7darkshadows - Ella (ia) - Tumblr Blog

— the one where jimin is not supposed to freak out but he freaks out anyway.

↳ alternatively jimin does not enjoy getting calls that let him know you’re in hospital, even if they give you chocolate pudding.

↳ genre established relationship / implied idol!au ig? / fluff & comfort / a lil angst and a lil humour / wc - approx. 700+

↳ warnings gn!reader / reader gets in a car accident (not described much) / jimin is very worried and frustrated / oc is a bit of an idiot PLSJSJS / injury — fractured arm

“hey, baby.” your voice fills jimin’s ears through his phone, and his lips immediately twist upwards into a soft smile.

“hi, sweetheart,” he replies cheerfully, ignoring the grimace taehyung sends in his direction. the two of them have been holed up in jimin’s studio for half the afternoon, and your phone call is a welcomed break from all the work he’s been doing. “what’s up?”

“listen — i need you to not freak out, okay?” you say guiltily.

the smile fades from jimin’s face, and his tone drops into suspicion. “why would i have to freak out?”

“you don’t have to freak out!” you suggest. “in fact, i’m telling you not to freak out. please don’t freak out.”

“you’re freaking me out!” he says, panicking. “what’s wrong?”

you hesitate. “i — i may have gotten into a… very small accident.”

“what?”

“but it’s like a teensy tiny one! miniature! microscopic, in fact!” you interject hurriedly, as he stands up, already searching for his keys. “jimin, there’s no need to freak out!”

he ignores this, and ignores taehyung’s concerned looks. “where are you? are you hurt? what kind of accident?”

“nooo, are you freaking out? you’re freaking out.” you sigh dispassionately. “i told you not to freak out!”

“oh my fucki — where are you, ___?” he repeats frustratedly. “please.”

“well.” you give him a sheepish laugh. “i’m kind of at the hospital right now. i have my own room and everything! they gave me chocolate pudding!”

he tugs a hand through his hair frustratedly. “chocolate puddi — god. i’ll be there in twenty minutes, okay? don’t — fuck. yeah. i’ll be there soon, baby, i love you.”

“love you too!” you say brightly, a stark contrast to the panic in his tone as he hurries towards the exit. “i’ll be here! in my hospital bed… just chilling….”

—

it takes jimin fifteen minutes to burst into your hospital room with a worried frown on his face. “hey,” he says breathlessly, striding over to you and cupping your face in his warm hands. “hey, what happened?” his hands run over your face lightly, his brown eyes distraught as he catches sight of the cast on your arm. “oh, baby.”

“you are freaking out,” you inform him knowledgeably.

he shakes his head at you, throwing his head back in exasperation. “you are so — of course i’m freaking out, you’re in the fucking hospital! what happened?”

“i was driving back from my lunch break — i went to that pastry place, you know? — and this guy ran a red light and hit me with his car. it was an accident! it’s not a big deal!”

“you’re hurt.” his voice is tight, and you see the tears in his eyes and suddenly realise just how worried he is. “it’s a big deal to me.”

“it’s not even broken,” you say softly, reaching up with your good arm to cover his hand that rests on your cheek. “it’s just a fracture. i’ll be fine soon, okay?”

he blinks furiously, and then sighs, dropping his head onto your shoulder. “okay,” he breathes, letting his panic seep away slowly. “okay. i just — if something happened to you — ”

“but it didn’t,” you interrupt gently. you don’t want his mind to go there. “nothing happened. i’m right here.”

he hums into your neck softly, muttering a quiet, “thank god.”

“and look!” you change tone, ready to lighten the mood. “the nurse wanted to sign the cast but i said you had to be the first. it’s all yours.” you offer him your cast and a pen, and he smiles fondly, scribbling his name and heart.

“she thought i was crazy, saying that park jimin had to be the one to sign my cast first,” you recall, giggling. “she wanted to check my head too.”

jimin’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. “that’s why she was looking at me like that when i came in!”

you examine his signature critically. “hey, do you think i could sell this after?”

“yah!” he cries, but he’s laughing as he scolds, both of you leaning into each other — park jimin never half-asses a laugh, he laughs with his whole body. eyes sparkling, teeth flashing, body leaning into yours like he wants to share this moment with you and nobody else. even in the oddest of places, park jimin brings you warmth and love like no other.

©️ userhobis 2022 | do not repost, copy or plagiarise

💌 let me know what you thought / comments, asks and reblogs motivate authors more than you can imagine, please don’t be a silent reader. <3

this is BEAUTIFUL <3 everything is so sweet and gentle. i don't even know what to say. every sweet soul deserves to be loved like this. the meeting on a subway concept? a dancer and an artist? YUP that is my kind of romance right there and the way you wrote it ugh I'm in love

tae and hobi tho💀 I'm wheezing helpkshdjdh i thought it'd be joon and yoongi i did NOT see that coming i wanna know how they met😭 they just healed my period cramps fr i was laughing

the shape of your body (explicit)

genre: fluffy slowburn smut

pairing: jimin x reader

summary: the same day you finally manage to speak to your months-long public transit crush, you end up seeing much more of him than you bargained for.

word count: 24k 🙇‍♀️

contains: explicit sexual content~*~ (after a slow burn lmao) - new york city grad school AU, strangers to lovers, reader is an art student, public transit thirsting, jimin is a dancer and a nude model, namgi and vhope as side characters, basically everyone is gay (they're ART STUDENTS in NEW YORK CITY it's called realism 💅), a smidge of member x member side character relationships, jimin is biromantic demisexual 👀, conversations about body image issues/past relationship struggles/demisexuality and libido, soooo much making out, a couple "failed attempts" at sex, accidental voyeurism (but not how you think lmao YOU'LL SEE), showering together non-sexually, and: fingering, clit stim, nipple play, come eating/sharing 🤭 an attempted blowjob, face sitting, & protected sex (multiple rounds 🥵)

A/N: asjdshgkdfjgs i can't believe it's done 😭 there were so many times i thought i would never finish this fic !!! i have too many friends to thank for talking me off of SEVERAL ledges where i was convinced this whole thing was trash and that i should just stick to short porn or perhaps simply never write again. i'm so glad i saw this one through because there are concepts in here that are deeply important and personal to me wehhh 🫠 i sincerely hope y'all enjoy this one!! thank u for enduring mostly radio silence while i was in jimin lockdown, and of course, happy early birthday to mini, the light of my mf life 🥰💜 (oh and LDOMLT ch 8 is coming next so buckle tf up bitches 👀)

an eternity of smooches to @haliiimede for beta reading and just generally being the best fucking person on planet earth ✨

read on AO3!

~*~

You’ve taken the subway thousands of times since moving to New York.

Morning rides, squeezed nearly to death between commuters in suits blinking back sleep and school-uniformed kids scream-laughing and paper coffee cups gripped tight by winter-numb fingers.

Long trips with your sketchbook on your lap, riding the line all the way to Pelham Bay Park and back, to surface above ground out where there’s a little more space to breathe, until the setting sun floods orange glow between the buildings just before you descend again.

Late nights coming home, Namjoon’s head thudding back against the train window behind him as he dozes off, one arm thrown around your shoulder to ward off any drunk creeps, his free hand interlaced with Yoongi’s on his other side.

It’s always been the three of you, first in friendship, and now that the two of them have figured out they’re something more, you don’t mind it. But when it’s late and you’ve had enough drinks to feel warm all the way through, to melt something open inside of you, and you glance over to see a loving flicker of eyelashes exchanged as Namjoon leans down and presses a kiss to Yoongi’s temple, you can’t help it.

There’s a little bit of an ache there, right behind your ribs. Sometimes.

But mostly, when it comes to the train, you take the 6 to school. You go through the motions this morning the same as you always do: headphones around your neck, bag slung over your shoulder, immediately dropping into the first empty seat you see as the train doors shudder closed and the car starts to move. Six stops down, 51st street to Astor Place, five days a week, you know it like a heartbeat.

You just wish you knew him, too.

Subway Boy, as Yoongi affectionately labeled him the time you got two pitchers of margaritas deep and made the mistake of confessing to your roommates about your crush— if it can even be called that. Can you truly have a crush on someone you know nothing about, not even their name?

Well, you know a few things.

He must live further north than you, because on the days you see him, he’s already on the train when you board at 51st.

He must like music, because he always has a set of fancy bluetooth earbuds in.

You’re pretty sure he’s an athlete of some sort, because he’s usually carrying a gym bag—and because during this summer’s heat wave, the one and only time you’ve seen him wear shorts, you nearly fainted at the thick, defined muscles of his thighs.

He has an affinity for jewelry, delicate silver always glinting through the multiple piercings in his ears. At odds with this, he seems to prefer to dress comfortably, and you’ve seen him in enough branded school t-shirts and sweats to figure he must also be an NYU student, though you can’t say for sure if he’s undergrad or graduate.

You deeply hope you’re not crushing on someone who still needs a fake ID to drink, but there’s no way to be certain.

Most importantly, you know that he is absolutely stunning. Elegantly handsome, with expressive deep brown eyes, skin like glass, and round cheeks and full lips that flush frozen pink on particularly frigid New York days. His hair has changed colors a few times over the months that have passed since you first took notice of him, but it’s currently a honey blonde, and long enough that he often reaches up to card a hand through it. He does it now, pushing loose strands back to expose his forehead as he frowns down at his phone.

On days where you share the same car, you notice very little else that happens on the ride, thoroughly entranced in Subway Boy’s beauty and his mystery. The train could probably catch fire and you’d miss it entirely.

Today happens to be one of those days, and excitement glitters in your bloodstream as you realize he’s seated across from you. The rush of seeing him always feels like its own reward, some kind of cosmic sign that the day is going to be a good one.

And then the train stops moving.

There’s an audible reaction from a few people in the car, and you glance up a moment later when a voice buzzes over the intercom. You’re able to make out “attention passengers” and very little after that, just the basics about some sort of unforeseen interruption of service and that the train should resume moving again soon.

You sigh, knowing very well that the MTA’s definition of ‘soon’ does not often align with typical human expectations. Figuring you’ve got some time to kill, you reach into your bag to retrieve your sketchbook and the first pencil you can dig out of the bottom.

“What did they say?” A voice, quiet and deep, surprises you before you can even flip to your in-progress page.

You glance up to find Subway Boy staring at you, forearms braced on his knees as he leans forward into the gap between his seat and yours. He’s got one bluetooth earbud pinched between his fingertips and a confused look on his face, having clearly missed the announcement.

Heat floods your face at the feeling of his eyes fixed on you, and it takes you a second to form a response. “Uh— I didn’t get most of it. Something about unforeseen interruption. And that we’ll be moving again soon.”

A muscle works in his jaw as he rolls his eyes. “Typical.”

“I don’t think they know what ‘soon’ means,” you murmur, mostly to yourself as you tear your gaze away from Subway Boy and return to the sketchbook in your lap, rifling through to find your latest half-finished drawing. When you hear him huff a laugh, you have to bite down on the hopeful smile that threatens to shine across your face.

“Definitely not.”

You force yourself to keep your eyes on the page, assuming Subway Boy must go back to his music when he falls silent after his last comment.

With featherlight flicks of your pencil, you start to add a little depth to the quick study you were working on last night, Yoongi’s half-peeled tangerine that he left abandoned on the coffee table when he stepped out onto the fire escape for a smoke.

Subway Boy’s voice catches you off guard a second time. “Are you drawing?”

You bite down on your lip again, a nervous habit, and you nod as you tilt the page so he can see from across the car.

“Wow.” You wonder if you’re imagining the way his voice seems to soften a little. “You’re really good. Are you an artist?”

You can’t help it— your gaze flits up to meet his again. It’s nearly overwhelming to lock eyes with your Subway Boy and hear him compliment you, like something out of a wild daydream. “I guess so,” you remark, the corner of your mouth tugging up into a small smile as you say it. “I’ve certainly paid NYU enough money in my attempts to become one.”

“Know the feeling,” he scoffs, but his eyes smile back, pulled into crescent moons.

“What did you pay them for?”

“Currently, a dual MFA/MA in dance and… teaching dance. Really went all-in on the dancer thing.”

“Oh.” Your eyes widen automatically. You’ve wondered— and yes, occasionally drunkenly speculated with your roommates— what Subway Boy’s line of work might be, but you have no idea why dancer never occurred to you. Because now all the pieces suddenly fall together in front of you: the toned muscles that flex beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt, the natural grace he exudes, not to mention his perfect posture.

Of course he’s a dancer. It makes perfect sense.

It occurs to you, a beat too late, that a wide-eyed ‘oh’ is not the most normal response to a truly innocuous answer to a question asked of a random stranger.

But the smile in his eyes doesn’t falter. “I feel like I see you on this train a lot.”

Your stomach flutters like butterfly wings, and you have to look away, back down to the safety of your sketchbook. “Really?”

There’s an extra pause before he speaks again. “Man, sorry. Think I misread that. Now I feel creepy. I promise I’ve only noticed you a normal amount.” Your eyes snap back up to find him wincing slightly, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“No, no, I’m— it’s not—” you stammer, trying to recover. “I, uh— me too, I have too. Noticed you. A normal amount. I… I don’t know why I just pretended like I didn’t.”

Subway Boy leans forward, head dropping down with a genuine laugh that shakes his shoulders, and you can’t help but laugh too, out of sheer embarrassment. He’s beaming when he rights himself again, and it sends a thrill buzzing through you, all the way down to your fingertips still clutched tight to your pencil.

“That makes me feel better,” he admits. “At least we’re both creepy.”

As if the universe itself is intervening to save you from any further humiliation, the train shudders back to life and begins to move again. The sigh you breathe is a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.

“That’s definitely a new record,” you say shyly as you move to shove your things back in your bag. “Maybe the MTA actually looked up what ‘soon’ means.”

His focus is tracked over your shoulder when you look up again, and his eyes dance left to right to chase the patterns in the subway tile as you pull into the next station.

“Guess it’s a miracle,” he says softly, not making eye contact.

“Must be,” you murmur back, letting your gaze drop to the floor, unable to hide your smile now.

He doesn’t say anything else, and neither do you, but the warm flush stays in your face for the rest of the ride. When the train pulls into the Astor Place station, you and Subway Boy get to your feet simultaneously, so quickly that your bags knock together as you pull them over your shoulders.

“Sorry,” you say in unison, immediately sharing an exhaled laugh at the synchronicity of the moment.

The doors slide open and he gestures for you to go first before following after. It’s a surprise— he’s never gotten off at Astor before, and when he doesn’t take the option of heading in another direction but instead falls into lockstep next to you, you seize the opportunity.

“Astor Place today, huh?” You hope the observation still falls into the category of ‘noticing a normal amount’.

“Yeah, first day of a new gig. What about you? Class?”

You nod. “Pretty standard stuff. But we start a new unit today, so that’s fun.”

“You in grad school too?”

“Yup, MFA in studio art.” You can’t help but tease, just a little. “Only one master’s degree for me, I’m such a slacker.”

His eyes squint again as he smiles. “Hey, I’m just glad you’re not, like, eighteen.”

“I thought that too!” You keep talking before you can stop yourself. “I mean, when I was… noticing. I distinctly remember thinking, like, please let me not be thirsting over a straight-up child right now.”

“Ahh...” Subway Boy trails off, and you can see a faint pink starting to blossom in the apples of his cheeks. “You were thirsting?”

You can’t help but scrunch your nose up slightly, resisting the urge to full-body cringe at your own stupid mouth. “We are now officially both creepy.”

He fidgets a little with the strap of the dance bag slung over his shoulder. “Hopefully I’m living up to the hype.”

You’re grateful to reach the art building before you can dig your grave any deeper. You nod your head in the direction of the glass doors as you slow to a stop, and he does, too. “This is me.”

“It’s actually me, too,” he remarks, glancing up at the building as if to double-check. “But I have a little bit, so I’m gonna grab a coffee I think. But it was nice to finally talk to you. Not that— sorry, that was weird. Take out the finally. It was good to talk. Meet a fellow starving artist and all.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, until you finally work up the courage to ask the question. “Do you have a name?”

“Oh!” His eyes widen, more heat-blush coloring his face. “Yeah. Park Jimin. Probably could’ve led with that.”

You give him your name, and his voice is like music when he repeats it back.

“Well, good luck in class,” Jimin says with a nod. “And hopefully I’ll see you around sometime.” A smile toys at the corner of his mouth, and then he pauses as his words seem to catch up to him. “Well, I mean. I guess I know I will. On the— train— yeah, I’m gonna go before I say any more stupid things.”

“Bye Jimin,” you giggle, and he gives a shy departing wave before he spins on his heel. As he walks away, you can’t help but notice the way he drops his gaze and shakes his head, like he’s thoroughly embarrassed by his social performance.

And just like that, Subway Boy has a name— one that loops in your head as you float to class, barely feeling your feet touch the floor. Park Jimin. It’s sweet like him, warm sunshine in your veins as you shoulder open the door to the studio, grab a seat, and start to get set up.

A voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin as Kim Taehyung leans in, having occupied the seat next to you while you were off in la-la land. “Know what the new unit is?” You start to shake your head, then realize it was a rhetorical question when he waggles his eyebrows and continues. “Life drawing. Ready for some naked people?”

You roll your eyes and grab at the strings of his gray beanie, pulling it down over his fluffy hair and eyes in one swift tug. “Bro, we are literally in grad school. Stop acting like a virgin.”

“Like you weren’t thinking it too,” he grumbles to himself as he shoves the hat back up his forehead.

You shoot him a look as your professor signals the class to settle and launches in. It’s the same routine as each unit you’ve rotated through in your graduate studio, so you only half-listen, mostly distracted by Taehyung tearing open the paper wrapper of a red heart-shaped lollipop and popping it into his mouth. His latest oral fixation in his millionth attempt to quit vaping.

You lean down to dig into your bag, trying to ignore the sound of hard candy clacking against teeth as you fish out both pencils and charcoal to give yourself options. You pull a couple of each out of their cases, glancing up in an attempt to refocus on the professor, who is still talking.

It takes a second for your brain to process the image in front of you. His shy smile has been replaced with a serious, professional expression, but there’s no questioning the familiar face, the posture, the silver jewelry, the way he reaches up to run a hand through his hair. Subway Boy Park Jimin is standing in the center of the room, wearing a short black satin dressing gown.

Your jaw goes slack. It feels like it happens in slow motion as you watch Jimin’s strong hands move down to undo the sash at his waist before he shrugs off the flimsy fabric and lets it fall to the floor. And then he’s not wearing anything at all.

You lose your grip entirely on your handful of pencils, and they hit the studio floor with a clatter that certainly feels deafening, each one choosing to roll off in a different direction.

Taehyung glances over at you, brow slightly creased. The lollipop tucked in his cheek impedes his speech slightly, but not enough that you can’t understand him. “Now who’s the virgin?”

You crouch down, praying that maybe you can gather your things unnoticed, but it already feels like every pair of eyes in the room is burning a hole in your back. To his credit, Taehyung at least helps a little, extending a sandaled foot to kick any pencils he can reach over towards you. You scramble around the room to chase after the rest, and you can’t bear to look up and see if Jimin is watching you or not. You’re not sure which would be worse.

Fighting the urge to army crawl out of the room, you grip both hands tightly around your materials as you return to your seat, then tuck everything into the tray of the easel in front of you. You’re a professional, you tell yourself. It’s not like it’s your first time drawing someone nude.

It’s just your first time doing it when you happen to have a crush on them.

But it’s fine. You let out an exhale to ground yourself, then pick up a pencil. It’s just a body.

You vaguely recall hearing your professor explain that you’d be moving through ten quick-sketch poses to begin with, each held for only a few minutes, before switching to a few longer sessions for the rest of class. As you were too busy chasing your pencils around the room, you’ve missed the first pose entirely, and you have to work quickly to get a very rough outline of the second before Jimin moves again at the professor’s instruction.

He switches so fluidly from one pose to the next, and you have so little time, it’s enough to get you out of your head just trying to keep up. You find yourself falling comfortably into a flow state, focused on little more than lines and shapes in front of you and the act of reproducing them on your page. It’s an exercise you know well, and the repetition of it soothes you.

The studio is quiet, save for the scratching of pencils on paper and the soft classical music your professor has switched on.

By the time you finish sketching the tenth pose, it feels like you can breathe a little easier, and your professor offers Jimin a quick break just as you lean back to admire your work. You do your best to quickly duck behind your easel as he stretches, then reaches for a bottle of water set on a nearby table.

Taehyung removes his sheet of sketches and sets it aside before leaning in, pressing his face against his easel to match yours. “He’s cute. Bet he gets like, infinite ass-pussy. Just the absolute most.”

“Shut up, Tae!” You jerk your foot out to kick the leg of his chair, and a boxy grin stretches over his face as he giggles. You stare daggers back. “You’re too damn horny today. Like you didn’t just get your ass eaten in the supply closet last week.” The rumor had spread through your cohort practically overnight— probably started by Taehyung himself.

The menace in question shoots you an over-exaggerated wink. “And I’d do it again, too.”

You roll your eyes. “Nasty.”

The professor claps to get everyone’s attention again, and you peer around your easel to watch as Jimin resumes his place at the center of the room. You settle in for the first of a few longer, more detailed sketches, trying desperately to keep your cool about it. But Jimin is unquestionably gorgeous.

He turns to the side for the first pose, arms wrapped around his muscular torso and eyes downcast, fingertips and thumb resting over his neck and chin as if to cradle his own face in his hand. After a long stretch of time where you manage to get most of a sketch done, the professor cues him to move into a second pose, and he faces the back wall, reaching up to drape his arms over each other, crossed wrists resting delicately on the crown of his head.

You could easily see him as a statue carved out of marble, and you try to ignore the flutter of your heartbeat as you attempt to translate his beauty onto your page each time. You have to hold in several sighs as you work on outlining the strong, toned muscles of his back and thighs— not to mention his perky ass. You can’t help but wonder if the rest of the class is struggling silently, too.

You’re beginning to think you might survive after all when the professor asks Jimin to move again and he does, shaking his body out slightly before reaching to grab a provided stool and shift it to the center of the room. He takes a seat, abdominals flexing as he leans back on his hands and unabashedly lets his legs fall open.

Fuck. You nearly snap your pencil in half.

You try desperately to keep it together as you start your third sketch with unsteady hands. The minutes tick by, and you aren’t aware of Taehyung’s eyes on your paper until you hear his stupid whisper again. “Why aren’t you drawing his dick?”

He’s not wrong. There is a noticeable blank spot at the center of your page. “I’m getting there,” you huff. “Worry about your own sketch, Tae.”

“Girl, you are literally doing detail shading on his legs and he doesn’t even have a penis. What is he, a Ken doll?”

You grit your teeth and refuse to dignify Taehyung with a response. Fine. You can do this, you tell yourself. Don’t think. Just look and draw. It’s not a big deal.

With a hard swallow, you trace your eyes down his body, and… well, you don’t know what you were expecting. It’s just a soft penis resting limp between his legs, framed by an extremely regular pair of balls. Nothing scary, though you can’t quite will the heat back out of your face, can’t manage to silence the recurring thought that makes your stomach drop— it’s cute.

You resist the urge to smack your head against your easel as you finally fill in your sketch’s dick.

You somehow manage to survive the rest of class, but relief still floods your veins when your professor signals for everyone to wrap up what they’re doing for the day. Jimin starts to come alive again from the fixed pose, tilting his head to one side until something cracks audibly in his neck. You tear your gaze away for fear that his eyes might find yours, and shove everything into your bag as quickly as you can, not even caring what ends up where.

“Where’s the fire?” Taehyung questions beside you, but you ignore him.

You zip your bag up and sling it over your shoulder, then make a beeline for the exit, keeping your eyes fixed firmly on the floor. It’s only once the studio door swings shut behind you that you feel like you can breathe again, and you have to keep yourself from outright sprinting to your next class.

~*~

The rest of the day rushes by in an overwhelming blur, your focus entirely shot by the events of the morning. You collapse into a seat on your train home, hugging your bag to your chest, thankful for the first time in your life to not be sharing a subway car with Park Jimin.

When you turn your keys in the lock and stumble in the front door of the apartment, the divine smell of what could only be Yoongi’s cooking immediately hits you full-force. You find him in the kitchen with a towel thrown over his shoulder, searing a large steak in a cast iron pan for what must be a planned date night with Namjoon.

You wrap your arms around his tiny waist from behind as you approach. He responds with his usual greeting: a soft grunt of mild discomfort.

“Can I ask you a question?” you ask, trying to sound as sweet as possible.

“You just did,” Yoongi notes.

You decide to let his sass go, since you really do need help. “Two more?” Yoongi hums, somewhat affirmative, and you continue. “I know you work like 47 jobs and never get any time off—“

“Some of us have to pay rent without the luxury of stipends or rich parents, yes—“

“But is there any way I could… maybe possibly encroach upon your date night just this once? It’s an emergency. I need advice.”

Yoongi sighs, and you shift to peek over his shoulder, arms still wrapped around him as you watch the way he tilts the pan to one side, collecting butter on a spoon to baste over the steak as it cooks. You squish your cheek into his bicep.

“Lucky for you,” he begins, his tone relenting, “Namjoonie just called. They’ve got him working late to prep for the exhibition next month. So date night was canceled anyway.”

“Aw, Yoongiiiii.” You squeeze him tight enough that he makes another disgruntled noise, and you finally release your grip. “I’ll be your girlfriend tonight.”

He rolls his eyes, but willingly plays along. “Then get the wine, darling?”

You fall into a typical routine: Yoongi pulls a tray of roasted vegetables out of the oven as he lets the steak rest, while you grab a bottle of red at his instruction and fight with the corkscrew in an attempt to get it open. Yoongi watches you, slow-blinking, unamused.

“You wouldn’t last an hour in the restaurant industry.”

“Either help me, or shut up,” you hiss through clenched teeth.

When you finally get settled at your tiny kitchen table, Yoongi nods as if to prompt you while he fills each wine glass with a heavy pour. “Let’s hear it.”

You take a deep breath before launching in and recounting the events of your day, trying not to choke as you simultaneously stuff your face with food. Yoongi eats and listens quietly, no discernible reaction on his face save the occasional lift of his eyebrows. He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest as you finish detailing the way you ran out of the studio the minute class ended.

“Alright. So you saw Subway Boy naked, big deal. Do you know how many dicks I’ve seen?”

You groan. “Spare me the details, please.”

“But this is what you wanted, right?” You shrug, and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t play coy now. You’ve been lusting after this kid for months like a weirdo. So why are you stressed?”

“Because!” you huff, frustrated. “It’s— it’s out of order. It’s not like he chose to get naked in front of me specifically, he obviously just thought it was going to be a roomful of strangers. And it seemed like maybe we could be friends or something, but now I don’t know if I should keep pursuing that or just leave him alone. I want to be respectful, but I don’t want him to think I took one look at his penis and decided I didn’t like him anymore, but then it’s like, how do I hold a conversation when he and I both know I have seen his penis, not only seen but studied it, drawn it, and will continue to, weekly, in detail, from multiple angles—“

“You are absolutely overthinking this,” Yoongi laughs into his glass of wine, downing the rest before he continues. “Just get on the fucking train and say hi like a normal, well-adjusted human. This is my advice to you.”

You sigh as you shove a roasted potato in your mouth. “At least you’re a good cook.”

