tell someone about yourself every month. How do you usually get blood, then?”

He bit on his lip, a bit unsure. Apparently the topic was something he’d rather avoid, but at the same time – it was the answer he owed you, too.

“Well, we usually have a deal with several people we drink from regularly. Around three humans is usually enough so that if we drink from one, and then from the others, by the time we need to drink from them again their body manages to regenerate. So it doesn’t influence their health.”

“Is that what you’re usually doing?”

“Please, later.” The man’s expression was tense, making you realize that you touched something he anything but wanted you to touch. It made you wonder though – what happened to his donors? Why couldn’t he use their blood now? If they were away for any reason, he could just say that. It wouldn’t cause him to act so tense around this topic. So there definitely had to be something wrong.

But it was none of your business.

“Okay. Sorry.” You nodded, accepting it. You had a feeling that even “later”, he still would be unwilling to share it with you. But how could you blame him – you were here only to earn money, and all he wanted from you was a food supply. You weren’t automatically becoming friends only because he told you something so crucial about his nature.

“Take a seat” he said, pulling over a huge armchair and pushing some cans off. “I’ll prepare everything, so just try to relax, okay?” He glanced at you as you sat, making sure you were still alright. You smiled reassuringly. Your heart skipped slightly, realizing how close you were to the whole ordeal.

“Do you always do that donation thing? I’ve read a book where vampires didn’t actually have fangs and they had to cut their victim with something like a knife to cause bleeding, because their teeth couldn’t really do that” you blabbered. Was it nervousness speaking?

It made a small chuckle escape the man’s lips.

“I told you before that we can do it traditionally. With the use of fangs is exactly what I meant back then.”

“Ah, right.” True, you suddenly recalled what exactly he said back in the restaurant. “Wait, so you could just bite me? Can vampire attacks actually happen in real life, then?”

He smiled wider, clearly amused, sitting by some drawer and starting to pull things out of it.

“Theoretically, they do. But people usually don’t die from it because the amount of blood we take on one go is not lethal. And we usually try to make sure the person won’t tell anyone about it.”

“How so?”

“Vampires are generally pretty good at convincing humans to do what they’d like.”

Seeing you frown deeply, Baekhyun only chuckled.

“Mind games. We can’t really hypnotize people into being completely obedient, but we can influence their emotions.”

You pouted, feeling somewhat offended at the thought.

“Have you used it on me so that I wouldn’t run away back then?”

His smile faltered.

“I didn’t have to. It was your decision to stay. But if you actually tried to run in panic, I’d need to calm you down. Ah… here it is.” He finally took out something from the drawer, some sort of wires and other things, pushed into a plastic bag as if they weren’t, in fact, medical supplies.

“W-wait, it’s not sterile” you noticed. “Is it even clean?”

“Well, I always wash it. If you think dried blood tastes nice, then no, I wouldn’t want to have that either.”

“Wash it with what.”

“Water? And vodka.”

“Do you have fresh needles at least?!”

“…I wash them too.”

Your lips parted in horror. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’d caused his previous donors go sick with such treatment, hence why he couldn’t ask them for help now.

“You ain’t putting that on me.”

“…W-what?”

“No way! I don’t want to die from some infection.”

He put the supplies down, sighing deeply.

“Then there’s only one other possibility. But if you’re getting stressed over a used needle, then you really won’t, won’t like it.”

“Your saliva doesn’t stress me half as much as this” you admitted truthfully.

“…It’ll hurt more, too.”

“I still value my life.”

The corner of his lips turned up and he looked away, smirking.

“Is that why you agreed to go to a stranger’s apartment, knowing he wants to empty your veins?”

“…I still need money” you grumbled in response. “Just stop mocking me and let’s get this done.”

“Sure!”

He stood up and in that moment, the doorbell rang out. The both of you froze, instantly looking in the door’s direction.

You hesitated, glancing at Baekhyun. His finger touched his lip in a silent request for you to stay silent and you nodded, not letting out a single noise.

The man stepped towards the door so quietly you swore he could as well have been a ghost. Not a single sound could be heard and you wondered if – in fact – vampires possessed some sorts of unnatural abilities. Your conversation still hasn’t gone far enough for you to find out that much.

