Nonbinary-demonbrat - Getting Old W/ Bangtan - Tumblr Blog

“Give me one margarita I’ma open my legs” and Jimin. That’s the story BayBey and damn is it a good one 😩🥵🥲 ngl I SCRUMT at the “Stop running. Take it” line cus BITCH I’m already delusional about Jimin but now?? Tuh 😩🥴

One Margarita(pjm x reader)

Pairing: Park Jimin x black!female!reader

Warnings: established relationship, fluff, Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), mentions of brunch, mentions of drinking alcoholic beverages, drunk antics, Jimin being a sweetheart, reader being a giggly and clingy drunk, reader also being a horny drunk, implied foreplay but I don’t write it out, on the side sex(reader lays on their side but Jimin doesn’t, hopefully I explained the position good enough hehe), missionary, doggy style, clit play, rough sex, drunk sex, a little dirty talk, Jimin’s stroke game is A+, both implied multiple orgasms and actual orgasms, implied oral(f receiving), choking with both hands, scratching, reader is dick drunk and Jimin is pussy drunk, reader trying to run from the dick but Jimin doesn’t allow it😆, bad TikTok references and I’m not sorry

A/N: And we’re back! Welcome back! I know I’ve been away for a while but I recently closed on a townhouse and I’ve been moving these past few weeks but I’m finally settled! It’s been crazy but now that I’m back, I’ll be doing regular postings again. I wrote this after seeing a Jimin edit with that One Margarita by That Chick Angel on TikTok. I just couldn’t not write about it. As for reader, I did describe them as brown skinned with love handles and saggy/droopy breasts because we’re out there! Not every breast is perky and that’s okay! They’re all beautiful! I also gave reader locs because I’ve been so many gorgeous black women really embracing them lately and I love that. Another thing, my requests are open for both BTS and Seventeen members. I’ve been rewatching both group’s In the Soop seasons and I’ve been having the best time. Both Yoongi and Woozi have been wrecking me lately. And I may or may not have a Rockstar!threesome fic planned with them😆😆I mean, long haired boyfriends that you can dress the same? Yes please. Anyway, enjoy this and thanks for reading

~

Jimin knew the moment he heard your silly giggles and the crash of the shoe rack that you were drunk off your ass.

This was a common occurrence on certain Sundays when you went out to brunch with your friends. You didn’t really like to drink but margaritas were your kryptonite, those frozen and fruity concoctions just did something for you. A few of those and your inhibitions were flying south for the winter.

Closing his book with a sigh, he stood to his feet to go and greet you at the door.

You were leaned over at the waist, one hand on the wall and the other trying to unlace the strings off your heels. How all of the shoes had gotten all over the floor was a mystery to him but he’d worry about that later.

“Baby.”

You turned your head, locs falling into your face and sticking to your lip gloss. A goofy smile spread across your face at the sight of your husband standing there, your vision slightly blurry from both your hair and the alcohol in your system.

Dropping your foot, you tried to stand to your feet but gravity was a bitch so you stumbled to the ground. Jimin immediately surged forward to help you.

Giggles erupted from you as you leaned into your dependable husband, your hands landing on his buff biceps. Mmm, he was so strong….

Placing your chin on his chest to lovingly gaze up at him, you wrapped your arms around his torso. “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii my sweet baby love muffin cake. What are….*hic*….you doing here?”

He couldn’t fight down his smile, expression full of endearment for you. God, he loved you so much. Even drunk you was adorable.

“I live here?”

Another fit of giggles. “So do I!!”

“Alright, let’s get you out of these clothes and some water.” He leaned down a little to grab your thighs and haul you up. You let out a noise as he lifted you, your arms wrapping around his neck and legs sticking straight out.

“Whoa! I am married sir.” You slurred, laying your head on his shoulder, eyelids drooping. Even while drunk and unaware, Jimin’s presence calmed you. Like your body just knew you were in safe hands and could finally relax.

He just rolled his eyes and began his walk your shared bedroom.

Gently placing you on the bed, he tried to stand but your arms locked him in your embrace. Your glossed lips left sticky kisses across his neck and jawline.

He could tell where this was going. You always got super horny after brunch. Not that he hated it, quite the contrary. Drunk sex was absolutely amazing with you—you just got so submissive and pliable. Whiny too which he secretly loved.

While he really wanted to flip you over and fuck you until you were sober, he knew he had to get you situated first.

“Baby, let me go. I have to get you out of these clothes.”

You whispered, “Please do.” Releasing him, he rolled his neck, relieving a bit of the tension from bending over in that position.

“I’m readyyyyyyy.” You opened your legs in a V shape, smacking your ankles together in an attempt to be sexy but Jimin just thought you were funny.

He walked over to your dresser to pick out something for you to wear. A muu-muu would be the easiest to slip on you in your jelly like state, he thought.

When he turned back around, he found you trying to get your pants off while your legs were still in the air.

“Let me help.” He gently said, starting to untie your heels from around your legs. You were being surprisingly docile while he did this. Probably because you were about ready to pass out.

After he got your shoes off, he grabbed both sides of your pants to pull them off your legs.

You giggled again. “Do you know how many margaritas it would take for me to open my legs?”

How could he know that? But he’d play along. “No. How many?”

You motioned for him to lean closer to you which he did. “None.”

You decided to drop your legs at this moment, revealing your panties and fat cunt to him. Your lips had all but swallowed up the fabric, juices soaking them.

He could feel his cock jump at the sight. How were you already that wet?

Focus, Jimin! Get her dressed and get her water.

Shaking his head to try and clear his thoughts of fucking you into the mattress, he reached down to undo the buttons of your blouse next, trying to ignore the bedroom eyes you were sending him as he did so. You barely helped him actually get the shirt off, your arms trying to pull him back down to kiss you again. Sliding an arm under your back, he lifted you up so that he could slip your shirt off of you. Thankfully, you weren’t wearing a bra, just boob tape holding them up. Good thing he’s watched you take it off so he knew what to do.

20 minutes later and Jimin had managed to get you into the bathroom to clean off your makeup, remove the boob tape, and get you into your muu-muu before getting you back into the bed.

Now he could give you the attention you so desperately needed.

On your side, leg thrown over his shoulder and his weight pushing down on you, his cock was stretching out your begging cunt.

The alcohol in your system was only making your pleasure feel ever more powerful, waves of buzzing euphoria flowing over your body.

“Hmmmm, yeah baby….just like thaaaaatttt…” You moaned, one of your arms wrapped around Jimin’s shoulders and hand tangled in his soft hair.

Both of his fists were on either side of you, holding himself up, hips trying to push his cock deeper and deeper into your pussy. He was weak. Weak for you. He thought he would be able to make it, maybe get you to take a nap and let you sober up a little before you had sex. But you weren’t having it. All he did was turn his back to grab your bonnet and you were pulling your panties to the side, giving him an unhindered view of your leaking folds. How could he not latch his lips around your clit and make you scream? It was impossible. You were impossible but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Now both of you were 2 orgasms in and ready to burst.

His cock was touching the deepest parts of you, the head almost touching your cervix and the veins rubbing up against your most sensitive spots. Your arousal soaked walls hugging his cock and pushing him to the brink of madness. You were like an angel sent just for him, everything about you perfect in his eyes. He was obsessed with you in the best of ways.

And god, your pussy was like his own slice of heaven.

That feeling began to build in your tummy once again, another orgasm just inches from you.

You tossed your head back against the pillows, fingers gripping Jimin’s nape to pull him closer to you. His hot breath fanned over your face, plump lips dropped open to let gasps and groans pass.

“I fucking love this cock….you’re so deep.”

“Yeah? You like this cock, baby?”

You nodded your head, eyes shut in ecstasy as you focused on your impending orgasm. Your whole body felt floaty. Jimin’s cock was scrambling your already buzzed brain, his heated skin against yours relaxing your bones even further.

Jimin ran his lips up your sweaty throat, your brown skin smelling like Thank U, Next, your favorite perfume nowadays. “Touch yourself.” He whispered against your skin.

You shakily reached down to press two fingers against your neglected nub. Your toes curled, the stimulation propelling you right to the edge.

“That’s it. Faster. Make yourself cum.” He sat up on his haunches, using his hand to push his hair back out of his face. A simple movement he did often but in this situation, it made him look ten times sexier. Sweat dripped down his bare chest, abs flexing and muscles in his arms shifting around. Fuck, you wanted to bite him.

He grabbed the leg that was over his shoulder, pressing a few kisses to your calf before pulling your hips up so that he could really start pounding into you.

The feeling of his cock bullying your walls paired with your fingers on your clit and you were about ready to ascend.

Jimin almost thought he was dreaming. You just looked so ethereal while locked in pleasure. Your glowing skin, bouncing breasts, eyes rolling and mouth dropped open to let calls of his name out. Fuck, you were breathtaking. His eyes went down to where you were connected, your cunt leaving his cock coated in a shiny sheen. You were practically dripping, your arousal dripping down between your ass cheeks and staining the sheets.

He dropped your leg to lean down over your body, hands moving to both sides of your head. You adjusted yourself to be fully on your back which allowed his cock to reach even deeper, your legs wrapping around his waist.

His strokes were long and deep, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

“Kiss me….please baby.” You begged, puckering your lips. He happily obliged, pressing sloppy pecks to your waiting pout. “M’gunna cummmm, cumming baby. Harder.” You were breathless, lungs struggling to pull oxygen into your body. Jimin invaded your senses—his scent, his body heat, the feeling of his affection and intimacy. You felt so good under him, in his embrace and covered by his love.

Wrapping both of his hands around your throat, he began driving his cock in and out of your dripping pussy. Your hands gripped at his arms, running your nails down the skin and leaving red streaks in its wake. Your throat burned from the scream you let out, head lifting to get a look at where he was entering you. Just the sight of his cock moving in and out, covered in your arousal and the creamy ring around the base, was enough to propel you right off the edge.

His own resolve was starting to crumble. Your pussy just felt too good. Pulling his lip between his teeth, he hissed, “shit, you feel so good…love this pussy.” He was pushing his hips harder and harder into you, the backs of your thighs starting to burn from from the constant contact.

It felt like he was shaking your thoughts loose. You weren’t drunk on mimosas anymore, now you’re drunk on your man’s dick. If you could bottle and drink this feeling, they’d have to admit you to a rehab.

Back arching, your orgasm full body absorbed you. Your vision blurred, waves of endless pleasure cascading over you and sending you straight to the King. Your hands went to his waist, digging your nails into the skin there. He hissed at the sting but it only made his cock throb.

You hadn’t even come down before Jimin was flipping your weak body over, pulling your hips up so you were in doggy style. You let out a breath now that you could breathe. His hands gripped your love handles, using them to yank you back on his cock.

With this position, you could feel every ridge and inch of him, the head of his cock pushing into your abused soft spot.

Drool leaked from the corners of your mouth, your eyes rolling back and hands practically ripping the pillow under you.

Jimin gritted his teeth as your walls constricted around him, trying to milk him for everything he was worth.

“Bout to cum. Fuck, bout to fill this pussy up.”

Pleasure sparked down his back as you gushed around him, more wetness leaking from you and soaking the backs of your thighs and his cock.

With a few more thrusts, he was pulling your ass back until he was buried all the way in your cunt, shooting his cum into your pulsing pussy. His orgasm was enough to make you cum again, your hips jumping trying to run from him but his hands held you still.

He leaned down until his chest was pressed into your back. “Stop running. Take it.” He grunted in your ear and you wondered if you could marry someone again while already being married to them.

After a few minutes of resting, Jimin sluggishly lifted himself from your back, lifting his hand to push his sweaty hair back. Now both of you would need a nice, long bath.

“Baby? Are you okay?” He noticed you’ve yet to move, not even a groan from him resting on your back like you normally did. He tapped your shoulder, still no movement.

Then he moved your locs that had covered your face to the side, finding your relaxed and resting face. You had fallen asleep. Of course.

He sighed, tapping you again. “Baby, get up. You should get cleaned up.” Still nothing.

Later after you woke up from a long nap, you found Jimin in the kitchen making a late lunch. The first thing you noticed were the red streaks across his back and arms. Wow, you didn’t even remember doing that.

You approached him, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder.

“Finally awake? How do you feel?”

You shrugged. “Fine. A little sore but nothing I can’t handle.”

He hummed and you two stood in silence for a moment before he broke it.

“How many drinks did you have?”

5 margaritas. That’s how many it took.

I’m so obsessed!!!! All of the alien series you write are great, and this one truly is hitting my top fave list. I’m enamored with this Jk 🥹

Jungkook

𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓬 [Masterlist]

You're supposed to keep him in check and integrate him into earth's society while he recovers from the aftereffects of catching a viral infection on his planet. All that, while you get to earn a pretty good monthly compensation for your efforts from the government of his and your planet.

Or more simplified: You're a paid babysitter for a 7' tall alien who's caught a virus that makes him act purely on instincts, rather than logic. Oh yeah- and he tried to eat your neighbor's pet bird. Yeah...

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Yes I'm writing that story..., mentions of doctors visits (needles, injections, medical terms, blood), mild Angst, so much chaos, he almost eats a bird once oops, mild Angst, strangers to lovers, potential smut

A/N: THERE IS NO TAGLIST. THERE IS NO TAGLIST FOR THIS. THERE REALLY ISNT. DO NOT ASK.

Also, the Main Work will serve as a basic introduction to the universe and story. After the Main Work is posted, you can immediately request drabbles :)

━━━━━━━━━━.~°👽°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

Main work

Drabbles:

First time Jungkook started to cuddle [fluff]

Aftermath of Main Work [Fluff]

Jungkook learning about kissing [Fluff, suggestive]

---

━━━━━━━━━━.~°👽°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

Yes this is obv filthy smut but it’s so romantic and my little ace heart was preening over the amount of trust, love, and vulnerability this couple showcased for each other 🥹 like how fucking romantic and HOT

interlude: sundown (myg)

pairing: min yoongi x reader summary: as it turns out, your boyfriend can take as much as he gives. au: darksided (masterlist), established relationship type: drabble | smut + fluff word count: 1.9k rating: 18+ cw: pov switch, min yoongi gets pegged 🙌🏻, afab!reader, needy & subby yoongi, v soft dom!reader, praise kink unlocked!!, anal fingering, sex w/ strap on, k*ss*ng (eek!) a/n 1: you thought i’d get through a(u)gust without a yoongi fic? pleaaaaase. this is part of the darksided series, so i recommend checking out the other installments first, just so you have all the context. this can be read as a stand-alone drabble, though! this one takes place after blindsided, btw. a/n 2: i don’t spend much time talkin’ ‘bout prep due to the word limit, but it is both implied & v important. be safe! 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

You can’t say what came over you. It wasn’t a conscious decision, you know that much. The only explanation you can fall back on is that the feral part of your brain simply took over, and your inner construction worker popped out to say hello — but that’s not entirely accurate.

In reality, it was less of a greeting and more of a “Damn, baby! That ass.”

Mere meters away, your boyfriend is bent over the bookshelf he’s been working hard to assemble — a task you were politely banished from executing, not thirty minutes ago. When he finally registers what you just blurted out, he stands back up to his full height and glances over his shoulder at you. His expression lands somewhere between bewildered and tickled fucking pink.

“Did you just catcall me?”

“I — I think…” You’re more shocked than he is, it seems. Blinking slowly doesn’t help you process your actions any quicker, so you give up and grimace through your admission. “I might have?”

Of the two of you, it’s Yoongi that truly has all the audacity in the world. After setting his screwdriver down onto the coffee table, he crosses his arms loosely over his chest and bites back a smug grin.

“You think you know a person after seven entire years of dating,” he tuts. “Then, they turn around and harass you — in your own home, no less.” Sucking a breath in through his teeth, he shakes his head and sighs, “Life comes at you fast.”

For a second, all you can do is stare at him with your incredulous mouth halfway open. It’s the most that anyone should expect from you at a time like this, when he’s looking at you like that — characteristically semi-flustered, and still so unshakably self-assured. With narrowed eyes, you opt to hone in on the former.

“You’re out here smuggling cake in broad daylight — looking downright bite-worthy —”

Peeling yourself off the couch, you cross over to him with your hands raised defensively. When you reach him, you plant those same hands on your hips and heave an exasperated sigh.

“What was I supposed to do? Pretend otherwise?”

Yoongi arches an eyebrow but says nothing, simply aiming his flat-lined smile your way. All it takes is your slow, expectant blinking for him to take the hint. Just like that, you fall into a well-practiced routine: him opening up to pull you into his chest, you lacing your arms around his waist, his chin resting gently against the top of your head.

And even though you haven’t left the house all day, this is the first moment that truly feels like home. It’s quiet, it’s calm, it’s —

“Bite-worthy, huh?” 

You can’t see his smirk, but you can hear it. 

“Surely, this is not the first time this is being brought to your attention.”

“It’s not,” Yoongi concedes. His low chuckle tickles every vertebrae on its way down your spine. The tingling only intensifies when he presses a kiss to the top of your head and murmurs, “I just haven’t heard it from you before. You’re behind the curve, so to speak.”

You pause for two reasons: the subtle genius of his phrasing and the new bit of trivia he seems to be alluding to. Is he — ?

“You’ve pegged?” You ask, glancing curiously up at him. 

The answer wouldn’t surprise you one way or another. More than anything, you’re impressed that the two of you still find things to learn about each other. That you can spend the better part of a decade with someone, side-by-side, and never run out of new conversations to have.

When he tilts his chin to look down at you, his expression is a perfect mirror of yours.

“You haven’t?”

Yoongi’s head crashes back against the pillows before his sigh can slip fully from his mouth. The impact seems to knock it loose; it floats away, above your bowed head. The sound gets lost somewhere underneath that of your open-mouthed kisses trailing so fucking softly across the bare skin of his chest. 

If his heart stops with every flick of your tongue over one of his nipples, you resuscitate him just as quickly with praise.

Apparently, being told he’s beautiful has the same physiological effect on him as a shot of epinephrine.

“Oh, fuck,” Yoongi groans from deep in his chest when your mouth ventures far enough to kiss the tip of his cock. That action is fairly chaste, all things considered, but the way his pre-cum shines like gloss on your lips is beyond obscene. 

You smile with your eyes alone as you take him into your mouth — and you think he’s beautiful? 

He can’t think of a single prettier sight than you and your fluttering lashes, looking up at him like he’s the one that hung the stars in the sky. Ridiculous. It’s him that frays a little further at the edges with every glance down at you.

Pulling away with a lewd pop, you murmur, “You can be more vocal than that, can’t you, baby?”

Oh, god. 

The smile tugging at your mouth makes his heart leap and his cock twitch. Untouched, it jumps and re-settles against his abdomen.

“Yes.” He fires off his response like a bullet at point-blank range, and you chuckle quietly at his eagerness. Breathless already, he amends, “Fuck yes.”

One eyebrow arches just enough to indicate that you expect a more detailed response. He should know better by now, shouldn’t he? He’s teased you this way a thousand times before, and it’s about time that he tastes his own medicine. Acknowledging that fact, he stoops to begging.

“Please. I want you to fuck me open with your fingers.”

Nodding appreciatively, you trace your finger along the underside of his shaft and leave him on the brink of losing his goddamn mind. He’d gladly let you drive him insane this way, but you take that hand away and gesture for him to turn over. As you do, you hum, “And I want to see you on your knees, love.”

Yoongi takes your instructions and runs with them, barely careful enough to avoid knocking you backwards off the bed in the process. He settles on his knees, then looks back over his shoulder just in time to watch you pop the cap off the bottle of lube.

You look nervous, though you try to hide it. He’s no stranger to that worried crease between your eyebrows; and he can’t help the downward curve of his mouth when he sees it.

There’s never been — and will never be — a person he trusts more than you. Careful, perfect, sweet. You couldn’t hurt him even if you tried, and he knows without question that you never would. You, however, seem less sure of that.

Yoongi has to twist back around to do it, but he cradles your jaw in his hands and kisses you deep, with everything he has. 

“I love you,” he whispers before pressing his lips to yours a second time. It carries more meaning than that; he suspects you hear each one.

I trust you.

It’s okay.

Already reassured, you whisper back to him with darkening eyes, “Elbows on the mattress, then, Min Yoongi.”

To say that he collapses against the comforter would be an understatement. He’s certifiably boneless the second your fingertips trace down the length of his spine, though his hunger for your touch starts him shivering.

“Relax, sweet thing,” you tell him. To encourage him, you lean forward and press your lips to the small of his back; instantly, you soothe the tension his body holds as if you’ve flipped a switch. It’s automatic, just like the low groan he emits when you murmur, “Good boy.”

The quiet that follows is ultimately interrupted by the faint slosh of liquid. He has to beg himself not to clench at the mere thought of your slicked fingers, so he instead lets his mouth fall open when he feels them glide over his rim. Needier than he’s ever been in his whole fucking life, Yoongi whimpers. 

It’s a pathetic little sound, but he doesn’t dare to try and swallow it down. He’ll give you everything; every pleading sigh and shuddered moan, all of it.

And — as a courtesy — he’ll refrain from calling you a liar because there is no fucking way that you haven’t done this before.

It’s simply unbelievable with how expertly you navigate the intricacies of his body, applying perfect pressure where he craves it. With the way you translate his incoherent whining to a plea for more, giving him exactly what he wants.

Two fingers deep, you tease, “So greedy, aren’t you baby?” 

But there’s no harshness to your tone, so soft around the edges. In fact, your little snicker suggests that you’re impressed. It takes all he has not to cum at the sound alone.

“Just for you — ” He responds through gritted teeth, blissed-out eyes squeezing shut. “— F-fuck. I can’t get enough of you.”

When you slip away from him, he proves your point, whining petulantly. You soothe him with an affectionate squeeze to his ass cheek, chuckling all the while. “Should we fix that, then?”

Yoongi has no idea what words he slurs in an attempt to answer that question, but he hopes he tells you how badly he craves your cock. He must, he figures, because he hears the telltale glide of the nightstand’s top drawer when you pull it open.

His head lifts from the blankets below to catch a glimpse of you settling the harness over your hips. For a moment, he forgets when, where, and who he is. The only reality he can currently comprehend is the one in which you’re running your fist down black silicone as if it’s a part of you, spreading slick from a bottle. 

But then you disappear from his line of sight, leaving him disoriented. He misses you already.

“I wish you could see how pretty you look on your knees.”

The mattress dips under your weight, signaling to him that you’ve settled behind him once again. You tap the length of the dildo against his skin, prompting him to groan. Still teasing, you ask, “Gonna fuck yourself on my cock, angel?”

Shit, shit, shit. 

Yoongi feels the tip hovering near his hole and he can’t keep his racing heart in check, so desperate that he’s practically vibrating. Your next words pull him further apart; they sound especially filthy in your light, almost reverent tone.

“Show me how well you can take me.”

He plans to do just that.

Slowly pushing back against you, Yoongi sinks down your length until that indescribable fullness leaves him starry-eyed and keening. After a few measured breaths, the ache subsides and gives way to pure pleasure.

Your praise is gentle, though the effect it has on him is earth-shattering. “Just like that, baby. You’re being so good for me.”

Withdrawing, he leans forward onto his elbows just to repeat the motion, losing himself more and more with every pass.

“Shit,” he hiccups, head drooping so that his forehead meets his forearms.

He only grows more eager when your hands claim his hips. You guide his body back to yours every time he leaves; whispering little wishes that he fuck himself the way you swear he deserves. 

You must hear his ragged breaths over the clap of his skin against yours and sense that he’s close because you hum, “Sweet thing. Are you going to make yourself cum?”

Yoongi shakes his head fervently, although not for the reason you might think.

“Want you to,” he begs on an exhale. “Please, make me cum. N-need you deeper.” 

Small hands flatten against his shoulder blades and press him further down against the bed. With fists full of the sheets, Yoongi gives you a desperate nod, signaling you to take over. 

And you do — without the hesitation he saw in you earlier, proving for the millionth time that you know exactly how to make him fall apart.

And he does — with a cry, so delirious and fucked out that he goes boneless underneath you.

When his body eventually stops trembling, Yoongi feels you pull out of him. He hears the quiet click as you unfasten the harness. Shortly after, his senses are overwhelmed with the warmth of your body coming down gently to cover his, warding off the emptiness that started to settle in your absence.

“You’re perfect.” You mumble with lips pressed to his sweat-slicked neck. “So fucking perfect.”

Funnily enough, he was just thinking the same thing about you.

likes are always appreciated, but it's feedback that means the most — whether that's in a comment below, PM, reblog, tags, etc. tysm for reading ✨

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A new meaning to Seven FR 🥵🥴

7 Different Sheets (BTS OT7 x Reader)

Pairing: NonIdol!BTS x black!female reader

Word Count: 3,897

Warnings: Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), multiple partners, unprotected s*x(please be safe and speak with your partners before doing this), public s*x, spanking, oral(m and f receiving), doggy style, missionary, riding, mentions of a mating press, reader does a split on someone’s 🍆🫣, intimate s*x, car s*x, múltiple orgasms(m and f receiving), mentions of STD testing, mentions of being arrested, weed smoking(reader is alluded to have smoked but it’s not explicitly mentioned), overstimulation, praise, degradation, choking, gagging, panty in mouth stuffing, restraints(wrists), mentions of a break up, i also might have gotten the tiniest bit carried away with Namjoon’s part hehe, he definitely has me in a chokehold

A/N: Hi there! I’m here with my take on Seven by Jungkook ft Latto! I’m pretty sure someone requested something like this but now I can’t find the ask so hopefully they see this! I decided to include all of the boys in this. I absolutely love Latto and her verse in the song was just so good! And how could I not write gratuitous fuck buddy smut? I’m always open to criticism and please feel free to tell me what you think. Thanks so much. Stay safe💜

~

You had 7 fuck buddies.

Each of them were entirely different. Different jobs, different styles, different ways they liked to fuck you.

Just how did you fit all of them into your schedule?

Mondays were for Jimin.

You met him while out shopping with your friends. He worked at a luxury jewelry store. While your friends were busy staring at different charm bracelets, your eyes were focused on the rings on his hands—the way he twisted them whenever he was waiting for a customer to make a decision, how they glimmered under the bright lights, and especially how they’d look wrapped around your throat. Would they leave marks? Would he finger you with them on? Would your ass sting whenever he laid a harsh smack on it? So many thoughts yet so little answers.

“Does that feel good, my pretty slut?”

No words were in your head, your mouth stuffed with the panties he had ripped off of you. All you could get out were muffled moans and muffled calls of his name. Salvia soaked the material as much as your arousal did when you walked in his job, the fabric heavy on your tongue and slightly choking you which gave you a rush.

A sharp slap landed on your ass, his rings adding a pleasurable burn that made your juicy walls hug him impossibly tighter.

“Fuck.” He groaned out, eyes never leaving how your ass clapped back on him, cock coated in your creamy release. Sweat dripped down your back making your dark skin look like the most decadent chocolate, glistening like the gems displayed in the case below you. But not even those could compare to you when you were bent over like this.

Your hand slammed down on the display case, the sturdy counter shaking under the force.

Your walls spasmed around him, signaling your 5th orgasm since you came to visit him on his break.

His hand that wasn’t holding your hip moved to wrap around your throat, hauling your body up until you were arched. You felt unstable on your feet but Jimin was your rock, holding you up before your knees could give out of you.

He applied medium pressure to your throat, just barely pressing into your windpipe, stealing some of your already sparse oxygen from you. You felt dizzy like you were on a rollercoaster but one that never went down. Only up. And it was climbing and climbing until….

“This neck would look so pretty with a new necklace on it. Don’t you agree?” That low tone was enough to hurdle you right off the edge, eyes rolling back as you shook like a leaf in his hold.

And yes, your neck did look pretty in a new necklace.

~

Tuesdays were for Seokjin.

You met him at a wedding. Your “date” had gotten a little too friendly with the open bar which immediately turned you off. Not that you were that turned on to begin with. The man was nothing to write home about. Just someone who happened to approach you in a coffee shop.

After successfully detaching yourself from him, you were getting ready to leave before you caught the eye of Seokjin. He was tall and broad with a face you’d love to sit on. Respectfully, of course.

Conversation flowed easily between you two. He was a proper gentleman with a goofy laugh that made you smile. He was definitely the type of person your parents would love for you to bring home. Polite and respectful and not bad on the eyes either.

But that gentleman act went out of the window when he got you in his bed.

“Jin! I can’t take it!” You screamed, yanking at the restraints on your wrists that were keeping you stationary. You were surprised you hadn’t broken his headboard from how hard you were jerking. His neighbors were probably tired of the slamming against the wall by now, their own calls for you two to pipe down died down a while ago. Let them call the police. You’d be damned if they put you in cuffs before you got Seokjin’s cock inside of you.

He was nestled between your legs, holding your thighs back to have more access to your cunt. His tongue never stopped its assault on your clit, abusing the bud until your entire body was shaking. Your legs would jerk to try and close with every lick but one firm look from him quickly put you in your place.

His plush lips were soaked with your juices, dark eyes staring at you as if you had just personified from his dreams. You might as well have.

“Your pussy tastes so fucking good. I could eat it all day.” It sure felt like he has been. Your pussy felt both numb and electric at the same time. Sensitivity wanted to push him away but a desperate part of you was pushing you towards another orgasm. “You’ll be a good girl and give me another one, won’t you? You’re always my good girl.”

Fuck yes you were. Fat tears rolled down your face when he dove back in, sucking your clit in between his lips, his tongue flicking over it faster than before. Back arching, you screamed bloody murder as the strongest orgasm of the night engulfed your body.

Placing one more kiss on your throbbing bud, Seokjin backed up to let you breathe, stroking your thighs and whispering sweet nothings to you as you came down. Body still tingling from your release, you could barely blink through your blurry vision before you felt a shift on the bed.

A hand nestled in your sweaty hair, silk press gone to waste. You blinked through your tears, looking up to find Seokjin hovering over you, his knees on either side of your shoulders. His cock stiff and right in your face, the tip leaking precum.

He smirked down at you.

“Open wide, darling.”

~

Wednesdays were dedicated to Hoseok.

Honestly, you met Hoseok on a dating app. He was meant to be a quick one night stand since you were growing tired of your vibrator. After scrolling through a bunch of profiles and responding to a few messages, you came across him. He was a paralegal but apparently, he taught dance classes on the weekends which told you he definitely knew how to move. His photos were a sharp contrast to his job; bright and with him always smiling. He even had a picture of his dog on there which made you smile.

He was cute though and perhaps he’d be a fun night.

The pillow did barely anything to cover your screams, not when there was so much happening at once. You tossed it to the side, allowing your eyes to adjust to the glorious sight above you.

Hoseok’s head was tossed back in ecstasy, lip pulled between his teeth as he needlessly tried to keep quiet. You wanted to hear those noises, the way he cursed whenever you purposefully clenched around him.

“Hmpf, shit.” Just like that.

The pulses of the vibrator in your hand was making your arm numb but it was sending the most delicious vibes through your clit so whatever.