“I’m a great cook,” Yoongi corrects you as he gets to his feet. “Now help me with these dishes.”

~*~

Yoongi’s advice continues to echo in your brain as you lapse back into something like normalcy for the rest of the week.

When the day of your studio class rolls around again, you find yourself hustling not to miss the train, having hit snooze on your alarm a few too many times that morning. You fly down the subway steps just as the 6 is pulling into the station, and you try to ignore the way your pulse is already quickening, telling yourself it’s just from rushing and nothing else.

Pulling the strap of your bag up on your shoulder, you make it to the platform just as the train doors slide open, and your heart instantly leaps into your throat. There he is, leaning against a pole, overwhelmingly beautiful as ever. Park Jimin.

He’s scrolling through something on his phone and hasn’t yet looked up to notice you, and you find yourself frozen in place, jostled angrily by commuters exiting and boarding the train on either side of you.

Panic floods your veins. There’s no time to talk yourself off the ledge, no time to remember Yoongi’s words of wisdom, no time to do anything but make a snap decision. So you do the only thing that feels right: you turn around and sprint back up the stairs and out of the subway station.

The sidewalk is equally bustling, and you try to dodge people while you think through what to do despite the way your head is spinning. You were already going to be cutting it close for time today, and you don’t exactly have the disposable income for a taxi or an Uber. As you try to settle your racing thoughts, your eyes alight on a rack of Citibikes.

Fuck it. You don’t have a better option. Securing your bag on your back, you quickly scan the code to unlock the bike, then shove your phone in your pocket and swing your leg over the seat.

You’ve never biked in Manhattan traffic before, but it can’t be that difficult, you tell yourself. Definitely easier than sharing a subway car with Park Jimin.

Thankfully the street you’re on has a defined bike path, and you do your best to follow the flow of traffic, squeezing your hand brakes to slow to a stop when you hit a red light. It’s been years since you’ve ridden a bike that wasn’t stationary, but it comes back to you relatively easily, like— well, riding a bike.

When you hit a long stretch of green lights, you do your best to pick up speed, trying to make up for lost time. An approaching red light threatens to slow you down again, and you breathe a sigh of relief as it flips to green at the last possible second.

Just as your front tire rolls into the intersection, a deafening car horn nearly gives you a heart attack. You instinctively slam your grip tight around your brakes, and your bike screeches to a halt so fast you’re almost flung over the handlebars. A taxi just barely veers around you as it plows down the intersecting avenue, and you gasp for air, adrenaline coursing through your system.

Holy shit.

You drop one foot to the ground for leverage as you try to get your pulse back under control— you’re pretty sure you just saw your life flash before your eyes. Reality feels a million miles away, but you’re vaguely aware of someone shouting after the car as it speeds down the street.

“Fucking asshole!”

It takes a few seconds for you to realize that it’s a familiar voice, and when you do, you whip around as best you can with a bike between your legs.

“Yoongi?!”

“Oh my god,” Yoongi groans, knuckles blanching as he presses down on his own brakes. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You squint, taking in the helmet strapped over his wavy dark hair and the insulated bag tucked into the basket on the front of his bike. “Since when do you deliver food?”

He grimaces, speaking up to be heard over the noise of traffic. “I just do it to make extra money when my hours suck.”

“What about the coffee shop?”

He shakes his head. “They only have me opening Mondays and Wednesdays right now.”

“What about the bar?”

“That’s just weekends, reliably. Sometimes extra evenings, but only if someone calls out.”

“What about the—”

“Christ, woman!” Yoongi cuts you off with a growl. “The food’s gonna get cold if I have to sit here and run through my entire résumé with you! Are you alright? Why aren’t you taking the subway?”

“Because!” you snap back. “There is a man on that train whose dick I’ve seen and I… I don’t know how to handle it! Okay?!” Though you don’t intend to raise your voice, it comes out loud enough that a group of high school kids on their phones exchange stifled giggles as they fast-walk around you.

“Well you need to be fucking careful,” Yoongi chides. “Biking in the city is not for the faint of heart. And if I’m not allowed to give in to my suicidal ideation, you’re not allowed to crack your head open on the pavement all because you’re trying to avoid a penis.”

“Fine,” you spit back through gritted teeth. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to class.” You push off the asphalt, legs still shaking a little with excess nerves as you re-find your balance and make your way cautiously through the intersection.

The rush of wind in your ears isn’t quite loud enough to drown out Yoongi calling after you as you bike away. “It’s only weird if you make it weird!”

When you somehow make it to Astor Place in one piece, you dock your bike and quickly sprint to the building, well aware that you’re already late. It’s only once you push the studio door open that you realize how truly frazzled and out of breath you are, and though you keep your gaze fixed on the floor, you can feel every pair of eyes in the room on you. You hold a hand up in an apologetic wave and hurry to find your seat.

Trying to collect yourself, you begin to unpack your materials as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the class. You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear Kim Taehyung’s voice beside you.

“You’re sweaty. Why are you so sweaty?”

He’s got an eyebrow cocked when you look over, and you give him the most powerful death glare you can muster, enough that it must actually scare him. “Shutting up now,” Taehyung murmurs, voice shaking slightly as he returns to his own sketches, and you huff an exhale as you attempt to catch up to the rest of the group.

Class passes surprisingly quickly once you manage to get your breath back, much in the same way it did the week prior: you do your best to compartmentalize the body in front of you from the human person you have a giant, embarrassing crush on. It goes decently well in the moments where Jimin is frozen in a fixed pose, just lines and curves and light and shadow for you to emulate. During the breaks when he comes alive again, you hide out behind your easel, trying to ignore Taehyung’s inane bullshit and wishing you could disappear entirely.

The second your professor dismisses everyone for the day, you stuff your things back into your bag, hoping to once again speed-walk out of the room.

But despite your better judgment, you can’t help yourself this time. As you get to your feet, you glance up to watch Jimin pull his dressing gown back on, only to realize his eyes are already on you.

You’re distinctly aware of how much of a mess you must look from biking over, and the fact that you almost assuredly smudged charcoal on your face when you reached up absentmindedly to scratch an itch mid-sketch.

Jimin’s plush lips turn up in the smallest of smiles, and the bottom drops out of your stomach.

With a hard swallow, you avert your gaze from his, sling your bag over your shoulder, and quickly make your escape through the studio door. You can feel your pulse pounding in your throat even after he’s out of your sight, and your hands shake like a leaf all the way to your next class.

~*~

That night, sleep evades you until the early hours of the morning, and it feels like you’ve only just begun to doze off when the harsh noise of your alarm pulls you up from dreaming. You roll over in bed and glare accusingly at your phone, then shut it off, promptly letting the waves drag you under once more, seminar be damned.

It’s nearly noon when you finally make it out of bed and stumble into the living room in your sweats. Namjoon is curled up in his reading chair, a feat for someone of his size, surrounded as always by his massive stack of ever-changing ‘to read’ books. He glances up from the one that’s open on his lap, clearly surprised to see you.

“No class?” Namjoon’s voice is rough-edged, like he’s only just woken up himself.

“Skipped,” you grunt. His eyes track you as you cross the room and collapse face-first onto the couch.

“Is this about the penis?”

The cushion muffles your groan. “Not you too.”

You hear the distinct fluttering sound of Namjoon closing his book and shifting in his seat to give you his undivided attention. “Seems like you want to talk about it.”

You turn your head to the side to take in your roommate. “Maybe. Are you gonna give me the same stupid advice your boyfriend did?”

He smiles softly, one dimple flexing at the corner of his mouth. “I can try to be gentler.”

You huff as you flip onto your side, pressing your palms together and slipping them under your cheek. “Sounds like you’ve got the details already, so please. Enlighten me. Tell me how I’m supposed to handle seeing this guy naked once a week in the name of art.”

“Didn’t William Blake say ‘Art can never exist without naked beauty displayed’?” Namjoon poses it like a serious question, brow creased as if in contemplation, and you roll your eyes.

“I don’t know, Joon, did he? I said enlighten me, not write me a thesis.” You reach up to grab a couch pillow and fling it in his direction, missing by several inches. “Did Blake have anything in there on dealing with a naked crush and trying not to make it weird as fuck?”

“Well, does he seem weirded out by it?” Namjoon counters, patient as ever.

“I don’t know.” You shrug unsurely as you play back your last interaction with Jimin. “He smiled at me yesterday, at the end of class.”

Namjoon steeples his fingers together, leaning forward slightly in his chair, interest clearly piqued. “Okay, and what did you do?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “I… threw all my shit in my bag and ran out of the room.” When you crack an eye open again, you can see Namjoon trying and failing to keep the smug smile off his face, his dimples giving him away.

“Maybe you could try smiling back next time?” he gently suggests.

You sigh, because you know he’s right. “You make it sound so easy. What’s next? You’re going to tell me to talk to him?”

He laughs a little. “I’d quote another poet, but I fear you might launch more projectiles at me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Let’s hear it, nerd.”

Namjoon clears his throat for dramatic effect before launching into a recitation. “‘It’s cool, not tryna put a rush on you / I had to let you know, that I got a crush on you.’”

There’s a wide grin on his face as you sit all the way up. “Did you just quote Biggie Smalls at me?”

“Hey, I appreciate all forms of poetry.”

You feign annoyance, but you can’t quite hide the smile beneath it, and you get to your feet as Namjoon continues to mumble a verse of Crush on You under his breath. “Whatever. I need to do laundry.”

“Oh—” Namjoon pauses to interrupt himself. “Lucky’s closed, by the way.”

Already halfway out of the living room, you whip around again at the mention of the laundromat you’ve been exclusive with for the last few years. “What?”

He nods solemnly. “Me and Yoongi found out the hard way last week. They’re putting in an Equinox.”

Your face twists in disgust. “A stupid bougie gym?! You’ve got to be kidding me. Where am I supposed to wash my fucking clothes?”

“We found a place a few blocks up. Quick Clean, or something like that.” Namjoon shifts to dig his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll send you the address. It’s not bad, just a little more expensive.”

“This is such bullshit,” you groan as you stomp back into your bedroom, the day already off to a terrible start.

In a gentrification-induced rage, you angrily shove the contents of your overflowing laundry hamper into the giant yellow IKEA bag hung up in your closet, just barely managing to fit it all. Glancing at the mirror on the back of the door, you briefly consider changing out of your sweats, or at the very least doing something with your hair, but you shrug it off— it’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone at the damn laundromat.

You grab your headphones off your desk and sling them around your neck, double-check that your sketchbook is still tucked into your bag, then lug everything out to the front hallway. You pull your slides off the shoe rack and slip your socked feet into them.

“Bye, nerd!” you call over your shoulder to Namjoon before the front door slams shut behind you.

By the time you make it to the weird new laundromat, you’re sweaty and pissed off. You knew the walk to Lucky’s by heart, but you had to do this one while looking down at your phone GPS and trying not to get hit by a car. Not an easy feat while carrying every article of clothing you own over one shoulder.

You miss the way the nice old man who owned Lucky’s would greet you warmly and sneak you a cup of coffee from his pot in the back, the way his cat would roll over on the front counter for belly rubs, the way there was always a deeply entertaining telenovela playing on the ancient tiny TV.

The stupid Quick Clean has none of these things, just a shitty pile of magazines in the seating area and weirdly sticky floors. You slam into the front door a little harder than is necessary to push it open, the bell tinkling violently overhead as you enter. The only compliment you can give the place is that it’s relatively dead, save for a couple people on their phones or half-asleep in chairs as they wait on their stuff, and two guys in the corner loading armfuls of wet clothes into a pair of dryers.

You grab a machine a respectful distance away from them and swing the door open when a laugh that’s nearly musical gives you pause. Unable to shake a sense of familiarity, you glance over at your neighbors again, just in time to see one of them reach up to run a hand through his honey blonde hair.

Your IKEA bag hits the sticky floor with an audible thud as panic kickstarts your heart.

This isn’t fucking happening. Of all the laundromats in New York City, you did not just manage to stumble into the one currently being used by Park Jimin.

But even before you can catch a glimpse of his profile, you’re already certain it can’t be anyone else. You’ve spent too much time familiarizing yourself with the slope of his neck, the definition of his forearms, his dainty hands. There’s no mistaking them, adorned today with several silver rings that catch the dim fluorescent light as he grabs more of his clothes from the washer.

The desperate need to turn around and run rises up in your chest, just as before, but this time you steel yourself. You can’t keep running away forever— particularly not when you pulled on your last clean pair of underwear this morning.

A rush of heat floods your face at the thought of the many pairs of underwear in your bag that will soon be sent spinning around this washing machine, where Jimin could easily see, but then it occurs to you that you have seen his penis. Maybe the trade-off will put you on slightly more equal footing.

But you really don’t need to be thinking about Park Jimin’s penis in this laundromat right now.

Shaking your head slightly to try and banish the thought, you set about your laundry routine, trying not to drop any unmentionables on the floor when you dump the contents of your tote into the washer. You dig quarters out of your bag and slot them into the machine, then press the button to start the cycle.

With a final exhale to steady yourself, you turn to look over your shoulder again, only to find Jimin leaning up against the empty dryer next to his, unabashedly watching you with a small smile on his face.

It occurs to you now that you couldn’t have put less effort into your appearance if you tried, and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of every random stain on your sweatpants and your extremely fashionable socks and slides combination. Jimin’s just in a white t-shirt and a pair of distressed jeans today, but literally everything looks fresh off the runway on him. You suppress the urge to walk out the door and go lay down in traffic, and instead take Namjoon’s advice: you smile back and even lift your hand in a shy wave.

You drop into an empty chair across from your machine and watch as Jimin starts to cross the room to join you, his eyes never leaving yours. Before he can make it, you suddenly become aware of someone else sliding into the seat beside you.

“You didn’t tell me she was cute, Jimin-ah!”

Eyes wide, you turn to see Jimin’s friend sprawled out next to you, one arm draped lazily over the back of your chair. His wavy dark hair peeks out from under a lime green beanie, and he’s swimming in an oversized long sleeve tucked into baggy pants, cinched tight at the waist with a Gucci belt.

“Jung Hoseok,” he gives you a nod. “Friends call me Hobi. You can call me whatever you like.” The way his wide smile pulls his mouth heart-shaped makes you giggle a little, slightly dazed by whatever the fuck is happening right now.

You hear Jimin sigh as he takes the open seat on your other side. “Please ignore Hoseok’s tendency to come on way too strong. If it makes you feel any better, he’s as gay as they come.”

Hoseok flicks his wrist just so. “Guilty as charged.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” you say with a shrug, your gaze flitting from Jimin to Hoseok and back again. “I have two gay roommates, so.”

Hoseok hums, clearly interested. “Gay together or gay separately?”

“Gay together.”

He narrows his eyes. “Open to a third?”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected question. “Uh, I’d have to ask.”

He looks like he’s going to say more, but Jimin interjects. “Hoseok— can we get a minute?”

Hoseok’s lips pull together, fish-like, and he nods as he gets to his feet. “Say no more. I’ll just, uh…” He fumbles, looking around for something to do, then crosses the room to take the open seat next to the sad pile of magazines. “…do a little light reading.” He picks up one at the top of the stack, holding it up for you both to witness. “Oh look, the queen died!”

You bite down on your bottom lip to suppress another laugh, but Jimin’s face is surprisingly serious when you look back at him. “I just want to say one thing,” he murmurs, voice low, “and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Nerves settle in the pit of your stomach like a heavy weight. “Jimin,” you start, and when he opens his mouth to keep talking, you blurt out the first thing you can think of.

“I’m sorry,” you say in unison, and there’s a beat where you both blink, equally taken aback by the other’s apology. It’s quiet apart from the rumble of the laundry machines and the distinct sound of Hoseok smacking the magazine over his mouth, clearly more invested in your plot line.

You break the silence first. “Wait, why are you sorry?”

Jimin’s eyes drop down to the floor, one black boot toeing nervously at the tile. “I figured you were upset with me because I didn’t warn you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise when you play your initial conversation back. “Oh my god— when I said graduate studio art, you… you knew.”

He nods, somewhat remorseful. “I was kind of hoping that maybe it would be a different class, but. Yeah. I figured. I’m really sorry, I should’ve—”

“No, no,” you interrupt. “I get it. I’m not mad, obviously I didn’t even put it together until right now.” You pause for a second and can’t help but smile a little. “And, I mean, how do you just casually work that into your first conversation with someone? ‘Great talking to you, ready to see my dick in five minutes?’”

Jimin’s head tips back when he laughs, his cheeks flushing a faint shade of pink. “Right.”

You can feel your own face grow hot as you realize what you’ve just said. “God, sorry, I didn’t mean to— clearly I don’t know how to handle this. That’s why I wanted to apologize, for avoiding you and being weird.” You twist your hands uncomfortably in your lap. “I’ve just never been in this situation before, and I wasn’t sure if you’d still want to talk given… the…” Every cell in your body screams at you not to say the word ‘dick’ again. “Yeah. I thought it might be easier to keep my distance. Keep it separate.”

Jimin’s eyes drift back up to find yours, and his casual beauty is so stunning, it’s enough to knock the air out of your lungs. He shrugs softly. “I mean, maybe it would be. But I don’t want to.”

“Great,” you manage a laugh, still breathless. “Because I nearly died on a Citibike the day I didn’t take the subway.”

He laughs, too. “Not gonna lie, I missed seeing you on the train.” You’re not expecting it when he extends a hand out. “Friends?”

You realize belatedly that he’s offering a handshake, and you gently take his hand in yours. His skin is soft and warm, a contrast to the cool metal of his rings that press into your palm as he squeezes.

“Friends,” you echo with a smile, squeezing back.

There’s a sudden thump and a cackle as Hoseok falls out of his chair with a peal of laughter. “You are so fucking weird, Jimin-ah!” he gasps from his spot on the floor. “Who shakes hands?!”

The two of them keep you more than entertained until the buzzers on their dryers sound a second apart from each other. You learn that Hoseok and Jimin are roommates, that they met as dance majors in their undergrad program, and that Hoseok now works as an adjunct instructor and freelance choreographer.

“Because some of us decided we wanted to actually make money instead of digging ourselves further into debt,” he explains with a sly grin and smack delivered to the back of Jimin’s head.

You watch as they meticulously fold, Hoseok regularly leaning over to redo Jimin’s work and chide him about wrinkles, and then they stack the clean laundry back into their bags and head for the exit.

“Bye, new friend!” Hoseok calls as he maneuvers the door open with his foot, and Jimin pauses at the threshold, the bell overhead tinkling gently.

“So… guess I’ll see you on the train?” he asks, like he’s still a little unsure, and your heartbeat flutters.

“Guess so.”

“Cool.” He gives you one last soft smile before he disappears after Hoseok. The bell sounds again when the door shuts behind him, as if to snap you back to reality.

The floating feeling in your stomach doesn’t quite dissipate even long after Jimin has left the laundromat. While you wait on your clothes, you flip to a blank page in your sketchbook and start on something new: the outline of a hand extended in mid-air, rings glinting like an offered promise.

~*~

The next week, Jimin is waiting for you on your morning subway ride, the dance bag that he usually keeps tucked between his legs set on the bench next to him. When he sees you step through the train doors at 51st, you watch him reach over to swing the bag down to its rightful place on the floor, freeing up the space. An open invitation.

You can’t help but feel a little shy as you sink down next to him and murmur your thanks. There’s something about being this close to him that just makes your mind go blank, puts you at a loss for words entirely.

To your surprise, he doesn’t try to strike up conversation either. Instead he plucks one fancy bluetooth earbud out of his ear, gives it a diplomatic swipe across the fabric of his joggers, then holds it up, pinched between his fingers in front of you.

Another invitation, you realize dumbly.

The corner of your mouth turns up as you pluck the bud out of his hand and press it into your own ear. The music that must have paused itself upon the earbud’s removal resumes, and your smile grows when Jimin quickly unlocks his phone to restart the song from the beginning.

An acoustic guitar and a light, pretty voice fill your ear, underscored by a gentle yet driving beat, not unlike the rumble of the train beneath your feet. It’s like the rest of the world fades away to nothing as you stare down at his sneakers next to your shoes, hyper-aware of the mere inch or two of space between you in this moment.

As if to prove your point, the train comes to a sharp stop, enough to make you slide a little on the bench and then you’re suddenly not just close but touching, all the way down, an unbroken line from shoulder to hip to knee.

When you look over in surprise, Jimin is already looking back at you. You swear you can feel warmth radiating out from him at every point where your bodies press together.

After another dazed moment, you come to your senses enough to scoot over, breaking the contact with an embarrassed laugh as you feel your face grow hot.

Your gaze drifts back down to the floor, only to snap up again at another brush of contact, this one not initiated by you or by the motion of the train. Instead, you realize Jimin has spread his legs an inch wider to purposefully touch his knee to yours again and leave it there. You blink softly as you look over at him, but he’s staring firmly out the window of the subway car now, smiling with just his eyes.

For the rest of the ride, you think of little else but Jimin’s knee pressed against yours and the pretty pink flush in his cheeks.

You stay in comfortable silence, music floating in your ears as you exit the train at Astor Place together, until you reach the studio, where you finally return the borrowed earbud. He smiles as he tucks them both back into the case, then pushes open the door and gestures for you to enter first.

Jimin shoots you a final look before your paths diverge, and you sink into your seat with a small, dreamy sigh. Your bliss is short-lived when you hear Taehyung’s voice over your shoulder.

“That was fast.”

You whip around to shoot him a look. “What was fast?”

He makes a face, like it’s obvious. “You’re already banging the model and it’s been, what, two weeks?”

Taehyung’s just close enough that you can lean forward and smack him on the arm, and he hisses in a way that has to be an exaggeration. Thankfully he seems to take the hint, and manages to actually keep his mouth shut as the professor commands everyone’s attention at the center of the room.

When Jimin emerges in the usual black satin, you try to keep your composure, but you can’t ignore the chill that dots up your spine when he lets the fabric fall to the floor.

Nevertheless, you sink into the routine of class, the thrill of Jimin’s naked body now equal parts familiar and exhilarating. The only difference is that today, when you’re dismissed, you make no effort to quickly pack up. You instead purposefully take your time, adding a few extra details to your last sketch before you finally start putting things away. Your gaze flickers up distractedly to see Jimin pulling his dressing gown back over his body as he moves to close the distance between you.

“Hi,” he says simply when he reaches your easel, and you smile.

“Hi.”

“Sorry, is, uh— is it okay that I talk to you, when I’m—” He gestures vaguely to his lower half with one hand, using the other to keep himself covered.

You swallow hard at the thin layer of fabric and everything you know lies beneath it. “Yeah, it’s okay,” you say, hating how breathless you sound.

“When are you done with classes today?”

It takes an extra second for you to remember your own schedule. “Uh, six.”

Jimin fidgets with the satin material in his hands, clearly a little uncomfortable. Or maybe nervous. “Would you… want to get dinner after? With me?”

Your stomach flutters as you nod. “Yeah, yes. I’d like that.”

~*~

When you emerge from your last class, you find Jimin waiting for you on Astor Place, and you’re not expecting it when he greets you with a single question: “Do you like sushi?” You answer affirmatively, and he nods over his shoulder. “Then let’s walk this way.”

You end up tucked into two seats at a place you’ve never been to before, where rolls and other plates of food zip past you on a steadily moving conveyor belt. Jimin shows you how to pop the plates out from their protective domes, and you gather a small feast of options on the table between you to share.

“So,” you start with a nervous smile, chopsticks hovering in midair. “Can I ask the obvious question?”

He quirks an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”

“What made you decide to nude model?” The words alone send fresh waves of heat and nerves through you, sparkling in your chest. “Or have you done it before?”

“I haven’t,” Jimin confirms with a shake of his head, then he pops a piece of sushi in his mouth as if to buy himself time. He chews, bringing a hand up as he speaks with his mouth still half-full. “Do you want the real answer?”

You nod, and his adam’s apple jerks as he swallows. There’s a look on his face like he isn’t quite sure what to say, and then he exhales a weighty sigh. “I’ve struggled with my body for a really long time. Especially in undergrad.”

Your eyes widen slightly— you weren’t expecting such a serious response.

“Dance doesn’t typically have the best culture for that to begin with,” he continues, “and I’d spend literally all day staring at myself in a mirror, so I would just… pick myself apart. Always convinced I wasn’t good enough, that I needed to lose more weight, always.”

The thought of it makes your heart ache, but you let him talk.

“I’m through the worst of it now, so please don’t feel like you need to be worried. But I have some friends who’ve done this kind of thing before and it seemed like, I don’t know, a good challenge?” His brow creases, contemplative. “I really love art, so I thought maybe if I did it, I might be able to see my body in a new way, through the eyes of other people. Of artists.” He pauses, then nods, like he’s said his piece.

It takes you a second to respond. “That’s… beautiful, Jimin.”

He looks down, clearly a little uncomfortable. “Sorry if that was too heavy.”

“I can take it,” you say softly, and it’s enough to make him glance back up in surprise. “Thank you for telling me.”

A faint color floods his face. “Thanks for listening.”

You eat in a silence that’s oddly comfortable, and when you both reach for the same piece of sushi and end up knocking chopsticks together, he lets you have it, picking up the thread of conversation again as he smiles. “What got you into art?”

You make a face, chased by an unsure shrug. “Is it bad if I say it’s the only thing I feel like I’m good at?”

Jimin laughs a little. “I don’t know that I believe you.”

“I mean,” you lean back in your seat. “Maybe not the only thing, but I’ve just never been able to see myself doing anything else. I’m not cut out for the corporate life, as much as my parents wish I was. Art’s always been the thing that I go to in my free time. When I’m feeling so much that it’s overwhelming, or so numb that it’s like I can’t feel anything, the act of creating something just… brings me back to center again.” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “It’s an outlet, I guess.”

“Well, if it helps, you’re very good at it.”

“Thanks,” you say with a small smile. “But it’s not even about being good, at least not to me. Maybe it sounds weird, but I don’t really have any interest in being the best. It’s art, so it’s all subjective anyway. I just wanna make stuff.”

Jimin smirks as he adds another empty plate to the growing stack in front of you, tongue poking briefly at the inside of his cheek before he speaks. “I could stand to be more like you.”

“Your turn,” you shoot back. “Why dance?”

At this, he actually brings a hand up to cover his face, and his voice is muffled under his palm when he responds. “I can tell you exactly why, but it’s embarrassing.”

You shift a little in your chair to get a better look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed! It’s not like I—” you cut yourself off before you can very obviously finish the sentence with ‘haven’t seen your dick’, and you shove a piece of sushi in your mouth to shut yourself up, so fast you nearly choke.

Jimin laughs loudly into his hands, and then you’re laughing too, dropping your head down on the table to try and chew your food without asphyxiating.

“Okay, okay,” he gasps when he can finally manage to take a breath in. “I’ll tell you.”

He sets his chopsticks down, overly serious. “When I was little, I was obsessed with Titanic. Specifically the scene where they dance together, and Rose rises up on her toes in front of everyone.” There are practically stars in his eyes as he recounts the moment, and you can’t bear to cut him off. “I just thought she was so beautiful, and I wanted to be like that. Almost broke my toes trying to go en pointe barefoot like an idiot.”

You’re silent for a moment, and there’s a flicker of panic in Jimin’s face, like he’s worried he overshared. “I have to be honest,” you say softly. “I’ve never seen Titanic.”