He found himself by the door and you watched silently. The doorbell echoed yet again. But before Baekhyun managed to turn around and tell you what was going on, the door suddenly creaked and fell off the hinges, straight at the man and pushing him inside with such force that he was thrown a few meters into the room and landed by the window with a loud thud. At this point you stood up suddenly, fear sinking through you. The heck was that?!

Two men stepped inside, their calm demeanor sending shivers down your spine. Their presence screamed with danger as they looked around, taking in the surroundings. Their eyes fell on you and you froze.

“Another donor? Thought we’ve found all” one of them spoke, stepping in your direction. With a blink, his eyes turned red and something in you suddenly screamed in fear. If you weren’t already panicking, the look sent you down onto the floor as your trembling knees gave up underneath you.

“Jongin, no.” The other gently placed a hand on his shoulder. The sensation disappeared, leaving you blank and confused. “Just calm her down and we’ll take her home.”

You crawled backwards, trying to escape as far away as possible. The two of them were on your way to the door, which definitely didn’t help you. A quiet whimper echoed from your left and, to your relief, Baekhyun stood up, pushing the door off himself.

A thin trail of blood dropped from his nose, but the attack affected him way less than it’d affect a human. You were sure that if you were the one to be thrown all the way through the room, you’d get some brain damage at least.

“She’s not a donor. Don’t drag her into this” Baekhyun spoke, trying to stay as calm as possible.

“Don’t lie. You’re the one who’s dragging her into this” Jongin spoke, slightly annoyed but – to your surprise – it seemed as though he wasn’t half as hostile as it would seem from what they welcomed Baekhyun with.

“You knew we won’t let you feed until you join us” the other said calmly.

“You want to sabotage me? Would you rather I walk around and drink from random people?”

“That wouldn’t happen. We warned you we’d watch you.”

“Just what are you trying to achieve?!” the man burst out, making you flinch at the harsh tone. Unlike what he was like while talking to you, now he seemed almost furious.

As if he was keeping enormous amounts of rage deep within and now suddenly they erupted, completely reversing his demeanor.

“And you? What do you gain from being alone here? You belong with us. You’re our blood, we’re not going to leave you.”

“I don’t belong to you! And you can’t force me to join you.” With these words, you felt a hand wrap around your fingers tightly and pull you up abruptly. You whimpered, Baekhyun’s fingers dug into your shoulders, keeping you in place. You looked up, at the other two, their faces showing fear you didn’t expect to see. You turned your head briefly, a flash of crimson appearing in the corner of your vision.

You thrashed in panic that suddenly overwhelmed you, but the firm grip mercilessly held you in place.

“Baekhyun, you need to calm down” the man spoke. “You’ll hurt her if you feed from her now.”

“Minseok, he’s going to…”

Sudden pain erupted in the side of your neck, overwhelming your nerves and thoughts. Your lips parted in a silent scream of agony, everything around you mixing suddenly, all the colors, shapes and sounds losing their sense and purpose.

In the next moment, you were harshly pulled away. The rough motion felt as if a part of your body had just been ripped away. The air wouldn’t reach your lungs, you realized, the mixture of hot and cold spilling all over you.

It felt numb. The whole world started to feel numb.

“Fuck. Her trachea…”

“…have you done…?!”

“…didn’t mean…”

“The venom, she needs the…”

“Hurry up…!”

“Please…”

And the last thing you saw, was a flash of three pairs of crimson eyes, staring at you with emotions you couldn’t quite interpret. Then, the world went black.

* * *

Something touched your cheek gently, but the motion seemed to wake you up from your slumber and you groaned lowly, turning your head away from the touch’s source.

“How is she?” some familiar voice could be heard nearby, the touch disappearing soon after.

“The wound seems healed so it surely worked. But we have to feed her as soon as possible. She needs to wake up.”

You groaned again, moving your head as a sign that you, in fact, were already awake. The other voice was unfamiliar, but its soft tone instantly gained your trust. Something shuffled and you didn’t have to open your eyes to sense that theirs were locked on you.

“Can you hear us, [F/n]?” the familiar voice echoed again and you finally forced yourself to raise your eyelids. You were in a room you didn’t recognize. A pair of cat-like eyes stared at you intently. You instantly recognized this face. Was his name Minseok? You briefly remembered someone calling him like this.

You slowly pushed yourself up. Your eyes met yet another gaze – this one belonged to a man you’ve never seen before. Everything seemed hazy in your head, you felt like you were swaying, yet your body felt lighter than ever. Kind of as if you were drunk.