“Hobi…..”You called making him finally open his eyes and tilt his head forward to look down at you. You could have cum right there from how sexy he looked—sweat soaked hair sticking to his forehead, his chest littered in love bites you had obsessively sucked into his skin, and of course, the thin silver chain around his throat that bounced with every thrust. Take the wheel, Carrie Underwood.

He leaned forward, both of his hands moving from your thighs to place next to your head. His hips never faltered, keeping their languid pace rolling into you.

“Yes? What is it?”

“I…..I….can I cum?” Everything was moving so slowly. He had put the vibrator on its lowest setting so it wasn’t doing much for you and with this slow pace, he was prolonging your orgasm further than you wanted it to be. That was the thing about Hoseok. He liked it slow and intimate, going for hours until he brought both of you over the edge.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his chain tickling your nose.

“Not yet, my flower. Hold it a little longer for me.”

A particularly deep roll of his hips caused him to stroke slowly past your sweet spot, pulling a whimper from you.

Your bottom lip quivered, eyes tearing up from your waning orgasm. It kept building and falling but it wasn’t enough to push you over. And with everything that happened today, you think this is exactly what you needed.

A gentle touch.

“But….”

He shushed you with a peck to your lips. “Just relax. I’ll take care of you.”

~

Thursday’s were for Namjoon.

You met him at the gym. Don’t get it twisted. You weren’t really there to work out. Those few squats you did every couple of months were enough. That wasn’t the reason you had signed up for a membership.

It was because of the buff and drop dead sexy man that you often saw lifting weights. What exactly was the point of that tank top? Modesty? It looked like it was only soaking up the sweat that dripped down his honey kissed skin but it was failing at that too. Your tongue could do a better job. You’d lick every inch of that man for free and cook him a meal afterwards.

The steam of the shower was making it hard to breathe but Namjoon’s cock was making it even harder. When people told you to breathe through your nose, they factored out the cock being an absolute monster. You thought your jaw was gonna snap off.

Your nails dug into his yummy thighs, feeling the muscles tightened with every push of his cock into your warm and inviting mouth. You were definitely riding these things once you got back to his place.

“Damn, relax your throat, love.”

You happily followed his instructions, swallowing before exhaling through your nose. That allowed him to slide all the way home, your nose tickling the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock. Your eyes watered from the welcomed intrusion.

“Look at me.” He commanded from above you, the low tone of his voice making your pussy clench. Damn. Being a housewife sounded incredibly good right now. Patriarchy be praised.

Your eyelashes fluttered, looking at him and the sight was absolutely glorious. If he didn’t fuck you right now, you’d probably implode.

He must have seen that through your gaze because a dopey smile stretched across his face, adorable dimples indenting his cheeks.

Pulling out of your throat, you coughed and sputtered, swallowing a few times to soothe your sore throat. You barely had time to really cover before he was grabbing your arm and hauling you up. Legs draped over his buff arms, your arms scrambled to wrap around his shoulders. Now this position was the reason why bitches pull up to your mother’s house looking for you. You could feel the head of his cock sliding against your sopping cunt, your walls clenching in delight of finally getting what you want.

“Ready, baby?” He whispered in your ear before sucking on your lobe.

And no, you didn’t renew your gym membership.

~

Fridays were for Taehyung.

Funny enough, you met Taehyung while he was sneaking out of your apartment building. He was leaving a one night stand’s place and bumped into you while you were on your way inside. Of course, you could smell sex a mile away and the walk of shame was heavy on his shoulders. He actually tried hitting on you when he saw you, his eyes never leaving your cleavage.

You thought he was incredibly handsome though—a pretty boy type which you definitely liked. So you stopped him, told him to come back to you with a clean STD test and then you’d talk.

Taehyung had to will himself not to cum when you did a full split on his cock. Your hands kept your leverage on his knees, your head lolled forward from how his long cock was kissing your cervix each time, your legs stretched all the way out to give him the best view of his life.

He’s already cum twice, third orgasm almost painful but he just couldn’t stop. He didn’t want you to stop either(as if you could). You’ve been horny all day and you were going to get your fill of his cock. He knew you needed morning sex to get through the day yet he decided to go in for a shift at work, leaving you sad and desperate. The moment he walked in the door, you grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pushing him on the rug in your living room. You didn’t even prep yourself and he was hard while driving to your place anyway so foreplay was unnecessary today. Maybe you’d ride his face later and you’d use that headband he was wearing as reigns.

Until then, you were going to ride his dick until he gave out. Or until you got tired, whichever came first.

“I’m gonna cum again. Slow down. Please.” He whimpered, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

You whipped your hair behind you, the tips of your braids resting on his stomach. “Hmmm, give it to me, Tae. Fill me up again.” You leaned forward, bringing your hips all the way up to his tip before slamming back down. His cock was creamy with both of your releases, a wet smack sounding everytime you came down.

If this was how he died, put it on his tombstone.

“Oh shiiiiiiii….”His head thumped back against the floor, toes curling as you forced another orgasm out of him, the pulsing of his cock triggering your own.

You barely gave him time to calm down before you started your pace again.

He’d pick up another shift next Friday.

~

Saturdays were for Yoongi.

It was actually your favorite day of the week when you got to see the weed dealer. Not really because he let you smoke for free but because high sex was just another level. You met him when you were out one night. He catcalled you from his car and before you could even give whoever it was a piece of your mind, your voice got caught in your throat.

Your first thought was: man bun. Long hair in a man bun. Sexy ass drug dealer in a BMW with long hair in a man bun. Your parents always told you not to do drugs but how could you heed those warnings when temptation was served to you on a silver platter like that?

You gripped the headrest of the backseat, your breasts currently under attack by Yoongi’s expert tongue. The same tongue that had just ate you out like a champion a few minutes ago.

He pulled off your breast with a pop, delivering a smack to your ass with the hand that wasn’t holding his blunt. “Faster. I didn’t tell you to slow down.” His cat like eyes were hooded and glazed over from both the weed and the feeling of your tight walls hugging his cock. For a second, he didn’t even think he was high on weed—he was high on you. You were like an addiction; savory and hard to avoid, you were like a forbidden fruit. One he’d sink his teeth into everytime.

He brought his blunt back to his lips, inhaling a deep pull, holding the smoke in before blowing it back into your face. Just that action had you cumming on his cock, the feeling vibrating all the way to your toes. When he felt a splash against his pelvis, he dropped his head to look down at where you were connected. You were still bouncing on his cock, prolonging your orgasm and with each bounce, a small spray of liquid squirted from you.

He tossed his own head back, making sure to put his blunt in the ashtray on the door to prevent any burns to his upholstery before grabbing both of your ass cheeks in his hands and beginning to piston up into your spasming cunt.

“Bout to fill this pussy up. You want it?” He grunted against your collarbone, sinking his teeth into the skin there.

He had knocked all of your words loose so all you could manage was a frantic nod of your head and a drawn out, “yessssss yessssss pleaseeeeee”.

“This pussy is so fucking good.” He landed a slap on your ass, the sting sending shocks of pleasure up your back as another orgasm crashed into you.

You were so absorbed that you didn’t even hear the police sirens as they pulled up next to you.

Wow. You thought you were just imagining the car rocking. Guess not.

~

The end of the week meant only one thing.

You had deep cleaned your apartment, moving slowly since your body still ached a little from sleeping on that bench at the station. Good thing Yoongi had connections that could bail both of you out. Still, you’d probably risk it again if it meant getting fucked like that.

You had just lit a candle and you were about to sit down to have a glass of wine but you were interrupted by the sound of your doorbell ringing.

“Ughhhhhh.” You groaned, placing your wine glass on a coaster before hauling yourself up less than gracefully and shuffling to the door. You didn’t even look at the screen on your intercom, just opening it and immediately trying to close it back after seeing who was on the other side.

A foot jammed itself between the door, stopping you from shutting it completely.

“Baby, come on. I said I’m sorry.”

“Screw you, Jeon! I told you I don’t want to see you again.”

He managed to push the door enough to slip his upper body through. The sight of his face sent a weird rush through you but you didn’t know if it was good or bad. You didn’t like it.

His doe eyes pleaded at you. “Please talk to me. I can’t stand not being with you anymore. Please please. I’m sorry.” He sounded so genuine that it made you break, heartstrings effectively tugged on and strummed by the only man you truly loved.

You shouldn’t let him in. You really shouldn’t.

“Oh. My. God. J-Jungkook!”

His hand whizzed through the air, landing a hard smack on your bruised ass that has taken a lot of punishment tonight.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear a word from you, you little whore.” He spit into your ear, hand coming up to cover your mouth while the other one held your hip to keep you in place as he delivered the deadliest back shots.

Your entire body was lit up in pain and pleasure, both mixing together in a beautiful cacophony that had you ready to propose to him.

Your moans were muffled by his large hand, his grip forcing your head back at an uncomfortable angle but he could give less of a damn about your comfort.

“How dare you let someone else fuck what’s mine?” He uncovered your mouth to slap your ass again in a tender spot causing you to jump, a high pitched scream coming from you as he pushed you into another orgasm. You had lost count a while ago, brain not keeping up with your body. Everything just felt endless.

You didn’t want him to know you were fucking other people. It wasn’t any of his business. You weren’t together anymore but am accidental slip up revealed what happened yesterday and in seconds, you were bent over the arm of your couch with Jungkook behind you.

“Count.”

He had made it to 21 before your knees were buckling, your eyes and mouth begging him to fuck you. To put you in your place and make you remember exactly who you belonged to.

He gripped at your hair, yanking your head back and making your body arch even more. Only your fingertips touched the bed below you, knees spread wide as you began throwing yourself back on his thick cock.

“I expect an answer when I ask you something, slut.” Contradictory since he told you to shut up earlier but logic was not necessary here. You were just a pliant little doll in service to the hunk of a man that was abusing your walls so good that your pussy should file a restraining order.

“N-no….I’m…ah! Fuck! S-sorry…..oh shit, I’m cumming!”

“That’s right. You come on my cock and my cock only. Do you fucking understand me?” He could feel his own orgasm building. He’s been holding back, a hard task with a pussy like yours but he managed. Denying all of your orgasms earlier made it easy enough for him. Then again, he did almost blow his load earlier when you put both of your feet behind your ears and held out your tongue for him to spit in your mouth.

He was an idiot for letting you go.

“I said, Do.” Smack! “You.” Smack. “Understand.” Smack. “Me?”

“YES!!! Oh shit!” Your walls clenched around him so tightly that it forced him out of your cunt, a long spray of liquid soaking the bedsheets beneath you. He brought his hand between your legs to rub furiously at your clit, splashing your juices everywhere. You’d definitely be upset later about your freshly washed sheets but he’d cross that bridge when he got there.

Your body jerked around as pure bliss and pleasure coursed through your veins, legs squirming all around as you both tried to chase and run away from Jungkook’s assault on your clit. He held your hip firmly, trying to keep you still while you rode out the waves of your orgasm.

When overstimulation began to get too painful, you turned over onto your side, pushing his hand away with your own. You twitched in the aftershocks, covering your cunt with your hands. Even the cool air was too much against your abused pussy. You’d probably have to take a break for the week just to recuperate.

When the haze began to clear a little, you slowly turned your head, peeking through your braids that covered your face to peek at Jungkook. Only to find him missing. You didn’t even hear him get out of the bed. Where did he go?

You waited a few moments, trying to catch your breath before Jungkook entered the room with a bottle of water. He was still fully naked, cock hard and angry looking, shiny with your juices.

He came over to the bed, placing a knee beside you to leak over your twitching body.

“Here. Drink some water. You need to be hydrated before I make you squirt again like that.”

Your eyes almost popped out of your head. Again? Was he trying to kill you?

“W-again?”

His lips quirked up into his signature grin, nose scrunching cutely and it made you want to punch him in it and then kiss it better.

“You think that was it? We’re just getting started. This will teach you not to give out what’s mine.”

It didn’t teach you anything though. You’d have to learn your lesson again next week.

And he’d teach you faithfully every Sunday.

Who knew lawyer talk could be so hot 🥵!! Lmao this was such a wholesome and romantic story !! Ngl I called at the criminal offense line cus all I could think of was “criminal offensive side EYE”

They’re both so coy and playing games like they’re literally already an old married couple 😭😭 took them long enough. Always love love LOVE reading wholesome with a dash of sexy smutty Seokjin stories, thank you for the blessing 🥹🤲🏾

meet me at the bar (ksj)

You're supposed to be staring down the barrel of the last — and most important — examination of your life, but you only have eyes for your study buddy.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x AFAB!Reader Type: One Shot | Fluff w/ Smut | 18+ — Minors DNI Word Count: 7.5k AU: Law school, study-buddies, best friends to lovers, highly educated idiots in love CW: Bad jokes, Latin, fingering (v), unprotected sex (p in v), Seokjinnie hits it from the back. A/N: My inaugural Seokjin smut is dedicated to my donsaeng-in-law (see what I did there?) @yoongiphoria, who is now embarking on this stupid, stupid gatekeeping journey IRL. Best of luck, my lil love. I'll be waiting for you on the other side of the war! MJ FIGHTING ~ Big ups to my other lil love, M, for beta reading 💕 Also: This is written based on my experience in the American legal (educational) system. I was, frankly, too lazy to study up on South Korean law for a fanfic, lol. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors and ageless blogs will be blocked, on sight. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

You are not spiraling.

You are a paragon of health and wellness, you tell yourself as you gulp down a mug of coffee that is still far too hot, like you’ll die without it. 

More bitter than the taste on your tongue is the realization that you might die with it —  your third cup in fewer hours. As far as you can tell, though, it’s a win-win situation: You’ll either generate enough anxious energy to finalize your property law flashcards, or you’ll drop dead before you have to review them.

And you won’t have to take that exam…

And you won’t have to pay off your student debt…

Besides, you figure, the stomach ulcer you’re likely inflicting on yourself will be infinitely less painful than dragging your under-caffeinated corpse through yet another day of studying. Another eight, consecutive hours spent forcing forgotten subjects back into your maxed-out brain. 

It’s worth it, you repeat to yourself, though this gauntlet has turned out to be a full-time job that steals, rather than pays. You can faint on top of the finish line, so long as some part of you crosses it.

You should be used to it by now, running a marathon at a dead sprint. That’s all you’ve ever done — push yourself. You attended your first day of preschool and never stopped, never took a breath. Through elementary, middle, and high school; then for four years of university. Going, going, going.

Stumbling through that eighteenth lap around the track, you kept going because — well, being a student all was all you’d ever been. That’s your toxic trait, you’ve since discovered. Your concept of self is rooted exclusively within the context of a classroom.

You didn’t know it at the time, but your decision to take the Law School Admission Test — or the HellSAT, as you’ve come to call it — might have been the start of a quarter-life crisis. But you didn’t stop there. No, you took that score and ran with it. Slapped it onto every application as a desperate plea for acceptance. 

When you received your admission letter, you were a bright-eyed twenty-two-year-old with a bachelor’s degree and a vaguely defined dream.

Call it naïveté or call it gravitas, there wasn’t a doubt in your smooth little brain that law school was the logical next step to take. That being intelligent and hard-working made you well-equipped for the challenge that came with pursuing a Juris Doctor. After all, you’d spent nineteen years delaying gratification — what difference would three more make?

Within the first hour of your orientation, you — a professional student — had already learned something new: You were a masochist and, frankly, somewhat of an idiot.

Thankfully, you weren’t alone. 

Sitting — dissociating, more like — at a nearby table was a lanky boy you’d first noticed on your tour of the law building. His glassy-eyed stare was aimed somewhere in the middle-distance, and even though his slightly agape mouth said nothing, it communicated everything. He was the only other person in that atrium who looked the way you felt: scared shitless and riddled with buyer’s remorse. A can crushed under the boot of self-doubt.

It was the first time you and your wobbly knees went running in his direction, but it wouldn’t be the last.

He was so deep in a daze at that moment that he didn’t notice the way you threw yourself into the open chair next to him, didn’t look up at the scrape of wooden legs against the granite floor beneath them. He nearly jumped out of his skin when you announced your presence with words, however. 

It was less of an introduction — the way people in a society tend to greet each other for the first time, ever — and more of a twister. Words whipped through the air at a dangerously high velocity, no syllable ending before you started on the next. Just one breath, a few consonants, and a pair of dark eyebrows shooting up to cower behind his bangs. 

“Was — was that Korean?” He asked when you finally ran out of wind. 

Judging by the way his wide eyes softened, you knew he wasn’t making fun of you. You’d simply scrambled his brain so thoroughly that you’d transcended the known limits of language.

More of a question than an answer, you peeped, “I think so. Maybe?” You wavered with a sigh. “I’m no longer confident that I know any of the things I thought I knew, though. So, um, don’t quote me on that.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. I didn’t catch enough of whatever that was,” he gestured vaguely, “To even attempt to quote you.”

Within seconds and without knowing, he’d disarmed the bomb ticking away in your gut. He must’ve sensed it, too, because his face lit up so completely that you had to look away. One glance at the floor-to-ceiling windows confirmed that the sun hadn’t reappeared at that time of night. 

That rush of warmth you felt then  — that absolutely insane brightness — was powered exclusively by the grin taking up the entirety of his face. If that megawatt smile alone hadn’t rerouted your oncoming anxiety attack, the distinct, squeaking laugh that erupted out of his chest would’ve done the job. 

You doubled over, either under the weight of your own giggling or with the relief you felt in finding someone equally lost. Eyes swimming with mirth, you wiped wetness from your cheekbone and snorted, “Was that a windshield wiper?”  

“No, that was embarrassing.” 

The tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks went some dizzy shade of pink. 

He rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck with one hand and held the other out to shake yours, “And I’m Kim Seokjin.”

Now, when the door of your apartment flies open without warning, it’s that same savior standing on your threshold. That designation may be melodramatic, but if that brown paper bag contains what you suspect it does, it’s deserved.

Seokjin, patron saint of breakfast sandwiches, flops down on the couch that stretches along the opposite side of your coffee table. From where you sit on the floor — hunched over your notes like a hobgoblin — you reach out your expectant arms and make grabby hands in the space between you.

You see mischief flash in his eyes, but only for a second. In the next, he’s pretending like he doesn’t see you; doesn’t hear your petulant little whines. He extends long legs out over the cushions, clutches the bag to his chest, and lets his head roll back to rest on the couch’s arm.

“Wanna know what I did today instead of practice essays?” He asks, eyes unfocused on the ceiling above.

All you actually want is whatever that smell is. You can’t stop staring at the bag of food in his hands. If you try hard enough, maybe you can summon some sort of psychic energy, make it levitate towards you.

He doesn’t wait for your response. “The math.”

“Huh?” 

You frown; and as you do, you reluctantly shift your gaze from Seokjin’s hands to his face. He isn’t looking your way, but you can tell he’s grimacing based solely on the way his jaw twitches. It’s a miracle he hasn’t ground his teeth to dust over the past three years, given how often he makes that face.

In an attempt to ease the tension in his posture, you snort, “Didn’t we go to law school because we can’t do math?”

He cracks an unwilling smile. A tiny one, but a smile nonetheless. Without turning his head, he extends his arm out in your direction. In the split second it takes for yours to spring forward like a snake, that blessed bag dangles; the scent of sausage, egg, and cheese wafts through the air and restores your will to live. Clutching your prize, halfway to feral, you tear into it without hesitation.

As you bite off more than you can chew, Seokjin prepares his rant with a sigh, “So, consider this.”

“Mmphf,” you advise through a mouthful of greasy bliss.

“Bar exam prep takes eight weeks, right? If we’re only counting business days, that’s forty — forty days, for a minimum of eight hours each.”

He becomes more restless, the more he talks. Heated, he sits bolt upright and turns wild-eyed to you.

Oh, he’s gone full-tilt insane.

“Three-hundred-and-twenty hours, then. And if you think about that in terms of our clerk wages —” He slaps his hands down on his thighs for emphasis. “— at 2,625 won per hour —” 

Then, he points to you, as if the increasing volume of his voice wasn’t already holding you hostage. “— we’ve sacrificed nearly two million won in income, just by studying for this fucking test.”

You swallow down the last bite of your sandwich, which you downright hoovered while Seokjin took the path of most resistance. After clearing your throat, your interjection overlaps with his next point: 

“Seokjinnie, why didn’t you just double our monthly —”

“That’s after we paid ninety million in tuition, hundreds of thousands on study materials and registration fees —”

You cut him off, “Is this your way of asking me to Venmo you for breakfast?” 

He freezes, caught fully off-guard. Shocked eyes widen like you’re the ridiculous one. “Of course not!”

He waves you off like his thoughtful gesture is no big deal. Then, like he’s tired himself out, he sinks back onto your couch. From his back, he grumbles with crossed arms, “‘M just sayin’ that I’m tired of this shit.”

You can’t help but giggle at the pathetic pout working down the corners of his mouth. “Felt,” you agree, though it feels a little bit like a lie.

Truth be told, you feel more awake now than you did ten minutes ago, and you can’t attribute it to the coffee — not when the evidence so clearly indicates otherwise. 

Over the course of three years, you’ve built up quite the case against yourself. You’ve made the following findings of fact:

Whenever he pops up, Seokjin brings your mood up with him. Even now, as he marinates in anguish on your couch, his presence gives you a reason not to beat yourself unconscious with the four-kilogram prep book that sits beside you on the rug. Makes you hate your circumstances a little less, if only because you share them with him.

And, for a rapidly deflating balloon, you have to concede that Seokjin looks stunning this morning. 

Unlike you and your day-three hair, he somehow had the energy to wash his. The mid-sections of some strands are still damp; the parts that aren’t frame his face in fluffy waves. His shampoo is something fruity mixed with something crisp — grapefruit and mint, maybe? — and it floods your senses, causing question marks to replace any coherent thoughts you might otherwise have. You’d be lying again if you said you didn’t want to find out for sure how soft those tresses really are.

The verdict? 

Well, the jury’s still out, but you know you’re guilty. 

If being down this bad for your best friend isn’t a criminal offense, it should be.

You shake your head to clear it. To smother the flame licking up the inside of your belly, you grab the certified mood killer off the coffee table and hold it up in front of you. Surely, the cure for a sexual tension headache is an eight-centimeter stack of color-coded, neon index cards covered in information you shouldn’t need to memorize in the first place.

“Exam’s in one week,” you say with a shiver.

Seokjin rolls onto his side to look forlornly at you. You are not looking at his bare hip bone, which appears where the hem of his shirt shifts from the waistband of his joggers. Nope.  

You continue the search for the point you’re trying to make. “I can barely spell mortgage, let alone explain what the fuck to do with one.”

“Don’t think I know what land even is at this point,” he sighs. Dejected, he lets his arm go limp. It spills off the edge of the cushion and dangles until his knuckles brush against the rug. “What is this property you speak of?”

Biting back a grin is impossible, so you press your lips together instead. Just like that — just by Seokjin being Seokjin — the hellscape you willingly walked into gets a little brighter. Maybe, you think, you can do this.

You look down for a moment to shuffle up the cards you spent the better part of two days preparing. As you stare down at the staggering amount of knowledge you might be tested on, you can feel the crease returning between your eyebrows. Your grimace is back, too, like a reflex. 

If you make it through this experience without premature wrinkles, you’ll be shocked.

There’s shifting on the couch ahead, but you don’t look up until Seokjin breezes, “From this angle, it almost looks like you’re smiling.”

His arm is no longer dangling off the edge of the couch. His entire upper body is. Knees now hinged over the backrest for balance, he’s upside-down and smirking impishly at you.

He has to know you’re in love with him, right? How could he expect you not to be?

You clear your throat and arch a single eyebrow as a challenge. “What is the rule against perpetuities, Seokjinnie?”

Like you, he can recite it in full at a machine-gun rate of fire. It’s been beaten so far into your heads that you might utter it on your deathbeds, with your last gasping breaths.

“No interest in land is good unless it must vest, if at all, not later than twenty-one years after some life in being at the creation of the interest,” he responds with a smug smile. “Easy.”

It’s your turn to smirk. 

“Great. Now, what does any of that mean?”

Without missing a beat, he fires back, “Does anyone know?”

“Absolutely not. Next question!”

Having had the same day, every day, for seven weeks straight, Seokjin is struggling. He’s spent hundreds of hours on the same routine, feeling beaten down and burnt out, all the while. It goes like this:

Every morning, he wakes up and goes for a run in a feeble attempt to feel something other than dread. After that, he eats a lackluster breakfast, and then he promptly chains himself to his desk. When he finally gives himself permission to get up again, it’s dark out; and he’s too brain dead to check the hundred or so notifications that amassed on his phone during his fugue state.

Scratch that. There’s one person he responds to, no matter what. As far as everyone else is concerned, though, he’s a ghost.

Today is the first day out of the last fifty-five where Seokjin doesn’t feel like his brain is being hydraulically pressed. For the first time in too long, he fell into an old routine; one he’s missed. It started with a shower — and honestly, that was overdue — then, he swung by the café he’s frequented over the past three years. There, he made his usual order.

One iced americano, and one sausage-egg-and-cheese croissant with extra hot sauce.

Before he walked back up the block, he downed the former, but he didn’t touch the latter. The latter wasn’t for him, anyways. None of the breakfast sandwiches he ever stops for are.

The subsequent hours looked semi-similar to the three-hundred-and-twenty he’s already devoted to studying. Well, sort of. To be clear, the subject matter still sucks, and he’s still angry that he has to touch it at all, but he isn’t waiting for the sweet release of death in the same way he has been all summer. 

This might have something to do with the fact that, for the first time in nearly sixty days, he’s not on his own. 

More than that, he’s with you.

Having switched away from covenants, easements, and servitudes, he feels a slightly less stupid. Contract law is a little more straightforward and a little less caked in colonialism. Unfortunately, after six hours of burning all his brain cells on shit like liens, Seokjin has begun his descent into madness. 

The worms are digging in, he can’t focus, and neither of you can stop — fucking — laughing.

“I’ll give you a hint,” you giggle, shifting in your spot on the neighboring cushion. You give his knee a pat that feels a tiny bit patronizing, but that makes his pulse race, nonetheless. “It’s a Latin term.”

He snorts so loudly that you do a double-take, just to make sure it wasn’t a sneeze. You both stare at one another for a beat, then comes the eruption.

“It’s all Latin!” He roars. 

To muffle the way he’s wheezing, Seokjin slaps his hands over his face. It’s already tear-stained from his abject failure to keep his shit together. At least he can attempt to hide how red he knows it is.

Your laugh comes straight from your belly. You double over completely when his comes out in squeaks, hand reaching out to squeeze his forearm. It used to bother him, the sound he made when he truly loses it, but it doesn’t any more. 

How could it, when it makes you cling to him like that?

Wiping at your cheeks, you take a deep breath, then sigh, “Does it help if I give you the translation?”

He doubts it because you just pinched your bottom lip between your teeth, and now, his mind is blank. 

Really, it’s a fucking miracle he graduated at all with you around. You and that face you make when you concentrate have always made it impossible for him to do so. It’s why he wasn’t paying attention in class when this shit was taught in the first place, he realizes now. 

To cool himself down, Seokjin grabs the Camelbak bottle off the coffee table, realizes too late it’s yours and not his — oh, well — and shoves the straw into his mouth. He nods once, firmly, and sucks in as much water as he can. 

It all sprays back out of his mouth when you say:

“Naked promise.”

He had always wondered what his life would look like if it ever flashed before his eyes. Now, he knows. It’s not a montage of his finest moments, the most recent of which would not have made the cut. All he sees is you, wide-eyed, glancing between him and the wet spot that’s now soaking through your sweatshirt.

You press your lips together, probably to keep from laughing in his face. It’s a valiant effort on your part and a kind gesture, but honestly, he doesn’t deserve it. His fingers twitch as he clutches the bottle, wanting nothing more than to dump the remaining water on his face. He embarrasses himself more often than not, but this stings his cheeks like a sunburn.

“I am —” he raises his hands, flustered, “So sorry. I don’t remember waking up in a sitcom this morning, but I, uhhh, clearly did.”

When you stand up, you’re grinning. And not in that scary way you do when you’re about to retaliate for some prank he’s pulled. No, that look on your face is genuine amusement. 

Thank god.

You shrug as you cross your arms over your torso and grip the hem of your sweatshirt with both hands. “All good, Seokjinnie,” you laugh. “This needed to be washed, anyway. You see that coffee stain?”

No. 

No, he does not see that coffee stain because the tank top underneath your sweatshirt is clinging to the wet spot as you tug the top layer up your stomach. He feels bad for staring — really, he does — but fuck, your skin looks soft. Like, so soft that he has to grip his water bottle to keep a grip on himself.

Eventually, your tank top separates from your sweatshirt. It falls back down to where it belongs, to Seokjin’s dismay, and the sweatshirt keeps going. 

“Nudum pactum,” you remind him as you pull the drenched hoodie over your head. Playfully, you toss it at him. It smacks against his chest, splays out over his lap. 

Once more with feeling: thank god. 

You sink back down beside him on the couch, and he can’t help but notice that you’re the tiniest bit closer than you were before. It’s innocent, just your bare knee bumping his shin as you re-cross your legs. Still, it leaves his tingling through the fabric of his joggers when you don’t move away.

The silence surges as it settles, crinkling like static in his ears. He almost doesn’t hear you when you ask him again: “What’s it mean?”

Uhhhh.

“It means —”

Unfortunately for him, the water he just forcibly ejected from his mouth didn’t help him. His throat is dry now, and he sounds strangled, he’s sure. The way you’re watching him so intently doesn’t help one fucking bit, either.

Are you doing that on purpose?

You nudge him physically this time, knuckles connecting gently and playfully with his leg. He wonders if you can hear his heart hammering against the wall of his chest in all of this quiet. You might, he figures, especially when you tuck your hair behind your ear.

Instinctively, his eyes flick down to the length of your neck. Without a curtain of hair in the way, it’s even more exposed skin that he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with. Making matters worse for him, you tilt your head to the side expectantly. His breath catches when he tears his gaze away, back up, and sees the way you’re looking at him now.

You are absolutely — without a goddamn doubt — doing this on purpose.

If that’s the game you want to play, Seokjin can play it, too. He turns away from you to set the bottle back down on the coaster he took it from. As he does, he finally answers your question — the nonchalance he’s faking even sounds convincing.

“It’s an unenforceable promise,” he replies casually. “One with insufficient consideration.”

He rights himself in his seat, stretches a bit further backwards until he’s resting comfortably against the arm of the couch. You hide it well, but there’s a hint of a pout on your lips when you clock the newfound distance. 

Check, he smirks to himself, your move.

A flash of pink slips out. Your tongue wetting those lips before you prompt him more quietly than before, “And consideration is…?”

He slips up, makes the mistake of noticing the rise and fall of your chest as you take measured breaths. So, he sees, you’re buzzing with anticipation, too. He wonders if it’s him that’s having that effect on you, or the circumstances. 