His eyes nearly pop out of his head. “What?!”

Already expecting the reaction, you grimace and nod. “I know, I know. Everyone gets mad at me for it. Go ahead.”

Jimin’s eyes flit from your face to the remaining piece of sushi on the plate between you, then back again. “I mean, we can go solve this problem right now, if you want.” He pauses, then admits with a giggle, “I have it on DVD.”

You shrug, trying to act casual despite the way your pulse has started to quicken. “They canceled my morning seminar for tomorrow, so I’m down.”

He leans forward to steal the last piece of sushi with a smug smile. “Then let’s get out of here.”

It’s a short train ride back to Jimin’s place, and you make it in the front door just in time to see Hoseok slipping out of what looks to be his bedroom. You barely process him as the same person— tonight his dark hair is swept off his forehead, and he’s in nice dress pants and a white button-down, unbuttoned just enough to display the delicate spread of his collarbone.

“Hi kids!” he calls in greeting, and you wave back as you kick your shoes off.

Hoseok crosses to grab a mirrored pair of aviators and his keys off the table by the front door. “Daddy’s going out. You two have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He pauses for a moment, like he’s waiting for a joke to land, then cracks a grin. “By which I obviously mean do whatever the fuck you want.”

As Hoseok pulls the door shut behind him, you follow Jimin into the living room, where you perch nervously on the edge of the couch while he disappears into the kitchen. “Do you like prosecco?” he asks, raising his voice slightly to be heard.

“Uh, I think so,” you say unsurely. “I don’t think I ever developed enough of a palette to have wine preferences.”

“White and sparkling?”

“Sounds good,” you respond, and then you hear the distinct noise of a cork popping before he returns with a bottle and two glasses in hand. He sets everything on the coffee table as he takes a seat next to you, then leans forward to fill both glasses nearly to the brim.

Jimin’s face flushes when you giggle softly at the pour. “Sorry— I like to drink. You don’t have to finish it all.” You shrug and take a healthy pull from your glass. It’s crisp and light, with little bubbles that fizz and pop all the way down. 

“Hoseok calls me a lush,” he admits with a shy laugh as he picks up his own drink and turns to face you, sitting back against the arm of the couch. You shift to mirror him, curling your socked feet up under you. He takes a sip, then seems to think better of it, leaning forward to set his glass down on the table again. “I did want to tell you something. A couple of things, I guess.”

The sentence makes your stomach twist, and you try your best to ignore it. “What’s up?”

Jimin’s lips press together for a moment, as if he’s trying to figure out how to word whatever he’s about to say. “I’m not, like, trying to be presumptuous by telling you this but I just— I don’t want it to go unsaid and then come up later and be a whole big thing, so. I just want you to know that Hoseok is my ex.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but certainly not that.

“We dated freshman year of undergrad, for… maybe three months? It was the kind of thing where I knew I was bi in high school but was too scared to act on it, so when I moved to New York I just, like, dated the first gay person I met? Which was probably a little shitty of me. We quickly realized we work much better as friends, and it was a very mutual thing. No hard feelings.”

You nod slowly, trying to keep up. “And you’ve lived together since then?”

“No, no,” Jimin replies quickly, and he nearly grimaces as he continues. “At the end of last semester, I, uh… I got out of a pretty bad long-term relationship.” The way he says it makes your heart sink a little. “And she and I lived together, so Hoseok was extremely gracious and offered to take me in.”

He reaches for his glass of wine again, then pauses with it halfway to his mouth. “Ideally the number of exes I’d be living with would be zero, but. You know. This is definitely the better option, at least until I can figure out what comes next.”

A pause settles between you while he takes a long drink and you try to process all this new information. “I’m sorry about the breakup,” you say softly, and he shakes his head as he swallows.

“Don’t be. It was a very good thing. Long overdue.”

“Well,” you correct yourself, the corners of your mouth pulling up. “Then I’m sorry that it took so long.”

At this, he smiles back. “Me fuckin’ too.”

After one more sip, Jimin sets his wine back down on the coffee table, then rolls off the couch— surprisingly graceful— to retrieve Titanic from the small collection of movies lined up on the shelf beneath the TV.

“Ready?”

“This better have a happy ending,” you murmur over the edge of your wine glass. Jimin laughs so hard he nearly tips over.

He settles next to you again as the movie starts, painted pretty in the blue glow of the TV, and you try your best to watch the movie, but it’s hard to keep your eyes off him. Partway through you notice him grab a pillow off the back of the couch and hug both of his arms around it, curling up small.

Cute, you can’t help but think to yourself, and you can feel heat settle in your face as you try to refocus on the story.

When you reach the dancing scene Jimin sits up a little, lips parting slightly, that same starry look in his eyes as when he explained it initially. The mental image of a younger version of him equally enraptured by the moment nearly makes your chest cave in.

The movie goes on, and you’re draining the last of your second glass of wine when out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin’s eyes go wide. Jack and Rose are closely examining a rare diamond necklace, and you don’t understand what he could be reacting to until Kate Winslet delivers her next line.

“Jack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls.”

Your eyes go just as wide as Jimin’s, and you let out a laugh of disbelief that’s nearly a scream. “Oh my fucking god, Park Jimin! You did this on purpose!”

“I swear, I didn’t! I didn’t even think about that part until right now!” He shakes his head desperately as he gasps for air, and he doubles over with his own laughter, rolling right off the couch, arms still clutched tightly around his pillow.

“I literally cannot believe this.” You dissolve into giggles as you sink to your knees on the floor beside him, close to tears.

It takes time for you both to recover, but Jimin eventually manages to pull himself back up to sitting, shoulders still shaking slightly with laughter. He lets the pillow drop to the floor and presses both of his palms down into it as he leans towards you. “But hey, maybe that’s why I like you.”

He’s so magnetic, so beautiful, you can’t help but lean in, too. “You like me?”

There’s a warm glow of color in his cheeks, and you’re not sure if you can blame it entirely on the wine. “I do.”

Your lingering smile slowly starts to soften, and now your heart feels like it might pound out of your chest. “So what, you’re Rose and I’m Jack?”

His gaze drops to your mouth, his voice barely more than a whisper as he murmurs, “Uh-huh”. Imaginary violins swell in your head as you surge forward to close the distance and press your lips to his.

Jimin’s lips are soft and warm, and your head spins as you sit up on your knees and lean into the kiss. While his mouth moves gently against yours, his palms press to the small of your back, and the heat of his hands radiates through the thin fabric of your shirt. You wrap your arms over his shoulders, partially for balance and partially in an attempt to pull him closer to you.

He tilts his head, and you whimper against him when you feel his tongue trace delicately over your bottom lip. He returns a breathy noise back as he licks slowly into your mouth, like he’s taking his time, like he’s not in any rush.

Even though you can feel your arousal starting to build, heavy in your gut and slick between your thighs, you realize: you want him to take his time with you.

You’re surprised at the loss when he suddenly leans back, just enough to break the kiss, still keeping you held close. “Is it, um—” he clears his throat, then tries again. “I don’t… want to go any further. Than this. At least not tonight. Is that okay?”

Your eyes search his, and you’re a little breathless when you manage to get the words out. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’m good with that. With whatever you want.”

“Okay.” You exhale a laugh when he reaches over to find the remote on the coffee table and pause the movie. “I want to keep kissing you, if that’s alright.”

“Yes, please,” you murmur against his lips.

Jimin shifts a little, and you follow his lead, letting him tip you backwards onto the floor, your arms still looped around his neck, one hand now tangling in his honey blonde hair. He drops a forearm down to the carpet beside you, his other hand coming to rest at the curve of your waist, knees bracketing your hips as he covers your body with his.

He alternates between sucking on your lower lip and gentle passes of his tongue into your mouth, the hand on your waist tracing a lazy path down to your hip and back up again. Something pulled tight inside you starts to slowly unwind, blooming open as you sink into the rhythm, into him.

It’s been such a long time since you’ve just kissed someone like this, without it feeling like part of a race to get naked. And you’ve never been kissed like this in your life— so soft, so attentive. It’s enough to make you dizzy, even with your back pressed flat to the floor.

You lose track of how much time passes as you trade open-mouthed kisses on Jimin’s living room carpet, until he finally pulls away again. Still in a daze, you shift the hand in his hair to gently cup his face, not quite able to believe that he’s really real.

“God,” Jimin breathes, laughing quietly to himself. “I really like you.”

You smile as you blink up at him. “I like you too, Jimin.” 

Rolling over, he drops down onto the floor next to you with a blissed-out sigh. He stretches his arms overhead, spine arching like a cat, then lifts up again to glance back at you. “Do you want more wine? ‘Cause we’re only like halfway done. This movie is stupid long.”

“I could go for more,” you answer with a shrug, still smiling.

In one swift move, Jimin flips his legs over his head and effortlessly somersaults up to standing, and your eyes go wide. “How do you fucking do that?!”

“I’m a trained professional!” he calls over his shoulder as he sashays into the kitchen. You giggle a little. “I would break every bone in my body.”

He’s humming prettily to himself, and you hear the sound of the fridge opening and closing, followed by the pop of another bottle being uncorked. You pull yourself back onto the couch as he rejoins you and pours fresh wine into both glasses, and a sudden curiosity urges you to ask a question. “Is Titanic your favorite movie?”

Jimin shakes his head, but says nothing, and the strange hesitant expression that flashes over his face just makes you that much more intrigued.

“Let’s hear it.”

His eyes flit over to you, then back to the wine glasses. “You’ll laugh.”

“I won’t!” you exclaim, lifting a hand when he scrunches up his nose, doubtful. “Promise.”

With a reluctant sigh, Jimin sets the bottle back down on the table, staring straight ahead as he admits, “It’s The Notebook.”

You press your lips together, trying desperately to keep your mouth in a straight line. At least you manage not to laugh. “I— wow. Really?”

He nods like the reaction is expected, picking up his wine glass and settling back against the couch cushions. “I don’t know, there’s just something about it. It’s comforting, to me.”

“You’re such a romantic,” you murmur, gently nudging his thigh with your foot until you coax a smile out of him.

“You know what?” Jimin’s voice is thoughtful now, more self-assured. “I am.” He takes a sip of his drink before he continues. “For a long time I didn’t want to be. Or thought that I couldn’t be. I used to always try to be so. I don’t know. Masculine, I guess. I think some of it had to do with denying my sexuality, but even once I got around to accepting that, there was still this part of me that would just never allow myself to be… soft.”

His gaze drops down to the wine in his glass, and you sit up, tucking your legs underneath you to scoot closer to him until you’re side by side. “I like you soft,” you say simply, and he looks over at you, still smiling.

“If we watch The Notebook I will cry.”

“That’s okay.” You lean into him to seek a kiss, made sweet from the wine. He hums a little against your lips before you pull back. “Same time next week?”

~*~

Just like that, you fall into a regular routine with Jimin: sharing his headphones on the morning train, sketching out the shape of his body in studio, then picking up takeout and wine to bring back to his place and split over a movie. As predicted, The Notebook does make him cry, and when you show him Kimi no Na wa the week after, hot tears stream down your face at the final scene, the way they always do.

He takes your head in his hands as the credits roll, his thumbs swiping at errant tears on your cheeks. You chase a sniffle with an embarrassed laugh. “Okay. We’re even now.”

On your fourth movie night, partway into Moulin Rouge, something emboldens you when you see Jimin reach for his usual couch pillow. You lean over and gently pry it out of his grip, then shift to tuck yourself into his side and curl your legs up in his lap instead.

“Better?”

“Mm-hmm”, he murmurs as he ducks down to nuzzle against your cheek. “You’re warm.”

These nights end the same way each time: you ride the train home with a wine-soaked buzz in your brain and flushed, kiss-bitten lips, your fingertips brushing over your own mouth at the memory of his.

Once a week quickly turns into more. The two of you coordinate laundromat afternoons where you listen to music together as you wait for your clothes. You usually end up drawing to pass the time, and sometimes Jimin dozes off, head tipping over onto your shoulder so gently that you can’t help but smile down at your sketchbook.

At his request, you help him dye his hair pink in his tiny apartment bathroom, and it somehow suits him just as well as honey blonde. You both get dizzy from laughter and cleaning product fumes as you desperately try to scrub the bubblegum stains out of the tile before Hoseok comes home.

When you finally introduce Jimin to your roommates, the four of you crammed all-too formally around the kitchen table over Yoongi’s cooking, the interaction feels like a cross between a job interview and a prom date meeting your parents. You choke on a piece of chicken that you nearly inhale when Namjoon offhandedly refers to Jimin as Subway Boy, and Yoongi smiles wide enough to show his gums as he gladly recounts your months-long crush in great detail while you bury your burning face in your arms.

But Jimin takes it in stride, laughs into your mouth as he kisses you over the sink while the two of you wash the dishes.

“Subway Boy, huh?”

“I will drown you,” you murmur as you pull away, brandishing the spray hose like a threat.

It’s easy and slow. This blossoming something, a nameless but undeniable spark, the calm comfort of Jimin’s arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers intertwined with yours, his head dropped down on your shoulder.

~*~

You dig your phone out of your pocket as you shoulder open the door to the dance building, pulling up the text from Jimin to double-check his practice room number. A train delay made you slightly later than your agreed-upon time, but you know the takeout bag of Indian food dangling over your wrist will easily earn you his forgiveness.

It doesn’t surprise you that he’s the only one left in the room when you find it, nor that he’s still reviewing the choreography with an expression of severe focus. You hover in the doorway, waiting for him to look up, but he’s entirely concentrated on his own reflection in the mirror.

His movements alternate between delicate and powerful, explosive and restrained, and you have to hold in an outright gasp when he launches his body into an aerial and lands it effortlessly. But then his feet falter in a split second of hesitation, and you can see his expression tighten, clearly frustrated.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself as he rubs a hand over his face, and he doesn’t even try to keep going with the rest of the dance. You take the opportunity to step a few more paces into the room, and his eyes jump to you in the mirror.

“Hi,” you say softly, suddenly a little nervous to be intruding on the moment. The corner of Jimin’s mouth turns up, but his eyes seem far away, and you can tell he’s still raging at himself in his mind.

“Hi, sorry,” he sighs. “I just— can’t get this. It’s like my body isn’t doing what I tell it to.”

“You need food.” You try to say it gently as you cross the room, holding up the smiley-face adorned plastic takeout bag. “And perhaps the enigmatic charm of Rachel McAdams.”

This seems to shake him out of his thoughts, at least a little. “I do like her.” He steps close enough to slip his arms around your waist and pull your body flush against his. Sweat glistens on his collarbone in the dim practice room lighting. “But I like you more.”

You roll your eyes as you playfully smack a hand against his solid chest. “Stop lying.”

“‘M not,” he insists as he presses a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. “Rachel McAdams has never once brought me masala dosa.” You giggle despite yourself, and when his lips drop down to your neck, it’s enough to make your breath hitch.

A spark ignites in your chest that doesn’t go out, not on the subway ride back to your apartment, not through dinner and a movie, and certainly not once you’re most of the way through the second bottle of wine. As the credits start to roll, you waste no time, turning in Jimin’s lap so you can properly straddle him and take his face in your hands.

You trade decadent, easy kisses, and Jimin’s hands settle at the small of your back, his thumbs massaging gentle circles into your hips. A shiver rolls up your spine when he shifts a little and you realize you can feel a growing bulge through the fabric of his joggers, pressed firm against your thigh. He breathes a soft sound into your mouth as his tongue slides over yours, and you’re so overwhelmed, you barely register the sound of keys in the lock or the front door opening.

It’s Jimin who reacts first, turning his head to break the kiss as his cheeks flood with color, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see Yoongi storm past, heading for his room. He lifts a hand up to his face to shield you from view as he goes.

“Don’t stop on my account!” Yoongi’s voice is dripping with derision. “By all means, continue fucking on our shared furniture!”

“We’re fully clothed, asshole!” you snap in response as Yoongi slams the bedroom door behind him, hard enough that it rattles in the frame.

When you look back down at Jimin, his face is twisted in an expression you take to be embarrassment. You drop your head down on his shoulder with a frustrated groan, the moment successfully killed.

“Do you…” you pause, turning your head to the side but continuing to ask your question into the fabric of his shirt. “We could go to my room, for more privacy, if you want?”

He hums his agreement, and when you peel yourself off the couch and head for your room, he follows. You spin back around to face him in the doorway, so fast he nearly knocks into you.

You brace your hands on the doorframe as you survey him. “We really don’t have to… do anything, if you don’t want to. We can just talk.”

Jimin nods, and you step aside to let him enter first, pulling the door closed behind you as you follow. He takes a few tentative steps into the room, and you walk past him to drop down onto the floor next to your bed, then pat the carpet to encourage him to join. There’s a flash of something over his face, and then he sinks down beside you. It’s only now that you realize how quiet he’s gotten.

“What is it?” you ask, suddenly a little nervous.

He stares down at the soles of his feet, pressed into each other, his knees tipped open like butterfly wings. “Does it make you feel bad? That we’re not—”

“No,” you answer immediately, and the honesty of it resonates in your chest.

“I know we’ve been hanging out for a while,” he continues, voice low. “And I do want to, you know. Hook up.”

“Jimin,” you lean forward to place both of your hands over one of his, settled atop his knee. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. When you want to, I want to. But I like everything we’ve been doing, too. It’s not like we’re not… intimate.”

His gaze flits up from the floor to meet yours. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t want you.”

You close your fingers around his hand, pulling it off his leg and up to your face so you can brush your lips over his palm.

“I don’t think that at all,” you murmur against his skin. “Promise.”

There’s a hint of a smile in his eyes when you look back up at him. “Okay. Sorry, I know it’s stupid. Like why do I need reassurance from you when I’m the one being difficult?”

You press your cheek into the warmth of his hand, toying lazily with the rings on his fingers. “Why are you so convinced that you’re difficult?”

Jimin huffs a small sigh. “This conversation has not gone this well in the past.” His eyes drop to the floor again, and after a moment’s pause, he keeps talking.

“My ex and I struggled a lot with…” he shakes his head, as if he’s trying not to say ‘everything’. “Sex. With me wanting it, with us having enough of it. I think it gave me a complex. I could be physically, you know, ready, but then as soon as she’d touch me I’d get in my head about everything and freak out and immediately want to stop.” He pauses, worrying at his bottom lip.

You pull his hand into your lap, your fingers delicately tracing over his in an attempt to provide some comfort. He shrugs when he starts to speak again. “And then, I don’t know, I guess she was just trying to share her side, but... she would make me feel so bad about it sometimes. Because I was genuinely trying so hard but it was like I was never good enough.” Another pause, and this time he sniffs a little. When his eyes roll up to stare at the ceiling, you can see he’s holding back tears. “It felt like she didn’t want me anymore, not if there wasn’t sex. So I left.”

“Jimin,” you breathe, and he flashes you a small grimace, clearly embarrassed by his own dramatics. With a grunt of effort, he turns sideways and flops backwards onto the floor of your room, and you scoot closer to him, your hand still playing with his.

His gaze roams over the ceiling as he sighs. “I don’t want you to think I was this perfect person and she was some awful bitch. She loved me a lot, and I’m sure she was struggling with not feeling wanted either, in her own way.”

Your voice is soft when you interject. “Two people can just be… incompatible. It doesn’t mean either of them is a bad person, or that it’s anyone’s fault. Sometimes things just don’t work, no matter how hard you try.”

Jimin’s mouth pulls up on one side as he shakes his head, eyes squinting. “How did you get to be so smart?”

You can’t help but laugh a little, lacing your fingers together with his in your lap. “Years of making terrible decisions.” You give his hand a gentle squeeze before you ask a question. “Did you struggle with this before, or just with her?”

His mouth twists slightly, unsure. “Yes and no? Both? My desire has always… fluctuated, I guess. Been a little shy.” A smile spreads over his face, and he hums a note. “Like, you know how people say love at first sight isn’t a thing? That it’s just lust?” You nod, prompting him to continue. “I think, at least for me, it’s the opposite. I can fall for somebody, and fall hard, like that.” He snaps loudly with his free hand. “But lust… I don’t know, it takes longer. It’s like a slow burn thing.”

You nod again, processing his words for a moment before you respond. “Well, I’m in no rush.”

Jimin sits up, voice thoughtful as he untangles his hand from yours, and it’s clear he’s getting more comfortable opening up to you. “Right after the breakup, I did a lot of research. I found this term, demisexual, that felt pretty accurate.” He shrugs. “But I don’t know. I mostly just think that... I am who I am. And the people who get it will get it. Like you.”

Before you can even speak, he sweeps an arm under your calves to drag you into his lap in one swift move, and you squeak a little in surprise as your world tilts.

“Demisexual. I like it,” you giggle as he guides your legs to wrap around his middle. His hands slide up your thighs, grabbing at your hips to tug you closer so he can trail kisses along your neck.

“Biromantic demisexual, technically,” he murmurs, head tipping up to find your mouth again.

You drape your arms over his shoulders and hum against his lips as he kisses you. “It suits you.”

Another soft noise escapes you when Jimin manages to maneuver to standing with you still in his arms. You tighten your grip on his shoulders and your legs around his waist, and his hands shift down to your ass to firmly hold you up. You squeeze your eyes shut automatically in fear of being dropped, then flutter them open again when you feel your back press into the soft cushion of your bedspread.

Jimin is hovering over you, forearms dropped down to the bed on either side of you. His eyes search yours for a moment, and then he leans in to kiss you again, so fiercely this time that it leaves you breathless. You can’t help but whimper as his tongue slips into your mouth.

When he finally pulls away, he presses his forehead to your collarbone with a groan. “It’s late,” he murmurs, breath ghosting over your neck. “I should go.”

You nod responsibly, despite how desperately you want him to stay.

You walk him out, and his sweet parting kiss leaves your heart hammering in your chest, enough that you slump against the frame with a sigh once you shut the door, your knees suddenly weak.

Light on your feet, you follow the faint noise of the TV to find Yoongi in the living room with Planet Earth on at a barely audible volume. He glances at you, his mouth a flat line, then reaches for the remote to turn the sound up a few notches. You drop down on the couch next to him, and it’s silent for a moment, save for the calm narration and the crinkling plastic of him tearing open a bag of Turtle Chips.

“How’d it go?” he finally asks, voice monotone.

“It’s good,” you answer softly. “We’re good.” You fold your legs up under yourself and sneak a look at Yoongi out of the corner of your eye. You’re still a little pissed, but you also want advice. Damn him for knowing everything.

“Have you heard the term ‘demisexual’ before?”

Yoongi nods, still chewing as he replies. “Yeah. Like asexual spectrum, right?”

You shrug. “I guess. It’s new to me.”

He shoves a few more chips in his mouth before he continues. “Is that what your Subway Boy is?”

“I think so, yeah.”

There’s a long pause while you watch penguins march across the screen, and you think that might be the end of it. Then Yoongi clears his throat. “You know, I’m somewhere in there too. Not completely asexual, but definitely not… not.”

Your eyes widen. “Really?”

Yoongi snorts. “Don’t act so shocked. These walls aren’t that thick.”

“Is Joon?”

He smirks, like you’ve just told a joke. “Decidedly not.”

“Oh.” You blink, trying to process. “How do you deal with it?”

Yoongi makes a face, like he’s never thought about it before. “We just communicate, I guess. Be respectful even when we don’t necessarily understand. And, like, Namjoon watches porn, and surprisingly reads quite a bit of erotica—”

“Okay, okay,” you cut him off. “I don’t need all the details.”

He huffs a dry laugh at your discomfort. “It’s not always easy, sometimes it’s frustrating for both of us. But we make it work. We love each other.”

You chew a little at the inside of your cheek, and then you can’t hold in the question any longer. “Is it weird that the idea doesn’t bother me? Jimin said it was a huge issue with his ex. Like, does that make me on the… spectrum?”

Yoongi shrugs. “I mean, you might be? But not necessarily? I don’t know, sex matters different amounts to everyone. Some people don’t mind not having it that often. You don’t have to put a label on it unless you want to, you know?”

“Yeah, makes sense.” You nod slowly as you digest the idea. “Thanks, Yoongi. I appreciate the education.”

His only answer at first is a noncommittal hum, and then he points a finger at the few inches of wine in the bottle you left sitting on the coffee table. “Gonna finish that?”

“It’s all yours,” you say. “Consider it atonement for going to first base on the couch.”

Yoongi grabs the bottle by the neck and immediately drains it. “Apology accepted,” he grunts as he sets it back down. “And I’m sorry I snapped at you.” He extends his bag of chips in your direction and you happily reach in for the biggest handful you can manage.

~*~

During your next movie night, Jimin can’t keep his hands to himself.

They pet up your thighs, your legs draped over his, then slide up to your hips, fingertips tracing patterns over the waistband of your leggings and toying at the hem of your shirt.

His mouth has a similar problem: he leans in to press kisses along the line of your jaw, then down the slope of your neck, sucking delicately at the spot that makes your nipples tighten and sends a shiver through you.

“You’re missing the movie,” you remark, raking a hand through his peachy-pink hair, shadowed at the roots where his natural color has started to grow in. He’s typically good about keeping himself restrained until the credits roll, but you’re barely halfway through Pride & Prejudice, haven’t even cracked a second bottle yet.

“Fuck the movie,” he growls against your skin, and you bite back a whimper when his teeth scrape over your neck. You can’t ignore the way your core is starting to ache from his insistent mouth.

His lips find yours again, and you giggle softly into him. “You’re in a mood.”

“Just been thinking about you,” he murmurs between kisses. It surprises you a little when he suddenly pulls back so he can look you in the eyes. “Should we— do you want to go to my room?”

The air hangs still and heavy between you, and you worry at your bottom lip for a moment. “Are you sure?” When he nods, dark brown eyes blinking up at you, your mouth turns up at the corner. “I’d rather we not traumatize any more roommates if we can help it.”

You lean over to pause the movie before sliding off his lap and getting to your feet, and then you reach your hands out for his and pull him up next to you. “Come on.”

Jimin’s bedroom is so perfectly him that it relaxes you, feather-soft comfort every time you step inside. His bed isn’t made, because it never is, the thick white duvet pushed down on one side where he stumbled out from beneath it this morning. He keeps it dark, blackout curtains drawn to support his night owl lifestyle, and the room is bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights he’s strung up along the ceiling. A myriad of posters and art prints and polaroids are taped to the walls, some beautiful, others sentimental— he even managed to coax you into tearing a few of his favorites out of your sketchbook. You still don’t think they’re anything special, but nevertheless, it makes your heart squeeze in your chest to see them on display with everything else. Like they belong here in this room, like you do too.

The door clicks as it shuts behind him, and then his mouth is on yours again, kissing you dizzy while he backs you up until your knees hit the edge of the bed. He guides you to lay down, and his hand slips beneath you to drag you up the bed with him as he crawls over you.

His hands come up to tug at your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he breathes.

You nod, staring up at him and not quite able to believe any of this is real. “You can do anything you want to me.” With a smile, he lifts the hem of your shirt, and you sit up a little so he can pull it the rest of the way off.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Jimin murmurs against your skin as he kisses down your neck, over your collarbones, then down between the valley of your breasts. His hands slip down to palm at your tits, squeezing gently, and he mouths at the stiff peaks of your nipples over the thin fabric of your bralette. You untangle briefly, only for as long as it takes to get the lacy thing off of you entirely and tossed over the edge of the bed.