You looked around, expecting to see yet another familiar face. And surely there he was – a tad further from the couch you were laid on, staring at you intently with an inscrutable, serious look on his face.

His shirt was covered in dry, red stains and it made all the memories hit you, forcing you to recall all that happened.

You panicked, your first instinct was to run, but a hand was quickly put on your shoulder, pushing you down gently, yet firmly at the same time. It belonged to the man you didn’t know. The man smiled softly and you calmed down at this.

“Hello.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but no sound would leave you. Your throat felt dry and it hurt from the very attempt to speak.

“Ah, don’t strain yourself. Your body lacks of liquids now, but we’ll fix it.”

You mouthed a silent who are you, and the man chuckled. His voice was pleasant to your ears.

“My name is Yixing, I’m Baekhyun’s friend.”

In the background, you spotted the man roll his eyes and rest his chin on the palm of his hand in visible annoyance. Seeing you feel better than not must have pushed the main concerns off his mind. Then his eyes met yours and he lowered his gaze. From afar, you saw him clear his throat.

“Well then, we will check on you later” Yixing announced suddenly, probably spotting the tension. “Baekhyun, you know what you have to do.”

The both of them – Yixing and Minseok – stood up, smiling at you with something pity-like, which you couldn’t quite comprehend. What exactly happened right before you lost consciousness, was still unknown to you. And when the two left through the room’s door, all you could do was to rely on the one who stayed there.

A weird silence fell upon the two of you. You yourself couldn’t speak, the ache in your throat didn’t subside even a bit. The other seemed to be still dwelling on what to do. You sighed quietly and that was when he finally looked at you. The look in his eyes showed the same kind of pity the others held, but there was something more to it.

He finally stood up and your gaze followed him as he reached under some table and took out a bottle of water. He came over and handed it to you. You bowed thankfully, opening the bottle. Cold liquid filled your throat, giving you some sort of relief. You coughed, discovering that your speech seemed to be no longer missing. You leaned against the couch’s backrest.

“What happened?” you spoke huskily, putting the bottle down on the floor.

Baekhyun sat down on the stool Yixing was using barely a minute earlier.

“I bit you” he stated shortly.

“I… remember that much” you admitted, frowning. You remembered the way the pain blossomed from your neck. You couldn’t really make out what kind of pain it was, its intensity blinded you completely. But it could be nothing else.

“…I was angry. And hungry” he continued, words coming out a tad awkward, as if he wasn’t sure what would be the right thing to say. But you didn’t expect anything in particular. Any sort of apology would be nothing but useless right now. What happened, was already done. You could see the regret on his face, an attempt to make up for his mistake.

It still didn’t explain anything, but somewhere in the back of your head, you already knew what happened. Or, to be specific, how was it possible that with your carotid being ripped out you were still alive and feeling more than fine – at least considering the circumstances. Your hand unwittingly traveled to your neck and, just as you thought, your skin was clean. No kind of wound or even scar was there to be felt.

“I, uh… W-we had to…”

“I’m like you now?” you asked, the words coming out lighter than you expected them to.

The man licked over his lips, taking in your whole frame. You seemed to react better than he expected you to. Once again, your ability to accept your situation had taken him aback.

“Not yet. But you will.”

He stood up from his stool, switching to sit on the couch next to you. The proximity was not something you braced yourself for and you moved away a bit, partly to give him space to sit comfortably and partly because you still didn’t know what he’d planned.

“We’ve decided to empty you from blood completely. It’s half of the deed. Minseok’s venom in your system is the only thing keeping you alive now. But it won’t last long before you run out of it” he explained slowly. He raised his hand and you froze, watching him intently. To your surprise, his fingers met your forehead, pushing loose strains of your hair aside. “You’re… something like a zombie now.”

“Gross.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, but his face turned serious soon after.

“If you drink a vampire’s blood, it’ll mix with the venom and fill your veins. Your body will start to produce your own venom, and then all you’ll need to stay alive will be human blood. That’s long story short on how it works.”

“And if I don’t, I’ll die” you concluded. What he said before about Minseok’s venom made it more than clear that you were still on your deathbed.

“But it won’t happen.” He took his hand away and, without hesitation, bit into his own wrist. You winced at the sound of his fangs going through the flesh as if it was an apple. You cleared your throat, gazing at the blood that started to seep from the wound.