For all he knows, it could be pent up steam that you need to release. Stress weighing down your body that you want to get off.

Fuck, he wants to get you off.

He swallows thickly. “Can’t get something for nothing. There has to be an exchange, otherwise it’s meaningless.”

You say nothing, so he keeps talking.

“Quid pro quo, essentially,” Seokjin adds. He chuckles slightly when he realizes. “See? Told you. It’s all fucking Latin.”

The corner of your mouth twitches at his joke, but you don’t make a sound. The hand that previously pushed against his leg inches closer, just barely. It’s such a small shift that you don’t seem to realize that you’re moving it. 

Maybe you feel that pull, too; the one he’s been fighting since you barged into his life without warning. 

Maybe the consideration has been there from the start; a promise for a promise. I’ll jump if you do. Because it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? Since orientation.

Pulling all-nighters in the library, developing matching caffeine dependencies, getting sick too often from the strain of it all. 

You and him.

Laughing quietly in the back of lectures, cold sweats through cold calls, bitching about unpaid internships while you spend indisposable income at the bar down the block without acknowledging the irony.

There are only two real differences between this night and that first one, he notes.

Now, Seokjin isn’t questioning every decision he’s ever made that led him to this point. He’s not scared shitless, not really. Not when you’re around.

You cut through the silence with a sigh that’s barely more than an exhale, so breathy that your voice dissipates as soon as it hits the air.

“Seokjin.”

He could probably hear a pin if you dropped one — can hear everything you don’t say. It’s all packed tight inside that utterance of his name like gunpowder, locked and loaded. 

So, who shoots first?

You shift again. Now, when you speak, it’s deliberate and in a language he can parse.

“Tell me you want me, too.”

Bang!

His body answers for him, pushes off from where he leans until he can get his knees underneath him. He’s waited three years to kiss you, but he can delay gratification for the brief time it takes to overtake you. Pinned with his palms bearing weight on either side of your head, you wind up caged in and breathless beneath him. His right knee occupies the space between your spread thighs.

Again, it’s a miracle he’s made it this far with you around.

He hums, beyond pleased with the position he finds himself in. “Maybe. Tell me if I got the answer right.”

“Oh my god.” You toss your head back to the extent that you can, which admittedly isn’t far. Your frustration rolls off you in waves, heat palpable. “I’ll kill you, I swear.”

“Sounds admissible to me,” he teases further. He flexes an eyebrow. “Isn’t that an exception to the prohibition of hearsay evidence? Speaks to motive, I think.”

Seokjin has no idea why he’s riling himself up like this. If he could shut up — just this once — he could be kissing you by now. You seem to be aware of that fact, too, because you grip his shirt so desperately, one right move might tear it.

You huff out a laugh despite the circumstances,  “This friendship is over, by the way, in case that’s not clear.”

That tiny smile on your face spreads to his. Not over, he knows, just modified. Amplified, finally. Knowing that, he continues to push his luck. 

“Can I make one more joke?”

“So over!” You emphasize with a wail.

He takes a second to center himself before hitting you with award-winning drama, sincerity dipped in the kind of humor he never misses out on with you: 

“You have adversely possessed my heart.”

Your jaw drops at how stupid that line was, but you reign it in just in time for his lips to crash into yours. 

It almost knocks the wind out of him, the way the pieces fall with force into place. They slot together easily, just like you do. With fingers clinging, the weight of his body molding overtop of yours. 

You kiss him until he forgets what life tasted like without your tongue licking into him, your little moans melting in his mouth — until you break apart, gasping for air. Panting, you ask, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting on you?” 

He doesn’t, no, not at all. Thankfully, you take his stunned silence for what it’s worth. After relinquishing your grip on his shirt, you bring your hands up to cup his face gently in your palms. 

With you touching him like this, he has no option but to stare down at you. Bit redundant, he thinks, since his focus has always been locked right here, right on you, by choice. Given that, it’s a little funny that he managed to miss every signal you’ve apparently sent him. But really, it doesn’t necessarily surprise him to hear that he’s even dumber than he thought.

You kiss him slowly this time, briefly, before nipping affectionately at his bottom lip. It drives him exactly as crazy as you want it to; makes his cock twitch inside his joggers, makes his brain foggy with a potent combination of fondness and filth.

Do you have any idea how many times he’s thought about this? He’s genuinely wondering because even he doesn’t know. He’s lost count of all the times he’s watched you nibble on your own lip and wished it was his instead. A million or more, if he has to guess.

Seeming to sense the way you've scrambled his brain, you nudge the tip of his nose with yours and giggle.

Seokjin can’t help but grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Thought of a good one,” you answer. Your smirk does his head in. The contrasting, goofy wiggle of your eyebrows squeezes his heart. “Better than yours, I think.”

He kisses you quick and hums, “Oh?”

You nod. 

The suspense is killing him. So is the way your clothed cunt grinds ever so slightly against his thigh. 

Fuck. 

He wants you, he wants you, he wants you. 

“You gonna make me come, Seokjin, or do I have to wait for you to file a subpoena?”

You may have to seek a refund for the prep course you paid for. 

For as long as you can remember, you’ve learned best through application. You could read the same chapter, over and over, and not absorb a word. The same was true with lectures, even more so when they’re pre-recorded rambles by the weirdest adjunct professors known to man. Sure, you may eventually memorize concepts this way, but they don’t sink in deeply enough to stay. You can’t use them in any way that helps you.

To no one’s surprise, no part of your civil procedure lecture sticks until it falls into your lap. 

Strike that. 

Until Seokjin loses his balance in trying to take his pants off, and falls onto your floor with a yelp.

A moment or two passes while you stare at each other in shock, but that dissolves quickly. And so do both of you, right into another fit of laughter that makes your shoulders shake. Then, you jump to your feet and hold your hands out to him.

Seokjin accepts them, though he doesn’t rely on them at all when he stands back up. He seems more than content just to hold onto you, whether or not he needs you to keep him steady. You have no complaints, for once in your life.

Shaking his head, he chuckles, “Venue change?”

“I think —” You hum and kiss the column of his throat. He swallows hard enough that you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips. So sensitive.  “This is what they call forum non conveniens.”

He’s having none of that, and you don’t necessarily blame him. As it turns out, the shoe isn’t terribly comfortable when it’s on the other foot.

You’re lifted without warning, bent over his shoulder, and hauled off in the direction of your bedroom before you can even squeak in protest. You drop like a bag of dirt — albeit a beloved bag of dirt — onto your mattress once he reaches it; his lips are on yours to swallow the gasp before it can leave your mouth.

As eager as his mouth are his hands, roaming down the curve of your waist and over your hips. With fistfuls of the pajama shorts you hadn’t bothered to change out of, his head dips down under your jaw. The warmth of his breath is quickly replaced by that of his tongue, flicking a short, languid line along your neck.

“Want you so fucking bad,” he breathes. A shiver shoots straight down your spine and you keen, head crashing gracelessly back against the pillows. “Just like this.”

And he means it — you can feel how true it is with him settled between your spread legs. He presses his hips forward to meet your clothed cunt, cock teasing you through four goddamn layers’ worth of fabric.

His lips flutter against your earlobe just seconds before his teeth graze your flesh. He continues, voice vibrating through his chest to yours, “All the time.”

You outright whimper when he grinds against you a second time. Halfway to crazy, you knot your fingers in his hair and wrap your legs around his back in a silent plea for friction. So hungry for him that it aches.

“Seokjin, need — oh, god.” 

You lose your train of thought the second his hand slides into the gap between your bodies. Long fingers slip below the waistband of your shorts and panties, too. He doesn’t stop there. Not with fingertips whispering over the mound of your cunt, not until he finds you wet and wanting.

So wet that you can hear it when the pad of his index finger runs along your slit.

His mouth curves against your neck, prompting you to shift your head on the pillow. You tilt your neck just enough to meet his eyes. 

To your surprise, he’s not smirking. Not even close. If anything, he looks awestruck. Like he’s finally realizing what he does to you, how your body reacts to him. From the looks of it, that discovery is flipping his whole damn world upside down.

For once, Seokjin doesn’t crack a joke and neither do you. It’s quiet, save for your tiny gasping breaths and the ripple of his fingertip swirling over your clit. Even the moan building in your chest gets the memo. It disappears somewhere in your throat when — fucking finally — that middle finger penetrates you.

And god, he sounds so wrecked when he finally speaks. 

“Tried to imagine it a thousand times, you know,” he murmurs. 

You clench around his finger as it curls upwards, shiver when he starts to stroke the sensitive spot along your front wall. His thumb picks up where his middle finger left off, pressing against your clit in a way that makes you mewl.

Seokjin only stops talking to kiss you deep and leave you dizzy. It’s too brief. If asked, you’d never be able to quantify what amount of time is enough, but you know that wasn’t, so you pout.

Ignoring your little whines, he continues with a hum, “How perfect you’d feel, if I ever got this lucky.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

You laugh as you say it, but you’re dead serious: “If you keep talking to me like that, you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

Marry me, why don’t you? Beautiful bastard.

“Threat or promise?” 

He adds a second finger; and suddenly, you’re not laughing anymore. No, the strangled sound you make while you grind against his palm isn’t funny at all, but you can’t care about that now. Your focus is stuck on remembering how to breathe. In, out. On the stars blinking behind your eyelids when they give up and flutter shut.

He works you open for him like he’s already attuned, like it’s the fiftieth time he’s finger-fucked you and not the very first. And, quite frankly, it’s embarrassing how little time it takes for him to pull you apart at the seams.

No one has ever made you cum with such little effort. You’re scared to learn what it’s like when he tries.

You catch the triumphant gleam in his eye in the split second before you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He’s earned it, you suppose, so you’ll let him relish the personal record he’s managed to set on his first time out. You might even let him brag about it, so long as he continues to make you tremble like this.

“Shit,” he chuckles low near your ear. 

If he sounds muffled, it’s because you’re still waiting for your system to reboot. He knows this, knows how fucking sensitive you are, and slides his fingers out of you as slowly as possible. Still, those aftershocks throttle you; the unintentional stimulation makes you jolt.

“Yes,” you nod helplessly, squeezing your eyes and jaw shut simultaneously. “Shit is right. Perfect analysis, no notes.”

A chaste kiss is placed on your temple. It’s petal soft and subak sweet, but it functions like a defibrillator. Within a split second, he’s revived you. Eyes now open again, you exhume your face from where you buried it and blink up at him. Warm brown eyes light up when you reappear.

He’s so fucking beautiful that you almost want to avert your eyes. Key word: almost. You’ll drink in the sight of him until you drown, you think.

Seokjin looks concerned. With a shy smile, he checks in: “You okay? We can stop right now if you’re not.”

You don’t know who they are, but you know that they don’t make them like him anymore. Which is a fucking bummer for the rest of the world — just not for you. This one is all yours.

“You quitting on me, Kim?” You let your knee fall inwards to nudge his side, and you pretend not to notice how boneless you still feel. “Didn’t wait all this time to tap out early, did you?”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, nonetheless. His warm palm massages the outside of your thigh affectionately, if only for a moment. Then, he pats his fingertips against the same spot. “Shorts off, champ.”

You follow his instructions and move to shimmy out of them, but not before snorting, “Champ?”

“Fine. Old sport?” He offers with a shit-eating grin. Your shirt smacks him in the face once you peel it off and chuck it at him. He pouts. “Hey!”

“Thanks, I hate it.” 

He tugs his shirt over his head, launches it over his shoulder without looking. Your unabashed stare immediately clocks the slight hint of his abdominal muscles. Lean, but not sharply contoured in a way that looks painful to touch. Soft. Perfect, even.

What lab were you engineered in?

“For someone with so many opinions, you don’t offer many suggestions.” He shoots you a pointed look while he unties the knot at his waistband drawstring. “What’s your proposal?”

You’d love to bite back at him. Really, you would, but he pulls his boxers down alongside his joggers, and every meaningful thought you’ve ever had goes flying out the fucking window. All that’s left is I want you, I want you, I want you.

Automatically, you reach out with a tentative hand, craving nothing more than to feel his velvet length in your hand. To your surprise, he stops you. He catches your hand in his, lifts it to his lips, and brushes a kiss over your knuckles.

“Rain check, baby,” Seokjin smiles against your skin. There it is. That’s the one. “Need to fuck you, posthaste, or I’ll simply pass away.”

You open your mouth to comment; he breezes right past you. He points to the mattress, then to the wall to your left. “On your side, love.”

That works, too.

“Face away from me.”

Never in your life have you moved so fast, all but throwing yourself down where he told you to. As you land with a slight bounce, you mouth to yourself, Posthaste? Nerd.

A second slips by, then Seokjin slips into the space behind you. His lips tickle the back of your neck when he kisses the base of it, causing you to gasp yet again. Maybe that’s just how you breathe when he’s around — like you don’t know how.

His hand drifts down the length of your side, passing over the doughy flesh of your ass. He gives it a squeeze for good measure — because of course he does — but he doesn’t linger, not now.

That hand continues until you feel his fingertips scratch affectionately at the back of your right thigh. He doesn’t need to ask; you lift your leg, allowing your knee to hinge overtop of his hand. Now that his hands are occupied, you offer yours to assist. 

This time, he doesn’t stop you when you wrap your fingers around his length. And fuck, there’s so much of it. Part of you wants to ask where the hell he thinks he’s going to fit all of it, but you’re not a quitter, so you keep your mouth shut. 

Seokjin shivers under your touch, breath catching in his throat so blatantly that you can hear it right behind your ear. 

“Hmmm,” you tease, squeezing the crown gently as you circle your wrist. “Does that work for you, champ?”

His forehead drops against your shoulder. The groan you force out of him is twice as long as necessary, followed by an unwilling laugh. “You’re right, okay? You’re fucking right. It’s awful. Just so fucking bad.”

Your thumb swipes over his leaking tip, smearing the bead of pre-cum waiting for you there. You’re relentless. “Sure you don’t like old sport better? Huh, buddy?”

“Baby,” he warns. There isn’t much heat to it, but it burns white hot in your core anyway.

The stretch of his cock does, too, when you finally stop fucking with him and start letting him fuck you. The breath he holds as he enters you slowly is let out in a shuddered groan when he bottoms out. Perfectly full and fully incapable of teasing him further, you simply melt back against his chest.

He’s careful to start, testing the waters and refusing to push you too far, too fast. You want more, though, you always have. Greedy, you rock your hips back against him to force him deeper into your weeping hole. He takes the hint, fingertips pressing bruises into the underside of your knee as he picks up his pace — and you’re far too blissed to care.

He pistons into you eagerly, deliberate. His hips clap against the flesh of your ass, but the sting of it all can’t compete with the way he splits you open. Makes you reach back to cling to any part of him you can get your hands on, claim whatever you find for keeps. Buried to the hilt, and somehow,  he’s still not close enough.

You’re close, if your fluttering walls have anything to say about it. You’re babbling, too, so lost in pleasure that you can only repeat — over and over — how fucking perfect he is. How perfect for you he is.

Seokjin peppers kisses down the curve of your shoulder as he thrusts. It’s the only real indication you have that he’s at a loss for words, too; that he’s compensating for the quiet. He kisses you with an open mouth, teeth grazing the space he finds, leaves a mess on your sweat-slicked skin.

“Fuck,” he grunts. You mewl. “Can’t stop thinking about —”

“Just like that, please.”

“— how many times I could’ve —”

You wail, “Shit, Seokjin, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

The staccato strokes will be the death of you, you’re sure of it. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. Not when he kisses the back of your neck again, and not when he murmurs directly in your ear, “— had you like this, if I’d said something years ago.”

Please, please, please. 

It’s all you can say, again and again, as if he isn’t already giving you everything you want before you even ask for it. Responding to every movement you make, fucking into you with precision so that each vein of his cock brings friction where you crave it. Fucking you through your orgasm when it catches you in a riptide and sends you reeling.

“That’s it, baby.” His voice is soothing despite the recklessness of his thrusts. “So good for me. So fucking good.”

You’re still gushing when he snaps his hips forward and stills, cock twitching as he lets himself go inside of you. Still trembling when his head droops forward to nuzzle against your shoulder blade, and when you feel his breathing begin to slow in tandem with yours.

Once he pulls himself out of you, a few moments pass in fucked-out silence. It’s comfortable, if you ignore the mess between your thighs — and you do, for now. Your brain is too busy to waste time on that.

You’re exhausted and bordering on delirious when you say it, but that doesn’t make it any less true:

“I might love you, probably.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. He doesn’t move either, which makes you wonder if he’s fallen asleep with his face smushed into your bare back. But you feel the tiniest exhale through his nose; the kind of laugh you get from him when he’s too tired to be any louder.

His reply is muffled, lips still pressed against your skin, but you hear it perfectly.

For the record, he probably loves you, too.

final a/n: i have a follow-up drabble planned for these two! stay tuned 🥰

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I love that I was already snickering on the “always a crush never a job” and then Hobi had to go read Joon for filth 😩😭!! I think I love this series very much and uhhh these personalities are great!!

FREE NAMJOON -

[ ot7 x reader ]

FREE JIMIN

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

y/n: if i open instagram and see namjoons feet again i’m going to go insane

tae: me 2 😆

jimin: tae makes physically ill !

hobi: real.

tae: i never said i am going the good insane what the hell

jin: you didn’t need to say anything

we know

jk: the fact ur not trying to hide it anymore is real upsetting bro

tae: society will never progress with people like you guys

i am the future

yoongi: why are we always taking about feet?

jin: some times at that prehistoric age you tend to do drastic things like that

jimin: prehistoric?? ur older than him?

jin: okay and? you look fucking older than him

wrinkled fuck

jimin: you are turning into dust as you type

namjoon: bye we are not talking about feet again.

y/n: tae and joon for therapy i say!

jimin: jin for a retirement home!

jk: who do you think will die first?

like out of us

hobi: you

tae: probably jimin

jimin: are you insane jin is literally 82 on deaths doorstep fr

jin: i agree jimin will be first to go no doubt in my mind in fact i will single handedly make sure of it and that is a promise to you all as my closest friends

jk: omg! ur so cool!!!!!

jimin: wtf???

what about that is cool?

yoongi: jimin would die first

jimin: WTF?????????

jin: LOL

jimin: FUCK YOU

yoongi: when have you guys ever had a civilised conversation

namjoon: who wants food? i’m ordering

jk: maybe it’s all sexual tension

y/n: fr just kiss or something

jin: HE WISHES

jimin: the way i almost threw UP

namjoon: can someone answer me

jk: sometimes there is no answer

hobi: deep bro.

jk: awomon

namjoon: is it not amen?

jk: clearly you are NOT a feminist!

jin: me personally? i’m a feminist

jimin: me 2 i love pussy

hobi: awoman 🙏🏼

tae: international womens day everyday!!!

suga: 🤞🏻

y/n: can you guys go one day without mentioning feminism omg

jin: it’s so deep in my veins i cant

jk: what is an orgasm??

namjoon: i’m actually leaving the group

jimin: kook not knowing what an orgasm is was ur last straw?

weak 🥱

namjoon: no it was actually after tae talked about feet for a least the 1000th time today

tae: is it not the power house of the cell??

y/n: oh wow

jk: holy shit ur right

yoongi: ????

tae: wydm ???

yoongi don’t be upset cuz you didn’t know

jk: right…

tae: nvm it’s actually pretty common knowledge so maybe you should be a little upset

jin: you guys make me want to pull my hair out

jimin: it’s practically falling out already doesn’t really make a difference

y/n: tell me you guys aren’t being fr…

tae: wait….

MY FAULT i thought you said organism 🙏🏻

wasn’t wearing my glasses

yoongi: the way that’s still wrong

hobi: he wears glasses?

jk: so what does it mean

jimin: guys i have a crush 🤭

jin: always a crush never a job

y/n: HELDPDODOFODKFJFKC

hobi: set him free for fucking real

yoongi: pt2

jimin: fuck you all i didn’t want to talk about it anyways

jk: do you think ironman gets lonely in heaven

namjoon: maybe you should join him

jk: OMG???????

namjoon just told me to kms (real) (not clickbait)

tae: what if jungkook doesn’t go to heaven?

who knows what he does behind closed doors

y/n: he vapes

jk: NO

y/n: if you say so

jin: jimin and namjoon going to hell that’s all i know

jimin: omg take my dick out your mouth

jin: ew?

namjoon: ????

tae: i know joon does coke on the low

yoongi: :3

namjoon: what???

hobi: i could be a red velvet member if i tried hard enough

y/n: i believe in you

hobi: means the world tbh

namjoon: when have i ever mentioned coke in my life?? let alone taken it

tae: see how defensive he’s getting

someone call the police

yoongi: jungkook joined a cult yesterday

namjoon: what?

hobi: namjoon are you not tired?

namjoon: ?

hobi: always asking questions like are you not sick of it

have you found the answers you’ve been looking for

if not i suggest you stop asking and give up all together :/

y/n: I AGREE

#stopthequwstions2023

namjoon: im leaving before i say something i regret

*namjoon left the group*

jin: he was so gonna say the n word

y/n: HELDPDODDODODOODOD

tae: stop the namjoon hate 2023

jk: i miss him so much

my life is falling apart

*jk added namjoon to the group!*

namjoon: leave me ALONE.

*namjoon left the group*

jimin: yikes

yoongi: skill issue tbh

y/n: i take no blame for this btw

jimin: i didn’t do anything!!!!

tae: not me

yoongi: ❌

jin: lowkey hobi’s fault

hobi: i blame jk

jk: wtf…

Please!! These are so funny 😭😭 I love that we don’t get the question answered either 😝, why does Tae need 100k??

POSITIVE VIBES ONLY! -

[ ot7 x reader ]

WHO’S IN PARIS?

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

tae: can someone wire me 100k?

jk: how do you wire something??

y/n: beats me

namjoon: 100k?

jimin: why?

jin: did you hear lucas left nct LAMSOO

yoongi: who?

hobi: i’m about to raise the roof

yoongi: oh

tae: can someone send me 100k or not omg

y/n: are you not a millionaire???

jk: word on the streets is that he’s a hardcore gambler

jin: ur living room does not count as “the streets”

jk: 😟

y/n: guys kai is enlisting i’m gonna throw up

yoongi: gws

hobi: pretty girl you like peaches 🩷

y/n: you’ll never be him

hobi: 😞

namjoon: why does tae need 100k??

y/n: yeah why does tae need 100k??

jk: let the audience know tae

tae: yes or no can you send it now?

jin: i could but i won’t

yoongi: no

jimin: asked for coffee the other day and you said no

now you want 100k how about you kys

hobi: i’ll send it

y/n: no you won’t

hobi: i won’t send it

jk: bold of you to assume i have 100k

namjoon: jungkook what?

you make more than 100k a day??

jk: okay??

bold of you to assume i have access to my card

namjoon: ??

jin: i don’t even wanna know tbh

y/n: he once ordered a 10k marching band the day after the hamster we had died because he needed to “clear his head”

jimin: you guys had a hamster??

jk: lived one day will miss tony forever ☝🏻

yoongi: this is why we shouldn’t of let the 2 youngest members live together

y/n: jungkook once brought a “picassco” painting of iron man for 50k

jk: is very pretty it’s in my room

hobi: picasso is dead

jk: what

jimin: tae and jennie let’s get into that

tae: let’s not

jin: REAL is that why you need 100k stuck in paris bf of the year?

y/n: RIGHT WHAGT IS GOING ON FR

tae: nothing

namjoon: ?

y/n: be fr tae

tae: are you jealous??

y/n: no

jk: yes

y/n: what

tae: what

jk: ur giving her 100k ofc im jealous

jin: omg?

y/n: FR??

namjoon: ur giving her 100k?

jimin: that’s insane

yoongi: does she not have money?

hobi: her and tae fr twins then

jimin: how is he giving away money he clearly doesn’t have?

tae: i have 100k

jimin: ur not acting like it

namjoon: wait so ur asking us to send you 100k that you already have to give to ur gf?

tae: what??

jk: guys i’m kinda confused rn

tae: i don’t have a gf?

yoongi: bro

jimin: i don’t even care anymore

y/n: tae was dropped as a baby

tae: OMG 😧????

jimin: constantly

tae: wtf namjoon say something this SICK the way they talk to me

namjoon: i give up

y/n: wasn’t talking TO you i try to keep that to a minimum

tae: when she hates you 😍

jk: jennie hates you?

hobi: she’s kinda real for that

tae: stfu about jennie

jk: omgee did you fight??

yoongi: you guys are not real

there’s no way

jimin: the next bitch to send a question mark being shot and killed immediately

y/n: mark lee

hobi: let’s play ball

tae: mid

y/n: MARK LEE MID ARE YOU OUT OF UR MIND???

jimin: …

y/n: if you shoot at kill me that would be considered a hate crime

jimin: it will be worth it

y/n: :c

jk: :3

hobi: :0

yoongi: freaks

namjoon: cute

tae: guys i feel like you don’t actually love and care for me

jk: whaaat ur really cool!

y/n: yikes

jin: jungkook sarcasm says it all tbh

jk: what

jin: nvm he just dumb as hell

jk: ??

jin: ur so cool jungkook!!!!!!

jk: ur coolest jin ^^

jimin: the oldest too

namjoon: don’t start

yoongi: yikes x2

hobi: eeek

jimin: i care for none of you

y/n: ur ugly

jimin: take it back

yoongi: i would put you all in a freezer

namjoon: what?

hobi: cold >.<

jk: does tae still need 100k?

tae: YES

jk: okay

tae: ???

jk: ???

tae: are you not giving it to me?

jk: no?

tae: wtf?

why did you ask then?

jk: cuz i wanted to know if you still needed it?

y/n: all these questions not enough answers

jimin: amen

hobi: queencard

namjoon: i think being in this gc is what taking acid would feel like

jin: druggie

jk: namjoon pls don’t do drugs

yoongi: save me

hobi: so tae is single?

tae: taken by the lord

jimin: i’ve been counting down the days for the lord to take you

tae: when i actually die ur gonna feel an unbearable amount of guilt

y/n: jimin when will you rest omg

jimin: i’m a born hater it’s hard to live like me

yoongi: if i were you i would kms

namjoon: i love having positive conversations with you all

hobi: me 2

jk: is it just me or am i the only one not seeing the positivity rn…

y/n: love you bffs 💓

jk: okay nvm !!!

me after lying saying i’m gonna release more stuff and then just running away 🤭🤭🤭. i’m just silly like that am i gonna regret posting this at 3 am and not proof reading it? possibly but it’s okay i’m back for how long? god knows but the jennie and tae stuff absolutely crazy i must say #gothemtho i have nothing else to add love u kissing you mwah mwah.

OH.MY.GAWWWWD the ending!! Did not see that coming 😀!! This was such a funny story to read lmao my poor bby chris was just trying his bestest. 20/10 , loved loved this story

h o m i e h o p p e r

p a i r i n g : JK, HSK, NJ x reader

g e n r e : college au.

t a g s : homie hopping (the title duhhh), bang chan makes an appearance as your bf, he’s being cucked, vaginal sex, blow jobs, cunnilingus, sex tapes, sexual objectification (on reader), dirty talk, degradation, hook-ups, voyeurism, reader is really pretty (she’s a sweetie pls), poly!relationship undertones, chan refuses to even believe the rumors, sexual innuendos and jokes, the boys are assHOLES, low-key toxic, joon and them are fuckin mean, car sex, chan's POV, surprise for u at the end, chan goes thru it a lot, everyone is bad here LMAO

w o r d c o u n t : 6.3 k

s u m m a r y : the rumors weren’t true… or were they?

When Chan first heard the rumors he was absolutely furious, how could anyone ever talk about someone like that? Never mind that, WHY would anyone talk about his girlfriend point blank period. It pissed him off that anyone he talked to always had to bring you up with the same damn question over and over again.

“Oh you’re dating now? I thought she was fucking Jungkook?”

“I heard Namjoon and her hooked up at the party last night, is that true?”

“No way dude, you’re going out with Seok’s girl? He was telling me the other night how he and Joon took turns.”

Sure he knew you got around a lot but he didn’t care that was your business, the more important thing was you were with him now and he was sure you weren’t capable of cheating. How could you? Not when you were the sweetest thing on this earth, you wouldn’t even harm a fly let alone think about being unfaithful. Chan learned to ignore the comments thrown at him, he knew you better than anyone else.

You seemed to be very popular, often attracting attention left and right because of your nice personality and your pretty face. Chan honestly felt like he had lucked out with you, you liked some things he liked, you shared some hobbies, and you listened to a few genres Chan liked. He was stuck in the honeymoon phase and he never wanted to wake up from it.

Chan however did find it a bit weird how..touchy and friendly his housemates seemed to be you. Yes he did know about the rumors of you and his housemates but he kind of didn’t believe them to be true. Maybe they were exaggerating? His housemates didn’t seem to say anything about the situation so maybe people had it all mixed up.. Right?

He starts observing how you interact with them whenever you come over. His eyes are watchful as you greet Hoseok at the door with a sweet smile on your face and a handful of cookies you baked. Chan stares at the seemingly innocent interaction, only getting up to intervene when he sees something odd.

“Hi Seokie,” you softly smile, “I baked some cookies for everyone, Channie told me you guys have been really stressed out from exams ‘n stuff.”

Hoseok grins, “Well aren’t you a sweetheart? Isn’t Chan so lucky to have someone like you? I mean your cookies aren’t the only sweet thing I like to eat.” He shoots a wink and reaches down to grab one, biting into it with a pleased hum.

You reach up to gently wipe the corner of Hoseok’s lips with your thumb, “Thank you sweetheart.” Hoseok slowly licks his lips.

Chan watches in pure silence, a little put off about the strange show of affection he’s seeing. “Okay Seok, me ‘n y/n are gonna head off now, you remember it’s movie night don’t you baby?” He gently pulls you by your waist to his side, wanting you as far away from Hoseok as possible.

“Oh yes! We’re gonna have a Scream marathon!” You excitedly buzz, “Bye Seokie,” you wave and let Chan guide you up the stairs with a possessive hand laid over your back. Chan glances one last time at Hoseok, finding him staring very intently, specifically your ass which sits so perfectly in your leggings. Hoseok actually fucking winks at him as Chan disappears upstairs.

The second time he realizes things aren’t right is the morning after you stay the night, no one is home except for Namjoon. Chan wakes up to a note on his nightstand telling him you’re downstairs making breakfast. The little hearts you drew make his heart flutter as he sleepily smiles and rolls out of bed.

As he makes his way down and around the corner he can hear those cute little giggles of yours. Reality shatters the moment and snaps him out of his daze when he hears Namjoon’s deep baritone voice.

Namjoon…?

Chan curiously peeks into the kitchen only to find you standing there in his oversized shirt he gave you the night before. If memory served him correctly, you went to bed in his shirt and with ONLY panties underneath.. His eyes widened, shocked to see Namjoon standing directly behind you pressed so closely as he opened the cabinet to reach for something high up on the shelf.