You shiver a little as the air hits your bare skin, and then the warmth of his body covers you again, and he ducks down to close his mouth over your nipple and suck. The plush softness of his lips and the firm suction combined are enough to make your eyes roll back, and your spine arches up beneath him when he drags his tongue in a circle over the sensitive bud.

“Shit,” you groan. Your hands fist in the fabric of his shirt, and it feels like your only tether to reality.

It’s easy to believe it’s the waiting, the anticipation of this moment, that makes every little touch light you up like a live wire now. But something tells you it will always feel like this.

While his lips shift to your other breast, one hand slides down to cup your clothed pussy, rubbing gentle friction into your center. You circle your hips to press yourself against the flat of his palm, sighing at the brush of indirect contact and the heat that thrums through you from the pressure on your clit.

You feel Jimin’s weight shift on the mattress as he kneels next to you, and his lips find yours again at the same time his hand slips into your leggings, two fingers tracing the seam of your panties to make you whine softly. If he couldn’t tell before, he must be able to now: how wet you are, enough to drench the lacy fabric so it clings to your cunt, dripping arousal to show how badly you want him.

He’s surprisingly forceful when he tugs the damp fabric to the side, but so gentle again as he slips one finger and then a second into your tight heat. Your mouth drops open as he curls them up to rub at your g-spot, stroking into you over and over while your cunt squeezes tight around him.

Your head drops back on the pillow and you groan. “Oh, fuck, Jimin.”

You can hear how soaked your pussy is as he pumps into you, and the wet squelch of his fingers working inside you would make you shy if it didn’t feel so overwhelmingly perfect. The pleasure edges your breathing with soft sounds, and Jimin swallows them when he kisses you again.

He shifts slightly for a better angle and then you feel the heel of his palm grind down against your clit. It’s enough to make your hips buck up under him with every press of his hand, his insistent touch shooting sparks of arousal through you.

It’s been so long since anyone has touched you, and you’ve wanted this with him so badly for so long, but even still, it surprises you how quickly he can bring you to the edge.

“Jimin,” you break the kiss to gasp against his mouth, unable to believe how close you already are. Close enough that all you can do is cling, to any part of him you can reach: his hair, his shoulders, the fabric of his shirt. “Jimin, Jimin, fuck.”

“Look so fuckin’ good like this,” he groans, and he says the next part softer, like it’s just for him. “My girl looks so pretty on my fingers.”

The pace of his movements doesn’t falter, nor does the heavy weight of his palm as he ducks down to capture your nipple in his mouth again. Your pussy pulses around him, sucking him in to the last knuckle with each thrust of his hand, and your nails dig desperately into his forearm as you feel your orgasm crest.

His teeth graze lightly over the tight bud of your breast, and it’s enough. With a final whine, the arousal that’s been coiling inside you snaps, and your back arches up off the bed as you come hard on his fingers.

Jimin’s fingers keep stroking you through it, the flat of his palm rubbing rough circles against your clit again and again and again and it feels like you might never stop coming. You moan as it rolls over you, wave after wave, until his touch is so overwhelming that you have to pull your trembling thighs together, and he finally relents.

Spent, your body sinks heavy into the bed, and you can’t help the dazed giggle that flutters out as afterglow starts to bloom behind your ribs.

Jimin hovers over you, dropped down onto his forearms, full lips pressing indiscriminately to your flushed skin, all over. You snake a hand through his hair to pull his mouth up to yours, and he kisses you slow and deep.

When you break apart, you tip your forehead to his. “Can I touch you?” you ask, still a little breathless.

“Please,” he murmurs, lips brushing against yours again before he pulls away with a small, embarrassed smile. “My pants hurt.”

You sit up on your knees and he does too, and you bite down on your lip as you reach for the hem of his shirt. He helps you pull it over his head, and then there he is, beautiful as ever. Familiar, yet somehow all new.

Jimin shivers and whines when your hands run across the bare skin of his chest, teasing over his soft brown nipples before starting to trace a path down to his stomach. You lean in to kiss him, and he outright groans into your mouth when your fingertips tease along the band of his boxers that peeks out over his jeans. You gently bring your palms to his hips to guide him, and he’s pliant for you, shifting backwards at your suggestion until he’s seated, leaned back against the headboard.

Your hands shake slightly as you unbutton and push down his jeans, and you hear him exhale a ragged sigh of relief. He’s so hard, you can understand why the tight denim must have been painful: his dick is still straining even now, a thick outline pressed into the fabric of his underwear, and there’s a dark patch that clings to his tip where he’s started to leak precum.

You tug his boxers down with enough force that his length smacks heavy against his stomach, and he makes a strangled noise in response, eyes squeezing shut. His hips jerk violently beneath you, and your jaw goes slack as you watch his cock twitch, and keep twitching, until a steady pool of milky gloss has leaked out over his stomach.

“Shit,” Jimin hisses as he comes practically untouched, and he gasps for air to try to speak. “Fuck fuck fuck— ‘msorry, thought I could—”

You can see him starting to spiral, can feel the panic starting to heat up inside his body, so you take his face in both of your hands. “Jimin.”

“This has never happened before— fuck, I don’t— this is so—”

“Jimin.” When you say his name again, firmer this time, he goes quiet, his eyes still shut tight. “Look at me,” you murmur, and he does, lashes slow-blinking open. “It’s okay. Okay?” Your gaze searches his, trying to convince him. “I like everything about you. Everything you do. You’re perfect.”

Clearly trying to steady his breathing, his chest shudders with effort, and you gently circle your thumb at the hinge of his jaw. He makes a soft noise as his eyelids drop shut again, his cheek pressing into your hand, letting you carry a little bit more of his weight.

It’s quiet for a moment, and his voice is unsure when he speaks. “There’s tissues… in the—”

“Can I take care of it?” you interrupt to ask, your voice low. His eyes blink open again to look at you, and a dark glint flickers there as the unsaid meaning of your question washes over him.

“Y-yeah.”

You take your time moving down the bed to settle between Jimin’s thighs, and you stare up at him, waiting for any indication that he wants you to stop or doesn’t feel comfortable. But he just swallows hard, his adam’s apple jerking in his throat, and nods.

Leaning down, you drag your tongue in steady, long strokes over the flat plane of his stomach to lick the mess up.

As you get the last of it, you’re surprised to feel his hand cup the back of your head. You don’t resist when he pulls you up for a kiss, then licks into your mouth to taste himself, the salt and slick of his cum sliding between your tongues.

When you break apart to swallow, Jimin’s voice is a whisper. “That okay?”

You nod, unable to bite back your smile. “You’re… really fucking hot.”

He smirks as he finds your lips again. “So are you.” The next kiss is sweeter, and then he pulls back. “If you want, we can keep— or I can go down— I don’t want—” He can’t finish any of his half-started thoughts, and you smile, lovingly running your palms over his thighs, back and forth. 

You want him so badly, more than anything, but you try to breathe through it. You can see the wheels spinning in his head, that self-critical flash in his eyes, the same furrow in his brow that creases when he gets frustrated with himself.

“I’m not saying no because I don’t want you,” you preface. “But I just don’t want you to feel stressed or get in your head about it. I want it to feel good, and I’m in no rush. Next time, okay?” 

His lips are still a little pouted, but he nods, and you lean in to sling your arms around his neck. “C’mere.”

You tug him down to the mattress, and your half-naked bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, hands tracing gentle patterns over bare skin as you kiss.

When you eventually end up with your cheek pressed to his chest, you listen to the sound of his heartbeat settling, his breathing evening out. You speak softly in the quiet of his room. “My roommate’s doing an exhibition on Friday. Will you come with me? I’ve been promised there will be free booze.”

Jimin tightens his grip on your waist, his voice slurring like he’s half-asleep. “Mmm, my favorite person and my favorite thing.” There’s a pause, and he sighs. “That sounded bad. Promise I'm not an alcoholic.”

“I know,” you laugh, dragging your lips over his collarbone, then grunting a little noise of frustration as reality starts to set in. “I have class early tomorrow. I should go before I fall asleep here.”

He whines his disapproval, but when you glance up you can see the fight going out of him, his eyelids starting to flutter closed. You lean up for one, two, three more kisses before you force yourself out of bed to find your bra and your shirt. “I’ll see you Friday?”

“Mmkay.” He inhales deep, like he’s coming up for air. “Text me when you make it home safe?”

“I will,” you promise, and you do.

~*~

Namjoon’s exhibition is laughably fancy for what really just ends up being a room full of gay, overdressed art students. The ridiculous finger foods disappear in minutes— all the broke grad school kids came hungry— but you and Jimin gladly hover around the table of champagne flutes instead, giggles sparkling between you like the bubbles that fizz in your glasses.

You’ve been trying to drag him away to actually take in the art, but he keeps necking his drinks. “You’re supposed to sip it, you demon!” you chide with a laugh as he does it again, picking up a fresh glass and throwing all of it back in one gulp.

He smirks slightly as he shakes his head. “It’s more fun this way. Try it.”

You roll your eyes, hiding the grin that threatens to stretch over your face in the rim of your drink before following suit. He’s not wrong: a rush of warmth creeps up your neck as you swallow, the world softening around you, and it’s made sweeter by the kiss Jimin leans in for. When he pulls back you can see his face is flushing, too.

“Come on, Mr. Park,” you murmur, your free hand intertwining with his as you set the empty glass down and retrieve another. “Take me on a tour.”

Jimin grabs another flute too and then you’re off, and he actually manages to drink this one slowly as you weave through the gallery, the click of your footsteps underscoring the gentle classical music that floats through the speakers. You lean into Jimin in comfortable silence as you take in each art piece, sipping delicately at your champagne, occasionally hooking your chin over his shoulder just for the thrill of being close to him.

“These are all beautiful,” he hums appreciatively as you stand in front of a wide, impressionist landscape, swirls of color that shift into shapes when you step far enough away, but dissolve into unidentifiable blobs of thick-textured paint up close. “Namjoon did a really good job curating.”

“Mm-hmm,” you nod, but your eyes are on Jimin and everything else pales in comparison. He’s dressed up for the occasion, tight black jeans and a white button-down with a leather jacket thrown on over top. His hair is styled, pretty pink strands pushed back off his forehead, and his asymmetrical silver earrings glimmer in the low lighting. The result is so stunning you’ve had a hard time focusing on anything but him tonight.

A thought that’s been running through your mind all evening resurfaces again as you swallow the last of your glass of champagne.

“They should put you in a gallery.” You didn’t necessarily plan to say the thought out loud, but say it you do. Jimin quirks an eyebrow and you decide to double down. “But not here. Somewhere better.”

“The Met?” he guesses, teasing.

“The Louvre,” you counter, and he outright laughs, his head tipping back.

“The Louvre?!”

“You heard me,” you giggle, your body pressed against his side. “You’re art.”

Releasing your hand, he wraps his free arm around you to pull you into his chest, the smile still lingering over his face. “And you,” he murmurs, “are drunk.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.” Your voice is muffled slightly as you speak into his collarbone.

You tilt your head up for a kiss, and it seems to surprise both of you how quickly the atmosphere changes. It might be the more-than-several glasses of champagne to blame, or the fact that you’ve found yourselves in a corner, hidden away from the rest of the exhibition’s patrons, but the soft spark that ignites between you quickly grows into a licking flame at the touch of your lips. It’s heat-blush passion as your mouths move against each other, and you’re trying to keep quiet despite the weight of it, heavy in your core, this shared, unspoken need.

“Jimin,” you breathe into him, overwhelmed by all that he is.

He shifts, nosing at your jawline as he speaks into your ear. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

The suggestion makes you a little unsteady on your feet, your high heels threatening to topple over, and he catches you with a hand to your waist when you falter. “Like, somewhere here?”

“Too far to go all the way home,” he purrs, the hand on your body squeezing gently. “And you look too good.”

Your head swims as he kisses you again, and he pries the empty glass out of your hand, setting it down on the nearest table with his. A hand returns to the small of your back, then slips lower, cupping your ass through the fabric of your black dress. His mouth paints a smile over yours, and you grab his wrist. “Follow me.”

Stumbling your way through the gallery, trading laughs under your breath like confidants and kisses when no one is looking, you lead him back to the coat check closet at the front, thankfully left vacant by whichever freshman had been roped in to the thankless job. With a final glance over your shoulder to make sure you’re unseen, you push the door open and tug Jimin inside after you.

As soon as the coat check door closes again, he has you pressed against it, his tongue slipping hungrily into your mouth. His hands skirt up the curve of your hips as he slots a thigh between your legs, firmly pushing up the hem of your dress to grind into your clothed center.

You both freeze where you are at the sound of a moan, one that very distinctly does not come from either of you.

Jimin tries and fails to suppress a nervous laugh. Unable to make out anything in the dark, you reach your hand out, smacking aimlessly at the wall next to you until you find a lightswitch and flip it on.

“What the fu—” The man who made the noise in question flings a hand over his face at the sudden intrusive wash of fluorescents, but you’d know him from his voice alone. Kim Taehyung still has one hand gripped tight to the metal bar of a coat rack, back arched and legs spread for whoever his latest victim is, with his pants and boxers shoved down to his ankles.

Before your alcohol-soaked brain can put together a smug comment about how Taehyung needs to get his ass eaten at home like a normal human, Jimin’s voice surprises you.

“Hobi?”

You clap a hand over your mouth as you realize the man on his knees, pulling his tongue off Taehyung’s rim with a look of utter confusion, is none other than Jung Hoseok. His eyes are wide as dinner plates as his head snaps up to take the two of you in.

“Jimin?!”

“Oh my god.” You start to laugh so hard your knees buckle, and Jimin has to wrap his arms around you to keep you upright. “How the fuck did you two even meet?!”

“Do we really need to have this discussion now?!” Taehyung growls, and it only makes you laugh harder.

“Come on, come on—” Jimin is collapsing into giggles himself as he fumbles for the handle behind you. He simultaneously attempts to pull you off the door so he can swing it open. “Let’s leave them to it.”

You smack the lights off again as you make your escape, Jimin’s grip still hugging tight around your waist as you laugh until your lungs nearly give out. The lobby is thankfully empty, all the attendees pressed deeper into the gallery, so you loop your arms over his shoulders as you recover and pull his mouth back down to yours, unable to stop yourself.

“Let me take you home,” you manage to say in the space between kisses. Your tongue feels heavy when you speak; his is champagne-sweet. “Joon and Yoongi will be here for a while.”

Jimin’s agreement hums, buzzing on your lips. “Wanna take the train?”

You’re grateful the subway car you stumble into is empty, because the pull of Jimin’s mouth is too magnetic to be ignored. You don’t think you could stop kissing him if you tried.

It’s practically a race back to your apartment once you emerge from the station, partially to get out of the cold night air, though you hardly feel it with Jimin’s jacket slung over your shoulders and your body flushed hot from alcohol and desire. As you climb the four flights to your walk-up, both of you giggling and gripping tight to the banister, the spiral of the stairs sends your world spinning. You feel dizzy-drunk on wine and laughter and lust alike, and maybe something more. Something you don’t have words for yet.

It takes you three tries to get your keys in the door, and when you finally manage to get it open, you kick your shoes off and make a beeline for your bedroom, dragging Jimin along after you, hand-in-hand. Thankfully he has the foresight to remember to shut the door behind you, because all you can think about is him: the rich musk of his cologne, the taste of his tongue, the warm blush of his skin under your palms.

The leather jacket hits the floor and you step over it, walking backwards as he licks into your open mouth, shameless.

You nearly fall over when you bump up against the bed and almost lose your balance, and then you reach for the buttons of his shirt at the same time he goes for your dress. The two of you laugh your frustrations against each other as your arms tangle and get in the way.

“You first!” you insist, and he relents, lets you unbutton the starched white fabric of his button-down so he can shrug out of it. Your fingers move to undo his belt and then he takes over, impressively coordinated enough to be able to kiss you while kicking his jeans the rest of the way off, stripped down now to his black boxer-briefs. He pulls your dress up over your head, and then your barely-clothed bodies press together all the way down, the ache in your core now an undeniable throb.

Jimin takes your face in his hands and kisses you again, and you slip one hand between your hips and his to palm at him, earning an appreciative hiss. You rub at him over the front of his briefs, teasing, then dip your touch beneath his waistband.

His cock hangs heavy between his legs, but he’s not quite hard yet, maybe from the cold, so you take him in your hand and start to pump. For fear of too much dry friction you try to go slow, and he groans into your mouth as you twist your wrist a little to circle your thumb over his frenulum.

He buries his face in your neck, and you can feel the heat of his embarrassment bloom against your skin. “Sorry— gimme a second.”

Tilting your head, you press a kiss to his temple. “Don’t apologize. D’you wanna try laying down?”

When he nods, you release your grip on him so he can sink down onto the bed, crawling backwards up to the pillows. Knelt down on the mattress, you settle in the space he makes for you, thighs spread and knees tipped open, and you push his briefs down enough to free all of him.

You hook your thumb and index finger under the head of his dick to pull it flush against his stomach, allowing you better access to drag your tongue in little kitten licks up his shaft. Your other hand moves to massage gently at his balls as you take his tip into your mouth and let it bulge against your cheek, let him slip against the soft wall there to make saliva pool on your tongue, sloppy on purpose.

It’s still not working, not really, and when your gaze flits up to him again, Jimin’s face is pulled into a grimace. Heat rushes up your neck, and you pull your mouth off him and immediately right yourself. You shift backwards a little on your knees as your pulse starts to race. Does he not want this? Did you misread some sign, or push him too far?

Jimin must be able to read the look in your eyes, because he groans as he presses his face into his hands. “It’s not you. Think I drank too much, I don’t— i-it feels good, I—it just—”

You’re not exactly sober yourself. The receding white noise of panic makes it hard to think, hard to know what to say. “I-it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I just—” he tries again. “I really want to do this, I don’t know why— it’s fucking embarrassing.” The blankets muffle the sound as his palms smack flat against the bed on either side of him in clear frustration. You move out from between his legs, still trying to catch up, and a muscle in his jaw jumps as he pulls his boxer-briefs back over himself.

“Jimin,” you murmur. The bed creaks when you shift to lay next to him, to tuck into his side, and you reach up to run a hand through his hair, a little sticky with the product holding it in place. An anxious, thrumming quiet settles over both of you as his eyes flutter closed.

The words finally come to you in the silence; you can only hope they’ll reach him. “I had so much fun with you tonight. That doesn’t go away.” The crease between his brows softens a little, so you keep talking. “It’s not your only chance, okay? I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here.” Your free hand slips into his on the bed next to you. “And I want you with me.”

He sniffs a little, so quiet you nearly miss it, then turns in towards you. Your noses bump together and your mouth turns up at the corners as you continue. “It’s late, and I… can’t promise there isn’t more ass-eating waiting for you at home. Do you want to sleep here?”

Jimin’s eyes blink open, glassy, and then he nods.

“Come on,” you say softly, sitting up and tugging on your still-joined hands. “How about we shower?”

In the bathroom, you run the water scalding hot, and when you both step in you nudge Jimin forward to stand under it first, then press against him from behind. Your hands wrap around his waist to slide over his stomach as you tilt up to reach his ear when you speak. “This okay?”

He nods, hums a little, and you move your hands up over the whole of his body. Hard lines and soft curves, a work of art you know so well, you can see it when you close your eyes as you map his skin with your fingertips. You nuzzle into the place where his neck and shoulder meet, then press a kiss there. “I’m right here,” you say again, not even sure if he hears you.

But his head turns, and you feel one of his hands slide over yours on his chest. “Will you wash my hair?” he asks softly, and you tip forward to bring your mouth to his, convinced you’d do anything he asked of you.

It’s intimate, the way you take your time running shampoo and then conditioner through his silky pink strands, dragging your nails over his scalp and applying gentle pressure that makes him sigh prettily in response. Jimin steps further under the showerhead both times to rinse the product out, and if a few tears slip down his cheeks, they’re lost to the spray of the water where you can’t tell the difference.

But he does manage the ghost of a smile when you reach to grab your washcloth and he gets there first. “Your turn.”

Once your body and then his are scrubbed and rinsed clean, you shut the water off and grab thick, fluffy towels that you dry off and wrap up in. In the dim light of your room, you pull on an oversized t-shirt and boyshorts, then dig out a pair of sweatpants from your dresser. They’re fairly baggy on you, but they fit Jimin perfectly, and the image of him in something of yours makes your heart squeeze tight in your chest.

You run two glasses under the kitchen tap that you set out to ward off any potential hangovers, and you even manage to find a spare toothbrush for him to use. When he emerges from the bathroom again, still absentmindedly toweling his damp hair, you’re sitting on the bed with your feet tucked under you.

“Do you want to watch something?” you offer gently.

He shakes his head as he stifles a yawn. “‘Mtired. Think I just wanna sleep.”

You pat the bedspread next to you, an invitation. “Then let’s sleep.”

Under the covers, you curl up together, soft and warm from the shower, scented lavender and mint from your body wash and toothpaste. Jimin’s legs tangle with yours, an arm wrapping over your waist, and you press your cheek against the hard plane of his chest with a small sigh.

You listen as his breathing slows, each inhale a little further apart from the last, to the point where you think he’s fallen asleep. You feel yourself start to follow after him, and the last thing you hear before you’re dragged all the way down is Jimin inhaling deep, then mumbling softly into your hair. “Thank you. For everything.”

~*~

Light streams in between the cracks of the window blinds, painting warm shapes over your eyelids that gently wake you. You sigh and stretch as you slowly come all the way up from dreaming, your eyes still heavy-lidded. When you roll over with a soft grunt, you find Jimin fast asleep there, his face smushed into the pillow, one arm slung lazily over you.

The corner of your mouth pulls up, and you have to fight the urge to dot kisses all over his face, deciding to let him sleep instead. It takes some maneuvering, but you manage to roll out from under his arm without waking him and slip quietly out of bed, easing the bedroom door closed behind you.

It’s early, and the apartment is still, washed in morning gleam and the gentle hum of New York City traffic on the streets outside.

You stumble into the kitchen with a stifled yawn, swinging open the fridge and leaning down to retrieve a pack of bacon and the half-empty carton of eggs. Humming quietly to yourself, you dig a pan out and set it on the stove to heat.

Arms slide around your waist, making you jump a little before you melt back as Jimin nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You can feel his body through your t-shirt, still warm from sleep and bedsheets he must’ve only just crawled out from under.

Not quite graceful, you turn in his arms and loop yours around his neck to seek a kiss. “Good morning,” you murmur, your voice hoarse on your first spoken words of the day. “How are you feeling?”

Jimin’s mouth is still slurred from waking up when he answers. “‘Mgood. You look good.” His gaze roams down your body and back up, as if to take in your oversized shirt, your bare legs, your hair still messy from sleep. “So cute like this.”

You scrunch your nose slightly as you smile up at him. “Want breakfast?”

A heat starts to pool between your legs as his hands slide further down your back. He pushes your shirt up so he can grip your ass, the thin fabric of your underwear the only thing separating his skin from yours.

“In a bit.”

You can’t help but squeak when, in one swift move, he bends his knees and lifts you off the ground. Impulsively, your legs spread to wrap over his hips, thighs squeezing tight to hold on, and your arms cling around his neck as laughter flutters in your chest. Before you can act on the urge to bury your face in his shoulder, his mouth finds yours again, and the way he kisses you, hungry and deep, makes nothing else in the world matter.

He carries you back to bed, nudging open the door he didn’t quite close all the way with his shoulder, then using a foot to push it shut again. Your muscles unclench when he sits down with you in his lap, and you unwrap your legs from around him, your knees sinking soft into the bed.

You can’t quite shake the thoughts of the night before. “Jimin,” you start, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t—”

“Want to,” his voice is low, ragged edges from sleep. “Doing it ‘cause I want to. I want you. Do you want me?”

You nod, leaning back to look at him, your arms still twined over his neck. “More than anything.”

There’s no rush this time as he shifts backwards up the bed and you crawl over him to settle into his lap again. No tension that’s been building all night, no alcohol buzzing in your systems, no urgency. Just your bodies, half-dressed in sleep clothes, intertwining like they were made to fit together.

Your kisses are sweet and unhurried as Jimin’s hands slip beneath your oversized t-shirt, delicate fingers tracing up your waist. He cups your breasts in his palms, squeezing gently as he licks into your mouth. When he rolls a nipple between his fingers, your breath hitches, sparks of arousal shooting all the way down to your toes. A weight blossoms in your core as you reach for the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head, and you shiver a little in the morning air.

“Beautiful,” Jimin says quietly, reverently, and you take his face in your hands.

“You are too,” you murmur, your eyes searching his. “So beautiful.” Your hands slip down his body as he kisses you again, your fingertips outlining the contours of his chest, gently brushing over his nipples to make him groan into your mouth.

Jimin’s hands come to rest at the curve of your hips as your mouths move together, where he teases his touch under the band of your boyshorts. He pulls back just far enough to ask, “Can I take these off?” and you nod.

You shimmy the thin fabric down your thighs, dropping onto your ass with a laugh so he can tug them the rest of the way off, one ankle at a time. As you sit up on your knees again, his hands come to grip your thighs, and he shifts lower on the bed until he’s laying flat on his back next to you.

“Wanna eat you out,” he murmurs softly.

“Yeah?” You bite down on a small smile.

He hums. “Can I— will you please, uh… sit on my face?”

You can’t help but giggle. No one has ever asked so politely. “Yeah, okay.”

It’s slow, languid, the way his full lips close delicately around your clit when you settle over him, how he alternates with lazy passes of his tongue, not unlike the way he kisses you. The pleasure pulls your spine arched and your head tips back, palms pressing flat to the bed beneath you.

“Jimin,” you gasp, “baby, feels so fucking good.”

His tongue is heavy as it drags down your folds, thick when he sinks it into your cunt to taste the slick arousal that pours out of you and drips down his chin. Your hips rock into his mouth, his nose inadvertently bumping against your clit as he licks you like he doesn’t want to waste a drop. Your walls cling tight, crammed up full of him.

With a slurp and a gasp for breath, he withdraws, his tongue made hot from being buried inside of you, trailing wet warmth as he licks back up your pussy to lap at your clit again. Your arms threaten to give out when he sucks the sensitive bud into his mouth, lips pulsing an insistent rhythm that makes you moan and writhe above him.

“Jimin, Jimin.” The pleasure is decadent, thick, wine and honey, made sweeter by the beautiful boy pressed between your thighs. Emotion bubbles up inside of you to twist with your pleasure, and you tighten a hand in his rose-blush hair as you moan again, nearly a sob this time, a dam breaking.

Jimin hums against you, fingertips digging into the soft skin of your thighs, like he can tell you’re at the edge without you having to say a word, and it’s enough to send you tumbling over it.

“Oh fuck baby, yes, fuck.” Your toes curl tight over the bedsheets as your pussy flutters, throbs, gushes. Your vision whites out as you come hard enough to make your thighs shake, hard enough that your stomach muscles tremble with the effort of holding you up. Jimin’s mouth works you through it, tongue stroking flat and slow to coax pulse after pulse out of you, until everything melts into shaky aftershocks and your thighs clench around him, over-sensitive.

He pulls back when you start to squirm, lips smacking wetly on a final kiss to your pussy, and heat flushes your face at the sound of it. Your limbs feel heavy as lead as you slip off from on top of him and collapse down onto the mattress with a floaty sigh, your pulse still thudding brightly in your ears.