“W-wait…”

He didn’t let you think, thrusting the wound at your mouth. The taste was foul and you instantly coughed, pushing it away.

“I-it’s gross” you whined. “No way I’ll be drinking this all my life.”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, half-amused.

“It’ll get better. Vampire blood will always taste different than human, but it’ll taste better once your body adjusts. Just deal with it for now.”

You tried to shake your head, but in the next moment, his wrist was back on your lips, his other hand firmly tilting your head back. The blood filled your mouth, running down your throat. The taste was even worse than before, making you sick to the core.

Your head spun from the effort and you finally gave up, resting back and letting the liquid fill your insides.

Everything was burning, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. Except for the gross flavor of the other’s blood, everything else felt ecstatic. You felt dizzy and alive at the same time; your vision was hazy, yet your mind was clear. Somewhat, you quickly connected the feeling with the way liquid filled your throat. And it made you want to drown in it, to take in all you could find, no matter how awful it tasted. You found yourself sucking on the wound greedily, a quiet hiss escaping the man’s lips as your own, blunt teeth bit into the wound, extending it to gather more of the precious thing.

Something in you snapped and you threw yourself at the man, your instinct to bite into his neck taking over. The two of you landed on the floor, but he was fast to react, rolling you two over and pinning your wrists down, a lazy smile curling up the side of his mouth when he squinted his eyes, looking down at you in some sort of dominance.

“Easy there, you’ve had enough” he announced, clicking his tongue. You pursed your lips, resting your head against the carpet underneath you. The whole ordeal costed you a lot of effort and you were panting now – exhausted, but weirdly happy nonetheless.

After he was convinced you wouldn’t go for his neck again, he finally released you and sat you back on the couch. A handkerchief was pressed to your face, wiping off the blood that adored it right now. You thoughtlessly licked over your lips, taking in all you could before it was gone.

Next, he pressed the cloth against his wrist. It all got so messy. You looked up at his face. He seemed slightly dizzy and you supposed that blood loss for a vampire was just as unpleasant as for a human.

“Are you okay?” you asked with worry.

“Yep” Baekhyun brushed you off. “But better don’t attack me again. I know how to use fangs, too.”

You crossed your arms.

“We’ll see about it.”

“Now. We need to talk.”

And then, you talked.

It took a few hours. Baekhyun explained everything that seemed to be important, from how to feed without making a permanent damage on one’s body, through explaining why vampires’ eye color changed in some circumstances, to why the venom in vampire’s system was so important.

He wanted to explain everything to you. When you asked him about it, he told you that he won’t be able to do that later. You didn’t dwell on it.

Thorough the talk, you found yourself becoming more and more tired. It was nothing surprising, in fact, you were surprised you didn’t pass out way earlier. Your body was still accustoming, the dull ache in your skull being the best proof that it still needed rest.

Baekhyun put you down, a blanket finding itself around your frame. “Are you doing all this because you feel guilty?” you asked suddenly. The question was something you held back before, but you sensed that it was the best moment to ask it.

“Hm… Somewhat, but not only” Baekhyun admitted, brushing some of your loose strands aside. “You see, just as I’m from their blood, you’re from mine. So you’re kind of my kid.”

You snorted at that.

“Is it really so important? It’s just blood.”

“My blood is in your veins. For vampires it’s always something special. I mean, just think about it. You’re my creation, in a way.”

You could somehow understand it. The way he looked at you when you craved his blood, or earlier, when he brushed your hair aside as though it was him it should bother. In a way, you felt like you belonged to him. There was some kind of bond, almost parent-like, but tighter, more intimate.

A yawn escaped you and you felt a chill run down your spine, a feverish feeling making you curl up in the blanket.

“Let’s talk later” you mumbled. A hand touched your head gently, a single pat that lingered on your hair a bit longer than necessary.

“Yeah, let’s. Rest lots, [F/n].”

And once again, you’d been engulfed by darkness.

* * *

The sound of birds chirping was so vibrant that for a minute after being woken up by it you were ensured that they somehow got inside the room. Only once you finally forced yourself to open your eyes and have a look at the outside world, have you noticed that the windows were closed, and it was only your sharpened senses that could pick up on such small noises.