“Careful now shortie, don’t want you falling and hurting yourself.” Namjoon lazily smirks, passing the bowls you had asked him for, “Especially with you bouncing all over the place.” He hums, reaching down to smack your ass as he walks over to the fridge.

You voice your complaints with an angry pout, turning to say something when you see Chan. “Channie! You’re up, I made some pancakes and a fruit bowl.” You cheerfully say, “Sit, sit I’m just about to finish,” you say.

“You good there Channie?” Namjoon draws out with a tiny smirk, leaning up against the fridge with his arms crossed. “You look like you just saw a ghost or something.” His eyes briefly break contact to trail after you when you pass by him.

Chan nods, “I’m good,” he shoots you a tiny smile before looking back at Namjoon blankly, “all good.”

Something is definitely wrong by the third time he realizes there’s more than what meets the eye. It’s what people have to say about Jungkook when the little bubble he’s been cooped up in finally bursts. Chan doesn’t wanna hear it but he knows his brain will be nagging about it later on if he doesn’t clear things up once and for all.

“Jungkook? You mean the footballer you live with?” Hyunjin raises a brow in confusion, “Why do you wanna know about him and your girlfriend? Unless you’re like into that sorta stuff man.”

Chan sighs in exasperation, “No I’m not trying to say anything right now, I’m curious that’s all. Jungkook’s never mentioned any girl before and I’m wondering if he and y/n had history together or some shit, that’s all.”

Hyunjin has this look on his face like he doesn’t truly believe it, but lucky for Chan he doesn’t comment about it. “I heard a couple of things. Two semesters ago someone caught Jeon in his car fucking someone, no one was sure who it was but we all had a feeling it had to be y/n because he posted a like selfie with some girl’s hand in the frame and then y/n posted a pic of her inside someone’s car, it looked like JK’s so we all knew it was them two.” He shrugs.

“Ohh really?” Chan nods slowly, now that he thinks about it Jungkook did mention once or twice of a girl he was fucking on the low, said something about her being “the best piece of ass” he’s ever gotten. Thinking about it now makes Chan’s stomach curl in disgust and other unpleasant feelings.

“Yeah, but that was ages ago man you don’t really have anything to worry about now.” With that Chan’s left alone to wallow in his own thoughts.

The girl he’s been with for the past two months really fucked his friends before she landed on him.. He can’t exactly say he’s happy with the idea but if nothing was going on right now, he was fine. The past was past, you were with him now and nothing was going to change that fact.

He hopes.

+

Chan doesn’t think about it as much as he did before, if anything it’s long forgotten because he rather focus on the present rather than the past. He got over it and made peace with the idea of nothing going on. He blamed it on his damn insecurities.

For about two weeks Chan is in pure bliss with you. Your little dates carry on and surprisingly the comments people made died down. Hell he didn’t notice any weird shit on behalf of his other housemates who seemed to barely be at home whenever Chan brought you over. Seeing this as an opportunity he brings you with him one night, knowing that the guys were out for the night.

Things lead to another and pretty soon you’re both getting down and dirty in his sheets, closed away in the privacy of his bedroom. The perks? You could be as loud as you wanted, and Chan didn’t have to worry about anyone hearing you two go at it through the paper thin walls.

Chan had you laid back on the comforter, thighs wrapped around his midsection and hips a little elevated to strike that spongy spot that drove you crazy all the time. Your head was thrown back on the pillow with your eyes shut in bliss and lips formed in a tiny ‘o’ as moans and whimpers left you.

“C-Chan,” you mewled out, desperately clawing and twisting at the sheets, “so good.” Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering open to stare up at him.

Chan groans under his breath and re-adjusts his grip on your hips, getting a good grip as he plows into your squelching pussy. The sounds of his balls smacking against your ass ring in his ears, the bed creaks audibly against the wooden floor of his bedroom. The sounds were so filthy they were porn worthy.

“Fuck, you gonna cum baby?” He murmurs darkly, face twisting in pleasure as he feels you cunt clench down tightly around his shaft, making his cock throb weakly in response. “Can feel your little pussy gettin’ tighter and tighter for me.”

You moaned lewdly at his words and nod frantically, “Gonna cum–oooh..! R-Right there..!” You writhe on the bed, hips pushing up and squirming around so much you almost slip off his cock.

“Go ahead baby,” Chan moans, “cum on my cock.” He pants heavily, leaning down to smother you in a passionate kiss as his pace speeds up.

You wrap your arms around his neck with a loud moan, teetering on the edge of an orgasm. Chan can feel you getting close, and right before he can reach down to rub at your swollen nub he hears the door click open and Jungkook’s loud laughter.

“Chan, you gotta check this shit out–” Jungkook looks up and his eyes widen, “Holy fuck man, my bad.” He laughs harder.

Any pleasure Chan was feeling moments prior is now gone, he feels his cock even soften from the sound of Jungkook entering. He quickly throws a blanket over your naked form, glad he had been too impatient to take his boxers off. “Jungkook–” he sighs, “Can you step out? Not fucking cool,” he shoots a glare at Jungkook, making sure to cover your smaller frame with his own body.

“Sure, Channie,” Jungkook mocks, “whatever you say.” He turns to walk back out, turning his head over his shoulder to shoot you a smirk, “So you wear lace now?” Chan’s face burns with both anger and embarrassment after Jungkook pointed out the panties set lying on his floor nearby the door. “Don’t get ya panties in a twist, I’m goin’.” Jungkook shuts the door behind him.

A long sigh leaves Chan and he turns to look over at you apologetically, “I forgot to lock the door dammit.” He rubs his face in frustration, irritated that he was reminded of the shit he didn’t want to be thinking about.

“It’s okay Channie,” you sit up, sheets around your body as you gently smooch his cheek, “I still enjoyed tonight with you.” You smile softly.

“Yeah… I did too,” Chan smiles back, trying not to look too dejected.

He confronts Jungkook a few days later. He’s sitting in the living room waiting for Jungkook to come home. He had sent a message and Jungkook simply replied that he’d be home in a few.

“You wanted to talk?” Jungkook says, tossing the keys into a bowl by the door as he sets his drink down, “What’s up?” He grunts, kicking his shoes off and going to sit in the living room across from Chan.

Chan notes the faint sweat on Jungkook’s face, shirt rolled up at the sleeves to show off his defined muscles which made the older look more intimidating. “The other night, you need to knock and I mean it Kook because you don’t know if I’m changing or y/n is not decent or anything and I don’t want shit to happen between us because what happened was fucking inappropriate and I didn’t like that shit. At all.” He folds his arms across his chest with a glare.

Jungkook hums, “Okay.”

“Okay? Is that all?” Chan raises a brow.

Jungkook shrugs, “You wanna know something Chan?” He says calmly and sits with his arms spread over the back of the couch, manspreading with a nonchalant attitude. “With a beautiful ass like that I wouldn’t dream of gatekeeping it from the entire world, I mean, it’s always a good feeling to show the others what they wished they had. So congrats on your win, not everyday someone lands a girl like y/n.”

“Jungkook what the fuck are you on?” Chan frowns.

“Nothing, I’m just being honest with you. I could care less if you’re feeling threatened by me or the guys. I see the way it kills you on the inside hearing all the shit they say about your precious y/n. Does that piss you off Channie? Thinking about how she fucked the three of us before she got to you?” He tilts his head to the side with mischief twinkling in his eyes.

Chan doesn’t think he can reply without having an outburst of some sort, he’s getting more pissed by the second. Any more of Jungkook’s crude talking and Chan thinks he’s going to explode from the anger…and he does NOT want to be the one to fight Jungkook, has anyone seen him in the gym?

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret,” Jungkook smirks, taking a seat next to Chan, “there isn’t nothing about y/n that we haven’t seen already, so the next time you fuck her in the house, remember I once had my dick in there too.” He grins, “Tell her throat I said hi,” he chuckles quietly, getting off of the sofa and disappearing up the stairs.

Chan sits there with a blank stare, fists clenched tightly in his lap as he tries to control his breathing. In, out, in, out. He slumps in his seat, arm thrown over his face as he grumbles. That didn’t go as fucking planned, if anything Jungkook bitched him out without even having to try!

“Fuck,” he sighs longly, he decides he can’t wallow in self pity and rises off the couch.

Right as he steps outside of the house his phone buzzes. Curiously he unlocks his phone and opens the messages (which conveniently was from Jungkook). A thumbnail of a video sits innocently in the chat, Chan’s stomach drops because he knows what this is. His hands shake as he presses on the video.

.

Jungkook was a really nice guy, he teased you a lot and was a bit cocky but it added to his charms. You meet through a mutual friend, who you feel sorry for because her plans to hook up with Jungkook seemed to fly out the window the moment he lays eyes on you. Jungkook makes it painfully obvious that the only person he was taking home was going to be you.

He fucked you so good you couldn’t even feel your legs afterwards, it was ten out of ten and you could see yourself coming back again. It turned into a little dick appointment situation, meeting up whenever either one of you wanted to fuck. Whether it be in the morning of afternoon or dead in the night it didn’t matter, somehow you guys always ended up fucking.

You felt comfortable enough with him to post about it without exactly letting anyone know it was Jungkook you were fucking. Jungkook did the same, often asking to record and take pictures while he was hitting it from the back or balls deep inside of you.

One night you will never forget is when Jungkook decides to record you in his car, the video itself is about forty minutes long, and that’s what he decided to capture (your fucking went on much longer than that). The first scene is shot with his phone propped up on the dashboard, facing the driver's seat.

You’re sitting in his lap grinding and rocking your hips in tiny circles around his throbbing wet cock. Jungkook had his arms wrapped tightly around your back as he held you close to him while you fucked yourself silly on his cock. Loud whimpers and little “uh’s” escaped your lips. The sound of your wet pussy drooling over his cock and the back of your thighs smacking into him resonated throughout the whole car.

Jungkook had one hand buried in your hair, gripping it tightly as he yanked your head back while you rode him. His eyes flickered past your shoulder and into the camera as he smirked darkly, toying with his lip ring while you frantically moved your hips.

“Mmm..! Ooh, right there,” you pant out in pleasure, eyes stinging from the pleasure and pleasant ache you feel from him yanking on your hair. Your hips slow down and swivel in small circles so you can feel his thick cock rub up against your walls in a delicious angle that has you seeing stars.

Jungkook focuses his attention right back to you and grunts softly, “There you go, good girl.” He uses his other hand to grip your hip as he helps you grind in smooth circles on his cock. “Shit,” he sighs, relaxing into the seat and letting his head roll back on the headrest.

Your arms come up to wrap around his neck, you hide yourself away in the crook of his neck and desperately roll your hips. Soft little moans and needy whines leave you every so often, the windows of the car have fogged up by now and the music playing from the radio is merely background noise.

Everytime you push your hips back you feel the soaked material of Jungkook’s sweats given that he hadn’t bothered with slipping them past his thighs. You shiver pleasantly when his hot breath hovers over your hardened nipples. He encloses one of the sensitive buds in his mouth, suckling gently and rolling his tongue around.

“Mmm..!” You arch your back even more, desperately chasing after the pleasure erupting in your chest area. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind you pushing your soft tits in his face as he merely buries himself away in your chest while you ride him like your life depends on it.

After getting you to cum a couple of times he moves you two to the backseat. He’s holding his phone above you and recording the way your ass smacks against his hips. There’s a much louder slapping sound since he’s in control of the pace now, he wants you to feel this fucking for days to come.

“Greedy little thing you are, can’t seem to get enough of my cock can you?” Jungkook pants softly while slapping his hips against you, “Not gonna answer? Did I fuck you stupid already baby? Answer me,” he slaps your ass, “go on, tell me how good your ‘Jungkookie’ fucks you.” He grins, his laughter coming out breathless and dazed.

“ ‘s not enough, want it more–deeper, harder.” You gasp out, hands resting above you on the window to keep you grounded while he fucked your brains out, “Can feel it so deep inside,” you breathily moan, eyes slipping shut as his cock bumps into that spongy senstive spot inside of you, “mmmm–there–wanna cum again.” Your lips part, face scrunching cutely in pleasure as your body begins to go slack.

Jungkook softly moans and aims the camera down where you’re both connected. He increases the speed of his thrusts and angles his hips to keep hitting your sweet spot. He feels your pussy tighten and pulse around his cock, sending small shivers down his spine.

“Look up for me baby, say hi to the camera,” Jungkook licks his lips.

You tilt your head up with hooded and dazed eyes, moans tumbling from your lips and a little bit of drool slipping out the corner of your lips. Your breath hitches quietly, pouty lips parting once more as the noises you make increase in pitch. “There you go, show everyone what a slut you are for cock,” he smirks and reaches down with his tattooed hand to grab your chin and face you towards him.

“Oh fuck! Yes, yes..!” Chan sits there in his car with his jaw dropped, watching the now shaky video as Jungkook presumably fucks you into next week with how hard he’s going. Bitter humiliation sits in the pits of his belly.

+

Over the next few weeks Chan distances himself from everything really. He doesn’t know how he’s going to look at you now knowing the shit that happened with Jungkook. It was one thing to sit and listen to all these people talk about you two but it was a whole different story seeing it on video. Truly crushed his dignity and maybe his ego.

You of course had asked him if anything was wrong but Chan said the same thing, “No babe, just tired and burnt out from school stuff I got going.” And you bought it everytime. He felt bad yes but at the same time he felt like he just needed a little bit of space, he didn’t want to take his anger out on you because you didn’t deserve any of that.

Things back at the house seemed tense, Jungkook looked smug whenever he saw Chan and well, Chan didn’t have the energy to fight over shit like this. One would see it as him accepting that he was a bitch but Chan thought about it differently. Sure he felt extremely disrespected but what else could he do? He can’t reverse time and change the past.

Namjoon hadn’t bothered to comment much (the most he offered was “shit’s childish”) and Hoseok well he kind of tried to play mediator of the situation. He would make some jokes here and there to ease the tension in the room but Jungkook didn’t care. Jungkook was the most relaxed, and it irked Chan to no end how nonchalant he was about this, like if he didn’t show someone a video of him pounding their girlfriend.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hoseok hums, shooting him that bright little smile he always gave everyone. “You’ve been oddly quiet for weeks now Chan.”

Chan looks at the elder with a quiet hum, “Nothing much Seok, just have a lot on my mind right now. And if you’re wondering, no I'm not upset with Jungkook or anything so you can rest easy. There won’t be a fight or anything like that.” He throws his head back and lets it hang off the couch, a long sigh escaping.

“Your face says otherwise.” Hoseok smirks.

“Listen, I don’t mean this in a bad way or anything but I’d appreciate it if you a) stop bringing this up about Jungkook and b) knock whatever weird fucking obsession you have with my girlfriend off. It’s fucking weird that you guys talk about her, make these smart ass comments, and eye fuck her when I’m right there. I get it, you guys fucked in the past but we’re in a relationship and I’d very much like for you to respect it.” He glares back, not realizing his voice rose with every word he spoke.

Hoseok stares at him for a few minutes with no expression on his face, and Chan at first thinks he fucked up but then the unexpected happens. The fucker laughs. He watches Hoseok throw his head back, shoulders shaking as he slaps his knee a couple of times.

“What the fuck is so funny?” Chan grits his teeth.

“Damn ‘Channie’ I thought you were better than this, you should feel happy she chose to be with you. You’re the mannnn,” he playfully hits Chan on the side, “I mean, she tastes as good as she looks.” He licks his lips, staring into Chan’s eyes unapologetically. “Does she still wear those pink panties of hers? You know which ones, little white bow and lacey trim…”

Chan knows exactly which ones he’s referring to. His fists clench in his lap tightly, he silently rages in his spot but it doesn't deter Hoseok. “I bet she still holds your head down right when she’s about to cum,” his voice drops to a husky whisper, “does this little thing with her hips, practically smothering you with her pussy.” Chan snaps his head towards Hoseok, watching as the usually playful man taunts and teases him.

“Oh I bet she does.” He grins, “Funny…she used to do the same with me.” He gets up and walks away with no other words. Chan stares ahead at the wall with a blank look and a fiery anger running through his veins.

.

Hoseok was buried between your soft thighs, licking and sucking at your swollen clit with his fingers buried knuckle deep inside of your sopping wet pussy. Moans and whimpers tumbled freely from your lips, your head was thrown back with your lips parted and expression twisted into one of pure pleasure and bliss.

His fingers felt so good, stretching and filling your pussy to the brim. He stroked over your g-spot repeatedly, pairing his strokes with powerful sucks on your clit. It only had you dripping even more, thighs shaky and pussy leaking even more for him. “Seok,” you whimper, squirming around and lifting your hips as if you were offering your pussy up on a silver platter.

Hoseok took the bait, happily slurping away with his eyes closed as if he were in pleasure just being there between your soft thighs. Your cunt pulsed around his fingers, the pleasure sat hot in the pits of your belly. Hoseok was hellbent on getting you to gush because he wouldn’t let up on your g-spot.

“Fuck,” he softly pants against your soft pussy, “listen to you, absolutely fuckin’ soaked around my fingers.” He grins licking his lips, “You gonna squirt around my fingers like a good girl?”

His fingers start moving rapidly, the squelching noises get louder and tiny bits of slick spurt out from the sides of his fingers as he fucks them in and out. Your mouth falls open, you’re breathless as you weakly grip the bed sheets tightly. “Seok..!”

“That’s it, cum on my fingers and make a mess for me baby, gonna have you suck ‘em clean for me. ‘s what good girls do, isn’t that right?” He grins.

“Y-Yes..!” You gasp out.

Hoseok goes back down to take your clit in his mouth again, sucking harder than before. It sends a tremor down your spine and you cry out weakly, pussy squirting around his fingers. He moans for extra measure, causing you to weakly moan out for him to stop because it was getting to be too much.

“Good girl,” he pulls back and lifts his wet fingers, “now clean ‘em.”

.

Chan feels like he could fucking explode any minute now, everyone is walking around on eggshells in the damn house and of course Hoseok and Jungkook will stick together. Chan isn’t so sure about where Namjoon stands in all of this but he’s pretty certain he’ll side with his two friends on this one. Chan doesn’t care anymore, in fact he was already planning on leaving.

Call him a coward but he wasn’t going to waste his breath fighting, hell he wasn’t even sure y/n gave a shit about what was going on. Sometimes it made him feel like there was something he wasn’t seeing. Like this was some sort of test or a sick joke on their end, and as much as he didn’t wanna think about the possibility of you also playing sick games with him it was hard.

He hadn’t had much time to sit and talk with Namjoon given that there was tension in the house but Chan was pretty surprised to see Namjoon at home for once. These days it seemed like he was out more often to avoid the conflicts at home. It was even more surprising when Namjoon spoke to him.

“What’s up with you?” Namjoon nods his head at him, “Feels like we haven’t talked in a hot minute.”

Chan shrugs, “Been busy with work, school, you know how it is.” He replies back, busying himself with going through the fridge for his gatorade.

“You know this shit’s childish,” there it was, leave it to Namjoon to be the one to address the elephant in the room, “whatever the hell you got goin with Kook and Seok is gonna blow over pretty soon. I’m only saying this in case you guys hash it out in the yard and beat eachother up over something stupid.” He shrugs.

“And what would you classify as stupid? How is me calling them out for their weird ass behavior childish. No, you see I’m not stupid enough to fight over it but don’t you fucking think maybe I should speak up about it? It’s my fucking girlfriend we’re talking about, of course you would see me in the wrong because they’re your fucking friends.” He slams the fridge door a little harder then he intended to.

Namjoon raises a brow, “And what you gonna do about it?” He stands, rounding the table like a predator with narrowed eyes and an intense gaze, “Listen, the reality here is your girl fucked everyone in this house, simple as that. She’s been on Jungkook’s dick, Hoseok’s and mine. And if I fucking wanted to I’d have her hanging off my dick right here and right now in front of your face. And you wouldn’t do anything about it because you’re a little bitch who gets cucked in front of your damn face.” He stands in front of Chan now, staring down at him with his tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

Chan glares back, but Namjoon sets a hand on his shoulder, “Do me a favor and get some air, I can’t guarantee you things will be pretty if you stay. Unless you want me to show you just how well she takes my cock.”

.

You pull back from his cock with a low pop, tongue swirling and collecting the beads of precum around his tip. Namjoon’s grip tightens in your hair, cock weakly throbbing because the head of his cock was a sensitive area for him. You cheekily dig your tongue into his slit to get a reaction out of him.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps out, hips jumping once more in surprise, “just like that..” He moans.

You take his cock into your mouth once more and start bobbing your head. You use your hands to twist and stroke his shaft. His moans rise in volume as the hand in your hair starts guiding you up and down his cock. Your eyes water occasionally from the feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

“Take it like a good girl baby, gonna cum down your throat.. You gonna swallow like a good girl?” He rasps out. You eagerly nod and reach down to cup his balls, massaging them gently while you try to suck the soul out of him.

Namjoon’s hips stutter in their movements when he gets closer to coming undone. He groans louder and holds your head still to fuck up into your mouth. “Fuck, fuck.” He moans out as he throws his head back. You feel his cock twitch and throb in your mouth and you cheekily moan to cause vibrations.

He comes undone, cum spilling down your throat, “Fuckkkkk,” he whispers out, “so good for me baby..” he strokes over your head and keeps your head down until he’s done coming. “Go on and clean the mess you made, I don’t want to see not one drop go to waste.”

.

Chan heads straight over to your place. On the way he tries to calm himself down but everytime he thinks about the conversation earlier he ends up heated all over again. “Fuck!” Chan yells in anger as he hits the steering wheel angrily.

“Chan?” Your sweet voice interrupts his thoughts, “I was asking if you wanted me to order some pizza and we can go pick it up?” You rub his back gently, comforting even, “Is everything okay?”

Chan shakes his head with a long sigh, burying his face in his hands as he looks over at you, “Some shit happened earlier but I’m fine now,” he waves you off, “call, call, I’m gonna use the restroom real quick.” He murmurs and gets up.

He felt even more pathetic that he couldn’t talk to you about what he was going through. Then again what could you do? You weren’t even their friends so it wasn’t like you could waltz in there and tell them off or something. You didn’t have a clue what was happening inside the house since Chan wasn’t bringing you around.

Chan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “You got this.” He whispered and freshened up a bit before heading back out to you.

“Channie, I ordered the pizza, it’s gonna be ready in about fifteen minutes or so I think.” You say from inside the kitchen where you’re pouring him a glass of water, “Here sit, sit, you look really tense and stuff.”

“Thanks baby,” He smiles softly, all tension leaving his body since he couldn’t really stay mad around you. “How was your day?”

You shrug cutely, “Nothing too special since I went to class and after I just worked on my paper with Jungkook.”

Chan pauses, “Jungkook?” when you nod he speaks again, “Why?”

“We have the same class.” You reply softly.

Chan grips the cup a bit tighter, “No.. I mean why are you hanging around him? I told you it made me uncomfortable that you hang out with him when I’m not around.” He’s about to pop a fucking vessel with how angry he is.

You look unfazed, “Jungkook and I are friends,” you simply say, “I didn’t realize you were on such bad terms with him or something? Did anything happen for you to not like him?”

“Did anything happen?! Oh I don’t know y/n I’ve been fucking getting ganged up on by him and the guys, they’re all telling me what a hot piece of ass I got as a girlfriend! You think that’s something to get angry over? Are you gonna fucking sit there and tell me not to worry because you’re just friends?” He blows up.

Your lips part in surprise, eyes widening in awe as you listen to him rant angrily. “I tolerated enough when it came to them and you, I get it you all fucked and you fucking liked so what?! What the hell do you want me to do about it? Give you a fucking cookie and say good job?!”

His chest rises up and down in anger as he comes down from the rush. He stares down at you with pleading eyes, he wants you to say something. Anything. He just wants to put everything past him now.. Your lips part and you go to say something when he suddenly hears clapping behind you. “What the.” Chan frowns.

He looks over your shoulder and his heart drops to his ass. Jungkook comes out with a smug little smile on his lips as he takes a seat on the coffee table next to where you’re standing. “What a show you put on,” Jungkook whistles in amusement as he slithers an arm around your legs and tugs you closer to him, “didn’t know it had you bothered like that.”

“y/n what the fuck is going on?” Chan seethes, “Why the fuck is he here? Are you cheating on me with him, is that it?”

You stare at him with those sweet little puppy eyes of yours, pout forming on your lips as you gently reach over to caress Jungkook’s hair, sending Chan into a state of disbelief. “No, I’m not cheating on you. I thought you would have noticed by now, seems like you don’t pay enough attention.”

“Notice what?” He grits his teeth.

Jungkook chuckles, “Why do you think people call her Hoseok’s girl? Or my girl? Or Joon’s?” He sits back with a smug smirk, “I know you noticed how friendly we all were with each other. Listen, Chan buddy, if you ever thought you had y/n you were dead wrong. You see we love our baby, and if she says she wants to fuck you then she’s gonna fuck you simple as that. We’ve always let our girl have her fun because at the end of the day she comes back to us.” He grins.

You hum softly, “It’s fair game Channie, I do what I want but I’m still theirs. Joonie and the boys like to mess around with the guys though.. Surprised you lasted this long.”

It dawns on him this was all a sick game between the four of you. Chan stares in horror and disbelief, “You guys are fucking psychos..” He whispers.

“We’ll see you around… Channie.” Jungkook smirks.

Chan turns to you but you’re more focused on brushing Jungkook’s hair, “Pity Kookie, I actually liked this one.” You murmur softly without offering a single glance at Chan.

Chan fucking hates his life.

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @sxtaep ( for u bby )

We love Alien!Jk stories in this house 🤩 so excited for this installment

Jungkook

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 🔞 Hide Me [1]

Wrong place, wrong time, wrong everything. And yet, maybe it's not as bad as you thought.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Angst, injury, medical things such as needles, mentions of potential murder

Length: ~2k words

A/N: T H E R E I S N O T A G L I S T-

-> Masterlist

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──👽── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Okay, your plan might not work the way you'd hoped after all.

You'd wanted to just get away from earth for a while now- with the intergalactic union basically punishing the whole human race for ruining planet earth, by taking away any humans from leading positions in the government, and by entirely changing the law system across the globe.

But down the line, money seems to be enticing even for people from outer space- and so the humans with the most of it had stayed in their roles, corrupting the system even more these days.

You don't want to be here to watch everything inevitably crumble.

What you didn't really plan for had been the drunk guy robbing you just half an hour before you were supposed to go to the port where the interstellar cargo ships would soon get ready to fly out to other planets to trade produce and other food products. But really, you can't pay much attention to your own injury, because otherwise you'll miss your chance entirely.

And considering they only fly out once every two to three months, you really don't wanna miss this.

So you go through with your plan despite your blurry mind- hunger and your injury by now having definitely made things more and more difficult to handle. You mostly trust into your instincts at the moment, unsure if you could really pay attention to anything out of the ordinary in order to check your plan- but maybe you should've.

Because now that the heavy steel doors close, and the ship starts to rumble, engines starting, you realize that your environment isn't what you'd expected to find as you lift the heavy tarp from over your head a little.

It doesn't make sense.

The interior, now that you look at it, looks nothing like the cargo ship from Heza that you had been supposed to be boarding. There's also been almost no security, no other staff around, no guards or even workers seen anywhere.

Everything is metal, a bit bent and busted here and there but still good and well taken care of. The model of the ship must be the same as the one from Heza -

But this is absolutely not the ship you thought you were sneaking into.

This is bad.

It's the worst, in fact, considering your still throbbing and probably bleeding wound, which had also not been part of the plan. The shaking of the ship finally subsides, a calm buzz and steady vibrations instead filling the space, your ears feeling strangely pressurized, something that subsides after moving your jaw a little. You know what this must mean.

You're no longer on earth.

Well, this is a problem now. You don't know where the hell this person is traveling to, let alone who owns the ship in the first place. For all you know, it could have no pilot at all, flying on pure autopilot which would at least make you feel a bit easier knowing that only actual cargo ships fly predetermined routes like that.

You feel like you're gonna throw up. Your stomach is so empty that your throat is closing up, or at least that's what it feels like. And considering this isn't a Heza ship, there will probably be nothing edible here at all.

And suddenly, there's a rumbling noise, metal scraping on the floor as the pressurized doors open, causing you to hide under the thick plastic coverings again, hoping, praying no one finds you. Boots click on the floor, and you hear chains hitting each other in high pitched noises, leather squeaking a bit and then-

You hear plastic being lifted. Whoever is currently here is aware that you're not supposed to be here. That something's off, not quite right. They're searching for something.

Someone.

You hold your breath as if that's gonna help you at all, but you know it won't. The steps echo closer, closer, closer, plastic tarp being lifted and placed back over and over again around you. And suddenly, the tarp you're underneath lifts as well, and you're sure you're visibly shaking, especially when something cold hits the back of your head.

A gun, for sure.

"You got one try." A male voice states, the click of the gun heard and felt against your scalp and oh God, you're gonna pass out, either from blood loss, hunger, or the fact that there's someone pointing a fucking gun at you-

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't shoot you through the airlock right now."

Well, fuck.

You think hard, unsure what to really tell him- you don't even know if he's human or not, can't catch a glimpse of him considering he'll probably shoot you right away if you were to try, so you can't adjust your answer according to his race either. So, really, what do you have to lose now?

You're probably going to die either way- so why not just throw out your honest intentions.

"I'm trying to escape earth." You simply say, voice trembling as it's hardly loud enough to reach him properly.

"Why?" He presses on, leather moving again with distinctive noise as he squats down, gun still against the back of your head. "Are you a criminal?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"No." You answer. "Just.. over it." You shrug, tumbling forwards a little as you lose your balance for a second, brain becoming dizzy.

"Give me your name." He demands. "I will try and verify your information myself." The man says, and you laugh to yourself.

"Well, too bad." You chuckle. "I don't have a name. Got a number though, if you want it?" You slur by now, growing increasingly nauseous as your body seems to be hot one second and icy cold another. It seems as if he's noticing your state by now as well, hands moving your arm upwards as he inspects the blood staining your shirt by now.

"How did that happen?" He asks, and you try and explain- but there's no thought properly formed anymore. "Hah..., weak things." He mumbles to himself as he lets you fall forward onto your side, unable to sit upright any longer. He isn't very gentle as he lifts you up, over his shoulder to carry you out the cargo area of his ship and down several hallways like nothing but a sack of potatoes, into a room that looks awfully sterile and small. You're barely conscious, really, as you only somewhat feel him lay you down somewhere.

Everything between that, and now, as you wake up with a feeling of sudden panic, is just not there.

Your wrist is bound to the metal frame of the simple bedframe in the sterile, small room, machines beeping and occasionally making other noises as a voice rings out through a speaker, a sound echoing to signal an announcement. "Don't think your weak body will make me overlook the fact that you're a stowaway that illegally entered my ship." His voice echoes through the room. "You've broken human laws, and I'm required by the intergalactic union to report your crimes." He says, and you flop down onto the bed at that, a hand on your face desperately trying to hide your tears. That's even worse than getting shot through the airlock.