You’re only distantly aware of the way the bed shifts as Jimin slides down next to you. You follow his touch on instinct, turning into him when he pulls you close and presses a kiss to your hairline. Heartbeat still slamming in your chest, mind hazy with morning orgasm glow, you hum contentedly as your eyes flutter open to find him palming at a thick bulge tenting his– well, your sweatpants.

“Looks like it’s cooperating today.” Jimin’s voice is equal parts relieved and embarrassed.

With a lazy smile, you hook a finger in his waistband, tugging playfully. “What do you want to do about it?”

He laughs hoarsely. “I would love to finally fuck you, if you’ll have me.”

“I don’t want anybody else.” The thought spills out before you can worry if it’s too soon to say it, but he just smiles and leans in to kiss you.

At Jimin’s guidance, you lay back against the pillows, a couple of which he grabs to slot under your hips. “There’s condoms in the nightstand,” you say softly, and anticipation thrums in your chest, twinning with your still-racing pulse as you watch him retrieve one, then step out of his sweatpants to roll it on.

He climbs back onto the bed to hover over you, and your breaths come shallow into each other’s mouths. You kiss quietly at the precipice of this moment, like you’re afraid it might not be real, a dream you could wake up from at any second.

“Thank you.” Jimin’s low voice sends a ripple through you. “For waiting for me.”

You press a hand to his cheek, your eyes trying to take all of him in at once. “It wasn’t waiting, Jimin. Really. I’ve loved every second with you. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing.”

“I’m so glad I met you,” he murmurs.

The head of his cock teases your entrance, and you spread your thighs wider, pulling your legs up towards your chest. Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you can’t bite back the moan that spills out of you as he sinks into your tight heat with a cock thick enough to split you open. “Fuck, Jimin.”

There’s a pause when he’s pressed all the way in, his body covering yours, your hands clutching at the broad sweep of his back. He exhales a soft, disbelieving laugh as he looks down to see himself buried in you to the hilt. “God, you’re so tight. Does it hurt?”

You shake your head— you’re so soaked from his tongue and your arousal that it all just feels like melting, a pulsating heat between your legs. When he presses another kiss to your lips, he circles his hips, and you both groan at the feeling.

Jimin’s hands grip your thighs as he shifts and starts to move, starts fucking into you with long, slow strokes that make your pussy flutter, as if to urge him in deeper.

“It’s good?” he checks in again, voice tight, clearly holding himself back.

“So good, baby,” you breathe, “please fuck me.” A smirk flashes over his mouth at your manners, so polite when you ask to take it, and then he snaps his hips into you and you keen. “Fuck, please, just like that.”

He does it again and again, hands pressing down on your thighs to keep you folded up under him as he fucks you. The angle is just right for the thick head of his cock to pound into your g-spot with every stroke, and your back arches as your walls grip tight to him.

Jimin echoes your gasps with his own, swearing under his breath as you squeeze around him. He’s thrusting deep-deep now, and your hips shove up towards him for all of it, your thighs trembling as you take every inch. You’re dripping down his length every time he pulls back, wet enough to soak the sheets beneath you.

The pleasure, the pressure as he fills you up is so overwhelming that your hands reach, clinging to anything they can find. A pillow, the bedsheets, the flexing muscles in his forearms. Your moans come unabashedly now, underscored by the slap of skin on skin, the thud of the bedframe knocking into the wall. “Jimin, Jimin, baby.”

“Yeah,” he pants, choked up like he’s close. “Love it when you say my name.”

You sit up a little, folded legs shifting to wrap over his hips, and your hands come to his face to pull his mouth down to yours. His movements stutter as you kiss him breathlessly, and the brush of your tongue over his must be just enough to make him come undone. With a grunt of effort, he thrusts hard into you one final time, and his shoulders shake as he fills up the condom.

You kiss him again and again, your lips pulled into a smile against his as you tangle a hand in his hair, made messy from sleep and sex. Jimin’s body weighs heavy on top of yours as he drops his head to your shoulder, breath coming in short heat-bursts over your collarbone.

“Fuck. Been a minute.” He presses a kiss there, another to your neck, a third to your jaw. “Do you want to keep going?”

Your eyes widen at the question. “I— can you?”

A soft flush paints color in his cheeks, and he’s suddenly a little shy. “Yeah, I can. If you want. Or we can stop.”

You wrap your arms over his shoulders, your noses bumping. “I kinda felt like I was getting close again.”

He smiles. “Then let me finish what I started.” There’s a bit of shuffling as he moves to the edge of the bed to remove and tie up the used condom, then reaches for the box to retrieve another.

As he tears open the foil and rolls it on, you watch and consider all of him. This body that you know from every angle, that you’ve studied like a textbook, that holds the boy who stepped onto the subway and changed your life and made it better. This body, made to be adored, to be respected and cherished and filled up with love. This body, chosen to be shared with you, to be held by you, to be near you.

That’s all you want, you realize as he rolls over, brown eyes blinking sweetly at you. This body, and all that it holds: the darkness and the light, the pain and the beauty, the soul that so perfectly fits with yours.

“Turn over for me?” he asks softly. “I want to spoon.”

This round is easier, slower, your bodies molding together, shaky from effort and sensitivity. You twist over your shoulder, tipping your head up for a kiss that turns into a shared gasp as he presses into you again. Your walls are swollen enough to be tender, and the stretch of him, the way he fills you up entirely, makes your eyes roll back.

As he starts to grind his hips into you, his hand snakes down between your thighs before you even have to ask. You hook a leg over his to allow him better access and gasp when his cock slides even deeper into you from the new angle.

“So good,” you manage as two of his fingers work circles into your clit, matching the same slow-stroke pace. His tongue slips into your mouth, and with his cock rubbing insistently against your front wall, it doesn’t take much. Pleasure overwhelms you in a hot rush as he so easily pulls you apart again.

“Jimin.” Your voice is nearly a whisper, your walls starting to pulse. Your head tips back against his shoulder as he fucks and rubs you through it, his hums of encouragement buzzing through your body, your hips shuddering. “Baby, oh god.”

Jimin’s strokes start to falter, and then he goes still, your cunt aftershock-fluttering around him as he comes again, groaning your name.

A brush of daylight through the blinds makes your eyes heavy, and they drop closed as you lean into him and breathe through the comedown. You don’t know how long you lay there like that until his kisses pull you back earthside, dotting over your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw. You tilt your head up and he finally finds your lips again.

With a deep grunt of post-sex effort, he rolls over, leaning off the edge of the bed to deal with the second condom. A shiver dots up your spine at the loss of his body next to yours, and you tuck into his side when he lays down again, throwing an arm over his chest to better nuzzle into the crook of his neck. The heat of his palm makes you sigh as his hand rubs gentle circles against your back.

Something cracks open inside of you, warm like his touch, like the sunlight bleeding through the window. You can feel the rapid pace of his heartbeat under your hand, and it’s everything, all of him, that makes the words rise up in your throat, undeniable.

“Jimin,” you breathe, “I l—”

A loud bang on your bedroom door makes you flinch, and you roll over with a grimace as Yoongi shouts from the other side. “If you’re finished, just so you know, you left a fucking pan on the stove. Could’ve burnt the house down while you were in there deflowering each other.”

Your jaw drops open and Jimin’s eyes go wide, and you collapse against each other in a silent rush of laughter. You’re surprised when Yoongi’s voice comes back, a little softer this time. “Also I brought some bagels back from work. If you want any, better hurry before Namjoonie eats them all.”

The charged moment has passed, and the words sink back down inside of you. Making a promise to tell him soon, you wrap yourself tighter around Jimin’s side with a smile. “What do you think?”

He nods thoughtfully. “I’ll never say no to a bagel.”

“Come on then,” you murmur, tilting up for a final hit of affection. The kiss he leaves on your lips makes your heartbeat flutter, like the shudder of a subway car.

Love to Hate (Ch. 11)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you’ve done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: none for this chapter, but please read warnings for previous chapters before reading this series!   

Word Count: 8,641

Author’s Note: links to be updated at a later date!

Keep reading

jungkook explaining the concept of his photofolio and sharing his knowledge of vampires with us 🧛

bts fic recs: part four

heavy smut - pwp, pure filth, one way ticket to hell lmao

romance - fluff, romcom, angst, may contain smut but mainly plot focused

poly/multi - reader x multiple members/ot7, usually contains mxm, basically everyone x everyone bc we love everybody hehe

note: reader/oc is female and uses she/her pronouns

🌹= favorite

heavy smut

New Guy 🌹

fuckboi!knj x org pres!reader (uni!au, e2l??? – TENSIONNN UGH, JOON IS SO HOT OMFG)

Reflection

sub!pjm x dom!reader (warnings: mommy kink, strap-on)

Please

sub!jjk x softdom!reader (mommy kink again hehe, whiny jk, lots of begging)

Kill to kiss you

mafia!jjk x prostitute!reader (mafia!au, warnings: guns, violence, YANDERE JK – the ending is so sick and i love it👀 why am i like this)

Satan on Strip

satan!jjk x reader

Prowl

vampire!jjk x vampire!reader

poly/multi

REC.

client!ksj x escort!reader x cameraman!jjk (softdom!ksj, switch!reader, sub!jjk, warnings: rimming (f receiving) – just really filthy ;))

romance

Love to hate (series) 🌹

CEO!jjk x CEO!reader (ceo!au, slow burn?, the e2l+fuck buddies combo✨ – the pining is honestly killing me and that's exactly why i like it, u already know it's good when it's written by shanna <3)

Puddle of Love (series)

rocker!jjk x artist!reader (f2l, slow burn, really angsty, they're both musicians)

Dead of the night (series)

demon!jjk x doc?reader (jk fell from the sky mc took care of him – im not sure if reader is a nurse or a doc im sorry lol)

Waking up in Vegas

jjk x reader (pwp with feels and it's just cute and funny – got drunk and accidentally got married in vegas)

Falling, falling, gone

campuscrush!kth x reader (uni!au, soccer team captain tae, f2l – they're both idiots and oblivious trope)

Absolute

fuckboi!jjk x tutor!reader (fuckbuddies2lovers – based on 'boyfriend' by ariana)

All the Good Girls Go to Hell 🌹

devil!jjk x reader (mc's parents are too *protective* so she rebels ;))

Nephalem

demon!jjk x angel!reader (established relationship, daughter of gabriel & son of lucifer)

Hotter Than Hell (series) 🌹

fallenlucifer!jjk x reader (e2l – the tensionnn, it's ongoing still waiting for the final chapter!!)

L'amour fou 🌹

serialkiller!jjk x psychiatrist!oc (oc named iris, thriller!au, very yandere jk – VERY WELL WRITTEN IT SHOULD BE PUBLISHED LIKEE, the whole concept is crazy and sick obviously perfect for psychothriller, got goosebumps)

Raven Unit (series)

jjk x reader (political!au, taskforce!au, jjk was assigned to protect the daughter of the president mc)

Ride or Die (ongoing drabble series) 🌹

mafia!jjk x reader ft. knj (mafia!au, exes!au angst – warning: drug usage, toxic relationship, kindaaa yandere-ish? behavior ig)

Broken Codes (ongoing series) 🌹

mafia!jjk x mafia!reader (mafia!au, e2l, one night stand – im a sucker for mafia aus especially when oc is also a baddie)

Flesh and Blood (series)🌹

zombie!jjk x reader (sci-fi, post-apocalyptic, crack lmao bff joon is hilarious – inspired by warm bodies!! i fucking love that movie)

Love Lockdown (ongoing series) 🌹

myg x reader (zombie apocalypse!au, E2L YESSS, my new fav ongoing fic)

Wasteland, baby! 🌹

myg x reader (post-apocalyptic!au, depression – angsty i actually cried i really recommend listening to the song(by hozier with the same title) while reading)

Wanderlust 🌹

writer!myg x reader (angst, fluff, strangers2lover – traveling together with yoongi and it's just very wholesome)

No choice (next to you)

fratboy!myg x reader (college!au, neighbors!au, frat party, fluff, angst bc they're both idiots – i feel like I've sinned enough that day i had to take a break from all that smutty shit💀 this cute romcom is perfect it cleansed my soul)

Shades of Wrong

slytherin!pjm x gryffindor!reader (hogwarts!au, e2l, quidditch – of course jimin is the slytherinest slytherin)

poly/multi

Getting Back into the Swing of Things (series)

ot7 x reader (FLUFF, rich ceo bts, bangtan are boyfriends, mc is joon's ex – they all fell in love yey)

drabbles/imagines/established relationship

in the soop | collection - jjk

again most of them are jungkook fics🙈

Falling, Falling, Gone

Word count: 5.8k

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Warnings: None really, it’s my first ‘SFW’ fic, though there is some extremely bad language in here. And there might be an erection because I can’t help myself.

A/N: This is the fourth and final ‘drabble’ for the drabble game I ran ages ago. Prompt: “The thought of me making out with someone else is ruining you.”

Music inspo: Don’t Be So Serious, Baby Don’t Stop, Waste It On Me

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23477485

Taehyung. Captain of the soccer team. Master of your heart. You’ll never tell him for fear of rejection.

So why the fuck are you about to do it in front of dozens of his peers?

Keep reading

i read this while actually listening to the song and I'm tearing up oh god

Wasteland, Baby!

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Yoongi / Reader

Word Count: 3,098

Warnings: post-apocalyptic, depression, themes of death

Summary: A songfic, inspired by the song of the same title by Hozier (I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for months and finally decided to post)

Keep reading

Wanderlust (Master List)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Yoongi (Suga)

Rating: PG-13

Status: Complete 

Summary:  Traveling with Yoongi. (Fluff, angst)

Keep reading

Wanderlust

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Yoongi (Suga)

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 4,050

Summary:  Traveling with Yoongi. (Fluff, angst) 

Keep reading

Love Lockdown | 06

𝐯𝐢. 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; your lonely journey continues in a pair of twos

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: yoongi x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: zombie apocalypse au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, horror au (?), slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, violence, nudity

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.1k+

banner by: @dee-ehn​

You've barely slept. Both of you have. 

Just the needed amount your bodies were asking for, so you could function the next day.

Backpack tucked under your head, it could be easily taken as the most uncomfortable pillow there is to exist. If it was possible, the can of something in your pink backpack gifted from Taehyung would be imprinted in the side of your head. You can feel the object as if it was still pressed against your head even hours of being awake, sitting up.

You miss him. Taehyung. And Zoya. They brought you hope and didn't make you feel unwanted which can't be said about someone else.

There's a low chance Yoongi would sneak out in the middle of the night, leaving you in this abandoned patisserie – still your fears let the best of you and you'd wake up from your slumber every few minutes to check if he's still there. The faint shadow of his figure, similarly sleeping in the same position as you, was just enough to calm down your nerves a little. 

The sounds of undeads have reduced, giving you the faintest hope of the possibility to actually make it out of here alive.

Yoongi is the first one to move though, disappearing at the back and if it weren't for his abandoned backpack on the floor, you would have thought he ran for the hills. Though, he hasn't spoken to you, not even when your eyes met the first thing in the morning, a little bit of sunshine peeking through the dusty windows.

“Stand up.” he mutters, not even glancing at you as he picks up his backpack. You're quick to scutter to your feet, your head still pounding and spinning at the quick motion. You balance yourself though, catching Yoongi's furrow brows before he starts walking away. 

You follow him, staying close once you catch up to him.

He pulls out the knife, leaning his ear closer to the metal back door with a prominent frown adoring his face. There's not much to hear, it's a risk opening that door because this could either run smoothly or end up with one of you bitten. Which reminds him that your inability to protect yourself makes things ten times worse. He wants to groan from frustration at that thought, having to take a deep breath not to come at you once again. 

“Listen,” he says, turning around to find you standing right behind him obediently with big eyes once you realize he's not only talking to you but looking at you as well. “If I open the door, there's possibility there are bunch of undeads and we stand no chance against them,”

You automatically gulp at that thought, not going unnoticed by Yoongi as he fights back the typical roll of his eyes. 

“Maybe the door will make a big enough sound for them to notice us,” he tells you, staring back into your eyes as he makes sure you're listening to every single word he has to say. 

“I need you to at least try and fight if it comes down to it.” he sighs, your bottom lip tucked between your lips while you stare at him with big and understandably fearful eyes. 

“Okay.” you whisper, pulling out your own knife from the pocket of your jacket that feels heavy on the side, surely has poked a tiny hole from its sharp tip. 

“Look at me dove,” he ushers with a firm tone as your head snaps up at him at the pet name again. “Just one stab to the brain.” he reminds you, a penetrating gaze prowled over his face while you bite your lips to keep them from shivering.

It sounds so easy coming from his mouth.

Though, Yoongi doesn't wait for anything and unlocks the metal door, opening it with no hesitation whatsoever while you're trying to catch a glimpse across his shoulder. The door makes a creaking sound, not a big one to be extremely loud, yet you cringe at it. He's focused on checking the outside, not bothering to look back to see whether you're following him or not, but then – what else would you do? 

The sun shines brightly, causing your eyes to scrunch at the brightness while it warms your dirty face. It's too hot to be wearing your thin jacket, but that's the least of your worries. There's not a body part that isn't sweating on your body and you blame the fear and adrenaline kicking in. 

There are a few undeads, yet unaware of your presence and Yoongi notices them for sure, calculating what's the safest way to get out of here. The back of the patisserie leads to an alley, connected with another street and road. They are everywhere, but the amount of them is important at the moment. It's hard to tell what's the right way, but you leave that to Yoongi as you stand right behind him while looking frantically around you, scared there will be undead or multiple of them attacking you from the back. 

“We need to check the street.” Yoongi mutters and you once again glance behind his figure, noticing there are two undeads lurking at the end of the alley. 

You can't walk past them without them noticing you (obviously) and you have to get to the corner, so you can plan your next move. But all of this can't be done without killing them and you know it. The knife is heavy in your hand, your knuckles turning white from how tightly you're squeezing it. Trying not to focus on the fear, you follow Yoongi like a lost puppy because ironically enough, you do feel safe with him.

Reaching the corner, Yoongi peeks from around it to check the situation while his narrowed eyes scan your surroundings and the undeads. He doesn't count them one by one in his mind, just deducing there are not that many of them which gives you a fair chance to get past them and leave this shitty town. But all of it is slightly difficult, considering he has no idea if you have the balls to kill one of the undeads if it comes down to it. If Yoongi was alone, this would be easy and he would be able to make it out alive without maybe having to kill. But with you behind his back, reminding what a burden you are, Yoongi can't risk being surrounded by undeads and his plan could go all wrong.

Argh, he really wants to groan out of frustration. You're like a little kid that needs to be taken care of.

It's still worth a try. You can't stay here any longer, you're outside in a bright daylight, stuck in the middle of this town with zombies growling around every corner. You have to take the chance now because everything can go wrong in seconds. And he knows it from experience. 

With a sigh, he turns around to inform you about the plan and maybe try to encourage you some more, much to his annoyance, but once he doesn't spot you right behind him where he swears you were just a minute ago, he looks around with narrowed eyes. 

“Dove.” he hisses at you when he sees you standing a few meters away from him, turned with your back as you grip the knife tightly and keep your eyes locked on the approaching undead. 

The truth is, when Yoongi was immersed in his thoughts, you heard a little shuffling at the end of the street just to see there's an undead sniffing the air before it decides to go in your direction. If it weren't for you not noticing it at the right time, you would have only a little time to stop it and considering your current position and situation, you would just attract more attention from the undeads. 

For the first time ever while being a part of this group, you decided to take matters into your own hands. It's your time to prove yourself to Yoongi and maybe he will think about not wanting to kill you after you prove to him that you can be a help. 

Gulping down the nerves, Yoongi's hiss behind you is fully recognized but you keep your eyes on the rotten creature making its way to you. With each slow and broken step it takes, it growls louder and you hope the adrenaline in your blood won't disappear. You already think about backing off which is not bad. So you shake those thoughts off, pushing them somewhere at the back of your mind.

Yoongi curses under his breath, looking around the corner to make sure there is not any undead coming from this direction. He's not sure what you're trying to do, well, he gets the idea but what if you fuck up? He can't deal with you getting bitten, possibly attracting their attention.

You move closer to it, your steps brave but still unsure as you let out a shaky breath. The undead looks like a woman, its height isn't that much taller than you and there's a chance for you to take it down. 

“Just one stab to the brain.”

You remind yourself of Yoongi's words, muttering them under your breath before you point the knife at the undead. It's getting close, too close that if you would take three more steps, you would be standing right in front of it. So you move quickly, angling the tip of the sharp knife at its head while you're trying not to stare at its devastated face. The sight of them is one of the things that scare you the most. You can't bear to look at them. They scare you. 

They're fucking disgusting. 

You get a spurge of bravery and confidence, knowing deep down that there's no backing away because the undead is within the reach. So instead of waiting, you plunge the knife, aiming at its head. But the creature moves somehow and your knife ends up sticking into its cheek rather than where you were aiming. Its brain.

You're fucked.

You realize as soon as your knife ends up stuck in its cheek, the undead toppling over you which makes your legs unstable as you drop on the ground. You yelp, forgetting about being quiet and as inconspicuous as you can be when you start fighting for your own life.

You block everything out, even the set of rushed footsteps and the gravel crushed under heavy boots, until the sound of piercing flesh reaches your ears and the undead stops moving. Its growling dies down and it's kicked off your body as you meet Yoongi's not so pleased gaze.

“What were you thinking?” he asks simply, hoisting you up as he offers you his hand. You barely touch him before he quickly gets you on your feet, making you stumble a little.

You grow ashamed and embarrassed. What were you thinking indeed? That you could save you and him? That you could kill the undead? All of your confidence and bravery dies down just like the undead that's lying not far away from you.

Yoongi scoffs a little, walking toward it before he pulls out your knife.  

“I-I wanted to kill it.” you murmur, taking the knife from him once he flicks it in your direction. 

“I appreciate the bravery, but we're trying not to attract attention.” Yoongi remarks, though there's no hard tone hidden underneath it like you're used to.

He searches your face, noticing the embarrassment and frustration on your face. He steps closer to you, your eyes back on his figure as swipes his thumb over your cheekbone to wipe off the droplets of blood from there. 

“You did well, dove.” 

A rare chuckle makes it past his lips once he sees your shocked expression, dropping his hand.

Did he just compliment you? 

“You still suck but at least you tried.”

Surprisingly, you get what he means. He has finally seen the little glimpse of bravery in you and even though you failed, you tried and that's what's important. You don't see inside his head but at least you hope this is what he's thinking about at this particular moment.

You got a praise out of him, something that soothed down the embarrassment and frustration. And even if you hate to admit it, it feels nice and does magic on you. In the end, he still had a little remark after his compliment but none of it matters and you brush it off. 

“Now come on, let's get out of here.” He cocks his head to the corner where he was standing before, making his way there with no looking back. 

You follow him because there's nothing else for you to do, you still depend on Yoongi and you fully realize if he didn't save you again, you would be bitten which means you would be dying by now. 

You might've told him not to save you next time something like this happens, he still saved you. Knowing him, he is going to spit it in your face at the next opportunity he gets but you don't mind. You're all frustrated, blindly trying to ignore that the people of the group, Yoongi's friends, are missing and there's no telling if you'll ever see them again.

Yoongi is mysterious. You can't even pinpoint what he's thinking and he looks like the epitome of someone who hides his emotions and worries well. He looks strong this way. He doesn't look invulnerable. But is he really strong? Does he have his own demons?

You find yourself wondering about him, at least until you're forced to stop behind him all over again. Luckily this time, there's no undead approaching you as you get a perfect chance to sneak past them. You rush towards the next building, following Yoongi closely as he keeps checking they haven't noticed you yet. 

You hate the weird mixture of fear and adrenaline inside you, wondering if you'll ever make it out of this town alive. You have a long way to go.

Yoongi's goal is to disappear in the woods again, making it easier to escape between the trees if there are any undeads lurking there. 

You make it behind one of the buildings, your and Yoongi's back pressed against the brick wall. There are no words exchanged and you realize that at this point, you're just blindly following Yoongi and trusting him with your entire life. Your and his life are in his hands. 

The distant growling coming from the undeads makes you think they're in a safe distance. Though, Yoongi doesn't move and you try to peek behind his body that's closer to the corner. But he stops you immediately as his outstretched arm pushes you harshly back to the wall. You bite your lip back to prevent yourself from moaning from the painful impact. However you completely stop breathing when one of the undeads walks past the building where you're hiding.

Breath catching in your throat, you watch it stopping and sniffling a little while it seems to be closer to the building on the opposite side. You tense, waiting for the moment the undead notices you and starts walking in your direction. You've no idea what possesses you, but you grab Yoongi's wrist and clutch in your hand rather harshly as his eyes drop to your hands. His eyes narrow but he doesn't dare to move before the undead continues in its walk. You sigh in relief, slowly letting go of Yoongi's wrist as he gives you an annoyed look.

You go like this from building to building, trying not to get caught before you safely make it into the woods. You both run, hiding among the tall trees until you're completely surrounded by it. 

Yoongi barely stops, keeps walking right away as you're having a hard time keeping up. Though you stay silent and follow him like a lost puppy all over again. 

After half an hour of constant walking and the lack of rest, you grow frustrated but still find yourself to be calm once you call out Yoongi's name. But he ignores you, branch cracking under his black boots as he yet manages to push one of the bushes out of his way, not bothering to hold it from you once again as it almost slaps and scratches you in the face. You huff, forcing yourself to quicken your tempo as you keep up with him.

“Where are we going?” you ask but get no response in return.

He just keeps going and going until you call out his name harsher.

“Yoongi!”

You don't expect him to turn around abruptly, causing you to almost bump right into his chest. 

“What?!” he snaps, ignoring your taken aback stare as he narrows his sharp eyes at you. 

“Where are we going?” you ask softly, his jaw clenching as he scoffs and brushes his fingers through his black long hair. It's getting long. You only realize it now after properly looking at him. 

He looks away, still jaw tense and sharp as he leans against the tall tree. He takes off his backpack and pulls out a bottle of water. You watch him gulp it down in one go, his throat bopping before he tosses the empty bottle into nature. Who cares about marine pollution? The world is going into shits anyway, right?

“You wanna know where we're going?” he asks, scoffing as he straightens himself. “We're going to the fucking center.” 

“What about the others?” you ask confusingly.

You swear he just cracked his jaw at your question as he glares in your direction. 

You don't understand. You thought as soon as you would get out of the building and move to a safer zone, you would try to look for the others. They can't be far away and surely, it won't be easy to find them but you didn't peg Yoongi as the type to leave his people behind. So in this way, none of it makes sense. 

“What about them, Y/N?” he asks harshly, your breath hitching as he uses your name with so much anger.

You find yourself gulping, still finding your voice as you ask; “Are we not going to try and look for them?”

He scoffs, “No.”

“Why?”

Yoongi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before he tosses the backpack over his shoulder and starts walking away. You scoff in disbelief, rushing to get to him as you mindlessly reach for him and tug his backpack. Harshly. 

You're met with another deadly glare as you see so much frustration and anger in his face. It should scare you off, and in a way it does, but you stay your ground as you look him in the eyes bravely. 