It took you aback for a moment and you just stared forward, listening to the sounds. Slowly, more of them appeared in the range of your hearing. The walls of the house were thin, it seemed, and the sounds of steps echoed all through. At least three or four pairs of steps mingled together, and you wondered if one of them belongs to Baekhyun.

Slowly, voices emerged as well.

“He said he wouldn’t stay. We can’t keep forcing him. It already has gone too far.”

“We did all we could.”

“It’s still just… not right.”

“Do you think he’ll be fine on his own?”

“He’s a grown up guy, just let him go.”

The words didn’t quite make a sense to you at first, but then, although briefly, you realized that it could be Baekhyun they are talking about. The more you thought, the more sense the idea held.

Was he leaving?

You thought that maybe after all that happened he’d decide to stay with the group. But, truthfully, it was never stated.

Apparently, you weren’t enough of a reason to change his mind. You could understand it, though. Whatever their reason was, they still threatened him in a way, taking away his donors and – pretty much – stalking him all along. Did it mean that they gave up on trying? Were they letting him go?

You ran out of the room. The sudden speed you managed to reach almost sent you onto the opposite wall. You looked around, the stairs to the ground floor were nearby, and you used it without hesitation. The very moment you found yourself in the main corridor, five men, three of which you already knew, stared at you, as though they’d already known you’d come here before you even stepped down the stairs. And maybe they did, maybe they heard your shuffling just as you heard theirs. They must have had way more experience in figuring out the meaning of noises coming from afar.

But you couldn’t care less right now. One of them stepped in your direction, extending his hand to you in a welcoming gesture, but you didn’t spare it a single glance.

“Where is he?”

A silence filled the hall for a few moments. You could tell what they were thinking – looking at you, almost enraged; you must have felt abandoned, like an orphan.

“Where is he?!”

It was Minseok who stepped out, finally speaking to you.

“He left half hour ago. He told us that he won’t let us find him anymore, and that we shouldn’t even try. He’s probably taking off to another city. Or maybe country.”

You felt your heart drop at that. So that was, in fact, what he meant when he said he wouldn’t be able to talk to you later.

He was leaving you.

“He wanted you to stay with us” someone else said. The man smiled at you reassuringly. “You’re welcome to do so. You’re from our blood, too.”

You bit on your lip, but didn’t really listen anymore. It didn’t take you long before you made your mind.

“Where can he be now?”

“Maybe his flat?” Yixing spoke up.

“But you won’t get there on time. He’s probably already leaving” Minseok noticed. “You won’t find him like this.”

You felt frustration rise within you, a strong urge to move, to go just anywhere to find him.

“You can stay here, you know” the other one spoke again. “You don’t have to chase him.”

The offer seemed to be the simplest of ways. In fact, if you were to stay with them, you wouldn’t have to worry about anything. Neither about getting a job, nor about staying alive with your new nature. You didn’t know them all that well, but in a way, they felt like a family – one you didn’t know you’ve had, but still like someone who you can rely on. Unlike Baekhyun, you didn’t hesitate to admit it.

“Then how can I find him?” you turned your head to Minseok.

The man glanced at the others around him, as if looking for affirmation. No one dared to speak a word though, as if all of them already acknowledged your decision.

“You’re from his blood, you can track him. Go to his apartment and get a hold of his smell.” With a swift move, he tugged off his hoodie and threw it at you. “You’ve got blood on your shirt. Cover it. You’ve got around a week before your body starts to crave for blood, so make sure you won’t take longer than that.”

You pulled the hoodie on. Its smell was already familiar.

“How do I make him come here, though?” you asked, rolling the too-long sleeves up.

“You don’t.” The other man spoke yet again, his calm composure making you stop and look at him. You didn’t realize that before but from the way the others were gathered around him, it seemed as though he was the leader. “If that’s what he wants, don’t force him.” The man’s eyes flickered with bright red, so briefly you almost didn’t catch it. “But no matter what happens, don’t let him leave you. You’re from his blood, and he knows that.”

You cleared your throat and nodded, understandingly.

Minseok’s eyes flickered at that moment, too. You briefly remembered it being a sign, something that connected them, as a family. Your own eyes itched at the thought.

“You belong in his world now. Don’t make him wait.”

That was the last thing you needed to go.

With one, respectful bow towards the others, you left the house.

The familiar aroma was what led you.

The first step was, in fact, difficult. But there was a sense of purpose that kept you going.

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