So you act out of panic, sitting up to rip out the IV line from your arm. "Hey- stop that!" He barks through the intercom, but you don't listen, as you try to squeeze and wiggle your hand out of the handcuffs bound to the bed, tugging on other sensors connected to your body, uncaring of the harsh sting and slight blood you're drawing.

It's when the only door of the room opens, and the man walks in, boots heavy on the floor as he leans one knee on the bed, grabbing your wrists that you're forced to stop your little panic attack. "Stop that." He growls, looking at you with both annoyance and anger as he watches you. "What in canis major is fucking wrong with you?" He scoffs, a low, clicking like sound in the back of his throat as his eyes glow an angry red.

"Throw me out the airlock then." You ask, frustrated tears brimming in your eyes as you look at him. "Shoot me in the head, I don't care." You tell him.

"Death won't lift your crimes, human." He tells you lowly. "You should've considered the consequences prior to your actions." The young man says.

"Hah, as if I didn't do that!" You bark at his face, and he leans back at that, eyes shifting slowly from their deep red to a more orange hue. "I'm not going back to earth. At least not alive." You say with a final tone to your voice, and at that he gets up, sighs, his eyes a pale yellow-ish brown as he opens them again to move around, and pick up the IV you'd tugged out from your arm, discarding the used needle before he moves to get a new, packaged one.

"How did you loose your name?" He asks, as he walks around, prepares the IV again it seems like, while you sit on the bed, legs tucked in closely. "I've looked up the number inked on your wrist. What you said about your identity seems to be true- but there's always a reason why humans loose their names, and yet there was no criminal record attached to you." He explains, and you shrug.

"Just.." You shrug again, glaring at him a bit as he rather roughly tugs your hand away from your knees, turning your forearm to locate a vein again. "Not worth it, I guess. I'm not trained in any field that's considered valuable, and I'm also not very smart- so I lost my name when I turned twenty-one because I'm not valuable enough." You say.

"That doesn't make any sense." He furrows his brows as he places the IV back in with not much regard to you hissing when he pishes the needle into your skin, securing it with medical tape before he adjusts the machines and sensors again.

"Yeah well, a lot of things don't make sense on earth." You mumble as you watch him, hissing a bit when he tugs on your skin too roughly as he checks the large plaster covering your stab wound.

"Stay here now, and stop being ungrateful for my care while I go over some things." He says, and you tug on the handcuffs a bit, as if to remind him. "What?" He asks.

"Are you.. not taking those off?" You wonder, and he seems almost amused as he looks at you with a slightly pinkish undertone in his eyes.

"No." He simply answers, door opening with a hiss of the hydraulics. "Wouldn't want you to get too comfortable here, after all."

This story has got to be one of the funniest stories I’ve read in a while 😂😂!! Love Demon Yoongi and of course it would be Jungkook who loves him some supernatural stuff and gets her in messes. They’re so uwu I love themmmmmm

demon!yoongi

→ pairing: min yoongi x reader

→ genre: demon!yoongi because HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYBODY! yoongi’s a big old brat, jungkook is ur clueless best friend, jimin’s an angel, good amount of smut, NS F W, violence

→ trigger warnings: violence and supernatural stuff!! it is halloween after all 

→ wordcount: 22.1k this will definitely make the app crash i’m sorry OR maybe a demon possessed ur phone and won’t let you read the fic :-///

→ note: first things first i realize i’m always depicting wonho in a certain way but he’s like the fluffiest muscle man out there and i love him!!! also once i portray a character in a certain way that becomes their established role lol i’M SORRY! i hope everyone has a safe halloween and i hope y’all fill your tummies with as much chocolate and sweets as your hearts desire! i’m sorry this took so long! 

pst if u wanna talk to demon yoongs u know what to do ;-)

(gif isn’t mine!) ((i miss yoongi with mint green hair so in this fic he has mint green hair))

(((and the read more function iS there but most of the time it doesn’t work on mobile :// i am sorry don’t attack me by sending passive-aggressive anon messages)))

you know

usually when people have a free night off they like to do things like

catch up on the latest netflix shows or movies

go out to dinner with their friends

maybe even go to the club with their friends

get a little wild get a little loosey-goosey

unfortunately you are not one of those people

because here you are

in the middle of your empty living room (because you rearranged the furniture and basically pushed everything to the side)

sitting cross-legged outside of a ring of candles with all the lights turned off except for the table lamp

and in the middle of the ring of candles you’ve gone ahead and drawn a goddamn pentagram on your wooden floors

because what are you doing on a friday night?

summoning a demon

that’s right ladies

you’re summoning

the literal spawn of satan

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Holy mother of earth this was a SMUTTASTIC READ 🥵🫢!! Wow two of my bias wreckers in one hot thirty story is not what I was immediately expecting upon opening this app but that I whatever forces that shot this to my TL. Love the desperation and endearment throughout this. Will not be following 😚✨

tongue technology | myg, jjk

🧡pairing | min yoongi x f!reader x jeon jungkook

🧡wc | 2.2k

🧡warnings | 18+ smut; dirty talk, praise kink, implied established relationship, threesome, oral (f & m receiving), dry humping, soft dom!yoongi

🧡summary | yoongi teaches jungkook how to eat out his girl.

🧡notes | i wrote this when i was drunk (and horny). min yoongi has been wrecking me ever since i went to his newark show, sorry not sorry✌️

🧡requests: open | tag list: open

Throughout Jungkook’s life there’ve been several times where he’s doubted if his hyungs really did know best. Though he’s got to admit, now that he finds himself naked and belly down on a mattress with his head shoved between your splayed thighs after months of hopeless pining, there might be a kernel of wisdom to that whole ‘respect your elders’ thing after all.

Never in a million years did he think the opportunity to indulge in the fantasies he’s had of Yoongi-hyung’s cute girlfriend-not-girlfriend would drop into his lap - quite literally.  Apparently he’s not the only one who noticed the way you look at him when you think no one else’s paying attention.

He thought it was a joke at first.

Left flushed and ashamed as his hyung leaned back in his chair with a mean little smirk, his arm low around your waist while his fingers teased at the hemline of your skirt, his low voice rough with amusement when he asked how long Jungkook’s wanted to touch, taste, take what was his.

It was all a blur after that, but with every muffled little whimper he drags from your throat with his tongue - the pretty noises leaving him flustered and sweating as he ruts his cock into the mattress - he cares less and less about the how, and more about the when.

“Shit, that’s it. Just like that, princess.”

Kneeling by the headboard, Yoongi tosses his head back with a groan. The sharp cut of his jaw flexes as he grits his teeth, your tongue curling around the hard length of his cock while your lips mouth at the swollen head.

Strong fingers pinch and pluck at your nipples until they’re puffy and sore, twisting harsh every time you feed another inch of cock into your throat just to feel the ripple of tight muscles as you gasp and gag.

Cooing, Yoongi glances down the line of your body to spear Jungkook with a heated look, his eyes dark and greedy. “She’s such a good girl.” A callous-rough thumb strokes over your distended cheek, tracing along the outline of his cockhead pressing through your skin. “Isn’t she, Kook?”

“Mm…”

Panting, Jungkook’s slow to pull away from the heat between your thighs, his tongue flicking out to lick up the sticky mess you’ve made of his lips and chin. Dragging his thumbs down the length of your slit, Jungkook smears the mess of slick and spit into your skin.

Then spreads you open to watch how your abused clit throb once, twice in neglect. His gut clenching hotly when your hips buck in protest as you whine around the mouthful of Yoongi’s cock.

Your pussy’s so sloppy and desperate to cum - and it’s all because of him. Fuck. Huffing, he slides his broad palms over the backs of your thighs, touch firm and unyielding as he pins your knees back.

The new angle tilts your hips up, opens up the cradle of your pelvis so every inch of you is exposed to his wandering, greedy gaze.

“She’s so fucking pretty, hyung.”

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🥹✨ new new alert

what the fire gave us (teaser) | jjk

You were born with a Gift that the world wanted to turn into a weapon. All Jungkook wanted to do was show you that you could find love, even in the dark.

↳ pairing: shadow elemental!jungkook x water elemental!(f)reader

↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | dystopian | supernatural | friends to lovers | angst | smut | fluff

↳ teaser wc/date: 916 | may 2023

↳ teaser warnings: hobi and jk get in a physical fight but it's playful

↳ notes: i'll post the fic this weekend! it's part of the spring offering collab, so pls check out the other works~ this is very different than what i've written so far. i hope you all enjoy it! let me know if you like it, and i look forward to sharing the whole thing with you soon 💜

↳ masterlist

↳ what was jai listening to? cyberpunk - ateez

As Hoseok bounds toward you and Namjoon, a dark tornado spins beside him. When he gets closer, you can see that Hoseok occasionally blows a small gust of air toward the tornado. It appears to be made of smoke, a gradient of grays and blacks. 

“Look at this,” your friend announces with a mischievous grin. “Me and JK learned a new trick.” 

With a quick snap of Hoseok’s fingers, you and Namjoon watch in patient silence as the tornado begins to slow its speed. Almost gently, the smoke curls tighter and tighter, until the darkness turns into a solid mass. 

Jungkook stumbles a few times as he attempts to get his footing. His limbs continue to propel his body into a small spin. 

Hoseok quickly reaches out to grab the younger boy. Secure hands squeeze his shoulders, and then it’s only Jungkook’s head lolling about on his head. 

“Cool, right?” Jungkook’s voice is gruff, but his lips curl into a weak smile. 

Namjoon lets out a long sigh. “You look like you’re going to be sick.” 

Although Namjoon is right, Jungkook does look like the effort of his little party trick took a toll on his body, you can’t help but match his smile. Especially when his eyes flick toward yours. You told his gaze for half a second before Jungkook is quickly looking away again. His cheeks flush pink, but you’re sure it’s from the exertion of all that spinning. 

“I think it’s really cool,” you praise the two while elbowing Namjoon in the ribs. With a grumble, your sparring partner returns to his previous stance a few feet away from you. 

“We should go again. Just for a little while longer.” 

Every muscle in your body feels stiff when you turn away from Hoseok and Jungkook. 

“I hurt all over, Joonie.” 

“Let her rest!” Hoseok adds to your whining. “All we ever do is practice fighting.” 

“Sparring.” 

Hoseok waves a dismissive hand at the younger man. “Whatever you want to call it. I find it to be fri-” 

You stifle a laugh by pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as Hoseok is tackled to the ground by Jungkook. The two men roll around, all arms and legs, kicking up dead grass and dirt. There’s a lot of howling and teasing laughter that rings through the open air. 

It isn’t until Jungkook is launched into the sky by a gust of wind you all know comes from Hoseok and lands rather roughly on his back that the playful fight ceases. How Jungkook lands knocks all the air out of his chest, but he laughs once his lungs start working again. 

“Ridiculous, all of you.” Hoseok brushes grass from his clothes. It’s futile; they’re dirty and ragged anyway. Try as you and Namjoon might to use your Gifts to clean the clothes, water does little when there’s no soap. 

“I let you win,” Jungkook teases. Still, he stands a bit further from Hoseok than he had previously. Not far enough for anyone to notice, aside from you. You notice, although you don’t mean to. It’s hard not to when Jungkook keeps stealing glances, only to look away when you try to return his gaze. 

“You did not.” 

“Did, too.” His insistence makes you giggle. 

“And how did that work out for you? Hmm? How does your back feel? I know you landed on that rock.” 

“I-It, it doesn’t hurt.” Jungkook glances your way. His cheeks are still pink. “Would take more than that to hurt me.” 

“Jungkook is impossible to beat.” 

You startle at the gentle voice, spinning on your heels to see Yoongi approaching the group. He’s got a leather satchel strapped across his chest and resting at his hip. It bulges with what you assume are plants and fruits scavenged from the woods. 

“Boy Scouts,” is what Yoongi offered when you asked how he knew so much about surviving in nature. It was peculiar; nothing about Yoongi seemed like the type. He’s tougher, more steel than wood or earth. A bulletproof shield, you think. Broad and strong. 

“Impossible?” 

 Your question is meant to be a tease, but Yoongi’s face remains stoic. Such a serious look only reveals itself when he’s assuming his position as the leader of your misfit group. It would be extremely attractive if it didn’t scare you.   

“How can you fight shadows?” Yoongi deadpans. He stares into your eyes long enough to make your face feel hot, but you don’t look away. 

“I…” 

Yoongi hums at your lack of an answer. Suddenly, you feel unbelievably small. 

“It’s not impossible,” Jungkook whispers. His head hangs low, long bangs hiding his face. The rest of his hair is tied into a bun at the nape of his neck. “I’m just as beatable as you, hyung.” 

Something about Yoongi’s expression softens at the honorific. Formalities died long ago, along with many other traditions that once made Korea what it was. Many things died during the war, both tangible and cultural - lives and ways of being. Now, the Republic is something you know your friends no longer recognize. Although it is not your home country, your heart aches for what it once was - something you will never have the privilege to experience because you arrived during the Restoration of the Republic - a fallacy of an era since the country was never restored to how it was. 

Perhaps that is best. It is easier to mourn the loss of something you never knew.

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & AO3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

Ohmygawwwwwwd the HEARTACHE!!!! This was such a lovely first chapter and it has me hooked. Please the way I was screaming for her when he attempted to gaslight her for HIS cheating!! Tuh, glad she called him out on his bs and didn’t let deter into a self doubting. With a coworker too?? I totally feel those weird mixed emotions where you’re “supposed” to cry, scream, etc but just feel so empty and I hope our dear reader knows that I’m itself is also an emotion in itself and she can take all the process time she needs 😭 Thank you Sohee for being an amazing friend!! Can’t wait to hear more about the Love Doctor!! ✨

isn't it romantic? | myg (01)

ENTRY ONE: Me Before You

⟶ SERIES MASTERPOST

Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still can’t seem to understand how Yoongi can be called ‘The Love Doctor’ when he is the antithesis of everything love represents.

pairing: yoongi x f!reader; side/past taehyung x f!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genre/warnings: coworkers to lovers, magazine writers au, fluff, angst, eventual smut; central themes of cheating (not between yoongi and oc), swearing (a staple in this household 😗), one bit is a lilllll suggestive?, mentions of drinking, i think that's it hmmm, barely edited bc u know how we do

word count: 5.1k

note: this is the yoongi brainrot speaking !!! the banner for this entry is one of my all time favorite pics of him and i will find a way to use it in everything !!! but erhm yeah iir is officially starting and i'm very curious to see what y'all think about it 😗 please like it haha jk no i'm serious please like it it's my baby

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I waste my breath on a prayer, you don't care, I was never a part of your plan, You can't make a God of somebody, Who's not even half of a half-decent man.

I Burned LA Down - Noah Cyrus

Half your life, you hated blue.

You often associated it with so many bad things - loss, betrayal, loneliness. The great big storm. The end of life.

Most of the pigtails-wearing girls in your class disliked it because it was often a boy’s color. You hated it because of a stranger on a beach.

Then you discovered Blue Side (as ironic as the name was), the magazine that everybody and their mother was reading. There was this column - the Love Maze (as corny as it sounded) - that had your 15-year-old self hooked from the first article you read, “Flirty Pickup Lines to Text Your Crush”. It gave you a nice little distraction from the reality of your fucked up family.

You’d get home from school and dive right into it. You could count on the maze for a new article every day, covering all kinds of things - cute little quizzes, daily love horoscopes, relationship tidbits…

You started reading it religiously because it was stupid, and fun, but it was more than that too. They covered real-life stories of actual people, which you’d never really thought about. For the most part, it was tedious. Rekindling with an old flame whilst grocery shopping, accidentally spilling coffee on a stranger who then asked you out on the spot, etc. Things like that. You found them so… unremarkable. 

But then it went beyond that, when they told their stories looking back on years and years after that first happenstance. How there was love in the mundane. How there was love every single day, even on the bad ones. How there was a spark that two people cared for and nurtured into a warm fire that never burnt out.

How there was love.

How there was always love.

To you, that was magical. It was something you’d only ever heard about in fairytales when you were a kid.

You still remember the exact moment when it all changed for you.

You met Kim Taehyung during your third week at Blue Side, where you were a wide-eyed assistant editor who somehow wiggled her way into a position there, and he was an effortlessly charming graphic designer.

Admittedly, the first time that you two had ever talked, wasn’t under ideal circumstances. You were tucked away behind the office building, nails digging into your palms at 3PM on a sunny but freezing afternoon, willing your tears to stay where they belonged. You’d felt severely underqualified, like you were only flailing about, trying to keep your head above water but something kept pulling at your feet, not stopping until you were at the very bottom. People always talked about how your early 20s were the most beautiful and freeing years, when you could truly live and feel your youth blossom all around you. But that just wasn’t true. Those were the loneliest years of your life.

Taehyung had found you then, while he was out for a quick smoke break. He could’ve made a lame excuse and left, or simply pretended to not notice you were even there, but he stayed. He approached you and asked what was wrong. He offered you words of reassurance and encouragement even though you were nothing but a stranger to him.

You were touched by his simple act of kindness and his endearing smile. Maybe it’s because you’d never been offered much kindness throughout your life that his small gesture seemed like everything. In a way, it was everything. He looked like the kind of fairytale love that you’d only seen in movies, only read about in Love Maze. To this day, a part of you still thinks that you fell in love with him the very second he asked, “Are you okay?”

The timing felt right.

Taehyung felt right.

He, too, was like the sun in the middle of a cold and isolating winter.

You remember the color of his sweater, and it was then that you realized blue didn’t have to be so bad after all.

[15:39] You: what r u doing tonight?

[15:45] Tae ♡: probably just head home after the gym. play a couple matches with Jungkook. hope i don’t die boiling water for ramen and hit the hay early

[15:46] Tae ♡: miss you :(

[15:49] You: thanks

[15:52] Tae ♡: mean

[15:53] You: lol 😇

[15:54] You: i miss you too <3

[15:56] Tae ♡: can’t you come back earlier?

[15:58] You: there’s only a week left. you’re a big boy, u can handle it :)

That was a lie. You were already on the train when you sent him that text, bouncing your leg all the way back to the city at the mere thought of surprising him with your early return. You’d taken a leave from work to visit your family, spent some time somewhere quieter, away from the hustle and bustle of the big city.

You watch as the scenery passes by, fast-paced like you’re in a montage. The rest of forever is right around the corner. You wish you could skip to your happily ever after and not have to rewind the tape ever again.

When the diamond on your ring finger catches the sunlight coming from outside the window, you allow yourself a blissful sigh as you gaze at the jewelry adorning your hand. But if you’re being honest, it doesn’t fit anymore, at least that’s what you’ve noticed over the past month. It’s a little loose now, not quite noticeable but you can still make out the slight difference if you concentrate hard enough. You should get it resized soon, maybe later this week now that your schedule has cleared up earlier than expected.

Three weeks is a lot of time to spend around only your family, you realize. You thought you could do it - seeing that you hadn’t been back in a while - but the second you stepped foot into your childhood home, you remembered what a dysfunctional household you had.

It was nice while it lasted, which wasn’t very long. You did all you could, bit your tongue and tried to suppress that unresolved anger until it eventually became too much to handle. Your mom has always been a complainer. Nobody likes talking about it, but she’d bring up the same old shit almost every day even though you all know what happened. Your dad would just sit there and listen as she berates him in front of you and your sister, and you suppose he keeps quiet because there’s really nothing to be said in his defense. It was his crime, and this is his punishment.

Sometimes, you wonder why dad still stays. Sometimes, you wonder why mom still lets him.

You just wanted to go, even though this was supposed to be home. You want to leave every time you visit, and it’s a haunting feeling that keeps following you around your whole life. Why is home always a place you want to leave?

When you arrived back in the city, the first place you went to was Taehyung’s apartment. You lounged about, enjoying the much needed silence after two whole weeks with your family, killing time as you waited for your fiance to return from work.

You thought about you and Taehyung, and how your wedding was only months away but this was still his place. You wondered why you hadn’t moved in yet, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying on his part. Even though you spent most days of the week at Taehyung’s, you still had your own place.

Twenty minutes before he was usually supposed to come home, you ordered from his favorite restaurant, so he would have a proper meal once he was back, instead of half-assing his dinner with flavorless ramen like he’d planned. 

But Taehyung didn’t come back, and the food has been cold for hours now.

You glance at your phone again.

11:02 PM.

No new notifications.

The last message you sent him was around 8:30 - just a simple Whatcha doing? - but he hasn’t replied. 

There’s a small part of you that goes into a dark place, and you physically have to shake off the thoughts. Taehyung has never given you a reason not to trust him, but still, the wandering thoughts can’t help themselves. Is it insecurity, or paranoia? Or have you been programmed to be skeptical after everything that’s happened?

Maybe he’s just caught up with work. Maybe the guys at the office had last minute plans. Maybe Jungkook showed up unannounced and dragged Taehyung into one of his shenanigans again. There’s a lot of reasons to explain why he isn’t home when he said he would be.

You wait for him. Sometimes, waiting is all you can do.

You don’t get any indication of life until some time after midnight, when the door opens and you hear him stumble into the hallway. The first thing that escapes you is a sigh of relief - relieved that he’s home, safe and sound, and not out there somewhere doing things you would really not even let yourself imagine. You sit there on the couch, shrouded by darkness, now even more committed to making him squeal out of his skin after (unintentionally) making you wait for hours like that.

You carefully listen to the sounds coming from down the hall, trying to time when you’ll jump up and shock him.

There’s his shoes dropping to the floor carelessly. There’s some shuffling as he moves about, navigating his way through the dark. There’s a light thud, the sound of something hitting the wall softly.

A sharp intake of breath. His familiar groan, muffled. A whimper, feminine.

Your mind instantly blanks, and that nervous breath from before has suddenly found its way back into your lungs, growing in size until you stand up and say, “Tae?”

Somebody shrieks, and it’s neither you nor Taehyung.

When he switches on the lights, you don’t know what to focus on first - your fiance with his shirt unbuttoned, red lipstick smudged around the corners of his mouth; or the woman next to him with her back against the wall, hair disheveled, one strap of her pretty blue dress pulled down.

Huh.

If this was what you wanted, then you suppose you succeeded.

Taehyung stares at you, eyes blown wide, mouth opening and closing dumbly as he searches for words. “Y/N, I-” he stutters, “w-what are you doing here?”

You’ve seen this exact moment in movies, read it in books and online posts on the Blue Side forum from people seeking advice. You witnessed your own mother go through it when you had just learned how to read. 

Your nails dig into the palm of your hands as you steady yourself. You’re not sure what your face is showing, if it’s even showing anything at all. You’re being pulled apart in every direction. Things that you felt as a child are things you never wanted to feel as an adult. It’s not until now that you finally understand why mom hasn’t gotten over it, even though it’s been decades. This is the kind of hurt that chases you wherever you go, never relenting until it makes sure it has a home deep within your bones.

You inhale a shaky breath, and take a step back when Taehyung starts approaching you. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice cracking on the apology. 

You don’t want to hear any of it. You don’t want to be here anymore. For the second time today, you’re leaving home. For the second time in your life, home is being taken away again.

Somewhere in the back of your head, a tiny voice echoes, There it is.

You run out of there, feeling like the ceiling is going to collapse on you. You hear him call out your name, but his voice drifts further and further away as you move. Taehyung isn’t even following you. The faint scent of whiskey on his breath follows you out, but not him.

You keep moving until you’re out on the street, until you can’t even see the building anymore. You shiver from the chilly air, and the influx of emotions that threatens to make you burst. Lightning cuts across the night sky, flashing bright for a split second before everything dulls into darkness again. The forecast said it was going to rain tonight, you recall. Your phone in your bag vibrates the whole time, but still, no one follows you.

Your feet slow to a halt when the first drop of rain hits the ground. You’re not even sure how long you were walking, but now that you’ve stopped, you notice the shiver is gone. You’re standing completely still, and that those seismic waves in the center of your chest from earlier are nowhere to be found.

Oh. You’re doing it again.

Heavier drops start to dampen the earth.

You don’t know where else to go.

Not your own apartment. Not now. No, it’s too empty there.

Maybe it’s a sign from the universe, that you’re just undeserving of a place to belong.

You open your phone to find his name on your screen, next to the words (7) missed calls. You ring up the only person you can, and when she finally picks up, you say, “Can I come over?”

Even when your voice cracks, you don’t cry. The earthquake never comes.

Sohee takes you in like the good friend she is. You’re grateful that she was someone you could count on to always have your back at work, who then turned into one of your best friends outside of the office too.

She gives you some clothes to change into, and doesn’t question anything when you ask if you could spend the night. Though, you have a feeling that she knows who this is about. She leaves you alone to get some rest, but it’s probably because she has work in the morning too, and it was already 1:30AM when you interrupted her peace and quiet with the call.

You don’t sleep a wink that night.

Instead, you think about your mom, and how she must have felt when she found out about your dad’s infidelity, time and time again. It’s true what they say, children really don’t know a lot about their parents. 

How did she feel when she first found out? You can’t imagine what it must have been like, going through all of that while having two kids to think about too.

You feel bad that just yesterday, you’d been so annoyed with her that you cut your trip short.

Outside Sohee’s windows, the sky cries, like it’s grieving in place of you, its tears drowning the earth in waves of sorrow. For a moment, you consider stepping out there, to feel the rain on your face and in your hair. But in the end, you stay inside, where you’re sheltered and dry.

You don’t realize that the sun has risen until Sohee knocks on your - well, her - door. 

She cracks it open gently. “Babe?” she asks, tentative like you’re a cornered animal, ready to bolt at any given moment. “Are you up?”

You lie in her bed, feeling so foreign in your own skin. You reckon your eyes must be bloodshot from the lack of sleep. You haven’t even cried once.

“I’m alive,” you tell her, as you stare up at the ceiling. There are no stars here, just plain cream-colored paint.

“Okay,” you hear her say, then she pauses for a moment, clearly not knowing how to proceed. 

Sohee approaches you, sits on the bed, and gives you a smile. She pats your hair, and it reminds you of your sister. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong? I have some time before I meet Namjoon for breakfast.”

You sit up, reaching for your phone on the bedside table. It’s been switched off since you got here, and when you turn it back on, a flurry of texts light up the device until the screen lags. Messages from Taehyung, asking where you were, begging you to tell him if you were safe.

You open the texts to show him that you’ve read them. That should be enough of an answer.

You test the words in your mouth for a moment. “Taehyung cheated on me,” you say, thinking that if you verbalize it, it would be real and you would finally feel bad. That it was just a delayed reaction, that you were just too in shock to process anything. You want to feel bad, but it doesn’t work.

Sohee’s eyes widen almost comically. “Are you fucking serious?” she asks in disbelief, half because of the nature of the news itself, and half because of how calm you are.

“He cheated on me,” you repeat and still, nothing surfaces. If anything, it backfires. You can physically feel yourself doing it again - shutting down. “I caught him last night.”

You’re not sure what’s wrong with you. This isn’t a normal person’s reaction after they found out their fiance was cheating on them.

But.

It is a you reaction. 

You keep doing this, even when you don’t mean to. You ran away last night, and you’re running away now. Your body shuts out every negative emotion until you feel nothing at all. It’s stupid that you do this, and it’s stupid that you don’t know how to stop doing it.

Fight or flight, and you choose flight every time. Every single fucking time.

You wish you could give Sohee something, anything would do. Scream, cry, go back to your apartment to set fire to all of Taehyung’s belongings. Anything would be better than this complete lack of emotions you’re showing. 

You watch her face as it happens, things that you should be feeling but aren’t. She’s mostly shocked, angry, but not hurt. How could she? She wasn’t the one being played for a fool. You wish you could ask her to give you some of that anger, even if it’s only a fraction.

You don’t see Taehyung again until two days later, when he shows up at your door. Even when he’s standing in front of you, words spilling from his lips like prayers instead of apologies, you just feel… empty.

You let him inside, and the second that the door closes behind him, you fill up with unease. All your walls are up again, your system on high alert. Everything in your body is telling you that there’s an intruder in your space. Your feet are ready to bolt, just itching to get out of there Go, your head says, you’re not safe here.

Taehyung approaches you, tries to hold your hand, but you just shrug him off. The man in front of you visibly deflates, and despite the way his face falls, you don’t soften. 

The first thing he asks you is, “Why didn’t you cry?”

“What?”

“You don’t look like you’ve been crying,” he points out. “Did you cry?”

Reluctantly, you admit, “No.”

Then he just stares at you. When his judgmental gaze holds yours, you feel guilty. Guilty that you’re not mourning the death of this relationship. Guilty that you’re just letting it go, but the truth is you don’t have any fight in you. You don’t see the point in trying to salvage what’s no longer alive.

“Do you even love me?” His voice is hard when he asks this, like he’s trying to keep his anger at bay.

“Of course I love you,” you say, but it lacks conviction. You both know it. The words sound so flaccid coming out of your mouth.

But you love him.

You do.

Did?

“Then why didn’t you cry?”

How do you tell him that you can’t? That you don’t know how?

How do you tell him that if you could, you would reach inside and claw out your feelings like digging for water in a desert. 

What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t a high school crush, or a casual summer fling.

You two were supposed to get married, for fuck’s sake. You were supposed to spend the rest of your life with him. If there’s anything that could make you break through those godforsaken defense mechanisms to let the hurt in, it should be this.

“Did you kiss someone else just to see if I would cry?” you ask. Your voice is even, and you can see that it makes Taehyung more frustrated than he already is.

He grits his teeth, exhaling. You notice his blue sweater, and you stop him before he can say anything else. Obviously, it looks a lot more worn than it did back then, but over the years you’ve always found it endearing. It’s the first memory that you have of him. It was always something you could cherish.

Now, you can’t even bear to look at it.

It’s then that you realize it doesn’t matter what answer he gives you. Yes? No? It genuinely doesn’t matter. There is nothing that can make you see him the same way ever again.

You run your thumb over the ring on your finger, twisting it for a moment to memorize the feel of it. It’s the last thing that ties you to him. “You can have this back,” you say, handing the piece of jewelry back to him.

When a relationship ends, especially for a reason like this, people tend to think it’ll go down in a kdrama-esque fashion - crying, slapping, throwing water in the other person’s face. But that’s not what this is. It’s not cathartic; sometimes the end of a relationship is just a fizzle, doesn’t even make it to a fullburn. It might be unsatisfying, but it happens every day. It’s not always a pivotal point; sometimes it’s just a point.

Taehyung stares at the object in his palm. “That’s it?” he asks in disbelief. “We’re breaking up?”

“What else is there to do?”

“You’re not even gonna ask me anything? Who she was, how it started, how long it’s been going on?”

The other morning, Sohee had asked you to elaborate after you told her what happened, but there was just not that much to tell. You were there. He brought someone else home. End of story.

It was enough for Sohee to call him every name in the book and curse his entire bloodline though.

You suppose that’s a reasonable reaction. Taehyung cheated. You never thought he was a person capable of doing that. Three years of your life, down the drain. There’s nothing left to save.