“Why are we not looking for them, Yoongi?” you ask sternly, “They must be close. We could try, what if they're–”

“You wanna know why? You wanna know why we're not fucking looking for them?” he spits and you shut your mouth, completely bewilderment at his outburst.

What's his problem?

“Because we made a promise. That's why we're not fucking looking for them.” he spits, and you think his anger is aimed at no else than you. 

“A promise?” you ask confusingly. 

“Yes, a fucking promise.” He rolls his eyes.

He's ready to let go of this topic, you see it on his face and that's why you cock your brow at him and shake your head slowly. He scoffs, mumbling something under his nose but you swear you hear a curse word. 

“When we get into a situation like this, where we get separated and have no idea where the others are, we continue our way to the center. No matter what.” he explains harshly as you search his face for a few seconds. 

“But what if–”

“This is the only way, don't fucking fight me on this. We know what we're doing. The goal is to get there and that's the highest chance we get to see each other again. We don't know what fucking happened with them, don't you get it? We don't know where they are. They could be on their way there as we are already speaking. They could be anywhere and we wouldn't know,” he presses, each word harsher and harsher as he makes his way closer to you. 

He hovers over you like a dark cloud, forcing your body to be stopped by a tree as you press your back harshly into the tree truck.

“We have nothing. And the only fucking thing we can do, is to get to that fucking center and better hope they will be there.”

You stare into his dark eyes, having a trouble to recognize the emotion behind them but you know it has nothing to do with warmth and positivity. God, he makes you so frustrated. You swear you hate his guts. The way he treats you is not right.

“Why are you so mad about it?” you ask quietly while he's looking as if he's seconds from either punching you or the tree beside your head. 

“Because I don't leave my people behind. They're out there, fighting for their lives while I'm stuck here with you.” he hisses and your body quivers.

Don't cry. Don't cry.

“It's not my fault.” you whisper and he finds your eyes again. He simply just stares and presses his lips tightly. 

In a way, their decision to go to the center makes sense. Just like Yoongi pointed out, you don't know where they are. You don't know if they're even alive and even though Yoongi hasn't said those words out loud, you know the chance of that is possible. And he's very much aware of it. You don't know anything. Things can go south in a matter of seconds. Plus, there are undeads everywhere which complicates the entire thing. Whenever those creatures are involved, it only complicates everything and that everything becomes a ball of uncertainty because none of you can possibly know what's happening with the others after you got separated. 

So yes. You do understand their decision.

Doesn't mean it's easy for Yoongi too. Though, you don't understand his anger aimed toward you. You're like his punching bag and you hate it. But you know he's your only chance to get there safely.

“You wanna know why I'm so mad?” he asks coldly, tilting his head at you and you wonder if you really want to know since he looks so angry. “Because I'm the one who came up with the fucking plan.”

Mouth agape, you stare at Yoongi as pulls away from you before he frustratedly rubs his face.

As a leader, you know he must be facing a lot of struggles. It's not easy to come up with plans while trying to keep everyone safe. Things get fucked up every minute and as much as Yoongi is skillful and smart, he's not a God. He faces all of those struggles alone, it's ruining him and if something happens to anyone, he's going to blame himself for it. Of course, all of this is just your assumptions. Yoongi is unpredictable, so it's harder with him.

But you can surely say that he is facing many struggles – ones that you're not even aware of. 

It makes you emphasize with him, even though he could clearly care less about your empathy. 

“And it's a good plan.” you speak up, softly and carefully as he scoffs, still turned with his back to you. “No, it is.”

“Shut up, please.”

You scoff. “You did what you had to do. You took a big responsibility on you and I know the others know it. Your decision makes sense.”

“Why did you look at me as if I was okay with leaving them behind?” he snaps and you close your mouth. 

You looked at him like that? No. No, you're sure that's not it. You might've questioned his motives but now that he explained their plan, it makes perfect sense. He's sensitive at the moment, you realize.

He doesn't wear his heart on a sleeve, but it doesn't take rocket science to figure out that he truly cares for his people.

“You think all of this is easy? You can't even properly pick up a fucking knife–”

“Stop,” you snap, “Don't get mad at me for no reason. You keep venting your anger on me, but that's not fair.” 

He stares, clenching his jaw as he shakes his head after a moment. He retrieves, clearing his throat. “Let's go.”

He turns around and starts walking away. With a sigh, you force your legs to move as you're facing his back all over again. He puts a safe distance between you, not even turning around to make sure you're still behind him. 

Your conversation keeps replaying in your head. You're angry at him for treating you like garbage but that anger makes you want to cry. You're desperate, scared for your life in a middle of apocalypse, you're tired as fuck. You've been holding your emotions for quite some time again, but you force yourself not to care. Even if it's from anger. 

He's like a ticking bomb. Whatever “relationship” you two have is one fucking ticking bomb and you know this is not the last of it. You're stuck with Yoongi.

And as you keep watching his back and figure, his steps harsh and fast, you realize you were wrong. His anger isn't aimed at you at all. It's aimed at himself for coming up with the plan of having to leave his people behind – even though he's not sure if they're still there. 

But there's a possibility for anything and he's currently walking away.

He's walking away with the person he seems to despise and is no actual use to him. 

You.

Legs aching and mouth dry, it seems like all you've been doing for god knows how long is walking. Maybe that's because it really is what you've been doing this whole time. After your last conversation, Yoongi hasn't spoken since then and to be honest, you haven't been in the mood to spark conversation either. What would you two talk about? How much do you hate each other?

You've been constantly on the move which doesn't make things unnecessarily awkward. The silence would be, but thanks to the never ending branches that keep cracking under your and Yoongi's weight, you're not completely swallowed in one. 

Whatever Yoongi is thinking and planning, you're most likely not the person he wants to share that with. He seems to be focused on getting you to the center, hoping to see his friends safe and sound. But both of you know the only thing you've got is hope. And then there's reality too. You can't get wrapped in a nice illusion that everyone is safe and not dying. It's dangerous.

Because in the end you will always end up disappointed. 

Today's world is raw and real. There is no place for delusional scenarios. 

But it feels nice to dream.

If you closed your eyes, you would see yourself happy and surrounded by your family and friends. You would deal with adult shit that would make you want to pop open a bottle of wine and it would seem like the biggest worry in your life. Ever since this apocalypse happened and the world has turned into a dark shadow, you often find yourself thinking about what your life would look like. 

“There's a lake. We can wash ourselves there.” Yoongi suddenly informs you, stepping on a big rock with his foot while you follow his gaze.

You find a big lake there, its color not looking that pleasant at all but you will take anything at the moment. The sweat has made your clothes cling to your skin and the urge to wash yourself is not bigger than ever. You can't even look at your hands, knowing there's somehow dirt behind your fingernails. 

So you gladly accept Yoongi's plan, finally placing your backpack down on the ground. Finally. The water has never tasted better as it fills up your dry mouth and just like Yoongi before, you empty it all. From the corner of your eyes, you notice him placing his own stuff on the ground before he glances at you.

“You can go first.” he offers and for a split second, you're surprised by the thoughtfulness. 

Though, you have to decline him because you're not sure if the water is safe too. You send a glance to the lake, knowing very well you will miss an opportunity to wash yourself if you don't get there, but you nibble on your lip in a silent doubt.

“Is it safe?” you ask Yoongi and he shrugs.

“Only one way to find out.”

“Oh, so you want me to go first when there's a big chance it's not safe to get there.” you accuse him, his eyes narrowing at you. 

“Nothing is currently safe in this world, dove.” he points out and he has the audacity to smirk your way in amusement when he sees your frustrated expression. 

So that's why he asked you to go first. To what – test if it's safe? 

He must've noticed your suspicion and doubt because he snorts and shakes his head at you, already tossing his shirt over his head. You gulp at his bare upper body, forcing yourself to look away as you give him his privacy. 

“I thought you would want to go first but fine. I'm going in,” he says and you hear his belt unbuckling as you turn around properly, staring at the tree crowns and sun peeking through them. “Make sure to call me if there are any undeads. You're on guard now.”

You send him a thumbs up over your shoulder, hearing a low chuckle in response before the water splashes. Shifting on your spot, you start looking around in case there is any presence with you. But there isn't. Everything around you is peaceful and the sound of water splashing here and there makes you relax. 

From your peripheral vision, you see a pile of Yoongi's clothes tossed on the ground. Is he naked? Duh. Who would go into a lake with an intention to wash there with some clothes on?

You walk over there, finding his clothes slightly dirty which can be expected. After everything you've been through, there's no way any of your clothes would be clean. You grab them and start dusting them off one by one, placing them over a stone where Yoongi had his foot before.

You don't want to look. And you've no fucking idea what posses you when you steal a glance in his direction.

Just like Zoya told you before, nights get lonely and you're suddenly reminded of whatever relationship Yoongi has with Cherry. The indication says they were hooking up and you're not stupid. You wonder if Yoongi misses sex right now.

You know you do. 

It's been a while since you had it. Even before the apocalypse and with people around you, the thought of masturbation never crosses your mind. It's not that easy for you to reach an orgasm while using your hands only.

You're also a human, a woman with hormones and it's not like you've thought about sex before. You were too busy trying to keep yourself alive, so the thought of it never came up.

And you hate yourself how a single sight of Yoongi's broad back and shoulders makes a weird twirl within your lower stomach. His skin is clean and pale, the sun shining on it as if it's asking for any attention. He's washing his face, his biceps bulging out as he keeps rubbing it. And fuck, his hair is all wet, seeming to be ever darker than it is in its natural dry state. You watch as he runs his fingers over his hair and then leans his head back while he slightly shakes it. The tiniest droplets fall down in several directions and you swear, it feels like a scene from a movie.

Feeling the lump in your throat, you quickly turn around with hot cheeks. Crossing your arms over your chest, you close your eyes and mentally scold yourself. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

You can't believe you've been checking him out while he's washing himself. Did you just invade his privacy? Oh god, you're so fucking embarassed. What the hell were you thinking? 

For the rest of the time, you don't dare to turn an inch, not even when you hear him getting out of the lake because why would you? He is naked, Y/N! And then you start thinking about what he looks like from the front and you swear you want to slap yourself badly. Why have your hormones started acting up now? This is such an inappropriate moment. 

“See? It's safe, you can go in there.” Yoongi says from behind you, in a good distance since his voice isn't as close. 

You slowly turn around, wanting to scold him when he's not wearing any shirt as he buckles his belt into its place instead. 

Giving him a stiff nod, you brush past him as you make it closer to the shore. There's no time to waste any more time than it's necessary, so you glance across your shoulder to check on Yoongi who's putting his shirt on. He has turned his back to you and you take that opportunity to shed all your clothes off. 

As soon as you dip your toes in, the water is not as warm as you hoped for it to be and you bite back a whimper. Completely naked, your body shudders and goosebumps appear all over it. Nipples completely perked up, you decide to just go in there all at once. You toss your hair tie to the pile of your clothes before you get into the lake. Your teeth clatter at the temperature but soon enough, your body accommodates to it and you start washing yourself as soon as possible.

Curious, you glance back at the land where you find Yoongi turned with his back facing you, being on guard as he glances around. You sigh in relief, not even sure why. Does it matter if he sees you naked? The thought of it makes you embarrassed since your body is nowhere in its cleanest and neatest shape. The extra hair in your armpits itches from time to time and you would kill for a single razor. 

Oh fuck. You miss your bathtub and all the products you had there. You miss living a normal life. 

These thoughts occur in your mind a lot and it could be around the simplest things. It makes you realize how life used to be easy and free. Now it's anything but this. 

You decide to wash your hair too, well, if dipping them into the water can be considered as washing. God knows how long it's going to be until you can wash yourselves again.

The water feels nice. Your muscles aching and warm bath would sound definitely better, but even the not-so-warm lake makes your body relax. You allow yourself that much until you hear a faint growling in the distance. But the problem is it's not going from Yoongi's direction but from the lake where you're currently in. 

You freeze for a moment, waiting for another sound before you see tiny waves getting in your direction and that's when you spot it. The sun makes it harder but once you squint your eyes and place a hand above your eyes, you see the faintest sight of undead trying to get to you.

It can't swim but the lake isn't that deep at all and you realize it's getting closer and closer. 

You move quickly, the splash of water resounding as the undead growls louder at the sound and your movement.

“Fuck.”

You start rushing to the shore but the slippery rocks under your feet makes it harder, causing you to slip as you dive under the water. You jump up, your feet barely reaching the bottom as the rocks are slippery and uncomfortable. As soon as your head is out of the water you gasp loudly and take a deep breath. You're sure you swallowed some of the water which would make you sick in other scenarios, considering there's an undead inside it, but making it to the shore and onto the land is not the main priority. 

Yoongi notices the additional noise coming from the lake and he slowly turns around. What the hell are you doing there? 

With a frown, he steps closer to get a better look as he sees you being extra active. In a second, he notices the undead behind you and the way you struggle. Your eyes meet and you scream at him, asking for help. 

“Y/N, swim!” he yells at you, rushing to the shore as he already prepares his knife.

You do, getting onto your feet as soon as the water is too shallow. Yoongi keeps screaming at you, eyes locked on the creature as he offers you his hand. You quickly reach for it, your hand completely slippery but Yoongi has a great grip on you because he pulls you out with a strong tug. You stumble over the edge, falling down and taking him with you. 

He takes the blow though, his back hitting the ground as he tries to save his head from the impact. You clutch to him, lying on top of him, both of you staring at the lake to check the undead. But it keeps growling and not moving. It seems like it got stuck, therefore it's not coming at you. Both of you sigh in relief, Yoongi's head hitting the ground as his hands leave your naked waist.

That's when you realize you're completely naked, lying on top of Yoongi who's fully clothed. His clothes are slightly dampened since when he got out of the lake, there were obviously no towels here, so he had to put clothes on top of his wet body. But now, you made him completely wet but no apology leaves your mouth as you quickly scurry to your feet. 

Yoongi opens his eyes and lifts his head, finding you clutching your chest as you quickly turn around, completely embarrassed. Fuck!

“Nice ass.” he comments from behind you, your stomach tensing as your cheeks grow even hotter.

Closing your eyes in embarrassment, you hear shuffling behind you before he approaches you. He's standing right behind you, moving to the side a little so you notice him as he hands you your clothes. You take it rapidly, clutching your clothes to your front body but Yoongi remains unbothered. 

“Get dressed, we need to keep moving.” he orders as if any of this didn't happen and as you mutter a silent “okay” you realize you're okay with that. 

You're not sure if he's doing this to not make you uncomfortable or it's his usual uncaring self. But this time you don't care at all.

You get dressed up in silence while Yoongi scans your surroundings. Once you're done, he starts moving and once again, you follow him. But this time you're not tracing behind him but you walk beside him as the sun starts setting down.

Nighttime comes too soon. 

These woods seem to be non-ending and eventually, you're forced to rest and settle with the fact that you're about to spend the night in open sky and dark woods. You can't even see the stars once you sit down next to Yoongi, too scared to get away in this darkness, as the tall trees cover the summer night sky. 

He doesn't comment on your closeness, keeping his mouth shut as you both stay leaned against the tree trunk with your backs. Despite the discomfort under your ass and the harshness of the tree trunk on your back, you start dozing off as silence surrounds you. This is not a proper place to sleep at, but you don't have any choice and you're exhausted. Your legs throb and you wonder if Yoongi feels the same way.

He looks like the type that nothing bothers him. Surely, he must be exhausted too. 

You pry your eyes open each time your head is about to fall back, cuddling more to your thin jacket. You both had to wear another layer since the night isn't too nice to you.

“You can sleep, you know.” Yoongi mumbles when you jerk yourself when sleep is about to overpower you. 

“What about you?” you ask softly.

“I can be on the watch, I will wake you up after a few hours so we can switch.” he explains with a monotone tone as you hum in return.

No need to tell you that twice, you slowly drift off to sleep though your dreams are interrupted and so is your sleep. You keep drifting in and out, not even sure how long you've been like this. In the midst of it all, somehow your head falls onto Yoongi's closer and you naturally cuddle up to his warm and soft body. 

Yoongi presses his lips into a tight line, glaring down at you in the darkness before he lets out a sigh. After an hour, at least he thinks an hour has already passed, he really wants to wake you up and tell you to move your big head off his shoulder because he's starting to stop feeling it. He might be an asshole but he feels bad to do that to a sleeping person, especially when you let out a soft and long sigh.

You smack your lips together, a single sound so annoying to Yoongi that he can't help but scrunch his nose at it. In the end, he snorts amusingly mostly at himself for being so annoyed by you. It seems like he's not getting sleep anytime soon. Does he trust you that you will be able to be on the watch? It's not that hard. You could easily wake him up if there is any danger lurking. But seeing you completely exhausted, he's not sure if you wouldn't accidentally fall asleep. That can easily happen and you wouldn't be able to control it. Exhaustion is a bitch.

He can't risk it though. What if you really fall asleep and then the next he knows one of you is being bitten?

Sighing at his thoughts, it seems like he can't rest even when he's physically doing nothing.

You lift your head up after a while, the uncomfortable position not allowing you to get the needed and good sleep as you look around. It's still dark, it looks like you didn't even sleep. 

Stretching your arms and scooting a little away from Yoongi, purposely ignoring the fact you used his shoulder as a pillow, you let out a soft yawn. “I'm awake. I can be on the watch.” you inform him, voice tired and raspy from the little sleep you've managed to get. 

“Go back to sleep. I got it.” Yoongi mutters, outstretching his legs in front of him as a small breeze starts to rustle the trees.

Frowning, you clear your throat. “You need to sleep too. You don't trust me?” 

It feels like you know the answer to that. 

His silence proves your assumption to be right and you scoff slightly. “You think I'd kill you in your sleep?” 

Yoongi snorts, “Wouldn't put it past you.”

Now is your turn to snort, even though you feel slightly offended. “You think I'd be capable of killing a human when I can't kill any undead?” 

“Touché,” Yoongi mutters, “You're tired. Just go back to sleep. You're safe.”

As much as you are touched by his surprising kindness (even though he says it in his usual Yoongi style), you frown. “You are tired too. You need sleep.”

“Why do you always have to argue on everything, woman,” Yoongi grunts in annoyance, “I told you fucking go back to sleep. We're gonna be walking the whole day tomorrow, so you better prepare for it.”

Now it's your turn to groan in annoyance. “Why do you always have to be so difficult?” you question him back. 

“You know, you really get on my fucking nerves. If you're planning to stick around, at least listen to me and stop disobeying me like a brat.”

You gasp, “I'm trying to be nice!” you exclaim and Yoongi shushes you harshly. 

“You're stupid, not nice.”

“I guess that's two of us.”

Yoongi growls and you glare at him in the darkness, feeling his own glare aimed your way. He opens his mouth, you're guessing ready to tell you something you wouldn't like when there's a nearby rustle that interrupts your bickering. Is that what it's called?

You both shut your mouth and Yoongi brings his index finger to his mouth, motioning for you to keep quiet. Does he really think you would start making noise at this moment? You still nod, your breath hitched in your throat as you both slowly stand up.

There's another sound, not audible enough for you to recognize it until you both realize it's someone talking. And there's also a flashlight that lights in your direction, a few trees to the right which makes you both crouch abruptly. 

“Do you think they're dangerous?” you whisper, feeling yourself shiver at that thought. 

Woods are not safe at all. No place is. And the undeads aren't the only thing that's dangerous.

“I don't know, but I'm not planning to risk it.” Yoongi mutters back and ushers you to hide behind the tree.

Breath quickening, you look from the side just to slam your back against the tree trunk again. “What?”

You look at Yoongi, his whispered questioning causing you to shake your head because the voices are coming closer. Their figures weren't too visible and you can't tell how many of them there are. But from the sound of it, it doesn't look like a big group. But still. 

Trying to find the courage to fight – or to kill – undeads is one thing, but nobody said anything about humans. It doesn't matter if they're dangerous and would aim their knives or guns at you, you wouldn't be able to do anything and you both know it.

Clutching your backpack to your stomach, you stay glued to your spot while Yoongi checks the area from behind the tree, cursing under his breath. “Fuck, they're close.”

He barely finishes saying it before the footsteps and cracking resounds just a few meters away from you. You're screwed. You shut your eyes, praying to whoever is up there won't end your lives right now. Maybe you're dramatic and those people aren't dangerous, but you don't want to find out. You just wish they could pass by without noticing you.

“Get your knife.” Yoongi orders you through his clenched teeth, your stomach flipping in an uncomfortable way because this means one thing – he is prepared for everything and if you have to fight someone, you should be prepared for it. 

Only you're not.

As soon as you hold the knife, your hand starts shaking and gets sweaty. Even the weather decides to break the moment as tiny droplets of rain start to shower down the sky. It's like a perfect reflection of what your situation is about to be. Dark and gloomy.

Yoongi keeps his cool – as always – and that's the only thing that keeps you rooted in your spot, convincing yourself everything is going to be fine. But all of that disappears in a split second when the light from the flashlight is centimeters from your boots before it's on your face.

Eyes squinted, not being able to see anything, you try to cover your face with your hand while Yoongi gets into action and stands up with the knife in his hand. You stand up, fighting back the urge to hide behind him as the rain intensifies.

And maybe you got it all wrong.

Maybe it's the fine breeze and rain that waters the dried nature that is a sign of hope. Because you thought you would never hear someone say a single name that would bring a sign of knowing and familiarity.

You don't see anything but at the moment it doesn't matter. Because a single word resounds among the trees, on the opposite side of you.

“Yoongi?”

no choice (next to you) | myg

summary: the pros of your last-minute senior year apartment sublet: cheap, furnished, close to campus, in a gorgeous old victorian conversion home, and right next to the greek takeout place.

the cons of your last-minute senior year apartment sublet: min yoongi, senior member of the beta tau sigma fraternity, and his party-throwing, vodka-loving, ruckus-making fraternity buddies, are your neighbors.

{college!au, frat boy!au, neighbor!au, enemies to lovers!au}

pairing: yoongi x reader genre: fluff, comedy est. word count: 13k warnings: alcohol consumption, frat parties, misunderstandings as a plot device, idiots being idiots, frat boys being frat boys, hawaiian pizza slander, yoongi says things that could be construed as sexist but they actually are not i promise you just need to read the fic ;-; a/n: here it is!!!! a very happy 4 years to gukyi.tumblr.com, and an even happier 8 years to the men who made it all possible, bangtan themselves! i hope you enjoy this frat party of a fic: loud, chaotic, and filled with college boys. much love to you all, always and forever <3 guyi

The first time you meet Min Yoongi you are hunched over the kitchen sink of the Beta Tau Sigma fraternity house, throwing up vodka and Sprite like it’s nobody’s business. Except it apparently is someone’s business, because from behind you, over the booming rap music and the thumping bass emanating from the speakers, you hear a voice. 

“Well, at least it’s not the floor.”

Keep reading

“It took you this long to figure it out?”

“Shut up. I was drunk. You’re lucky I even remembered your face.”

“But you definitely remembered my cock, didn’t you?”

ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ᴄᴏᴅᴇꜱ | ᴊᴊᴋ

↠ in which your pride drops you right in the hands of a one night stand. ↞

◦ summary :: you never wanted to inherit your father’s “business”. it wasn’t your calling. you would rather be walking the streets of Paris with your best friend, basking in the smell of freshly baked bread. you just need the money from the safe your father left for you. at least that was the plan until you let your pride get the better of you. now you’re stuck in the hands of someone you should’ve forgotten, and he won’t let you go until he gets that code. 

◦ pairing :: mafia!jungkook x mafia!female reader

◦ rating :: 18+

◦ genre :: mature content, angst, smut, mafia!au, ( sorta ) enemies to lovers

◦ status :: ongoing ✍🏽

◦ masterlist

↠ notes // hi!! so this is something I already wrote, completed, and posted onto wattpad. I wasn’t really satisfied with it, so I’m going to edit it and re-upload it to here. only difference between this one and the wattpad version is that it’s gonna be y/n instead of an oc, as it was originally intended to be. I hope you guys enjoy it!

all rights reserved © clumsy-jiminie 2021

↣ chapter one

↣ chapter two

↣ chapter three

↣ chapter four

↣ chapter five

↣ chapter six

↣ chapter seven

↣ chapter eight

↣ chapter nine

↣ chapter ten

↣ chapter eleven

Ride Or Die Miniseries Collection

mafia!jungkook, druglord!jungkook, toxic relationship, smut, angst, fluff 

all chapters and drabbles will be uploaded in chronological order

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summary: in which jungkook loves much harder than orpheus.

> fluff, angst kinda / wc: 2.6k

> warnings: mentions of death ! if u don’t know the story of orpheus and eurydice, u can read a quick summary on google :]

note: helloooo everyone !! i’ve always been v fascinated w greek myth so i thought why not try writing a drabble around it and this came out soooo . hope you enjoy ! feedback is always appreciated <3

—

“baby? i still can’t sleep.”

you’re not sure whether it’s a yawn or a sigh that you forcefully stifle down, perhaps a mix of both if that is scientifically possible.

“want some wine?” you suggest with your eyes closed, silently praying that he says no because the bed is too comfortable and warm that the mere thought of climbing down from it already has hot tears forming behind your eyelids.

“not in the mood.” jungkook pouts, turning over to his side to face you. he folds his arm to put it under his head, the other moving to tenderly caress your hair.

“warm milk for my baby boy?”

he makes a noise of disagreement, bordering to a whine. he shifts closer to carefully lift your head so he can slide in his arm underneath, making it your pillow. “don’t feel like waking up again after two hours to pee.”

you snort out a laugh at his words. it’s past three in the morning, and you’re half awake, dipping in and out between unconsciousness and reality. naturally, a person turns restless when they’re having a hard time falling asleep. that’s why sharing a bed with your partner means the both of you will stay awake, or so you’ve learned.

you melt in your boyfriend’s embrace, hanging your arm over his waist. you nuzzle your face against his chest, almost purring in contentment.

“sometimes it feels like i’m living with a cat instead of my lover.” he chuckles, stroking the back of your head fondly as you continue moving around.

“i want to be a cat in my next life.” you murmur with a sigh, relaxing once you deem yourself satisfied.

“is that so?” he beams at the new learned information. “then i’ll still be a human, so i can take care of you again like this.”

“sounds nice.” you hum at the thought, and you silently ask your brain to use it as material for an utopian-inspired dream tonight.

peaceful silence fills the air, only the faint sounds of the airconditioner and jungkook’s fingers occasionally scratching your scalp stimulating your ears. eventually, you succumb to the darkness and fall into a much-needed slumber.

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this is my request omg a jjk ff with dubcon somnophilia, i want jk and oc to be like really close in their relationship bc it feels awkward if they’re not together lmao, mc is completely passed out having a wet dream and jk felt horny while hearing her sleepy moans then when she wakes up its bc jk is on top of her moaning😶‍🌫️ i don’t have that much creativity 😭 oooh and aftercare 🫶🏻

AND PLS PLS PLS LET JK BE WHINY AND NOT ASHAMED TO MOAN LOUDLY 😭😭 that’s like a kink of mine and i love it when they’re not ashamed

thank you smm love youu 🫶🏻

can it be like a bit long idk if i can choose a word count but at least can i FEEL the moment

JJK || Wet Dreams

warnings: smut (18+), somnophilia, dubcon, nicknames (non-sexual), vocal kink, fingering, top!jk, praise kink, soft fucking, marking, possessive!jk, begging, brief boob-touchin', unprotected sex* (don't do this), creampie

tags: boyfriend!jungkook x fem!reader

a/n: i have revised things here and there but i am satisfied with it now...mmm...enjoy. i love you too.

OMG OKAY so I think he'd initially be super panicked because-- he wouldn't know what to do but then he'd be like "hell, might as well..." because they had a previous convo about it....

...I'm catching your vibe. I know how to write this.

I get what you mean when you say you like it when guys aren't afraid to moan... and after they've been together for that long, I mean... *evil laugh* okay. I love my whiny boys.

"Hey babe--" you carefully pat Jungkook's chest while he's paying attention to the TV in your room. "Babe~"

Jungkook, with a slightly absent look on his face, shifts his focus to you. "Hm?" He hums.

"So you know that I really like it when we fuck when I'm tired," you start, rubbing slow circles on his torso with your palm.

"Mhmmm..." a smile peeks from his lips.

Your hands weave between his strands of hair, massaging him softly. He releases a soft moan.

"I have these wet dreams about you," you elaborate, your lips hovering over his as you articulate your fantasy. "I want them to be real."

Jungkook traces his fingers along your back and sighs, relaxing his body under you and admiring your touch.

"I want you to use me...whenever you need me," you continue, the vibration of your voice melting on his skin.

"I need you," he doesn't hesitate to respond. "More than anything, I love being inside of you," he speaks in your ear, practically whining for you.

A thrill send through your body. "I love having you inside me," you sigh, kissing him.

He deepens the kiss, desperately, but you're already half-asleep. So, in his arms, you rest.

For a few hours, you're tangled within one another in a deep sleep. Nothing disturbs you two, your breathing in unison with your bodies on top of one another.

He strokes your cheek with his thumb quietly. It's a little past midnight, and he's just woken up to a curious sound coming from you.

He doesn't recognize it at first, but as they get more intense, he realizes that you're moaning. Your eyebrows furrow in pleasure as you dream of your boyfriend. He knows you are, because you're quietly whimpering his name.

"Jungkook...Jungkook--" you gasp, weakly.

That goes straight to his dick. You must be dreaming about him. Intrigued, he moves around a bit.

Without disturbing you, he shifts positions so that he is over your peaceful-looking body.

His eyes watch your chest rise and fall with each breath, your lips slightly parted.

"Angel..." he calls you, his palm traveling to your jaw.

You lean against him unintentionally, your hips bucking. A far more intense moan floats from your mouth.

He bites his lip softly, blushing as his hands explore your gentle curves. You're so incredibly warm. He needs to be careful.

His gaze fall upon your panties, soaked through with your arousal. He experimentally glides his fingers inside you. You rise to the touch, fluttering around him.

Jungkook experimentally plays with your swollen clit, amazed at how drenched you are. He spreads it on your folds, wondering what exactly you're dreaming about that you're this wet.

"Jungkook,," you pout, unconsciously.

That's right. It's him. He places a gentle kiss on your lips. You're his and his only.

You gush around his fingers when he enters you, creating a lather of your juices around his digits.

Jungkook gasps. His dick twitches in his pants at the sight of it.

"Holy fuck that's a lot."

Without thought, he pulls out his cock and grinds it against your cunt, covering it in your arousal as loud, breathy groans spill from his mouth like sinful prayers.

He breaks out into a blissful smile. He hisses. "H--ahhh,"

His palms cup around your breasts, squeezing them lightly as his mouth obsesses over your sweet scent.

His tongue catches your skin between his lips, and he marks you, shamelessly and possessively. You're his to fuck and he won't ever let you forget it.

"So hot, so fucking hot..." he whines, his dick pushing up against your clit nicely. "Fuck~ fuck, Y/N,"

You take a labored breath in, holding on to his arms out of instinct.

He needs you, he needs you so bad. His mind spins as he plunges the crown of his cock into your heat. He groans, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Ahhh~ ahh~" he whimpers, his thighs shaking as he fills you to the brim with his dick.

Jungkook can't believe he's using you like this. It feels so incredibly right to take you in this state. You look so calm, yet you're experiencing something euphoric in you're dreams.

"Ohhh fuck~! Mmmh!" He cries, feeling you clench around him.

More than anything, he wants you to know just how good you're making his dick feel. He thrusts in messily, grabbing your thighs as your hot cunt clenches around him.

The smell of you, the taste of you, your touch, the sight of you, and the sound of you is enough to make him want to make every fiber of you scream with pleasure.

"Mmgh, mm-- mmm, mmgh, nngh, mmhhh~ mmh," he mews.

It's so good-- it's addictively good-- it's amazing. Whines spill from his mouth constantly as he chases his orgasm.

Your eyes carefully blink awake, and you're met with the sight of your boyfriend whimpering in desperation, his face in a panicked pleasure.

You're pulled in to his tangent, joining him in a passionate embrace.

You reach for him and kiss him, encouragingly, heatedly. You suck on his lip piercing, running your tongue over it a few times before breaking the kiss.

"Ohh~" he whines, between trembling moans. You're always finding new ways to play with him and it drives him crazy.

You wrap your legs around his thighs and pull him deeper into you so that you can feel his cock in your gut while you're still dazed.

"So fucking tight," he swallows. "Y/N, you're so good, you're so fucking good, I need to cum deep inside of you, please," he stutters. "Please. Please, Y/N,"

You meet his hands on your thighs and bring your hips forward. His eyes widen and lust overcomes him, you watch as it corrupts his every movement.

He kisses you, and kisses you again, and again.

Your eyes soften as you take his dick, only barely awake. His hold on you only strengthens as a result of the rigorous pace he's adopted.

A frustrated sigh leaves him as he bucks into your cunt haphazardly. His doe eyes flood with need. "Ngh~ ngh...ah--"

"Good, Kookie... that's my good boy," you praise, smiling shyly as you card your fingers through his soft, brown hair.

His sounds sharpen, sounding like pleas as he pounds into you absent-mindedly, your head between his hands. He places his forehead against yours, intimately.

His consistency pays off, and your orgasm overcomes you suddenly. You spasm, causing you to cling to him as his hips stutter to fill your cunt with his hot cum.

Jungkook spends a few moments gazing into your eyes and nuzzling you, kissing your neck and biting at your ear. "You looked so pretty~" he hums in your ear in a soft giggle.

You scratch his back with your nails, causing him to shiver.

"Ohhhh~" he groans. "More..." he asks.

"More? Here?" You scratch a little harder, near his shoulders.

"Mmm...mhmmm..." he thrums, kissing your face cutely. "I can't believe you're mine~" he says, his eyes full of stars.

"Oh, trust me, bunny...I can't either,"

Jungkook kisses your nose and lifts himself from you, careful with your sensitive body as he reaches for a hanging towel.

He hangs it over his shoulders and lifts you off the bed. "Bath time," he announces.

a/n: I hope this is long enough but I understand that all of my works are generally shorter 😅

permatag gang gang: @kooliv , @koobsessed , @angelwonie , @carolynanderson , @hoseokgrecns , @bangsterz , @swyseren , @sxtaep , @koostarcandy , @hgema , @jjkeverlast , @armys-dna , and @nglmrk

BTS YET TO COME OUT NOW!!!

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JUNE 10, 2022

credits: @/flterkoo on tiktok. LINK

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maybe if

Pairing: jungkook x reader

Summary: jeongguk, a free-spirit, an adventurer, sees you a year later still picking up the pieces he left behind.

Genre/Tags: exes to lovers, angst, light fluff

Chapter word count: 4k

A/N: yall this was supposed to be a short 1k d r a b b l e i don’t know what happened. this has been sitting in drafts for a while and it’s now seeing the light of day. this is a very self-indulgent fic, i have no shame.

Keep reading

shades of wrong (m)

for @gukyi because I made a promise. 

summary: you’re sure you hate Park Jimin with every fiber of your being for the rest of your existence, even after he is assigned as your tutor for History of Magic. 

pairing: jimin x fem! reader

genre: hogwarts au, enemies to lovers au | fluff/smut 

word count: 17k

warnings: voyeurism (fingering and fem receiving oral sex in the library), sex in a classroom whEW ! plus jimin is a slytherin at heart and we love to see it 

.

No matter how hard you try, it seems as if you are always bested by Park Jimin in every aspect of life: from Quidditch to school to class popularity.

And you absolutely despise him for it.

Granted, it’s probably because he’s always simply excelled in everything while you could only manage the minimum requirement for things outside of the sport you’ve grown to be so passionate about—but that’s only deepened your dislike for the boy. It’s been like this since the pair of you were children, a rivalry already planted between you even before you knew what the term meant. Truthfully, it was pretty much written in the stars that you would develop some deep-rooted grudge against Jimin, for he was organized into Slytherin while you were put in the fiery red and gold of Gryffindor.

Beyond the clashing Houses that have officially formed your backgrounds, it doesn’t help that the boy has seemed to uphold a particular interest in doing whatever he could to see you fidget or watch you squirm or just catch you at your worst moments—although you humor yourself on the idea that these unfortunate incidents occur to you because of Park Jimin’s constant hovering. It’s a habit that’s grown since the first week of your admission into Hogwarts, in which your big mouth scored you your first detention with the infamous Professor Snape.

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Commitment

Summary: Everything seems to be going perfect in your life. Your boyfriend Jungkook is more than you could have dreamed of and there’s been a break in the case that could define your career — one of the members of the most elusive mafia, The Devils has been captured. Heading down to the precinct you couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling: Was everything too good to be true?

A/N: This Au has been sitting inside my WIPs for far too long. I decided to publish it and see if there was anyone willing to go on another Mafia!Jungkook trip with me. So, I’m sending this out to see how the reception goes. Much love, Jenn. Headers made by @firefly-graphics

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Mafia!Jungkook, Detective Reader, enemies to lovers, mutual pining

Warnings: mentions of fingering, sexual content, and violent settings

It was close to two in the morning when you’d got the call. You knew without having to look at the caller ID that it was your Chief. Something had forced his hand enough to call you to bring your ass back to the station. What you hadn’t prepared for were the words that greeted your gruff hello: “We got one of the sons’ a bitches.”

It was hard to miss the victory in his tone, and it was enough to spur you out of bed. Your feet hurrying towards the discarded uniform of slacks and button down from the previous day. You weren’t worried about jumping into a shower or putting on a wrinkle-free outfit to try and impress. For the first time in over a year you had a solid lead.

Being the youngest detective on the force, it left the heavy burden of having to prove your worth. The better part of your career being plagued by this case. You were a junior detective, promoted to lead strictly due to the unfortunate event the previous detective was found floating in the Han river.There’d been the wasted man hours on leads that fell through or witnesses that either went missing or completely refused to talk. The ones who turned up in missing persons’ cases usually wound up being found in trash bags scattered at city dumps. Your least favorite experience was finding a couple who’d disappeared only to be found crushed inside their car in a junkyard. Eventually, with so much loss and not enough wins, the entire station began to fall into a gloom of always being one step behind.

All you’d come to know about this Kingpin, Kim Namjoon, and his Devils’ over the years were that there were seven of them. One of the seven being the Kingpin himself, while the other six served a purpose. A well oiled machine with all of them holding specific jobs and nicknames. It took months and months for you to find out the name of the Kingpin himself. And in those months of searching that dragged on into years, the bodies and carnage of robbed banks, penthouse scuffles, and plays for power continued to haunt you.

After all this time you finally had one of the bastards.

The thought rang heavy in your mind as you hopped into your boots. Your fingers frantically struggled to tie up the laces. Even though there were more important things to worry about, you couldn’t help but glance one last time at your bed.

Jungkook hadn’t come home last night.

Ever since you’d met him, Jungkook appeared to be just as busy as you were. Both of you receive calls at odd hours that sometimes force you to excuse yourself from breakfast or dinner. Or the late night phone calls that had you leaving the bed with hurried kisses and promises to be back as soon as possible.

What you knew most about his work was that a majority of it required him to do a lot of night work. Your relationship was still relatively new - with your one-year anniversary coming up in just a couple weeks. It should’ve sent off alarms how quickly everything seemed to happen between you, but from the moment you’d met him Jungkook had you completely enamored.

You were never one for one-night stands. Even when your day was pure nightmare fuel, you’d never allow yourself the temptation of losing yourself in a total stranger. No, instead you found yourself losing yourself to the bottle. The night you’d met Jungkook had been a complete accident. The earlier hours of the day had left you wanting the comfort of your bed and a personal pint of Half Baked Ben & Jerry’s. The only reason you’d agreed to go out was because your friend had pleaded; reminding you it was her birthday.

The day ended up being one of the worst you’d experienced in a while. Your shift started with the basic petty crimes until you’d received one of the many calls you were learning to hate. Namjoon’s Devils’ had left a trail of carnage so widespread inside a building it encapsulated almost five floors. It wasn’t just a knife fight that happened in those halls. It was a shitty Andy Warhol painting of bullets trapped in grungy wallpaper. The carpet a fucked up Picasso of blood-stains that were still so fresh when you’d arrived with the others it was still wet; squishing under every footstep. Forensics was not pleased when they’d arrived.

After walking through that madhouse anyone would’ve deserved a drink. You especially. You were trying to do just that when your wait at the bar began to turn from a simple ten minute wait to nearing thirty. Your fingers began to tap out an inpatient tune, like annoying elevator music while you prayed the bartender would notice you soon. Your tunnel vision caused you to stop paying attention to everything around you. You were so damn fixated on getting that drink you hadn’t noticed the body that slid up to the left you. It wasn’t until you got the feeling someone was staring that you finally looked around to see if you could find out who. Your eyes were not disappointed.

One arm rested coolly against the bar. Not for actual support but for style. The pose allowed him to lean his body towards you just enough that it wouldn’t be invasive, but let him stay close. When you turned to finally give him your attention, like he desperately seemed to want, it took what self-control you had left to keep your jaw from falling.

His hair was long; the front barely grazing the middle of his cheeks while the back went further. His hair was a literal mullet. It should’ve looked ridiculous, but Jungkook was far from that. He was breathtaking.

You weren’t ashamed to admit it then or even now. The minute you’d locked eyes with him you realized it wasn’t a coincidence he came to stand beside you. You knew you should look away. You’d been staring at him too long now for it to be considered a fleeting glance. But your eyes were enjoying the sinful way the suit hugged against his body. When your eyes finally made their way back up the fine lines of his suit, you were greeted by a knowing smirk that, for a split second, made you forget how to breathe.

You weren’t entirely sure how you could pretend you weren’t affected by him in the slightest. His face was all sharp angles that were showcased perfectly by the curve of his jaw, and barely softened by doe shaped eyes. But even that softness was eaten by an eyebrow piercing that accentuated his brow that was currently raised in question. The smirk that lifted his lips matched the heat in his eyes as he shamelessly let you watch his eyes roam over your body.

You tried to focus on anything else in the space between you and somehow found yourself noticing a brush of a mole underneath his bottom lip. Its placement felt ludicrous due to its cuteness. Here this guy was giving you, “Fuck me,” eyes that were countered by soft touches that were scattered all over his face. It left him teetering between mind blowingly gorgeous and boyishly handsome all at once.

The expensive fabric of his charcoal gray suit strained against the muscles in his arms as he raised it up to flag down the bartender. Your eyes took in the length of his fingers and your body shivered as you imagined them sliding up your dress. Your cheeks heated with a blush you hoped he didn’t notice as you imagined those same fingers making their way between your thighs. Your mindly shamelessly began to wonder if was the kind of man that liked to tease - to prolong every ounce of pleasure - or did he just take what he wanted?

You were more than aware of how the black shirt underneath, just like the jacket, showcased a sculpted chest. He radiated sex appeal and power and you wanted nothing more than to be engulfed.

With the flick of his fingers the bartender appeared like magic. His question of, “What would you like?” sounded desperate to please as he waited for Jungkook’s instruction. Jungkook himself didn’t glance once in his direction. His attention was wholly focused on you.

“Give the lady whatever she’d like.”

Now that you had the attention of the bartender you couldn’t seem to remember what you’d wanted to order. You weren’t even sure if you wanted a drink anymore. Not when he was standing there looking at your mouth like he planned to either fuck it or kiss it.

“Does that include you?”

You expected there to be a hint of shock. Or maybe he’d take offense to your boldness. What you’d ended up receiving in return was that devilish smirk he wore like a second skin. It spread like wildfire farther up his face; lighting up his eyes to look like the big bad wolf as they roamed hungrily over your body. A silent prayer formed on your lips that he would close that distance and touch you. Your house could’ve been made of fucking cement and you would’ve held your door open to allow him to sink his teeth in your skin.

“Sorry. I’m no longer on the menu.”

You did your best to hide your disappointment at his dismissal by giving the bartender your attention.

“I’ll take a rum and coke.”

You refused to turn back to him. To let yourself be flustered farther by some ridiculously good-looking man who’d basically told you he was taken. God, but he didn’t make it easy. It didn’t matter if you’d decided not to look at him. You could feel his eyes staring daggers into you, itching along your spin, while you slid a twenty in exchange for your drink across the bar. Were you imagining things or did he get closer?

When you moved to step away from the bar, you finally gave him your attention. A glass raised half way to thank him for the drink.

“Thanks for the help.”

You tipped your glass and started to make your way back to your friend's booth. In the short amount of time you’d been standing at the bar wasting time just to get one drink the place had filled up. Instead of it being a straight shot back to the booth, you found yourself asking people to excuse you with your precious drink held above your head. If you spilled it there was a strong indication there’d be some cursing and, possibly, a few tears.

Your imagination began to wander into naughty places as you made your way across the floor. You didn’t like being grabbed when you danced on the floor, but you imagined what it would be like if it was him you felt. His hand at your waist, stopping you from moving farther from him, with his body shamelessly pressed tightly against you. The hand he’d secured at your waist being used to move your hips in unison with him to the next DJ requested song.

The tension between you two wasn’t something you’d imagined. You’d plainly stated your interest and he seemed receptive, but…

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing back over your shoulder. Just like at the bar you’d felt his eyes follow you without mercy as you made your weak attempt to cross the floor.The dancing bodies around you should’ve provided you ample cover. Or that’s what you believed, but when you glanced over your shoulder you found those intense doe eyes fixated on you. His lean frame was still pressed into the exact spot you’d left him at the bar. Even from where you stood, you easily mapped out the teasing curve of his lips.

In that instant you really did feel like Little Red trapped under the insatiable gaze of a predator who threatened to swallow you whole. Even though your heart began to thunder wildly in your chest you couldn’t deny that it was all from the thrill of being hunted. For a moment, you forgot to worry about your drink and the high possibility of it spilling. You were rooted there to the floor, pulse hammering, and waiting.

“Hey Y/N!” You could barely register her words, but when Eun Hyun touched your arm it jolted you back to reality. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Did you get lost? Or has something caught the attention of that cop brain of yours?”

Her voice dripped heavy with teasing as she scanned the bouncing heads around you. She knew, somewhere in the sea of bodies, someone in there had turned you into a walking puddle. You gave her your best care-free smile and slid your arm around her waist. Your hips knocking against hers playfully to direct her back towards the table.

“I’m off duty tonight.”

You practically had to yell the words in her ear. If it wasn’t for the music being ear shatteringly loud, you would’ve worried about her eardrum. Your response sent her head back to rest against your shoulder and gazing over in your direction. Her laughter caused her eyes to crease into half moons.

The rest of the night you spent surrounded by Eun Hyun and her friends. You didn’t find yourself trying to find your mystery bar guy or wondered if he was somewhere watching you from a shadowed booth. You flung yourself into the girls night; your body gyrating and dancing to the throbbing bass of the music. Your mouth greedily knocking back every drink and every shot offered up by the next round from the bar. This was your night to unwind and you planned to take advantage of every minute.

When it was time for everyone to head home - and you being you - you hailed a cab for each of the girls. Eun Hyun decided at the last minute that instead of riding with you, she’d catch a ride with another girlfriend. The two of them believed that their girls' night didn’t have to end there at the bar, but somewhere still open that allowed them to be full of sin. They asked if you wanted to join, but you knew you couldn’t. As much as you loved living in the illusion of freedom, in the back of your mind, you knew the dark underbelly that was your home would be calling you bright and early. You didn’t need a massive hangover to join you during a homicide investigation.

Once the last of the girls’ was securely inside a cab you started waving for your own. You were usually a cautious person - came with the territory - so why you weren’t at that moment always surprised you. You’d thought about the second time you’d run into each other a lot. Why Jungkook never peaked your radar. The answer was a simple one: you never saw him coming.

You’d just stepped off the curb to open the back door of the cab when a suited arm beat you to it.

“Excuse me-“

The rest of your words died off the moment you looked up. He was just there. His arm holding the taxi idle, and keeping you captive between him and its backseat. Besides a coy glint of a challenge inside big doe eyes, you weren’t sure what game he was getting at. There was one thing you knew for certain. Years of intuition telling you the prize he was after was you.

“Get in.”

His voice was heady in its demand. The roughness of his words coated your skin in a heavy desire that left your body eager to follow orders. Too bad your legs seemed to turn to jelly by the way he stepped inside your space; his body easily overtaking your orbit. Eclipsing yours until you realized too late you were holding your breath waiting with anticipation for his next move. His dominance was on display in every inch of him. Particularly, in the way he moved. It could've been mistaken for confidence - he certainly wasn’t lacking in the department - but it was more than that. Jungkook commanded the universe to observe him and take awe of being in his presence.

A modern day Narcissus with all the power of Zeus.

Your body wanted to obey. Drunk you, however, wanted to be difficult. The stubborn side of you flared to the surface and made its own demand. “I didn’t realize we were sharing,” you replied, your words purred from your lips.

His response came in the form of actions. His hand that had held open the taxi’s door was now holding onto your arm and ushering you inside the cab. The hard length of his frame followed closely behind you to make sure you were getting in. If you turned to get out of the way you would just run smack into his chest.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?!”

You moved your body across the backseat until you were on the opposite side. Your back pressed firmly against the door. You turned to face him, watching as his frame followed in behind you and closed the door all in one smooth motion. His hand came down to pat a few times on the drivers chair as he directed him to an address that was definitely not yours.

A small part of you wanted to blurt out that you were a detective. See if it was enough to make his bravado wilt and followed up with messy attempts at an apology. The other part of you, one you later blamed on being drunk, just wanted to see what the rest of the night held in store. The hold Jungkook had previously had on your arm was now gone, but the heat from his touch remained.

The taxi lurched forward. It’s pace quickly sped up while the driver became comfortable with the information given from his gps. The middle-aged man gave you both a brief glance from his rear-view mirror. His thoughts deciding already the two of you were nothing but strangers heading home for a midnight fuck. He wasn’t far off, except-

You weren’t sure what you expected when you glanced back at the man beside you. A hundred possibilities with a hundred different ways to address them flew through your mind. Every single one of them dying before they were ever born on your lips when you found deep honeyed eyes seeing - not looking - in your direction.

“It’s a bit cocky to assume I want to go home with you.”

Your voice didn’t betray that your heart leapt into your throat. Your pulse sparks pure lightning through your veins, struggling, to keep a trepid tongue from running over your lips. His eyes flashed with a wickedness that was matched only by his smile. A curl of lips that you desperately wanted to feel pressed between your folds.

“You asked if I was on the menu, remember?”

“Asking if someone is included with a drink doesn’t automatically mean, ‘fuck me.’”

The drivers’ eyes peeled back up to glance in the rear view. It was subtle, but there.

Your harsh choice of words earned you a quirked eyebrow. His piercing glinted briefly by passing streetlights making him look ethereal. Sinful. This time your tongue did dart out to wet your lips and his eyes hungrily followed.

“No, it doesn’t. Looking for me while you should be enjoying your friends does come off that way, though.”

Your body went rigid with embarrassment. He’d noticed you as your eyes eagerly searched every face in the crowd. You’d searched, hoping, you’d find him, and yet you never once saw him. You’d even said a tiny prayer to the universe that maybe you'd run into him on the way back to the bar or pressed against his body on the dance floor. All these moments…

But he took notice of your desire and planned to use it to his full advantage.

“Come here.”

The demand was back. His voice practically dripped it along your skin. A silken promise to bring you to your knees and keep you there. You were eager to see if his words matched his actions. Without making him have to ask twice, you slide over to him. Your body filling up what little space you’d made until you were a breathe away.

The darkness of his eyes lightened for a moment. His pleasure at you obeying orders sent a spark through him. His hand came up a moment later with his index tracing the edges of your jaw until it cupped right below your chin. He used your obedience to his advantage and tipped your chin up to look up.

His eyes roamed the expanse of your face. A lazy thumb moved along the edge of your lip. The action was simple, and yet your breath was caught in your lungs. Hypnotized and waiting, eagerly, for his next move.

He must have noticed the heat in your eyes. The way you swallowed heavier around words of pleading that left your body wanton and trembling to be touched. A smirk ticked the corners of his mouth as he brought his lips closer to yours. Close enough he could’ve breathed you to him if he wanted. Instead, Jungkook faltered half way. Eyes dancing with mischief as his whispered words of, “Good girl,” painted themselves against your lips.

You bit the side of your cheek. A weak attempt to fight the convulsion to respond like a brat. You wanted to nudge him, something - anything - to make him take back his words. Even though his voice caressed along your skin, making it ache to sin.

His thumb was tracing slowly against your lips. His eyes holding yours hostage; demanding you to meet him with the same intensity. This was how Jungkook chose to watch you unravel at his touch. It would stay like this with every touch of his hands or when his cock was buried deep inside you. He came to life as you unraveled underneath him. Devouring every last hitch in your breathing with a hungry mouth and coaxing hands.

This is how he chose to watch you that night, in the backseat of that cab, as your breath caught in your throat. Your body curving to press closer to him with your thighs parting just enough to give him access. A smirk tilted the corner of his mouth as his head tilted closer to you.

“You’re such a good girl for me.”

Jungkook’s breath caressed the words along your lips just before he claimed your mouth with his. The kiss only meant to silence you as his fingers moved past the thin lace covering your pussy. His fingers pushing past your folds and plunging deep inside you.

Your body responded instantly to his touch. Your body arched to be closer; chest pressed up against him as your hand found a perch at the nape of his neck. You wanted to stay quiet. You were in the backseat of a cab for fucks sake, but Jungkook wasn’t giving you an option for dignity.

His fingers set to work on guiding themselves deeper inside you. Each thrust from his wrist sent a moan panting against his lips. Your hips shamelessly working in time with each thrust from his wrists. The palm of his hand cupped your pussy as he added another finger, stretching you wider for him.

A squelching noise was beginning to fill the small cab. Jungkook’s hand now coated and slick with your juices as you rode the high he was sending you on.

You weren’t like this. You were a detective. A woman who didn’t consider being fingered in the backseat of a cab a good time. Your common sense was raging at you to pull away from his kiss. To pull on his wrist and remove his fingers from between your legs, but the feral part of you told common sense to fuck off.

A secret part of you loved the way he unraveled you in that backseat. His tongue diving between your lips to caress across yours. The kiss at first was nothing but intensity: fierce and no doubt leaving your lips swollen. But as Jungkook continued to bring you close and closer to your orgasm it began to change. His lips still refused to let yours go. Your moans and gasps were forced to be pressed against his mouth as you panted for air. The kiss grew into its own sensual being. No longer was it fast and brutal. His tongue now moved languidly over yours, as if tasting every inch of you he could find.