“Okay,” you shrug tiredly, like you’re just having a casual and dull conversation about the weather. “Who was she? How did it start? How long has it been going on?”

Your name comes out of his mouth, sounding like a scoff. “Ask it like you mean it.”

“But I don’t mean it,” you say. “What difference does it make? Knowing doesn’t change the fact that you still cheated on me. You know what I’ve been through and you still fucked it up. You did the worst thing you could ever do to me.”

“Fuck, I know that!” he groans, throwing his hands up. “I messed up badly, and I’m sorry. Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry. I will never deny that what I did wasn’t wrong. But have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re to blame for this too? You never want to admit that it could be your fault too.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You tell me. I keep having to put up with your baggage.” Then he shuts right up, barely even makes it through the last syllable before he’s squeezing his eyes shut for a second, clearly realizing that out of all the things he could’ve said, that was grossly out of line. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean th-”

And now you’re getting angry for the wrong reasons.

“You cheated but somehow it’s my fault, right?” you snap. “Boohoo. Sorry that you’ve had to put up with me all these years. I’m such a burden, right? Fuck you, Taehyung.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“I think you should leave.”

You think it’s the steel in your voice as you say this that makes him stop arguing. 

He holds your gaze for a moment longer. You’re someone who tears up when you see stray dogs, who cries alongside the fictional characters in your favorite show. And yet, as you watch your own fiance leave…

The door clicks shut as he exits your life, but everything he said stays behind, clings to your walls and festers like mold.

The second you step onto the floor, everyone grows quiet. Lively chatter turns into hushed whispers. People go back to making their morning coffee, side-eyeing each other in a way that’s not meant to be very subtle.

You quietly make your way to your desk, all the while feeling the nosy pairs of eyes on you as you walk. You don’t know how word got out, but you were sure that everyone would know eventually. You just didn’t expect it’d be this soon. Sohee would never do that to you, and you highly doubt that Taehyung would go around broadcasting his infidelity. 

As you set your stuff down, you make eye contact with the new intern who sits a few spots away from you. You haven’t had the chance to talk to her much, but she’s a nice girl. She gives you a small smile in greeting, and even though you know she doesn’t mean to pity you, you can still see it in her eyes.

A minute later, Sohee comes up to you. “Hey, babe,” she says, leaning on your desk with two plastic cups in her hands. One iced latte and one mango smoothie. She puts the yellow-colored beverage down and nudges it toward you, a little lackluster and unlike her usual playful self.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the smoothie with a smile, commenting, “Interesting morning so far. Never thought I’d ever be the subject of office gossip.”

“Yeah, about that. Do you know who was Taehyung’s… uhm… y’know?”

It’s okay. She can say it. You can handle it.

You already feel nothing, and there’s nothing you can even do to rectify it. Might as well lean into it, right?

Or maybe you should just go to therapy.

“No,” you tell her. “I didn’t want to know.”

“Well, uhm, now that the whole office knows, I think you should hear this from me first…” Sohee bites her bottom lip as she gauges your reaction. When you only sigh and give her the go-ahead, she continues, “It was Yura from Marketing.”

“What?”

“Yura from Marketing. You know the one. Brought muffins for the whole office on her first day? A little too bubbly for my taste. But yeah, she was at work the other day and suddenly burst into tears at, like, 10AM, and that’s how everybody found out.”

Of course. Even though people here are surrounded by celebrity gossip on the daily, nothing beats the good old-fashioned office affair. Why bother with celebrity gossip when you have front row seats to live drama unfolding ten feet away?

You take a sip of your smoothie, swallowing down the inkling of irritation that tickles the back of your throat. “Well,” you say, “I’m glad the downfall of my relationship is like a circus animal for them to gawk at. Can’t wait until they move onto the next big thing.”

“Honestly, it might blow over sooner than you think. The Love Doctor is back today.”

“What?” Your ears perk up at the mention of his name, glancing up at her in surprise as you put your drink down. “Doesn’t he work at the Paris office?”

“He used to work here. We joined around the same time. Then he transferred to Paris a few years ago. Nobody even knows why. One day he just upped and left.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he’d be here? I didn’t have time t-”

“Calm down, sweetcheeks, I only just found out,” Sohee chuckles, holding a finger against your mouth to shush you. “We all know you used to have a major lady boner for him.”

“I do not.” You don’t even know what he looks like, just his name when it appears in the byline of an article. “I admire him.”

Which is true, you do admire him. He’s your own version of a freaking rockstar. Though, you have to admit that Love Doctor is a huge cliche of a nickname, and significantly reduces the scope of his brilliance. The way that man writes makes it seem like he’s experienced lifetimes and is now here to pass on his wisdom. 

He doesn’t feel like a mere magazine writer like yourself. There’s something in his words that turns you inside out, makes you experience things that you’ve never even gone through. He flows like poetry, and leaves you stunned every time.

Okay, maybe you do have a lady boner, but for his brain.

Which… is probably something you should never say out loud.

Someone walks in then, a man you’ve never seen before. He looks around your age, if not a couple of years older. He bypasses all of the other desks without saying anything, not a single Hi or Good morning. He doesn’t look like the type to speak if not spoken to.

Then he walks over to where you and Sohee sit, and sets his bag on the empty desk next to yours.

You look at Sohee, and she just shrugs.

It can’t be him. Surely, it’s not…?

“Min Yoongi,” she says in greeting.

Oh, it is.

He spares her a nod before he looks away again. “Sohee.”

Is that the Parisian way? Is that how people normally greet someone they haven’t seen in years? Sohee and him were only colleagues, but still, the least you could do is pretend.

You’re not one to judge a book by its cover, but c’mon, seriously? Were you wrong for expecting the person who writes about love in its most raw and beautiful form to look… not like Grumpy Cat personified? It makes you even more fucking intimidated. And he’s going to be sitting next to you? The fuck?

As he sits down, you blink, still a bit dazed, not sure how to process this. Sohee gently pushes you forward, which makes you nearly stumble right into him. You turn to her with a glare, but she just motions to him, mouthing ‘Go on.’

You clear your throat, wiping your hand on your pants before you hold it out. “Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, trying to sound as professional as you can. “I’m really looking forward to working with you.”

He glances at you, and reaches out to meet your outstretched hand in a barely-there handshake. “Yoongi.”

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 07.05.2023]

The slander against pretty boys for whaaaa 😭😭 but pls the skin care routine and Jack Harlow line was too good!!

The mental image of Yoongi with painted nails is so magical. I wish Hobi would convince him to do it one time for the one time like pleaseeeeeee. I too am constantly distracted by Jimin’s lips, I understand the cranky mess of our girl 😭

Dispensary are very much classist let ‘em know!! Oh poor yn is hooked, how we go from pretty boy discount to delivery too!!

Also I just want you to know my brain buffered once Jimin grabbed our dear yn by the throat for the kiss ✨ I love this couple, hope Jimin continues to make silly jokes and continues to be the exception in her life. Such cute 🥹

blunt rotation | pjm

Supplying your law school classmates with weed on the regular might as well be a full-time job. It's lucrative, but lately, you've seen a dip in profits. Maybe it's because you keep giving out the Pretty Boy Discount to a certain guy in your ethics class…

↳ pairing: prettyboy!jimin x weedgirl!reader

↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | law school au | classmates to lovers | smut

↳ wc/date: 7.5k | april 2023

↳ warnings: marijuana | a somewhat subby!jimin | consensual sex while high | choking (in a sexy way) | fingering | cunnilingus | spit | protected vaginal sex | self-indulgent rants about capitalism and classism | jimin makes a lame dick joke

↳ notes: on god, this fic is probably more about weed than anything else khskdjfs i would apologize but i already warned y’all, so you get what you get. these 420 fics are probs especially bad, and i decided i do not care. #blazeit

↳ main masterlist

↳ what was jai listening to? a weed playlist made by yours truly 

“What is the difference between ethics, morality, and law?” 

Professor Kim leans against the desk at the front of the lecture hall with his hands gripping the edge on either side of his hips. The action makes the muscles in his arms flex, and you eat up the tan skin exposed by how his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. The tight white button-up accentuates plump pectoral muscles that threaten to pop and lose a few buttons. It wouldn’t surprise you if it happened. Professor Kim is known for being accidentally destructive. 

It is unethical to fuck your professor because it would create a conflict of interest; you’d imagine it would be hard for Professor Kim to ethically assess your academic performance if he’d been balls deep in you. 

It’s morally wrong to fuck your professor because you know he’s married, not because he has ever provided your class with information about his personal life, but because you sit at the front of the class. From your position, you can see the glint of his wedding band. 

Legally, you’re pretty sure there isn’t a law against fucking your professor. It probably goes against your university’s code of conduct, but that’s not a law. 

You sink further into your seat and let your eyes wander the room. Everyone diligently takes notes as Professor Kim turns to the presentation projected on the large screen behind him. Ethics and Professional Responsibility isn’t your favorite class, but no one said getting your J.D. would be fun. On the contrary, everyone you knew said it would fucking suck. And it kinda does. 

One thing that doesn't suck, though, is having a class with your program’s resident pretty boy, Park Jimin. 

Pretty boys aren’t your type at all. You prefer boys who are rough around the edges. You're not interested if a guy doesn’t look like he’s a one-way ticket to jail or hell. Maybe it’s the rebel in you. Maybe you like the idea that opposites attract. A lawyer and a criminal sounds like a cute ship, no? 

Pretty boys are too soft for you. They’re the type to have skincare routines and listen to Jack Harlow. No thanks. 

Yet your eyes always manage to find Jimin. 

He’s sitting to your left and a few rows behind you, but close enough to see him when you turn your head. He sits with perfect posture as he scribbles notes on his iPad, plump lips puckered in a cute little beak of concentration. 

Fuck, no, not cute. Ridiculous. Soft and childish. Everyone in the room is at least in their mid-twenties, some even in their late fifties. A prestigious J.D. program has no room for beaks and squishy cheeks. 

You’re about to look away when Jimin lifts his stylus to his mouth. The end presses a small dent into his plush bottom lip. You instinctually lick your lips, though your mouth suddenly feels dry. 

Jimin sits that way for a few more seconds with furrowed eyebrows as he focuses on his notes. At Professor Kim’s mention of the end-of-the-year oral argument, your classmate finally lifts his head to face the front of the room. His eyes are bright and wide, unlike the haggard look of your peers, and you watch them shift back and forth as he reads whatever is on the screen. You have no idea what Professor Kim’s talking about; your roommate, Hoseok, will fill you in when you get home. 

All you know is that Jimin finally pulls his stylus away from his lips and casts a sideways glance in your direction. You lock eyes for a split second before he quickly ducks his head, suddenly interested in his notes again. 

You snort loud enough for the woman sitting next to you to give you an odd look, but you ignore her and return your eyes to Professor Kim. 

Your eyes don’t stray from the front of the lecture hall for the rest of the class. It’s not difficult; there isn’t anything else you find interesting enough in the room to distract you. Nothing. Especially not Pretty Boy Jimin. 

🍃

“Hey, can I come over tonight?” 

Two pale hands splay across your desk once the class is dismissed. Chipped, black polish adorns each nail, except for the pinkies, which are painted white. 

“Why are you asking me? You don’t need my permission to visit your boyfriend’s apartment.” 

“I’m trying to work on my manners, jeez.”

You roll your eyes and slide your tablet into your backpack. “Where were your manners when you and Hobi fucked on my couch? Hmm, Yoongi? Where were they then?” 

Yoongi lets out a low groan as he steps to the side to let you fall in line with him as you exit the classroom. Your roommate is waiting in the hallway, always the last student to arrive and the first to leave. 

“That’s different,” Yoongi huffs, though this time, the sound is due to Hoseok crushing him in a hug once they make it into the hall. “Besides, I’m asking because I’m bringing my friend. We aren’t going to stay. He just wants someone to come with him.” 

Hoseok untangles his arms from Yoongi’s and adjusts his backpack. Your best friends act like surviving a three-hour class is like surviving a lifetime apart. 

“Ohh, a friend?” Hoseok leans against Yoongi with his eyebrows arched. His questioning tone is fair. The three of you don’t have many friends aside from each other. It’s hard to maintain friendships with people outside of law school. There’s simply no time. 

“What is this, the buddy system?” You snicker as you follow the two men to their cars. “Sorry, I only do business with adults.” 

There is quite literally no reason for you to be judgemental about whoever this mystery friend is, but class has put you in a cranky mood. Probably because of stupid fucking Park Jimin with his distracting lips. Your unpreparedness for the oral argument is slowly causing anxiety to creep into your chest. 

Yoongi gives you a light smack to your bicep. “Some people get nervous about this shit, you know that.” 

“It’s weed, oh my god. You act like we’re cooking meth in our basement.” 

Yoongi stops walking to give you a stern look with narrowed eyes and a cocked head. “You don’t even have a basement.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s 2023, and weed is legal.” 

“It is legal to purchase weed at a licensed dispensary. However, you are not licensed to sell weed, nor is your apartment a dispensary.” 

“It’s got enough weed in it to be one,” Hoseok snorts, but the sound quickly morphs into a severe cough when Yoongi’s glare is directed at him. 

Yoongi yanks his car door open and slides into the driver’s seat. Then, with one leg still on the ground and his arm holding the door open, he lets out a long sigh. “You two are insufferable.”

“Love you too, babe!” Hoseok giggles and sends his boyfriend a flying kiss as Yoongi drives out of the parking lot. 

“For an anti-capitalist, Yoongi is so old-fashioned. I’m providing a product to the everyday person at a reasonable price,” you grumble while you fasten your seatbelt in Hoseok’s car. “Dispensaries are classist. They’re way too fucking expensive, and they’re all in affluent neighborhoods, anyway. The gentrification of marijuana in this country is ridiculous. Where does Yoongi think those tax funds end up? Not in neighborhoods that need them. And what about expunging people’s records? Is the government ever going to do that?” 

You slump in your seat, the sudden energetic burst of social consciousness in you dying out. “I hate rich people.”

Hoseok hums in agreement, keeping his eyes on the road as he drives. “We’re about to be rich people, though.” 

“Not me. Civil rights law isn’t going to make me rich, and I’m not touching corporate with a ten-foot pole.” 

Yoongi and so many other people in your program are too dependent on what is and don’t stop to question what can be or what should be.

Ethics is a social construct, morality is subjective, and law is arbitrary. 

Going to law school is less about learning how to be a lawyer and more about learning how to play a game. 

🍃

When Park Jimin walks into your living room, all you can do is blink at him. Your eyes are red and glassy, your mouth dry even though you’ve been sipping water, and your limbs feel too gooey to bother getting up. Maybe you’re hallucinating him, which would be very upsetting because you don’t want to explore why he’s sticking around in your head. 

But then Yoongi is ushering the guy to sit next to you, and the dip in the couch as he eases down feels too real. 

“Ah, Jimin! You’re the friend!” Hoseok gives the newcomer a blinding smile. Smoke punctuates each word, billowing toward the ceiling. There’s already a thin haze to the room; you and Hoseok have been smoking for a while. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

Jimin gives Hoseok a small smile. He also turns to give you one, but it falters when you meet his gaze. 

You’re not sure what expression you’re wearing. It could be anything, really. Or nothing at all. 

“Hi,” he says quietly. His lips are so pink. You want to ask him how soft they are. 

“How much do you want?” Is what you ask instead. 

Jimin turns to Yoongi, who is now cuddled up with Hoseok on the other side of the room. The chair is made for only one person, but they have never known personal boundaries. You suppose if they’re dating, it doesn’t matter. 

“Just give him an eighth,” Yoongi says with a dismissive wave. He’s more focused on plucking the blunt from Hoseok’s lips and bringing it to his own. 

“Of what?” You huff your words, twisting the joint you’ve got between your middle finger and thumb. It’s clear that Jimin knows nothing about weed. He can’t even come up with a measurement or a strain. 

Yoongi glares at you as if this is somehow your fault before saying, “Anything. Maybe not Girl Scout Cookies or Sour Diesel, though. I don’t want his brain melting out of his ears.” 

Jimin makes a slight noise of surprise at that. 

“Kidding,” Yoongi teases. “Well, about the brain-melting part. I mean it about the strains, though.” 

Leaving your joint in an ashtray on the coffee table, you stand up with a groan. Moving is low on your list of things to do right now. The indica you’ve been smoking makes your movements feel slow, though you can’t tell if they actually are. 

“Come on,” you mumble, gesturing for him to follow you down the hall. He goes without a word, eyes wide as if he’s about to discover something profound within the walls of your apartment. You don’t want to admit how cute he is, just as timid in your apartment as in class. 

“We keep everything in the office. It’s super organized, but I guess that’s expected.” You don’t know why you’re rambling (yes, you do, it’s the weed). 

Jimin nods. “Makes sense.” 

He’s so cute, you think, when he asks if he wants you to close the door once you’ve reached the office. As if there is something to hide in here. Hoseok and Yoongi are the only other people in the apartment. 

“I’m going to give you a hybrid. You know what that means?” 

Jimin hovers over you when you crouch next to a dresser with multiple drawers. Numerous glass jars, all labeled with pieces of white tape and messy handwriting, are stacked in the drawer you open. You sift through them, taking a few to inspect before placing them back again. 

“I do not.” At least he’s honest. 

“It’s the happy medium between sativa and indica. Sativa gives you a head high. People tend to feel alert and creative sometimes. Indica gives you a body high. It’s the stereotypical kind of weed people talk about that makes you lazy and get the munchies. It’s because sativa has more THC than CBD, whereas indica is more CBD-heavy. Think about how people use CBD products when they’ve got joint pains or anxiety, right?” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” The statement is redundant, but you don’t mention it. Jimin looks like he hangs onto your every word as though his life depends on it. It’s funny, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at him.

Finding what you’re looking for, you hand a jar to Jimin. “It’s already weighed, so you can take the whole thing.” 

Jimin holds the jar like it’s a newborn. This time, you let a few giggles slip out. 

“Do you have something to smoke it with? A piece or a bong?” 

A shake of his head is no surprise, but you act shocked because you’re high and feeling good, and you love how he looks when his eyes grow wide.

“Wow, you’re so cute,” you say with a grin that starkly opposes the shy blush that paints Jimin’s face. “You probably don’t know how to roll either, do you?” 

Another shake of his head. Of course. 

It’s not difficult to show Jimin how. You pull up another chair at your desk and push away all your notes and textbooks for school to clear a path to work. You show him how to grind the weed and roll a blunt and a joint — so he can figure out which one he likes better. 

Jimin’s body is warm as he presses against yours, your shoulders bumping into each other every time you move your arm. He keeps close, eyes glued to your hands as you work slowly but diligently. It’s a bit disarming having him so close. Aside from the occasional hello during class, you’ve never really talked to Jimin. Concentrating with all his Pretty Boy energy fogging up your mind is tricky. 

Or is it the weed? Nah, it’s the weed. 

“If you end up not liking either, go to a head shop to buy a bowl — it’s a pipe. Maybe don’t go with a bong yet. Yoongi can help you. He likes bowls better, so he’ll have good recommendations.” 

Once finished, you slip the blunts and joints into a ziplock bag. When you pass it to Jimin, you can’t help but let your fingers brush against his. The touch sends waves of hot electricity up your arm. The shock of it makes your entire body tingle. Sure, the weed is making your body extra sensitive, but it’s not only that. He’s so fucking hot. 

You don’t realize you’re staring at him. It’s hard not to stare or even know where to begin. His plush, pillowy lips? His fluffy, dirty-blonde hair that falls into his eyes? So cute that you don’t even care when he has to do a Bieber flip to get his bangs out of his face? 

And, fuck, he’s not wearing the usual crisp white Oxford shirt and black chinos get-up. He must have gone home to change after class because now he’s wearing a form-fitting black t-shirt (probably designer from the looks of it) and grey jogger sweatpants that do nothing to hide how thick his thighs are and you’re sure if you get a chance to look at his ass you’ll find that that part of his body is thick, too. Expensive athleisure wear looks even better on him than professional clothing. It makes him look soft. 

“Thank you,” Jimin says, speaking your name softly, and you feel like your knees grow weak at the sound of it tumbling from lips like those. “I’m sorry, I feel like I barged in here and took up your time. Not knowing anything… I’m sure you’re used to people with more knowledge than I do.” 

Shaking your head, you guide Jimin out of the office and lock it behind you. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone has to start somewhere, right?” 

It’s funny that he’s concerned about something like this, as if marijuana knowledge is so embarrassing not to have. 

When you turn around, you realize the two of you are standing way too close. Your apartment isn’t a shoebox, but it certainly isn’t large. The hallway is slim, and Hoseok has a million and one plants and decorative furniture scattered around for the “aesthetic,” which makes it even harder to navigate tight spaces. 

You’re not complaining, though. This close, you can see that Jimin is wearing contacts that make his eyes hazel, little flecks of orangish-brown highlighting his naturally dark irises. 

Jimin’s eyes drop to your lips, and you feel your stomach drop along with them. Even though you’re not touching each other, your skin tingles with the knowledge that you could be touching. He’s so close. All it would take is one tiny shuffle forward, and you could slot yourself against his nimble — but what you assume is a very solid — frame. 

“Yeah,” he speaks as he releases a soft exhale. You feel his warmth and shudder. “Thank you, still.”

“No problem,” you whisper. 

Jimin’s tongue darts out to run across his bottom lip. His teeth draw it in slightly, and when he lets go, you can see how his lip bounces back into place. 

Dragging your eyes back to meet his takes an embarrassing amount of effort. He’s finally looking at your eyes, too, with an expression you don’t understand because you don’t really know him. 

“How much do I owe you?”

Right. Because he’s here with Yoongi for a reason. You swallow, turning your head to the side to hopefully break whatever spell Jimin and weed have put you under. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Jimin inhales sharply, but you keep your eyes down. “I must pay you something. I don’t know what’s a standard amount.” 

If you were anyone else, you could honestly rip him off. The guy has no clue — he is even admitting that he doesn’t! But there are embers smoldering in the pit of your stomach. 

“Nope,” you say with a tone of finality. You can hardly think before your following words slip out of your mouth like snakes. “Pretty Boys get weed free of charge.” 

“W-w-what?” Jimin looks unbearably cute when he’s confused. It’s almost too much for you to handle. 

So you don’t. 

Without another word, you head back to the living room. Jimin follows silently. You’re sure his face is still painted with shock because Yoongi gives the two of you an odd look. 

“Right where I left you,” you tease.

Untangling his limbs from Hoseok’s, Yoongi lets out an old man grunt and stands. You hadn’t believed him when he said he wouldn’t be staying, but it’s clear that he’s sticking to his promise when he starts patting down his legs to make sure he has his keys. 

“Got what you need, Chim?” 

Chim? How close are Yoongi and Jimin? And why are you only now learning of this friendship? 

Jimin nods, his bottom lip between his teeth once again. He insists that you’ve been a great help to him, all while keeping his eyes locked with yours. It’s so different than his shy avoidance in class. 

“Don’t worry, Yoong,” you insist as you plop back on the couch. Your joint is patiently waiting for you. “I took good care of him.” 

🍃

You’ve never been very good at math, but it doesn’t take a mathematician to know that Pretty Boy Jimin ends up costing you hundreds of dollars as the semester progresses. 

All your peers will walk away from law school making six figures easily. But not you. You just had to give a shit about the world, didn’t you? You just had to pick an area of law that values protecting human rights over making a profit. 

God, being a good person is so hard! 

And now, Park Jimin is sucking you dry before you can even earn money. Every time his fat little ass sashays away from your apartment with another jar of free weed, you can practically hear the chime of money signs ringing out with each step. 

There’s a worse feeling, though. It hadn’t occurred to you until now, as you stand in the entranceway of Jimin’s apartment unit, your backpack carrying precious cargo inside slung over one shoulder. 

Allowing Jimin to walk out of your apartment with the Pretty Boy Discount of free marijuana hurts your pocket, but doing a free weed delivery is even more pathetic. You're wasting your own time and gas money to drive to Park Jimin’s motherfucking apartment to deliver him weed that you aren’t even going to charge him for simply because he’s hot. 

Maybe this is the terrible consequence of abstaining from sex to “focus on school” — as if smoking weed with Hoseok all day isn’t a distraction. But, on the other hand, maybe you just need to get laid. 

Dipping on this commitment would be easy, you think as you bounce on the balls of your feet. You could leave right now before Jimin answers the door, ask Hoseok to handle Jimin’s future requests, and put all of this behind you. But, of course, the entire situation is ridiculous anyway. You don’t even know Jimin. Not really. 

There’s a clicking sound from the other side of Jimin’s front door. Logically, you know it’s the sound of him unlocking the door, but your nerves tell you it’s the sound of your fate being locked into place. It may as well be because Jimin opens the door with a smile that puffs up his cheeks, his hair looks damp, and he smells like body wash. 

Fuck. 

“Hi!” His voice squeaks, but a deep cough returns it to a normal tone. “I mean, uh, I appreciate you coming by.” 

Your tongue presses into your cheek as you regard him for a moment. He might consider your silence as negative because he quickly sidesteps to allow you into his apartment. 

You give Jimin a smirk. “I think you should at least give me a tip.” 

“O-oh, I mean… oh, um,” he stutters, and you can’t help but laugh. 

A rush of air escapes your nostrils in a low-energy, nearly silent laugh. While coming to Jimin’s place might seem like a lot of effort, the truth is that you’re bored, and lately, you’ve been seeking anything to get your mind off the loneliness you feel when your apartment is dark and Hoseok is with Yoongi. 

So, even though part of you chastises yourself, you’re willing to risk looking pathetic or desperate if it means you can have someone to smoke with and get some time away from your too-quiet apartment. Not because Jimin is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

Jimin’s pretty eyes widen, and you quickly wave your hand to brush off his sudden panic. 

“I’m kidding,” you confess as you twist your backpack around your body to pull out a small glass mason jar. It’s cute how concerned he is. 

No, not cute. Naive. You shake yourself out of the feeling. 

”Well, come on then.” You walk through Jimin’s apartment into the living room. It’s your first time making a delivery with him, so you’ve never been to his apartment. Yet you walk through the building with unearned familiarity. You’ve got manners; sometimes, you choose not to use them.

“How have you and Hoseok been?” 

“Prepping for finals. And that fucking oral argument Kim’s got us doing,” you groan. School talk wasn’t something you had in mind when you showed up, but in the months you’ve spent getting to know Jimin more, you’ve learned he’s a total nerd. He’s probably excited about the assessment. 

“Sometimes I think he’s trying to kill us,” Jimin says with a slight grin. “Is it ethical, moral, or legal to terrify your students to the point of throwing up before evaluations?” 

“Don’t tease Yoongi like that! You know he has public speaking anxiety!” 

Jimin does a little half-skip to avoid your attempt to slap his chest. Although you know the both of you are drowning in student loans and law school tuition fees, the apartment is much nicer than expected. You wonder if Jimin has a roommate. He’s never mentioned one before.  

“Don’t tell him, or he’ll beat me up.” 

Eyerolls aren’t a commitment to anything, but you know Jimin knows you wouldn’t dare repeat his words. 

Plopping onto his couch, you scoot the coffee table between your knees and set the jar down. Beside the jar, you place everything you need to roll for Jimin, including a grinder and swishers. You could have rolled it all in advance, but you don’t like to feel rushed. Prepping is the best part. It relaxes you.

Jimin slowly slides into place beside you on the couch. He leaves enough room between the two of you to be respectful, although something tells you it’s less about his desire to make you feel comfortable and more about his discomfort. 

He’s nervous, but you don’t know why. He keeps dragging his palms against his thighs, roughly rubbing his jeans. Every once in a while, he lifts his hand to touch his bottom lip. Then, when you sneak a glance at him, he quickly turns away. There’s nothing of note to look at in the apartment, but he seems engrossed in something for those fleeting moments before you’re sure he’s looking at you once again. 

“I should probably learn how to do this… Like, properly… I can’t remember everything you did the first time,” Jimin mumbles. When you look up, his cheeks are dusted a light pink. 

“Sorry, I probably went too fast that time.” You give him an apologetic look that makes his face redden even more. “It’s not as hard as people make it out to be. Just need a good teacher.” 

If Jimin expects you to be his teacher again, he doesn’t say so. You could be. You can’t stop yourself from giving the guy free weed; you might as well add comprehensive rolling lessons in the mix. 

By this point, rolling a blunt is about muscle memory; you don’t have to use an ounce of brainpower. Your eyes can wander, sweep over the contents of Jimin's living room, your thoughts floating off to wonder about the little details of the man’s life you aren’t privy to. Who are his friends? Where is his family? You look for photographs on shelves or hanging on the walls, items that are a staple in your and Hoseok’s apartment. Would Yoongi be in any of his photos? So many people in the city come in like ghosts.

“Do you, um, would you like to stay?” 

Jimin's voice pulls you back to the living room, where your hands have already finished two blunts without you realizing it. 

"Isn’t that what you meant when you said I could smoke with you?" You question around the blunt you’ve brought between your lips, pausing to light it.

Jimin shakes his head, not as an answer to your question, but to himself. “Yes, of course.” 

“You wanna share this or smoke your own?" You can keep working on rolling the rest in the meantime.

Rather than answer your question verbally, Jimin does something that makes your heart fall into the pit of your fucking stomach. The supposedly shy, naive man parts his lips and juts his chin toward you. 

The meaning behind his action hits you in the chest immediately. You let your eyes drift over his mouth, and you try not to react when his tongue swipes across his bottom lip while he patiently waits for you to give him what he wants. And you’re gonna do it, too. No questions asked. 

Pinching the blunt between your middle finger and thumb, you twist on the couch to face Jimin with your legs tucked beneath you. Of course, if your fingertips brush against his lips when you place the blunt between them, that’s no one’s business, and you fucking plead the fifth, thanks. 

Jimin’s eyes never leave yours when he wraps his lips around the blunt and inhales. He takes the hit like a champ, not coughing once despite the smoke’s thickness when he exhales. It’s been a few months since he started coming to you for weed. You shouldn’t be proud of his improvement, but you are anyway. Even if it’s weird to be. 

“Thanks.” Jimin looks like a droopy-eyed dragon, eyes heavy and narrow when he expresses his appreciation. His voice is low and thick, and it makes your stomach swoop. 

You nod your head and take the blunt from him. “No problem.” 

Time is hardly discernible in normal circumstances for you, especially when you’re high. So you can’t imagine how long you sit with Jimin on his couch, watching smoke billow in the air and talking about how unfortunate it is that Frank Ocean and Rihanna ghosted the music industry. 

For a while, the two of you fall silent. You lean your head against the couch and close your eyes, content with listening to the music Jimin put on until another thought enters your mind. One you can’t bring yourself to ignore.  

“You ever fucked while you’re high?” 

You ask the question once you and Jimin have finished the first blunt and move on to the second. The lighter you’re using is hot pink with blue and purple flowers printed on it. Something feels fitting about that. 