You no longer cared that the cabbie was probably watching. Well aware that Jungkook’s fingers changed tactics and were now curving up into your g-spot. Your hands were frantically trying to remove his clothes; desperate to get home so you could have him inside you. You didn’t have to pull away from Jungkook’s lips to know he was smiling.

He couldn’t hold you to him any longer when the pleasure spread into your belly and blossomed in a burst of stars. You came for him - moaning prayers of ‘oh fuck,” - and head bumping against the window. You came while Jungkook continued to work your orgasm until your legs quivered uncontrollably. His pupils blown out with lust while he watched you come undone at his touch.

You couldn’t remember getting out of the cab at his apartment. You could only remember once you were inside, bodies were colliding against the wall of the hallway in a frenzy to remove clothes. Something broke on your ascent to the bedroom and you almost tripped trying to take off your heels.

All you did remember was the feeling of Jungkook on top of you. The tip of his cock pressing against your opening before he fully sheathed himself inside you. Your pussy struggling to accommodate his length and the sweet pain of his cock stretching you, working your cunt to take every last inch of him. Jungkook fucked you hard enough you felt him in your crevice. Your body trembling as pain and pleasure meddled together until it was sending you over the brink. Even when you got on top, hips working him with each thrust, Jungkook still took control. His hands on your waist going at the pace he wanted, and it was always too deep - too much - and left you screaming out his name in worship.

When you woke up you weren’t surprised by the massive headache you’d obtained from drinking half the bar. Jungkook silently laying beside you, deep in sleep, had been a huge surprise.You weren’t good at the whole next morning, ‘where do we go from here?’ sort of thing.

You were steeling yourself for the awkward moments when he woke up. For when you would tell him it was a one time thing and no relationship was going to happen. Ever. Of course, it wasn’t what happened at all. The moment Jungkook woke up his, “Good morning,” came in the form of a grunt. His body rolling you over and pushing himself inside.

You weren’t sure how a relationship happened. At first, you pretended it was strictly for the sex. A way to blow off steam from long work hours and the horrors of finding the Devils’ leftovers. But somehow his staying over only until morning turned into staying for breakfast. It traveled from breakfast in the house to breakfast at diners and dinners at restaurants. Eventually, Jungkook stopped leaving all together from your apartment, because it was now one you shared.

There were times you tried to deny that you could afford to fall in love, especially with him. While you were sure over the course of months you’d told him small and big things about yourself, Jungkook remained a mystery. The moments when he told you about his day or himself were rare and raw. As if he were afraid to come apart at the seams of the man he’d built only to be seen as weak.

Glancing over at Jungkook’s empty side of the bed, you tried to keep the dread from growing. You tried to shove it down as you climbed inside the elevator, your fingers pressing for the lobby. Jungkook never told you exactly what he did for a living. You just knew it kept him up at odd hours and sometimes - rarely - he would be kept out at night.

You weren’t going to allow yourself to be consumed with worry that he wasn’t home. Your Chief called with big news and with any luck, it was one of your leads that led to this arrest. All the worry that began to brew inside you quickly dissipated and excitement took its place.

Two years. Two long - nightmarish - years and finally you had something tangible. You had one of the bastards who helped terrorize this city and every resident inside it. The thought you could finally get some reasoning for the carnage Namjoon and his men had caused made you practically giddy.

The drive down to the station was done in a daze. You were positive no red lights were run, but you couldn’t say with certainty you didn’t speed. You dashed up to the back door of the precinct and squeezed past an officer who was on his way out.

He mumbled a hello, but you couldn’t respond. Your mind was focused on reaching the third floor where the man was being held. Your legs quickly found the staircase and took each one two at a time. Your body jolted forward as you came to the third-floor landing, and you broke into a jog.

The Chief was standing near the end of the corridor. His hands crossed with a Manila folder with everything that the department was able to gather on whoever was inside. When he caught sight of you, he pushed himself off of the wall taking lumbering steps in your direction. A hand already extending out the file for you to grab from him the minute you were within arm's reach.

“Finally. I thought with something like this you would’ve gotten here faster.”

“Hello to you too, Chief,” you snapped back. You weren’t too worried about him. Your attention was on the folder now in your hands. Your thumb running along the edge to help flip it open. “Can you debrief me on what we know for now?”

His large body made it hard to walk side-by-side in the hallway, forcing you to walk a little behind him.

“It’s all there in front of you: read it,” he huffed.

“It’s difficult to walk and read at the same time. Stop being an ass and just tell me.”

“Fine. We caught him in the act so to speak. He’d just finished paying a jeweler who we suspected was helping launder diamonds for Namjoon out of the country. Not sure exactly what happened, but from what we gathered at the scene, whatever's been going on between Namjoon and the jeweler must have been one hell of a disagreement.” The two of you stopped in front of the interrogation room at the very end of the hall. Your body was tingling with the desire to go inside. “When we showed up the jeweler and his works were already dead, and he was leaving with the suitcase through the back door. Surprised the hair out of the newbie when he met him at the door.”

The big man let out a chuckle that sounded more like a cough: throaty and from the chest. Chief was really in a good mood, you noticed.

“You say he, sir. We got a name?”

“Sure, as fuck do: Jeon Jungkook. Namjoon’s enforcer and right-hand man.”

You were vaguely aware that his mouth was still moving. He was talking, making words, and yet you heard none of it. The sickening feeling you felt earlier looking at the empty side of his bed came back. This time you physically had to fight your body from being sick. The urge to release the late dinner you had before bed was creeping dangerously close to the surface.

You were struggling to focus on his frame. Barely able to register the Chief was looking at you with worry. His lips formed words you were sure asking if you were okay but you waved him off. With the file still in your hand, you placed your hands on your hips. The movement forcing your dark trench coat to flare out around you like a cap.

In. Out. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

He was talking to you still; throwing questions at you on repeat and the only questions you wanted answers too lied within the room to your right. You didn’t give him warning that you were leaving. You just walked up to the interrogation room door, your hand reaching out for the handle.

Whether you were ready for what greeted you on the other side of the door - you weren’t sure. You made a silent prayer to anyone listening for it not to be him on the other side of the door. You would’ve given anything for it to be anyone else. Anything.

With a shaky hand you turned the knob of the door and stepped inside.

Your back was against the headboard of the bed. All the pillows that had been lost to the floor during sex were now back. Each one hugging to your shape as Jungkook tried to invade the pillow cocoon you’d made by resting his head in your lap.

He’d let out another frustrated sigh and you couldn’t keep the smile off your face. Jungkook hated your pillow obsession.

“I swear, I come home only to find another pillow added to the bed.”

“Or, hear me out, you just think you see another one.”

“I’ve actually started counting,” he admitted. His eyes edged up to look up at you through his lashes. Your fingers that’d been playing in his sweaty hair came to a halt. Just so you could do your best to hold his stare - looking as innocent as possible. “Today when I left the house we had ten pillows and now we have eleven. How does that happen?”

“Magic.”

You smiled brightly down at him before placing a kiss down on his forehead. You went to move back up when Jungkook stopped you. His body lifting up from your lap to meet you halfway to press his lips to yours. It was a chaste kiss. Chaste compared to how you usually kissed and as brief as it was your body reacted to him instantly.

You’d learned early on in your relationship it didn’t matter if you were having a bad day. If you were angry at the world, him, or frustrated with work. Jungkook was able to combat your sadness with just his presence alone. In moments where he smiled so big it crinkled his nose and the times you’d find him dancing shirtless in the kitchen while making breakfast. Even through the soft moments you shared, Jungkook chose to remain an enigma.

Jungkook released his hold on your lips to fall back into your lap. He turned until a cheek rested on your thigh giving him a good enough view to look out your bedroom window. The dying light of the day painting the window seal in hazy oranges and reds.

“This feels like magic.”

He spoke softly into the soft skin of your thigh. Jungkook brought a lazy hand to your calf and began to lightly move his fingers up and down. Your face became hot and you weren’t sure why you were trying to hide it when he wasn’t even looking. He was too busy, lost in the darkness of his own thoughts to know you were watching him and the way the sunset lit up every inch of his features. You traced the flowers on his sleeve in an attempt to calm the frenzy of your heart.

“What flower is this?”

The minute your words left your lips, you wished you could take them back. Jungkook turned away from the window to briefly glance at his arm. Already knowing exactly what flower you meant.

“It’s my birth flower. A tiger flower.”

“It’s a beautiful flower.”

“It is, but I didn’t get it for that. I got it for its meaning.”

You waited for him to continue. The room swelled with silence as you resumed running your fingers through his hair, but Jungkook’s attention was turned back towards the window.

“What’s it mean?”

He didn’t respond right away. The only way you knew he heard you was the soft tilt of his head. His eyes glancing at you from the side. You weren’t trying to pressure him. You just wanted him to know you were willing to wait and listen.

“It means, ‘Love me.’”

Each word hit you in the chest making you think, for just a moment, your heart was breaking. Jungkook’s voice told you more than he probably meant too.

Your fingers completely stopped their movement through his hair and moved down to take hold of his chin. Gently, you tilted his head up by his chin and waited for his eyes to meet yours before you spoke.

“If it counts for anything, I love you, Jungkook.”

Stepping inside the room you were greeted with the immediate sight of him. He hadn’t turned to look at you yet. His hands held together on the cool steel table. His wrists bound with cuffs that were attached to the metal ring at the edge closest to him.

He was dressed neatly in all black. From his long jacket that sat draped along the back of his chair to the high turtleneck that decorated his torso. In the breakdown of what had been taken in for evidence, you noticed they’d listed black leather gloves that he was currently missing.

You found your bearings and finally took that final step forward. Your feet carrying you around the table to the only chair available inside the room. It was then that Jungkook’s eyes flicked through the slights in his hair and you were finally able to see the light splatter of blood that was speckled across his cheek.

That was when it hit home that this was real. This moment, inside this very room, where your axis was tipping and your world was violently shifting. He didn’t have the decency to look away; to be ashamed.

No. A part of you always knew that the darkness that you assumed haunted Jungkook wasn’t out of sadness. An inkling of something much more sinister lurked underneath his surface, but you overlooked it. Pretended it wasn’t there all because you broke your own rules. You didn’t keep your guard up and if you had, Jungkook had silently removed every wall you’d been able to build.

Jungkook acknowledged your presence with a smirk and all that anguish you felt at his betrayal was instantly replaced with rage.

“There’s my good girl.”

“Don’t call me that.”

You hated the way he used your pet name. You hated it more with the way your body betrayed you with your core aching to be touched. Jungkook usually called you that when he had your legs spread out on your kitchen counter; eating your pussy for breakfast. Or bent over the couch with him buried to the hilt inside you, pounding at a brutal pace, with a belt around your throat and his hand controlling the pressure.

Jungkook’s response at your request was a sickening chuckle. You wanted to vault over the table between you. Grab a hold of him and shake him, scream in his face, demanding why? What was the purpose of all those months? Did he know who you were that night at the bar? Was this nothing but a game to him?

The smug look on his face made you want to go feral. The betrayal and hurt were warring inside your gut fighting for dominance. Each one knocking the air from your lungs like a punch. Jungkook leaned forward placing his elbows on the table and used them to get to the middle. His eyes were wild as he searched your face. No doubt reading the split second it took for you to hide the emotions you felt.

“Why? Do you not want them to know that we’ve been fucking? How I came home to you almost every night after I committed crimes you could never catch me for.”

And there it was. The truth you were dreading.

How many times had he come home to the bed you shared after he murdered someone? After threatening someone’s life or burning down a business? Came home to help you make dinner and he’d just taken laundered money or helped run one of Namjoon’s brothels.

You dropped his folder with a thud on the table. You had to fold your arms across your middle just so you didn’t actually reach over the table and strangle him. He would love that. See you lose control just to prove his point.

“You seem to be focusing on the wrong things, Jungkook. You seem a bit bitter that you got caught.”

The eerie smile dropped off his face as he snarled, “They got lucky.”

“Or you were just cocky,” you shot back. “And that cockiness cost you.”

“I wouldn’t be talking about cock-y anything right now, sweetheart.”

“How about we cut the shit and get straight to it, hmm? You aren’t going anywhere, Jungkook. You’ve been apprehended and you will never, ever, see the light of day again.”

The smug smile returned as his head cocked to the side. Clearly, you were more amusing than anything else to him.

“You’re soooo angry that I was under your nose this whole time. You had suspicions, but you chose to ignore them.”

You tried to swallow past your heart that was now clamoring in your throat. The scream that had been building was threatening to break free. You were struggling to remain emotionless. From the look on Jungkook’s face, you were failing miserably. You knew what he was going to say and you didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want something you’d told him in the moment to be used against you like the fool you felt you were.

“We both know why you ignored them, y/n. It’s because you lo-“

“If you finish that sentence I promise you I’ll punch your teeth down your throat.”

His reply came in the form of a wide toothy grin that lit his entire face up. The idea excited him and made him look psychotically attractive with the dried blood on his cheeks.

“You won’t get the chance even if I did.”

“What are you talking about?” You snapped.

He just answered you with that wicked smile. You were getting tired of the games. Your thoughts working on how to get past all the personal to the real matter at hand. You were considering how to work around it when the alarms in the room began to go off.

The alarm was shrill and pulsing. The sound hammered over and over inside your skull until you were sure it was going to explode. You glanced back at the two-way mirror and then to the door. You expected at any minute for someone to come barreling in to ask about what Jungkook said or to tell you the alarm was a false alarm. You were willing to bet it was until you started hearing shouting further down the hall. The sounds of running feet and jingling keys crept through the door.

You wanted to call and ask what was going on, but you hadn’t grabbed a radio and when the shouting got louder you found yourself back on your feet.

“Did you really think Namjoon and the other Devils’ wouldn’t come for me?”

Jungkook spoke to you like he was scolding a child. Your mouth snapped open, ready to retaliate, when the sound of an explosion sounded all around you. The alarms in the building were blaring like crazy. The next explosion sounded in the building and your arms shot up protectively to cover your head and neck.

The sounds of screams were now pounding in your ears. Matching the scrambling boots and shouts to find cover. You dropped your arms down from your head and looked around. Outside was pure chaos, but nothing had touched inside the interrogation room yet. Which only meant one thing.

“They don’t know which room you’re in.”

Your words were soft. Spoken mostly as a verbal thought. The realization of it had you scrambling out of your chair. Your hands digging for the cuff keys Chief had dropped inside your pocket before you entered.

You had resolved to never get this close to him again. You wanted to pretend that being so near would cause your skin to crawl, but it was too soon. Everything is still fresh and open. Jungkook may have betrayed you in more ways than your brain could possibly fathom at this point. But the only thing your body felt, being this close to him, was desire.

“What are you doing?”

Jungkook was staring up at you with amusement. His gaze set on your face and no doubt finding the humor in the way your jaw clenched at having to press this close up against him.

“If they don’t know what room that means I have a chance to take you somewhere else. Somewhere safe.”

“You’re freeing me?” One eyebrow curled up towards his hairline. The amusement was still heavy in his tone, but underneath was he…hopeful?

A snort of laughter was your only reply as you continued to work on the chain that held his cuffs in place.

“No, Jungkook, I'm not freeing you. I’m making sure you end up where you belong.”

“And where is that, exactly?” He snapped.

The amusement had fallen from him and was replaced with the look of someone deadly. Someone you didn’t know. The change was swift and almost had you taking a step back from him. This was the real Jungkook. The enforcer, Chief called him. Looking at him you couldn’t agree with a more fitting title for the fierce man that looked up at you.

“In prison.”

You weren’t sure how you found the courage to reply or to meet the fury in his eyes. The second your words registered you watched a spark ignite in his eyes and a snarl bare his teeth. This time your body did give a jolt in surprise. You went to move back from him, but Jungkook’s hands were on your arms gripping you right. Refusing to let go.

“No. I belong with you and you belong with me.”

You were shaking your head struggling to free yourself from having to hear him. His words cut deep and dug into your soul. How stupid of him to not realize it didn’t matter how you felt. How he felt. You knew who he was now and nothing could change that. Nothing should be able to change that.

“No,” you gasped.

You didn’t know when you started crying. All you knew was that your eyes were stinging with unshed tears. As much as you fought to hold them in, you knew it was just a matter of time before you lost.

“Yes! You know it as much as I do. All these months we’ve been together. Deep down, in your gut, you knew all along who I was.”

“That’s impossible! I’m not fuckin psychic!”

“No. You’re a detective and a good one at that. You’re not dumb, y/n.” You were shaking your head vigorously like it would be enough to drown out every word he spoke. The grip on your arms felt constricting and yet, you didn’t pull away. “We belong together. You know it.”

The rage at his words, or yourself for allowing him to talk and for you to listen, was building up. You were going to scream. It felt like you were going to open your mouth to do so when another explosion went off.

This one was closer than the others. Close enough that it shattered the glass off the two-way mirror and sent it flying like shrapnel into the room. You were still stunned by the explosion, your body stuck in shock, but Jungkook was already moving.

A hand reached out to grab the edge of the interrogation table. He flipped it over with ease and grabbed you just as another explosion sounded. He didn’t grab you quick enough. You didn’t have to touch your head right away to know it was bleeding. You’d felt the debris of something - a chunk of concrete, plywood, or glass - hit the backside of your head. Your vision was now doubled and cloudy. The words being said around you sounded like they were speaking through cotton balls.

Vaguely, you became aware that there were other men in the room now. All of them dressed in black with decorated hockey masks that sat on top of ski masks. One of them was bending down, bolt cutters in his hands, and made quick work of Jungkook’s cuffs just as Namjoon entered the room.

He walked through the hole the explosion created, framed by billowing smoke and flames. Namjoon appeared completely untouched. Exactly like the Devil himself.

You tried to go for your side arm but someone stopped you. A boot kicking you back that was met with a savage snarl as Jungkook launched himself at your attacker. The darkness around your vision was winning. No matter what you told yourself, you weren’t going to be able to fight passing out. Your eyes fluttered over to the sight of Jungkook. His fist had wrapped his handcuffs around his knuckles and was smashing repeatedly into the mask of the man who’d kicked you.

“That’s enough, Jungkook.” Namjoon’s baritone was rich and deep. It didn’t surprise you that it went with one of the most notorious mob king’s that ever resided in this city. “We need to leave. Now. We’ll talk about your lack of tact when we get home.”

“I’m not leaving without her.”

Namjoon turned to him. His eyes followed as Jungkook threw down the bloodstained cuffs and moved towards you. You wanted to say something - tried to say something - but all that came out was mumble words and a whimper.

“You know you can’t bring her, Jungkook.”

“I’ll say this one more time, Joon. I’m not leaving here. Not without her.”

Irritation rippled across Namjoon’s features and his jaw clenched tight. You could tell he was thinking with his eyes roaming down to look you over. Finally noticing the state that you were in. His tongue rolled around in his cheek before he looked back at Jungkook. His frustration only made his forehead crease further.

“Fuck it. Hurry up and grab her.”

Jungkook didn’t even wait for Namjoon to finish his sentence. He pushed the tossed over table farther away making it easier for him to move down and scoop you up into his arms. The sudden movement caused your world to spin and it wouldn’t stop. Squinting your eyes you nestled your forehead against his shoulder trying to make your head stop spinning. It wasn’t working.

A whimper escaped you as Jungkook started moving forward. The crumbling department was only something you were able to imagine as you refused to look. No matter how hard you shut your eyes, however, it wouldn’t stop the sounds of men yelling for backup and others in pain. The pops of bullets leaving the chambers and the clamoring of feet to escape.

“I’ve got you, my love,” Jungkook hummed against your cheek. “I’ve always got you.”

If you were stronger you would’ve clamored out of his arms and moved away. You would spit curses at him and inform him that he was delusional. You would never be his any longer, but before the blackness overtook you a tiny voice reminded you that you were a liar.

You would always be his.

BTS PROOF CONCEPT PHOTO

PROOF VER.

Jungkook: Dropping Hints 🔞

"Maybe you just cant see it?"

Tags/Warnings: Oh dear lord, Idol!Jungkook, smutshot = adult content, he's got his pp pierced, and his girl in his hotel room, though he only let's the world know one of those things, the piercing of course, protected sex (hormone shot, pls practice safe sex in RL thank you), established/secret relationship, mild manhandling, he smacks her butt like.. Twice, spicy romantic kook, guys this is a smut-shot written by me at this point you should know the drill

A/N: This is @min-yoonified 's fault.

Story Length: Mid

♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook is good at controlling what information he let's people around him know.

He's learned from the best after all; Seokjin being a master at making people feel as if they know more about him than he ever really gives away of himself. With the eldest of the group, it's mostly to keep his private life private- but Jungkook can be quite daring, and knows how to talk about things publicly he's not supposed to say.

Though he'd never put you in any danger.

You're his biggest secret to keep, and one of the only things he will probably never share with the public, well aware of the dangers this could pose to you. He's experienced his best friends receiving death threats before, getting stalked and chased by people too delusional to keep their minds connected to reality. He doesn't want to ever have you experience any of that- and to keep you safe, he has to portray the single guy in front of the world's audience- and he's glad you're so understanding of it.

He knows someone like you is rare to find.

You live your life laid low, family aware, but no one else knows of your relationship with him. It's the same on his side- and he plans to keep it that way. You're his, and he doesn't like sharing- especially something he loves as much as you.

"oh?" he leans forward to read a comment a little better, room dark and phone screen bright. "Will I ever get more piercings?" he reads the question out loud, before smirking, leaning back a little on the couch as he looks at the camera cheekily. "what makes you think I haven't already?" he challenges, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe you just can't see it?" he hints, making you shake your head in disbelief on the bed across from where he sits, a safe zone out of range of the camera. "let's read some more comments." he laughs to himself, quick to steer the conversation away before staff scolds him again for not behaving properly in front of his fans.

He ends the Livestream a little while after, making sure the camera is off, even going as far as to take the battery out of it just to be safe. "they're already talking about your invisible piercing." you comment, giggling when he crawls over your form on the bed, lips placing a kiss onto your bare upper leg like second nature before he lays down next to you.

"that's fine, let them." he shrugs. "I'll probably get an earful tomorrow from staff." he chuckles, watching you as you stretch your limbs before you cuddle up to him. His hand smacks your butt once just for the fun of it, a sigh escaping him as he closes his eyes briefly.

"you think they'll figure it out? The fans, I mean." you ask, head on his chest as he shrugs again.

"a lot of them have pretty dirty minds. There's bound to be people who'll get it right. They'll never know for sure though." he teasingly comments, and you laugh to yourself, a hand running over his lower abdomen above his shirt, before it travels beneath the fabric.

"I know it though." you say, and his hand starts to make it's way over the length of your bare arm, fingers running over the skin.

"you do." he confirms lowly, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. "you know it pretty well." he chuckles, letting his hand wander from your arm to the hem of your underwear, for now only slipping underneath the side of them, resting there.

"I think it's pretty." you comment, looking at him now. "it suits you." you say, and he smiles down at you before his free hand angles your head right for him to kiss.

Moments like these are why he wants to keep you at his side forever.

It's a give and take in your relationship; no clear hierarchy no matter the situation. You take care of him just as much as he takes care of you- right now, your hands helping him out of his shirt, his arms willingly raising upwards to make it easier for you. Positioning yourself to sit on his core, you can feel just from a few gentle movements of your hips that he's already rising in his sweats. "hm, I love you." he hums out before he dives back in to kiss you.

He loves making out with you just as much as sex- simply because it's intimate. It makes him feel weightless, like no one's thinking of him but you, like no one's expecting anything from him.

"you've got rehearsal tomorrow morning." you remind him as you break apart for a second, his lips chasing yours stubbornly, eyes of his still closed as his hands run up your sides to rest over your ribs.

"Perfect time to unwind and relax then before we go to sleep." he responds, now a bit more eager to get the sports bra off of you as he pulls it over your head, instantly running his hands over your chest.

"baby you need sleep." you try again, and he smacks your butt yet again, suddenly flipping you over, towering over you from above before he slips your panties off your legs.

"I sleep best when I'm exhausted." he argues, loosing the rest of his clothes as well now before he angles your legs right. "and I'm not not exhausted yet." he smirks, silver balls of the piercing decorating the very head of his cock reflecting the moving lights of the moodlight he'd brought along. It does suit him.

The unfamiliarity of it has long disappeared, by now a very welcomed sensation whenever he runs it over your clit, or when it's inside you. He's definitely done his research; knows how to use it, what positions are best, and what to avoid. And while he loves to have you like this, spread out on the mattress below, hair fanning out underneath your head as his hands grip your upper thighs to keep you steady as he pushes himself into you, tonight he's craving to have you closer.

Maybe it's the fact that he doesn't get to see you during the day whenever he's out for concerts- but he needs to hold you.

So he maneuvers you a little around, helps you sit over his thighs, before you reach between your bodies to lead his aching length back inside you. His arms instantly wrap around you, helping you by pushing your lower back gently into him, eyes unable to look away from you. "I'm so fucking lucky." he chuckles out randomly, before he steals your breath quite literally; feeling the way you clench around him already as he kisses you. "good?" he wonders, and you nod almost frantically- and he knows you all too well. "you're gonna cum?" he teases breathlessly, as you suddenly cling onto him, his own pace now picking up as he chases his own high alongside yours.

And even after, he still holds you close.

After a moment of catching his breath, he laughs into your neck, kissing the skin a little, body now definitely spent. "you know.. I just had to think of how many people must've had sex in this bed before us." he admits, and you cringe, slapping his shoulder dramatically.

"kook no, ew." you whine, making him laugh as he helps you both to the edge of the bed, standing up with you still in his hold as if he's got something to prove. "lemme walk." you complain, though he just continues his way into the bathroom where he finally let's you down to go and do your business, while he turns on the shower.

And later, when you've both settled to finally go to sleep, he takes a moment to just look at you for a bit, before he closes his eyes as well, legs tangled and arms wrapped around each other.

You're definitely his most previous secret to keep.

Forever.

overtime (m)

summary: an awkward first encounter with your new boss gives Jeon Jungkook all the more reason to make your job an interesting experience.

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: ceo/boss au | fluff/smut 

warnings: sexual tension, light depictions of overworking, oral sex (fem receiving) 

word count: 12k

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To say you are late would be a complete and utter, tragic and ill-fitting, understatement. By the time you were supposed to be here at the building, you had just finished adding the last minute touches to your hair with the straightener, and by the time you were supposed to be doing that you needed to finish your makeup and by the time that was happening—!

Well, you get the idea.

Point is, you are running incredibly behind on your schedule—as if life just wanted to prove a point that no matter how much it seemed you could stitch your life together by managing to land an interview for a company actually relevant to your degree, something always had to go wrong. It just so happens that the bad day you constantly worried about just had to occur today. On the day of your interview.

Keep reading

MASTERLIST for:

JJK || Someway

summary: You go on a non-refundable cruise with your LA realtor ex-boyfriend. Things get interesting.

tags: one bed trope, exes to lovers, mutual pining, stubborn!y/n, vacation, smut, angst, fluff, fem!reader x jungkook

warnings and word count vary per chapter

a/n: hey guys! I've been working on this series for the past few weeks and I decided to put out the first chapter today! I'm graduating highschool in a bit, so I've been kinda scrambling to get requests done. Thank you for your support and your patience!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five (Finalé)