The question takes you by surprise even though you’re the one asking it, unsure why you’re asking it aside from knowing the weed will make you more likely to speak your mind. Jimin, though. The poor guy is even more startled. As he should be, you think. 

His hand trembles slightly when he passes you the blunt when it’s your turn to take a hit. “Uhh, um, have I— what?” 

You roll your eyes and blow a smoke ring in Jimin’s direction. You wait for his coughing to subside before you repeat yourself. 

“Have you ever had sex while under the influence of marijuana, Jimin-ssi?”

“No…” 

“Hmm, you should. It’s really fun. Feels good.” 

“Oh.” 

“Do you wanna try it now?” 

It’s comical how Jimin gulps, literally gulps, like a fucking cartoon character. “Now?” 

Marijuana is an aphrodisiac. It won’t make Jimin want you, but it’s clear from his suggestive behavior that he already does. The weed will simply, hopefully, make him less nervous about it. 

You pretend you don’t notice how he shifts to press his thighs together on the couch. 

“Come on,” you encourage him. “Stop thinking so much.” 

You know you’re too forward and sudden, but it feels justified because you’ve been thinking about Jimin for months. The buildup over the past few months has been stifling. 

Giving consent is what finally unlocks something in Jimin. One moment he’s staring at you with wide, timid eyes; the next, he’s got his hand around your throat. 

With a light squeeze, Jimin pulls you into him to slot his lips with yours. Holding back a moan is nearly impossible when his tongue pries your lips open. It’s wet and hot, and your skin tingles when you taste the smoke on him when his tongue curls around your own. Smoking always makes you feel warm, but you feel like you’re on fire when Jimin whimpers into your mouth. His pace is unrelenting. You feel like you’re tripping over yourself as you attempt to keep up with the quick work of his lips. The effort has you practically straddling his lap. 

Tightening his grip on your throat, Jimin uses it to tilt you how he wants you. A pleased hum vibrates against your mouth when he hears you moan from the pressure of his fingers digging into the soft skin of your neck. It’s only when you start to get lightheaded, and your lips slow that Jimin finally pulls away. 

His eyes' heavy, sensual look remains, but you’re surprised to find his slick lips forced into a frown. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You could ask why, but you assume Jimin’s forwardness isn’t typical behavior. The good thing is that it is for you.

Rather than address the unnecessary tension, you let your lips do all the work and pull Jimin in for another ruthless kiss. 

“I don’t wanna hear any apologies from you,” you murmur against his mouth. “The only thing I want your lips doing is eating me out.” 

Jimin lets out a high-pitched whine that sets something dangerous off, buzzing through your body. “Please.” 

Maybe you’re pathetic with how quickly you strip yourself of your clothes, but Jimin doesn’t seem to care. His eyes never leave your body as you toss the clothing onto the floor. “You’re so beautiful…” 

“Yeah?” You lean with your back against the arm of the couch, scooting down slightly so you can let your legs fall open. 

He nods sharply and is silent momentarily as he rubs his palms down the length of your legs, settling between them. 

"I've always wanted to talk to you," Jimin speaks with a hushed tone. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. "I just get nervous. I'm sure that seems pretty lame." 

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. Every touch sends goosebumps pebbling across your skin. It’s exhilarating. You feel like your entire body is a hot wire, sparking and buzzing at a dangerous frequency. 

"Yoongi said this would be a good way for us to get to know each other. The weed, not this this!" It's shocking to you how adorable he can be at the same time he sucks the skin of your inner thigh into his mouth, swirling his tongue around after biting down hard enough to make you gasp. 

Your head falls back as you feel the tip of Jimin’s tongue drags along your clit. He swirls it around, drawing small circles in a steady rhythm. Every time his tongue pulls back, you can hear a soft smacking sound of his lips. He’s likely swallowing the drool collecting in his mouth. You’re sure he’s probably getting a bad case of cotton mouth from the excessive sound. 

It makes you smile knowing he’s that sensitive. It takes much more weed in your system to start feeling dry in the mouth, but you’ve been smoking more years than Jimin and at a higher frequency. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan out a misshapen puff of smoke when Jimin’s tongue returns to your clit. 

This time he wraps his plush lips around it and suckles lightly, using his tongue to flick from side to side. His little grunts and moans make your pussy vibrate, sending a tingling sensation through the inside of your thighs and down to your toes. 

Your hand shakes as you bring the blunt back to your lips. A whine tries to break through, but you force it back down your throat as you inhale more smoke. It’s hard when your body feels like it’s burning up. 

Every gentle touch of Jimin’s lips and tongue on your skin feels like a punch to your stomach in a way that is so deliriously delicious you can hardly take it. Wetness drips down your pussy and smears against your thighs, either from your arousal or Jimin’s drool or both, but you don’t care how messy it is when Jimin pulls back enough to spit more onto your clit. 

You let out a surprised sound, lifting your head slightly to see a string of saliva connect Jimin’s pouty bottom lip with your skin. 

Fuck, you didn’t think Pretty Boy had it in him. 

Using two fingers, Jimin spreads his spit around your clit, pushing it down until he slides into your pussy with ease. You didn’t need the extra lubrication, but you groan at the wet sound that echoes through Jimin’s apartment as he thrusts his fingers deep inside you. He brings his lips back to your clit, sucking harder and massaging your skin with his tongue even faster to match the pace his fingers take. 

When he finally locates the spot that makes your legs shake, hitting it repeatedly, you dig your fingers into his fluffy hair and yank his head back. 

“H-h-here,” you stutter, pressing the blunt against his lips. They’re shiny, and the idea of sticking a wet blunt between your lips makes you want to cringe, but you don’t care because his lips are shiny with you. 

Jimin doesn’t stop thrusting into you, but his pace slows as he concentrates on taking another hit. 

“I’m so fucking hard,” he groans. With the blunt between his lips, Jimin’s hands fly to unbutton his jeans. Another groan sounds around the blunt once he’s freed himself of the retraining pants. 

You let out a quiet sigh as you try to collect yourself while Jimin smokes. “I told you it feels good. It’s different, isn’t it?” 

“Mhmm…”

There’s a large wet patch staining the front of Jimin’s briefs. It makes the fabric stick to his cock, clearly outlining his length and girth — big enough to make you drool but small enough that you won’t go home sore and regretful. 

“Lemme ride you.” You use your free hand to push Jimin into the back of the couch. He plants his feet on the floor and spreads his thighs as you get comfortable in his lap. “Wanna smoke the rest while we fuck.” 

Your head is in the clouds, your body melting like butter as Jimin skirts his hands along your sides. He eventually pauses to squeeze your hips, and you swear you can feel him all over you. 

It’s quick work, tugging down the final article of clothing separating the two of you. It’s hard not to stare, especially when Jimin twitches and shivers with every light touch of your fingertips along the ridges and veins of his cock. 

Your clit drags against the head of his cock when you adjust in his lap, and you let out a ragged moan. 

“Soaked,” Jimin murmurs, “You’ve got me all wet.” 

It’s true. Jimin’s thighs glisten from where you’ve leaked all over him. Your clit throbs so much it’s beginning to hurt from the sensitivity. 

“Condom,” you practically wheeze out. “If you go in raw, you’re probably gonna bust a nut immediately, and I’m not interested in that for many reasons.” 

Jimin’s face turns even pinker. 

“O-okay, give me a second, please.” So fucking polite, and for what? 

He holds you at the base of your spine with one hand as he leans forward to snatch his jeans with his other hand. There’s a condom in his wallet, so you assume your classmate isn’t all innocent. 

It’s quick work rolling the condom on. Uninterested in teasing yourself further because you feel like you’ll die if you don’t orgasm soon, you push Jimin hard against the back of the couch. You slip down his cock with ease, with no stretch or sting, from how turned on you are. 

“I feel like I’m already gonna come.” Jimin throws his head back against the couch. 

His lips fall open, and you quickly snatch the blunt from them so it doesn’t fall and burn one of you. He looks beautiful, angelic even. His lips are puffy and pink, his cute little mismatched front teeth peeking out. His tongue flicks around his mouth as his breathing grows heavier. 

You squeeze one of his shoulders with your free hand while your other keeps the blunt pinched to your lips. As you take a drag, you lift your hips and quickly bring them back down, your ass slapping Jimin’s thighs as you engulf his cock again. Your skin sounds wet and sticky, but Jimin’s whine drowns out the sound. 

“Shit,” he hisses. Blunt nails dig into your skin, but it doesn’t hurt; it only feels good. Everything feels so good. 

You hardly notice how hard you shake as you slam yourself down on Jimins’ cock again. Your head is too spacey to go fast, but you do your best to set a steady pace of bouncing on Jimin’s cock. It doesn’t matter if he’s already going to come. You feel your orgasm building up with every squeeze of his fingers and the pathetic moans from his mouth. 

You lean forward to latch your lips to the base of Jimin’s neck when he again drops his head. Pulling the skin into your mouth, you suck hard. You know the shock the discomfort will send across his body, pain that quickly morphs into pleasure and makes his cock twitch inside you. 

“Jesus Christ.” Jimin reaches up to brush his bangs away from his eyes. Sweat makes the hair remain in place, pushed up, making him look as wrecked as he sounds. His cheeks are bright red now, and the color bleeds down his neck, where you’re sure his chest is bright red, too. 

Fuck, why didn’t you take off his shirt? It feels like a quick and dirty fuck, although you’re not sure you want it to be. You’re unsure what you want this to be or mean. Or how you want it to feel. 

All you know is that you feel like you’ll come at the sight of Jimin’s toned stomach and chest when you pull the hem of his shirt up to bunch it right above his nipples. 

Holding onto the fabric gives you more leverage to pick up your pace. It’s needed because Jimin is a puddle beneath you. His arms are tossed to his slides like they’re made out of rubber, flopped onto the couch cushions. He can barely lift his hips. He only makes a few weak attempts to thrust into you before he’s whining again, head lolled to the side with furrowed eyebrows. He looks so fucked out. 

“Please, ahh, fuck, please,” Jimin begs, though you’re not sure for what. 

“Wanna come, pretty boy?” You squeeze his t-shirt harder and yank it slightly, just enough to pull Jimin’s back a few inches from the couch. “You’re gonna have to work harder. I already gave you so much.” 

Jimin’s eyes roll in pleasure when you clench around him, little “oh’s” and “ah’s” punched out of him. “Okay, yes, yes, fuck, yes, I’ll be soooo—”

You bring his hands back to your waist as he babbles. The contact must give him a bit of clarity because he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and begins to thrust into you hard. 

“I’ll. Be. So. Fucking. Good.” Every word is punctuated by a mind-shattering thrust as Jimin pulls you down onto his cock. 

If you were on the edge before, you’re falling by the time he picks up the pace and thrusts into you even harder. The buildup was long and hot, yet your orgasm hits you so hard it might as well have been a surprise. 

You curl into yourself and press your face into the crook of Jimin’s neck while he continues his unforgiving rhythm until he comes with a choked-out moan of your name. 

The silence should be uncomfortable. How awkward and irrational was it to simply… tell Jimin that you wanted to fuck? And for Jimin to go along with it? Casual hookups aren’t really your thing. Pretty Boy Jimin seems to be the exception for everything, though. 

Heavy breathing fills the silence as the two of you try to calm down, your chests rising and falling in tandem. It’s comforting to lean all your weight on Jimin, despite how his bunched-up t-shirt presses uncomfortably into your chest. Even the feeling of his cock softening inside of you doesn’t bother you any. 

At some point, Jimin had placed the blunt in the ashtray on the coffee table. It's shocking that he had the mind to do so; you would have accidentally burned a hole into his comfy, expensive-looking couch. It's a good thing you had the mind to use a condom. Imagine burn marks and cum stains. Sheesh. 

The kiss Jimin presses to your temple when he turns his head feels way more domestic than you deserve. You smile, teeth pressed against his skin, despite yourself. You can blame the giddiness you feel on the weed, and not whatever Pretty Boy Jimin has done to trigger warmth inside your chest. 

“I think I gave you more than the tip…” 

With narrowed eyes, you lift your head from Jimin’s neck to look him square in the face so quickly that you’re worried you might pull a muscle in your neck. “You’re not fucking funny.” 

Jimin lets his head fall back to laugh hard enough that his eyes squeeze shut. It’s so endearing that you overlook such a bad joke. Pretty Boy Jimin seems to get away with a lot. You don’t mind it as much as you act like you do. 

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do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

Reaction during and after reading: AHHHHHHH OMG?? Please the way my head broke for Yoongi!! But I get it, we understand, and we gots to respect boundaries but omg I want to cryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. He’s such so soft and gentle and we appreciate his vulnerability 😭😭!! Also Yerin?? Ideas?? 👀 what ideas babe spill the TEA! Also also omg what was Namjoon gonna say, who likes? Ahh so much excitement and little tidbits going in this story it had me kicking my legs and waving my hands . The play by play was HOT okay?? ALSO JIMIN 😮‍💨😍🥵 such a mischievous little shit, please that was so freaking hot. Another amazing chapter and excited for more and the potential bonus chapter!!

Accuracy Purposes | Unorthodox 26

Rating/genre: M (18+); smut 💖, fluff, light angst; Idol!AU Pairings: Jimin x Reader(f), Yoongi x Reader(f), referenced Tahyung x Jimin (in the series: OT7 x Reader(f), Taehyung x Jimin, and more) Summary: Your mind's a bit all over the place but Yoongi grants you a tiny nugget of clarity. Jimin helps you to process it, in his own way. Warnings: Explicit smut, protected vaginal penetration, fingering, grinding, teasing, use of 'baby', 'good girl', dom!Jimin, a little bit of comfort, slight patronization, praise, implied squirting, reader gets called 'woman' playfully, Yerin's back!, manhandling/ restraining Word Count: 9.3k Posted: May 15, 2023

A/N: I have decided to continue the story in present tense bc I’m finding it easier to write this way! I do apologize if the change bothers anyone – it bothers me to be honest – but I think this will help me not get blocked while writing :) thank you for your kind understanding haha

Series Masterlist - chapters with smut are marked with a 💖

You wake up slowly with Namjoon, totally enveloped by him. It’s an amusing struggle to twist in his embrace so that you can lay on your back, rub the sleep from your eyes, remember where you are – you slept that fucking good. Dead to the world. 

But with remembering where you are comes remembering everything else. And unfortunately, you care about Yoongi’s feelings. You care about them a lot. Not that he has feelings. But you're sick of him being unhappy with you, if that’s what you can call it. You need to talk. You can’t keep kissing and not talking. 

Namjoon breathes in deeply, squirming a little until his lips are pressed against your shoulder. One kiss. Two kisses.

“Mm. Is this ok?” he asks against your skin, tired voice coated in a surprising amount of uncertainty.

It makes you huff a little laugh. “Of course.”

“Ok, sorry,” he says, now all cuteness, wrapping you up so you’re even more intertwined in his warm comforting weight. “I promise I’ll stop asking.”

“You don’t ever have to stop asking,” you answer simply. “I don’t mind.”

He pauses then chuckles a little at himself. “I’ve never had someone, like, directing me and reassuring me like this before. It’s… kind of nice.”

A smile stretches across your mouth. “Nice to not be in charge all the time?”

“Hey, I didn’t say you were in charge,” he changes his tune, pausing the way he’s still pressing his lips against you to look up at your face. “I told you last night…”

“You told me last night…” you echo, amused, tilting your head to look down at him; he looks so adorable cuddled up against you. 

“You don’t believe me?”

“Nah,” you say through a laugh. “You’re just so nice to me–”

“Gah, stooop. I’m not too nice to–...” 

Him stopping himself, looking off with a shake of his head, only intrigues you more. Whatever he was going to say, you are 100% certain you want him to do it to you. Literally no doubt in your mind. 

When he looks at you again, you're smirking knowingly. “To…?” you ask and it’s obviously to tease, the way your eyebrows push up a little. 

He breaks into another chuckle, painfully cute because he’s getting shy. 

“You’re less talkative than you were last night, “ you note softly, shifting onto your side to face in, keeping the blanket pulled up over your shoulders. 

“Yeah, I get a little… carried away sometimes,” he admits, scrunching his features up in a bit of a wince. 

“Mm,” you hum in approval before you can stop yourself. 

He smiles wide before leaning forward the couple inches to press his plush lips against yours. Then he mumbles, “Do you like that?” and you almost shiver. Because, yes, you certainly do like that. 

You hum once more, nodding your head slightly, but you’re grasping onto him again, sucking a little on the lip that you find between yours. 

When your phone buzzes, you ignore it until it’s going off a second and third time and you realize that it’s actually a call coming in. 

“Do you want to get that?” he whispers just as you pull away.

“Yeah, I suppose I should.” You sigh for effect, rolling towards the nightstand on your side, finding that it’s Yerin’s name lighting up your screen. “Hellooo?”

“Hi babe.”

“Hi,” you say warmly, unable to help your smile. 

“Did you just wake up?” she asks.

“Maybe...” you say coyly, rolling back over to eye Namjoon who’s still lying there, gorgeous chest now exposed. 

She chuckles. “Cryptic. I love it.”

Her teasing has you smiling wider. 

“Are you free today… by any chance?”

“For you? Of course.”

“Oo, cheesy. Even better.”

Namjoon sends you a questioning look as you laugh. 

“You love it. … What are we doin’?”

“A little birdie told me you dance.”

“Oh no,” you say reflexively, immediately skeptical. “I mean…”

“We’re taking a class–”

“Yerin…” you whine, already stressed at the idea of dancing with other people, especially when the instruction would be in a language you don’t know. 

“It’ll be so fun! Then we can get food after. Don’t say no. Please don’t say no,” she continues. 

You roll your eyes with your sigh. Obviously, you aren’t going to say no. It’ll be refreshing being out and about with her. 

Upon hanging up, you notice you have unread messages as well – from a certain Christopher Bang. But it isn’t until you and Joon have both pulled yourselves from the bed and separated to get ready for the day that you actually read them.

You’ve messaged a few times back and forth over the last couple days, mostly just to get him caught up on the fact that you are in the country for an undetermined amount of time and that, no, you haven’t really explored the city much yet. 

BC: I could help? 😛 BC: Could take you to a favourite restaurant if you wanted YN: Can you do that though? YN: I mean I’m down, just don’t want you getting yourself into trouble!

He replies by the time you’re dressed and ready, heading into the kitchen for something to munch on before Yerin arrives. 

BC: Don’t you worry about me haha BC: It's a really small place anyway BC: There’s like two tables lol BC: You’ll see what I mean

You like the idea of dinner with Chris – beyond being super nice, he’s really attractive. And obviously, the concern about someone being a couple years younger than you no longer plagues you in the slightest. 

But there is a little twinge inside you at the thought of Jungkook. He’s clearly trying so hard. Will actually spending time with someone else help or hinder him in navigating his feelings about it all?

He’s in the kitchen already, gifting you the perfect opportunity to talk to him before you reply – as much as the idea of bringing it up to him again makes you a tiny bit nervous. 

When JK looks up at you and smiles brightly, you feel eased immediately, coming up behind him to lean your weight on his shoulders, your hands sliding down to enjoy the feel of him through his shirt.

“Good morning.” One hand comes up, sliding along the side of your neck gently to welcome you against him, guiding you even, to nuzzle your face to the side of his.

“Mmm, morning,” you hum back, slipping down into the chair next to him but hovering close, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. You let your hand rest on his thigh. “Can I ask you something?”

He just turns his head to you, smiling around the bite he was chewing. 

“If I… hangout with Bang Chan… is that going to be uncomfortable for you at this point?”

Finishing his bite, he processes for a short moment before lightly shaking his head. “I don’t think so.” His eyes are on the table – perhaps he’s still trying to decide how he feels, or how honest to be – so you give him another moment. “What are you gonna do?”

“Just going to get some food together, I think,” you explain simply. “Not today though. I’m hanging out with Yerin today.”

“Oh, nice,” he says, taking a bite, head bobbing in another nod.

You smile over at him, squeezing his thigh, the smile growing a bit more when he meets your eyes again, looking genuinely happy. “You’re cute. Come here,” you whisper, reaching for his chin to pull his mouth to yours. 

He surprises you a little, leaning into the kiss more than you’d expected, kissing you a little harder than you had planned, but you aren’t complaining, even if he does take like his cereal. “I almost hauled you out of that hot tub,” he admits, smirking down at his bowl as he gathers his final bite on his spoon

“You almost killed me,” you tease back, only slight accusation in your voice. 

His smile’s even cheekier now. “I think you can handle it.”

“You bet your ass I can.” You stand, giving his shoulder one more squeeze before you head to the fridge to do what you actually came in there to do. 

-

Yerin takes you to the dance class by subway, showing you how to do everything along the way. You haven’t thought much about going out and about all on your own but now that you have done it once, it honestly feels like a breeze. 

The dance class on the other hand… not a breeze. You’re winded after ten minutes, mind on overload from the teacher speaking in Korean half the time, making it difficult to follow. And as much as Yerin helps you, the class is obviously for dancers more advanced than you. You do ok, but that’s really it – just ok. 

The two main things you come out of it knowing: you seriously need to take more classes, and Yerin looks fucking hot when she dances. Not a surprising fact but a surprisingly distracting one for sure.

There’s ten minutes before the next class starts so you stretch a little longer while she chats with Soyeon, a friend she has at the studio. You’re going to be so sore, it’s not even funny, already able to feel the tightness in your shoulders. 

The room clears out and she plops back down next to you, mirroring your stretch. At least you’re quite flexible. It’s one thing you can almost match her in.

“So, maybe we pick up some food and you can come back to mine? I’m assuming you probably want to shower,” she offers, pressing her forehead to her knee. 

“Yeah,” you say through a breathy chuckle, feeling the way your top sticks to your back right as she says the words. “Sounds like a plan.”

“It’s a good thing I’m here. Or else you’d never leave that man cave.” Turning to you, she smirks, catching the way you shake your head in exaggerated shame.

You switch legs, feeling the satisfying stretch through your hamstring. “They’re not totally disgusting at least. I’m actually pretty impressed.”

“I’m sure you are.”

You toss an arm out to smack at her shoulder. “Stop saying everything like that.”

“Like what?”

You stare her down; she knows. “Like it’s an innuendo.”

“Oh, come on, this is the most interesting thing going on in my life…” she starts, making you laugh. “I thought secretly dating an idol was plenty exciting… how wrong was I?”

“I might be going on a date with someone else,” you say quieter, not even looking at her because you already know how she’s going to react.

“What?” flies from her mouth. "What are you talking about?” The words are so fast it almost doesn’t sound like English. It makes you laugh. Then she’s nudging you with her foot. “Y/N.”

Your laugh gets deeper in your belly when you turn and see her distraught face. “I don’t actually know if it’s a date yet,” you clarify, sitting up and reaching for your sweater to pull on over top. 

“Who are you talking about?” she asks, determined to get the tea. Not that you plan to keep it from her but it’s just so funny to hear the way her voice lilts into a startled pitch. 

“You know Stray Kids?”

“Of course I know Stray Kids,” she answers quickly before the words dawn on her further. “Stop. Stop, right now. Which one? Aren’t they young?”

“Come on, we should go,” you tell her, standing up as you eye the new students that have started to file in. 

She follows, gathering her things quickly and ushering you out. “Why do you do this to me…? Y/N….”

You just giggle, leaning into her as you walk side by side out of the studio. “We’re in public so I do have to be a little careful, don’t I?”

She pauses, catching your arm to stop you too before the both of you head in the direction of the subway station. “Whisper it in my ear.”

You do as asked and then she’s nearly shrieking again, looking at you with her eyebrows a mile high. Through more laughter, you assure her: “I’ll tell you more once we get there.”

-

Yerin pops the lid off her take-out container but she’s already looking, earning an eyebrow raise from you. 

“Can I help you?”

“We’re no longer in public.”

You roll your eyes, cracking apart your chopsticks. “I don’t even know if it’s a date to be honest,” you share with a slight shake of your head. And you don’t. You can assume all you want but nothing Chris has said to you has made you sure he’s interested in you in that way. 

“But he asked you to go out with him?”

“Dinner, yeah.”

“You’re texting?”

You nod. 

“How did he get your number?”

“... He asked for it. On New Years.”

Yerin smirks, a little smug – she already knew that – as she picks up her first bite. 

“Ok, yes. It suggests… interest. But I just don’t want to go into it thinking it’s a date if it’s not. That will be a lot more… awkward. Internally.”

She laughs, nodding in agreement. “What if it is?”

You shrug in response but your little smile gives you away.

“You’re crazy, woman.”

It takes you a second to figure out what to say, shaking your head, because you know it’s silly. In comparison to how most people do things, you do sound kind of crazy. “I know, I know. I sound a little nuts.” You reach for your drink but stop before it gets to your mouth. “But he’s… he’s cute,” you say simply. “And I’m not taken. Could be fun.”

“Mhm…” she starts, finishing chewing before she looks over to you and continues. “Are you going to explain to him? The… whole thing?” she asks, waving her chopsticks around in a little circle. 

“If it goes that direction then, yeah, of course. The only thing making this work with all the guys is us talking about it. So, if Chris hears the situation, wants to bow out then that’s cool. I would understand. Obviously.”

“Right,” she says with a nod, thinking about it more seriously now. “They’re really not jealous?”

“Not really. In fact…” you pause, playing over the events of the night before lightning fast in your mind. 

You must be smiling because Yerin is staring at you.

“In fact, they…” How do you say this? “I think it may end up being more fun than any of us realized.”

She frowns dramatically, blinking at you, but it also looks like she’s about to laugh once more. “What in the world does that mean?”

“Ok… I’m gonna tell you but it’s only because you’re the only person I get to tell all this to.”

“How are there still things I don’t know yet?” she practically shouts, grabbing at your forearm. 

A laugh vibrates out of you, especially knowing what you’re about to say. “It might end up being a thing where… multiple are comfortable…” you start to explain, trailing off suggestively, still unsure the right way to phrase what seemed to be happening last night. 

Did you now know for sure that you would enjoy having sex with multiple of them at once? Yes. But was that something you had discussed? Not yet. So, the future was still pretty blurry.

“Shut up,” she says, shaking your arm slightly. “Shut up.”

You just keep laughing, sure that she’s caught on enough.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, really. Yet. But the three younger ones…" You click your teeth. "They’re gonna get me in trouble.”

“You’re gonna sleep with them together?” she asks, too amused for her own good. She’s stopped eating entirely, just staring at you with a big goofy grin. 

“I–I don’t know,” you say, getting bashful finally, smiling down at your food. 

“That sounds… hot. Don’t tell Jin I said that,” she adds quickly before breaking into laughter, seeming surprised at her own words. 

Your turn a smirk on her to joke: “Jin’s not really into sharing?”

“Oh,” she muses, bobbing her head a little. “We’ve literally never talked about it. But I would assume not. Then again, if I asked him to bring in another girl to join us, would he really say no?” she jokes, chuckling to herself as she turns back forward, reaching for her drink. 

“Mm, true. … You guys are too cute though. The way he looks at you…”

She smiles to herself, obviously picturing it. “Yeah, he’s kind of the best.”

You smile too. It genuinely makes you happy that Jin has someone so wonderful. And Yerin too. 

“Damn, now you’re giving me ideas,” she mumbles, hiding her face a little with her hand.

“Am I?” That was not really what you’d expected her to say. “Is it… good? Between you and him? 

“Oh, yeah,” she responds right away, a sure nod coming with it. “It’s so good. He’s, like… What’s too much information?”

“Babe, I just told you I might have a foursome.”

She squawks out a laugh. “True! Ok, fair. Well, then, he…” She’s waving her chopsticks around again, searching for the words she wants. “He’s, like, huge.”

You try to stifle your laughter. Somehow that was still not what you had been expecting her to say. “Is he? Not that I’m doubting but…”

“Nah, it’s…pffhhh,” she blows air out through her lips in a dramatic sigh. As if words could not do him justice. 

“Ok...” you say, trying not to smirk too widely. It is her boyfriend you’re talking about. “Good to know.”

She’s laughing again, a bit flustered. “There, you can add that to your spreadsheet.”

“My spreadsheet…” you repeat, equally amused at the thought. “Nah, the spreadsheet is reserved for the dicks I actually see. For accuracy purposes,” you joke. 

“Right, right, of course.”

-

The friend time is incredibly rejuvenating, even more so than you realized it would be. After all, you have spent almost all waking moments with at least one of the guys since you arrived five days ago. It’s good to have a break. It’s good to clear your head a little.

You take the subway back on your own, a little awkward, a little nervous, not totally sure the whole time that you’re going the right way. But you manage, with the help of your phone, lost in your thoughts the whole way. 

Thoughts of the future primarily – which you are still preoccupied with way more than you’d like to be. Part of you is so at peace with going with the flow, really doing whatever you want, and part of you is completely obsessed with figuring out the next move. You can tell it's the part of you that is used to living for other people.

When you think about home and your family, you can’t stop wondering what they think of all this. Are they judging you? Are they disappointed in you for – what? Running away from your problems, so to speak?

But when you think harder about what you would be “running away” from, what is there really? The job you don’t care to go back to? The apartment you’re subletting while you’re gone? The couple best friends you have that live hours away anyways?

Being here is not only more fun, more exhilarating, but you also have bonded with the guys so much. Is it totally crazy for you to consider staying, at least for now? 

You exit the station, wandering back the way you walked with Yerin many hours before. When you get to the property, you have to go through the security, not realizing what a huge thing it would be since you haven’t entered without them before. 

Once you’re finally in, you input the code for the entrance to the dorms and slip inside quietly. You’re weirdly excited to see whoever’s there, after spending much of the day away from all of them.

It’s around dinner time and you can already smell food as you walk towards the kitchen, a bunch of takeout laying strewn across the island. Once you're through the arch, you look to your right, finding Jin, Yoongi, Jimin and Hobi all in the living area, sprawled across the furniture, nearly empty dishes on the coffee table in the middle.

“There she is,” Jin greets, without moving a muscle. “How was your day? Was my girlfriend nice to you?”

“She’s pretty much the love of my life,” you say out of the corner of your mouth before wincing at him. “Hate to break it to you…”

“Are those her clothes?” Jin asks, scandalized, and the other three snicker. 

You tug at the borrowed t-shirt, looking down at it as you wander around the couch, then shrug cutely. “Oops.”

“야…” he scoffs, making you giggle as you plop down on the floor in between his and Yoongi’s feet. 

“Why are you down there?” the latter asks. “You can sit up here, you know.”

“I know.” You fight the urge to look up at him, tempted to read his face. “I just kind of want to stretch a bit more so…” Saying that, you lean forward, butterflying your legs until you feel the stretch in your lower back, a little telling sound coming out of you.

“Sore already?” Hobi asks. 

“Hey, I haven’t danced since that day with you on the island.”

“Oh, yeah, that was fun,” he chirps back. “Can I teach you again?”

“Of course, silly. I think I need the help anyways,” you say through a groan before lifting back up, about to switch to a different stretch.

But before you can, two hands are on your shoulders, thumb pressing into the tightness of your traps. You sigh audibly before you can even question who it is but it doesn't take long for you to piece together that it is undoubtedly Yoongi, working your upper back, kneading over knots outwards from your spine. 

The thought makes you want to shiver, mostly because it’s unexpected. Frankly, you’d thought he was going to avoid you, even be cold with you all over again, after passing you in the hallway last night. It’s relieving – and refreshing – for him to not be acting as such. 

You try to stop the goosebumps, the little chill that runs over you each time he hits a good spot, making you want to groan. It kind of makes everything else fade away and without realizing it, you’re pushing back into his hands for more pressure.

“Here,” he says quietly, then he’s adjusting to be right behind you, directing you so he can reach more easily.

“Mmh, thank you,” is all you can think to say, the words coming out soft and dreamy, more of a mumble than anything. 

Now that he’s closer, his legs pressed on either side of you, he digs in a bit more, not being shy with the way he rolls over the knots along your shoulder blades, pulling audible breaths from you.

Your neck is loose, eyes closed, just letting the motions move through you because it feels so fucking good. Actual moans threaten, getting caught by your lips. But the fact that you’re more hesitant to make noise in front of other members for something non-sexual than for something sexual is… interesting. 

It almost feels like he’s trying to pull a sound from you, noticing when you twitch a little at a certain spot and then focusing there some more. And then you finally do, letting out a quiet little ‘mmm’ when another chill shakes your shoulders. 

“That ok?” he asks softly, and it’s only then that you realize the other guys are talking while he’s focused entirely on you. Similarly, you’re paying attention only to Yoongi’s touch, your mind immediately going all the other places you would want his hands to be. 

“Mhm, so good,” you breathe in response, trying not to make it sound sexual. But it’s insane the effect he has on you. He’s only touching your back so why does it feel like he’s everywhere?

He breathes out just a little, a tiny huff of amusement, and it makes you want to curse him out. If he can read your mind, you’re screwed. But then again, you would’ve been screwed from day one. “Move your hair,” he says, tracing his hands up your neck to lift it, sending another chill through you. 

It’s not fair but you listen to him, quickly tying up your hair so he can continue unobstructed. 

He’s got the back of your neck in his dominant hand now, thumb on one side, fingertips pressing on the other in little circles, slowly working down onto the tightness of the junction of your shoulders. 

Then you’re groaning, a lazy “fuuuck” that makes the other guys laugh. You can’t even be bothered enough to say anything in defense, the slight embarrassment nothing compared to the pleasure he’s giving you. 

“Should we leave you two alone or…?” Jin jokes through a laugh, Hobi and Jimin giggling with him. 

“I don’t think she minds,” Jimin mutters, obviously through a smirk, and you promise yourself that one of these days, you are going to smack him. Just not now. You don’t want to move right now. 

“Shut your mouth,” you say meekly instead, feeling your neck and face grow hot. 

Yoongi can probably feel it too. But he doesn’t stop, shifting forward a bit more on the couch so that you’re more between his legs and he can guide you forward, slide his hands down your back and massage lower. 

He’s not meaning anything by it; you know it’s just a massage. But you can’t help the thoughts. You want to kiss him again, on the lips, and then a few more places. Why is he the one person you feel like you can’t just talk to?

Even though them leaving was a joke, the other three trickle out, taking their dishes with them. It makes it easier to let out another sound, a low hum of satisfaction.

“Should I keep going?” he asks casually. 

“You don’t have to.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You let out a breath, not quite a laugh, because he’s working out another knot and it hurts just the right amount. “Your hands are going to get tired.”

Now he’s laughing a little. And it’s hot, even just his scoff of a laugh. 

“Thank you for this…” you whisper, letting your head rest over onto his thigh. 

He just continues, seemingly unbothered but you can’t see his face so who is to know?

“We… should talk,” you say after another minute – a minute of telling yourself over and over that it’s a good idea. 

“Talk about what?” he replies, his motions unwavering. 

Your eyes flutter open, his head lifting back up. This is why you feel like you can’t just talk to him. Everything feels encoded somehow. How could he think there was anything to talk about other than the kiss last night followed by him cursing in regret and retreating?

He slips his hands back up, landing them gently on the tops of your shoulders with a light final squeeze.  When you turn, he’s looking down at you. He’s going to make you say it. Either that, or he’s an idiot – and you already know that one’s not true.

“Last night?” you suggest, turning around to face him fully. 

He blinks away, looking down at where his hands now rest on his knees. He sucks a bit of air through his teeth, head tilting awkwardly, before answering:  “That probably shouldn’t happen again.”

It’s not what you expected to hear. And the way he says it so simply kind of just makes it worse. Your heart begins to hammer a little when you softly ask: “Why?”

“Ah, I’m... not cut out for this.” He’s still not looking at you. 

“‘Cause of the others,” you say, just to make sure.

He nods, pressing his lips together, seemingly force of nervous habit.

The thing is you can’t even be mad. At the mixed signals, sure. But not at the fact that he’s obviously not comfortable with getting involved in the arrangement that’s going on. 

You hum a little note of understanding, trying not to let disappointment seep into it. But it’s probably clear anyway. You’ve never been good at hiding stuff like that. Still, you try to force a little smile, looking right at his eyes to see if he’ll meet you.

He actually does, and then his hand is lifting, going to your jaw, caressing it gently as his gaze flicks over your face. He’s still so serious, maybe a little unsure, even as he leans forward a little, and your chin tips up unconsciously.

He’s kissing you before you can comprehend what’s happening, a still press of his lips against yours until you both take in a delayed breath and start to kiss for real, as if someone finally pressed ‘play’ on the paused TV. 

Your hand comes up, cupping his neck, thumb brushing over his throat then to the underline of his jaw. At the same time, you push up onto your knees as smoothly as you can, wanting to be closer, more level, because he’s still kissing you – fuck – opening his mouth a little more to let you in, to suck your lip before his tongue slides over yours. 

He pulls, fingers tangled in your hair, holding the back of your head to keep you, while your free hand slides up his thigh to his hip. You’re not sure what you’re trying to accomplish, where you want him to go, but you grip anyway, attempting to tug him to you. 

You moan a little just as you pull away. It’s primarily to breathe but also to think because you’ve realized it’s an impossible task when you’re kissing him. When you look at him from just a couple inches away, his eyes are still closed, perfect lips still dropped open a smidge. You want to kiss them again, bite them, suck them. You want to take a picture of how he looks just like this.

But now you know. And now you have a conscience, so you pull back further, letting your hands slip down his body until there’s no body left. 

You’re quiet as you sit back down onto your feet, watching your own hands flatten onto the tops of your thighs. 

He lets out a long breath, keeping his gaze down as he too pulls back, a little pain twisting in your stomach when there’s no longer a part of him touching you. 

“You see why I end up confused?” you whisper gently.

“I’m sorry,” he says right away, coming up to press thumb and forehead to his temples. 

The look of regret from last night was unpleasant but the look of disappointment in himself now is so much worse. 

“Hey, it’s fine,” you say as comfortingly as you can manage considering how your body is still coursing with adrenaline. “I heard you. … I know where you’re at… and…” You shrug a little. “We’re good. …We’re good, ok?”

He nods, mouth in a flat line, following when you go to get up and transforming seamlessly back into himself. It would be comforting if it didn’t just make it glaringly obvious how good he is at hiding what’s going on in his mind. 

It’s once your back inside your room, alone, sinking in to your bed, that it hits you that that was it. There’s your answer. He doesn’t want to get caught up in all of this, sharing you with the others. 

So…

Nothing can happen with Yoongi. 

-

You’re still lying in the dark, distraction by way of your phone in your hand hovering over your face, when you hear a knock on your door. 

For a moment, you assume it’s Yoongi and that stupid excitement returns as much as you really wish it wouldn’t. But when you tell them to come in, it’s Jimin who enters, immediately chuckling at your strange position. 

“Why are you in the dark?” he asks cutely, shutting the door behind him and crawling up beside you. “Can I?” he asks and you give him the go ahead before he turns on the lamp atop your nightstand. 

You lock your phone, tossing it semi-dramatically to the other side of the bed.

He frowns a little, heading tilting as he looks down at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head and you mean it because it feels silly to be sad at all. Because you’re sad about what? Not getting to be intimate with one person? Totally ridiculous. 

“What?” he says, smiling that pretty smile. He drops down to an elbow to lay alongside you, watching closely, concern growing, as you try to decide what to say.

“Nah, I’m ok,” you say softly.

“Noona…” he says as if teasing you for brushing it off. It makes you smile more genuinely.

“I… Do you actually want to know?”

“Of course,” he says, scooting closer to you and slipping an arm under your neck to wrap you up in pre-emptive comfort. But it’s still so cute, the way he does it, that it has you giggling. 

You cuddle into him, rolling onto your side to bring your leg over his. “Um… you know how Yoongi and I kissed on New Years? We kissed again too. But he… he doesn’t want to get involved in all this,” you explain, trying to sound nonchalant about it. 

“Ah,” he breathes out then pauses, just holding you against him. 

“It’s fine, like I totally get it. But… yeah, I just feel bad. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Ever.”

“Mm, ok,” he says, voice low and soothing. “Did he say he’s uncomfortable?”

“Not, like, in those words. But, I don’t know. He literally said we shouldn’t and then kissed me like 10 seconds later, so…” You sigh, trying not to think too much about how good it felt. 

He lets out a little breath of amusement. “That’s confusing.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” you agree through a similar little chuckle. “Anyway…” 

He brings his other arm around you, rubbing your side with his thumb. “It’ll be fine.”

“I know.” You nod against him. “I just gotta… not think about him that way.”

“Mhm.” He waits a moment before adding: “You can think about me that way.”

You laugh into his neck, rolling farther onto him. “You know I do.”

“Mm, good.”

“Even if you’re a pain in my ass sometimes.”

“Pft…” He pokes at your side, making you jump as you laugh. 

“It’s true. I don’t know why you like to torture and embarrass me so much–”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hot tub last night.”

“Oh, yeah, that must’ve been horrible for you,” he says flatly, dropping his hands to the mattress only for you to grab at them again to wrap them back around you. 

“Sometimes you talk and I just want to smack you, you know that?”

“You can smack me,” he says, surprising you a little – enough for you to lift your head and grin down at him. “What? You like that idea?”

“I… I don’t know,” you say a little shyly before leaning in to kiss him. It really is hard to look at his face for longer than ten seconds without kissing those gorgeous lips. It’s soft, sensual, as usual with Jimin and, honestly – it wipes your mind clean. 

He smiles into it, pulling back a tiny bit. “So cute.”

You shake your head a little, pressing in again. The idea of smacking Jimin suddenly sounds even better, if only for the fact that he sounds like he would enjoy it. The thought makes you giddy in a new way. 

“Can I tell you something?” he asks quietly as you rest your head back on his shoulder.

“Of course.”

“I went to Taehyungie’s room when we got out of the hot tub.”

You lift up once more to watch as a smile spreads across his lips; he must be satisfied with your reaction, your eyebrows pushed up in surprise at the revelation. “Oh,” you say, immediately breaking into a cheeky smile. Is it finally your turn to tease him?

He looks giddy himself, the way his cheeks are bunched up a bit, eyes full of mischief. 

“And?” you say when he doesn’t elaborate.

“And it was fun.”

“That’s all I get?” you ask, nearly offended, lifting further off him to lean on your palm instead, one hand resting on his chest, so you can see him better. 

“What? You want a play-by-play?” he teases, licking over his bottom lip, smug smile not disappearing for a second.

“I mean, I’m not opposed. But you gotta give me something. What happened?”

“I guess I could show you,” he replies, voice dropping a little. 

You’re not totally sure what that means. But you absolutely want to find out. “Show me,” you say with a sure nod, almost goading. 

He springs up, taking you with him off the bed and walking you backwards until your back’s against the door. Biting his lip through a smirk, he sizes you up, trailing one hand up to your neck while the other stays by your hip.

“Are you you? Or am I you?” you ask in an embarrassingly breathy tone, punctuating it with a gulp as you try to contain yourself. 

“I’m me,” he whispers as he leans closer, pushing his body against yours so that a leg is propped between yours, pelvises meeting.

“Mm, so you initiated.”

It makes him laugh, that you’re still so focused on the events of the prior night when his lips are skimming over your jaw. “I mean… He told me to come to his room, shut the door behind us. I just… got closer, so… you tell me.”

You picture it as he says it, an excited little curl of your stomach coming with the mental image. “I’m guessing he didn’t push you away?” you play, letting your hands slide up his torso to brace on his chest.

He shakes his head, pulling away from your ear to smirk at you once more. “Are you going to?” he teases, playing up his surprise as his head tilts down momentarily to gesture to your hand placement. 

Your fingers grip his shirt in response. 

“Good,” is all he says before he’s leaning in, kissing you so that your head presses back against the door, lips parting gently to welcome him in. 

You moan into his mouth – this is too hot, your hips already pressing forward against his thigh. Not only because the thought of them together is sitting on the surface of your mind but also, Jimin is still new to you in so many ways. Even just the way he kisses you, so sensually, making you drunk on him, is different than any of the others. He just has this innate thing about him. 

He pulls back and hums, the sound already telling you that he’s about to tease you once again. “Need something?” he asks, obviously referring to the wiggle of your hips.

You lick your lips and reply, “You’re supposed to be giving me a play-by-play,” but it has less sass than you intended because he’s started to move too, long rolls of his covered bulge against you. 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” His head ducks into your neck once more to press a kiss to you. “But for accuracy, we should probably get this off you.” With that he’s lifting the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. He quickly does the same with his own then it’s warm tummy to warm tummy as you pull him back to you.

“What else should we do?” you ask, before cheekily adding: “For accuracy.”

“In a few seconds…” he begins, leaning his head in to ghost his lips over your neck. “You’re going to move me to the bed and get on top of me.”

You take in a breath, shaky a little on the exhale, at the thought of Tae doing that to him, but also the way he presses a hot kiss to the side of your neck, sucking lightly until the sensation has you humming out a moan. 

He pulls back, admires his work, runs his thumb over it. “Yeah, I think it was about there,” he says through an unholy smile. 

You look at him in wonder but quickly you’re biting your lip, getting impatient to find out what happens next, like you’re reading a really good book. 

Pressing lightly against his chest, you walk him until he’s against the bed, and then with a final push, he falls back, getting comfortable on his elbows. You almost laugh as you climb on top of him – it’s strange, him knowing what you’re going to when you don’t even know yourself.

“Here?” you ask, settling yourself over his groin then bringing your hands to his pretty chest. 

“Perfect,” he says as he pulls you down to meet his lips.

As you kiss, every second getting hotter, heavier, you can’t stop yourself from grinding down on him, feeling the hardness rubbing against your core through too many layers. It feels so good already but all you can think about is feeling him for real. 

When you go to reach down, he stops you, taking hold of your wrist, but continues to kiss you, tickling over your tongue, teasing you in whatever way he can. 

You pull your lips away to look down at him questioningly – for a moment, you’re almost nervous you’ve done something wrong for him to be holding your hand away from him so firmly. 

But then he rolls the both of you over, pinning one arm above your head and quickly bringing the other up to join, making your body tighten as the use of his strength. 

“This is creative liberty,” he notes, switching both of your wrists to one hand so the other can trace your jaw, then down, letting it linger around your neck suggestively for a moment before continuing. 

“Oo, just for me? Does Tae not enjoy being manhandled as much?” you ask playfully, watching the way his confidence and shyness meld together on his features. 

“I suppose… that’s one area that you know more about him than I do.” He draws near, pressing his lips softly to your collarbone, moving inward, then to your other side. 

You sigh, attempting to lift your hips a little for some much needed pressure. “You played it safe.”

He sounds his affirmation against your skin.

“But not with me.”

“It’s a bit less stressful,” he admits just as his hand reaches your waistband, fingers finding the drawstring and pulling to unravel it. 

“Aw, I don’t make you nervous?” you tease, but the way his touches are affecting you, the way your voice comes out all thin, makes you sound like you’re the nervous one.

He chuckles and lifts up to give you a cute little smile. “I didn’t say that.” With one hand, he shuffles down your bottoms, moving so you can finish kicking them off, then he’s back kneeling between your bent legs, leaning forward to kiss you.

You whimper when you realize he’s still not touching you, arms tugging a little at his hold to see if he’ll let you free. Jimin’s so pretty and you’ve wanted to touch him for so long and now he’s not even letting you. “Need you to touch me,” you whisper against his lips, the words a muffled mess but you’re sure he gets the idea.

He’s giggling, so cute but still so sexy as he pulls away and presses his forehead to your shoulder, lips finding the dip of your collarbone instead. “You’re more impatient than him.”

You scoff but he’s finally moving down your body, hand teasing over your hip, down your thigh before coming back up to brush over your core, making you jerk a little at the contact. You moan as his fingers dip between your folds, spreading your wetness over your clit, but then he’s moaning too.

“Mm, you’re so wet, baby.” He meets your eyes. “You like the thought of it, hm? Me touching him?”

Your fists close, a shock of pleasure running through you. “You… you touched him?”

His mouth twitches up. “What am I doing right now?”

Your mind is apparently no longer working well enough for you to realize this was still the play-by-play, and now you’re picturing his hand wrapped around Tae’s cock, slowly sliding over it like how he’s languidly caressing you right now. Your tummy tightens, cunt clenching, hips pushing up into his hand. 

Fuck, you wish you could’ve seen Tae's face, watching the pleasure take him over. And Jimin's while doing so for the first time.

“You like it so much, oh my god," he groans, eyes trailing from your face, down your body, to where his hand is working effortlessly over you.

“It sounds so hot,” you breathe with a nod, your eyes falling shut at the way he’s rubbing back and forth over your swollen clit, quicker but still too gently.

“What if I told you I made him come like that?”

You whimper out your approval, hips jerking up, begging for more. “Fuck, that sounds so good–” Another frustrated huff comes out of you.

“Mhm. He looked so pretty,” he tells you before leaning down and clasping his mouth around your nipple, wet suction making you pull harder at his hold on your wrists.

A second later, he sinks two fingers into you, releasing his mouth to groan with you. “씨발… you feel fucking perfect. I forgot how tight you are.”

When he doesn’t move them right away, you try to take matters into your own hands, waving your hips up to fuck yourself on his fingers, but he just lets his hand follow, casually moving back to sucking and nibbling at your breasts. “Jimiiin…” you complain, practically a sob, because you’re so wet and so turned on and he’s absolutely holding back. You already know what his fingers can do and you’re desperate for it again. 

He bites lightly, a touch of addicting pain jolting through you. 

“Ahh– please–”

Then his thumb presses to your clit, drawing circles that have you tightening around his fingers. He has the audacity to chuckle as he lets go of your wrists, instead switching to covering your mouth as he starts to fuck his fingers into you, bending them just so with each drag against your walls. 

You’re a mess of suppressed moans as your head pushes back into the mattress. He goes faster, jerking you towards release so quickly that it’s almost alarming, eyes rolling back into your head. All you can do is grip onto the sheets and hold still as he takes over your body – making it seem far too easy. 

“Gonna come?” he asks sweetly, almost patronizing. Such a cocky little shit. But it works anyway, your cunt squeezing him as he drives into you harder. When he envelopes your nipple and sucks once more, you’re done for, gasping against his palm before coming hard, the sounds of your gushing wetness ringing out into the room. 

His hand placement over your mouth is probably a good thing because you can’t stop moaning as the waves of your climax rush over you. You don’t usually come like that – not so easily anyway – so it’s extra overwhelming, each press of his fingers against your g-spot sending extra vibrations through your body. 

He slows, still caressing inside of you, and presses kisses all over your chest, lifting his hand off your mouth to hear you let out a low drawn out curse. Then his lips trail up, exploring more of your neck until he’s kissing you deeply once more. 

Your legs close around his hand, your muscles twitching each time he crooks his fingers inside of you. “Baby,” you’re still gasping, trying to kiss him but also trying to get air. “Fuck.”

He cups your sex with his soaked palm, fingers finally sliding out and even that makes you moan, feeling the slight press against your clit.

You relax against the mattress. Even though you’re wrecked from your orgasm, he’s just so addicting that all you want is more. “Are you finally going to fuck me now?” you breathe as he pulls back an inch, your hands sliding up him and into his soft hair. “Or is that not part of the script?”

“It’s not,” he tells you simply, pecking your lips. You start to let out a whine, your face scrunching up in disapproval but then he’s adding: “But...”

You probably look pathetically needy, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you peer up at him with hopeful eyes.

“Fuck. Yeah, I’m fucking you,” he gives in quickly with a wide smile, lifting onto his knees before backing off of the bed. “Does Kook have…?”

“Yeah, here,” you say, leaning towards the nightstand that you moved the condoms to. “There’s some in here.”

He retrieves one quickly, shucking off his bottoms then kneeling on the bed once again as he slides it on. 

“How do you want me?”

With a smirk, he shuffles closer, one hand finding your bent knee. “You’re so obedient today.”

Part of you wants to roll your eyes. How good is his self-control? If you’re a brat, will he just change his mind and be difficult? 

The look he sends you is challenging, a little tilt of his head, as he watches the wheels turn in your mind. 

“You’re the boss, right?” you say, a little challenging yourself – like you’re being a bit sarcastic. But not too much. 

He just shuffles closer, still smiling, as he pushes both your knees back until your thighs are pressed against your torso. He leans forward, his body compressing yours onto yourself just as his cock slides against you, the underside slipping deliciously through your folds, pulling another needy plea from you.

Mouth to your ear, he says: “Don’t be a brat. Just take me like a good girl.”

“I– ahh…” Your words catch as he pushes inside, hands gripping to his shoulders at the stretch in comparison to a measly two fingers.

“So fucking tight, oh my god,” he chokes out, a stark contrast to his firm words just seconds before. But he pushes in hard once he’s sheathed inside you, making sure you take every bit of him. 

“Oh, shit,” you whisper under your breath, the air knocked from you once more. 

“Good fucking girl.” He gives you a few more hard, shallow thrusts, reaching so deep that it's almost too much. 

“Fuck–” you start to whine but you’re cut off by his lips, a hard kiss paired with a full thrust of his hips. The angle is so good, giving attention to that perfect spot inside of you once again. 

He lifts up and you watch the pleasure colour his face, his hair falling in his eyes as he starts to fucking you a little faster. “Fuck, I really... should’ve fucked you sooner,” he says, smirking again and you can’t believe he’s still joking like that, your mind too preoccupied by the slide of his thick cock inside of you. 

But he’s not wrong. “You could’ve,” you taunt, wrapping your arms around your own legs to hold them in place for him to use you. 

“Save the best for last,” he says through a breathless chuckle, lifting up further so he can get a good grip on the bend of your hips, using the hold for leverage to pump into you harder. 

“Oh, fuck!”

“Right? Who feels the best, Y/N?”

Your eyes are clenched tight, little hums being knocked from you with each thrust as you slip a hand down to play with your clit. You must’ve heard him wrong because there’s no way he just asked you that. 

“Huh, baby?”

“What?” you whisper, blinking your eyes open to find him admiring your fucked out expression; his mouth is dropped open but the edges are still curled up in a smirk that matches the look in his eyes. It makes your tummy tighten. 

Is that really what he’s asking?

He chuckles in response, rolling into you harder until you’re crying out, covering your mouth with your own hand a second too late. He’s relentless now, pounding into you, that perfect feeling inside of you winding tighter and tighter. 

“Oh my god, you feel so good,” you sob from behind your hand, not confident enough to actually remove it because you swear you're about to come again. 

He groans too, pretty sounds between the laboured breaths of his exertion. He’s so gorgeous – dewy and glowing, muscles popping, in the warm light of your bedside lamp. “Baby, fuck–”

“I’m gonna come,” you warn him, rubbing your clit a little faster.

“Ah, god– Come… Wanna feel you come,” he rasps, hips slapping hard against your skin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck–” 

Everything contracts and you come together, unfiltered sounds from both of you mingling in the air. He keeps fucking you, even when it’s clear that he’s not holding out on you, breathy whines interjected between curses. 

Meanwhile, you’re stuck in place, taking it just like he asked, feeling the way your sensitive cunt just keeps trying to suck him in with each pulse of your high. “Mm, fuck…” is all you can get out between shallow breaths, even once your body is able to relax a bit as he slows and eventually stops with a final low groan.

He’s still deep inside you, palms pressing into the mattress by your shoulders, head hanging forward, and you let your legs go, parting them so you can pull him closer, get him onto his elbows above you. 

For the first time, you feel like you have free rein of his body, pressing a kiss to his neck as you let your nails drag lightly up his sides. You can feel him tense under your touch before he relaxes down, giving into the feeling with another soft moan in your ear. 

You both take a deep breath, letting it out together, and you find yourself smiling. 

“Oh, fuck…” he sighs, turning towards you and finding a spot to press his lips. 

“Took us long enough,” you breathe, letting your head fall to the side. 

He takes a minute before he’s slowly lifting up, sitting back on his feet. “You didn’t answer my question, you know…”

You’ve only just gotten your heart to slow, but at that, it picks up once more. “You can’t be serious,” you brush him off, turning your gaze away dismissively, but you’re still smiling. 

He laughs, a mischievous one because he knows he’s being the worst. But he’s shifting back, pulling out of you gently to stand and dispose of the condom. “There’s no way you don’t have a ranking in your head.”

“Jimin…” you admonish, a little scandalized. You should be past scandalization at this point but the idea of ranking them is just utterly insane on top of being hilarious. 

He laughs again, reaching down to pick up his boxers and pull them on. 

“Is it a jealousy thing?” you ask as you sit up on the edge of the bed, intrigued, though you’re quite certain it’s not that. It doesn’t feel like that anyway. 

“No…” he replies, coming to stand between your legs. “I was trying to see if I could get you into trouble.”

Ugh. You roll your eyes, shoving him away playfully, making him cackle once more. “So mean to me,” you say, letting a hint of a pout come through.

He comes back over, hands up ready to catch yours, stopping you from pushing him again. “Where we sleepin’?” he asks, voice lower, softer now. 

You smile, letting his fingers intertwine with yours, though you still press against them playfully as if holding him up. “You can stay here with me but I’ll have to let Jungkookie know. I’m not sure if he’s staying here tonight.”

“Or you can come to my bed.” He steps back, tugging for you to stand with him. 

“Hobi won’t mind?” you ask casually, letting go so you can start to find your own clothes. 

“I doubt it. But we can ask him.”

A/N: a reminder that Hobi and Jimin share a room in the dorms in the story so that’s why they are talking about him at the end lol. anywayyyyyyyyy 😏😏 so that’s that chapter haha. i hope you enjoyed, please tell me your thoughts… there might be a bonus chapter soon that will be optional to read (bc it’ll focus on Bang Chan) so just make sure you read the author's notes on everything because i'll explain everything as we go :) thank you thank you thank you ❤️

Tag List: @jinsquishes @cookiechristie @yoongiigolden @jinkajous, @effielumiere  @bucketofhiros @fontainexpert @sp00kysluut @bangtan-emo @nabiolive @asyamonet22 @notbotheredtho @angelsuni @juju-227592 @the-boy-meets-evil @welcometomyworld13 @ah2002 @aris-ink @here4btsfics @bananamochidaisy @pb89nv​ @mushroom-main​ @hoseokhasmyheartxx​​ @mariegalea​ @bookingsunshine @catchmybreath94 @zandra-42

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Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Holy shit that was a chapter!! Really love the way we finally got to hear reader’s background and understand why she feels the way she does. Truly sad to be shouldering so much grief and thinking it’s all her fault, bby everyone needs love omg 😭😭. Ah Yoongi, what will we do with Mr Hot and Cold. I’m kinda nervous if he did hear them. They’re obv not a thing and she don’t owe him shit but this back and forth tbh thing hearing them after what happened between them got me sweating and nervous!! But also AHHHH SKDJFJOSAK WE FONALLY GOT A NAMJOON FOCUS CHAPTER!!!! Thank you 🥹💗💗

Grey Area | Unorthodox 25

Rating/genre: M (18+); smut 💖, fluff, light angst; Idol!AU Pairings: Namjoon x Reader(f) (in the series: OT7 x Reader(f), Taehyung x Jimin, and more) Summary: Is Namjoon in or out? Warnings: Explicit smut, protected vaginal penetration, fingering, grinding, a bit of teasing, use of 'baby', 'baby girl', 'good girl', Joon has a really big dick, a bit of begging/neediness, ENM boundary discussions, vague discussion of past relationships and guilt, explicit consent, manhandling, cowgirl, reader wears some of Joon's clothes and they are big on her, size kink? sort of? Word Count: 6.1k Posted: April 24, 2023

A/N: Sorry about the wait on this, lovely readers. The writer's block seems to have eased significantly - yay! This chapter isn't super long but ummm I like it. I hope my Namjoon girlies are ready lol

Series Masterlist - chapters with smut are marked with a 💖 if that’s all you’re looking for!

As much as you knew it would be fine, something held you back from mentioning the kiss once you got back in the hot tub. You could tell yourself that it was just that you didn’t want to interrupt the flow of the conversation but– was that really all it was? Or was it just dizzyingly exciting having Yoongi’s touch on you? So much so that you wanted to keep it your giddy little secret for a bit longer. 

Plus, they already knew about New Years so it didn’t truly feel like hiding anything. No, it was more akin to how you didn’t make an announcement anytime one of the others kissed you. There was no need to do so for Yoongi.

Still, it took a good few minutes to stop thinking about it and actually focus on the other five as they continued chatting away through another round of drinks. 

Hobi got out first to head to bed. Then Jimin and Tae were calling it a night not too long after. Jungkook trailed after them. There was a pull with each of them but it almost made it too much to process, too many options for who to go with, especially after such an… interesting night. 

But when Namjoon didn’t move, instead letting his head rest back against the side of the tub as he looked over at you, you realized you wanted to stay out a little longer. Maybe it was an invitation in itself – you didn’t want to be presumptuous – but his eyes were smiling, looking at you in the low lighting, pulling you straight in as the door sealed shut behind Jungkook. 

“You’ve gotta be a raisin by now,” he said softly, finding one of your hands under the water and pulling it above just enough to be able to see his thumb run over the wrinkles on the pads of your fingers.

“I think I’m cooked all the way through, yeah,” you played back softly, making him chuckle. It felt so quiet out there now with just the two of you, all the ruckus having left with the three youngest. You scooted a little closer, sliding on the smooth seat until your knee was gently pressed against his thigh then resting your head similarly to his, nice and relaxed. 

He kept holding your hand, letting them fall together back into the warmth as he smirked. “Do you want to get out?”

“Mm, not quite yet,” you replied, purposely trying to be a little coy. It was hard with Joon. He was so unbelievably sexy but the line of what was too far was still clouded with him. Sure, you could flirt but you had to hold yourself back from insinuating anything too overtly. In the name of not rushing things.  

You let your leg float up and over his, finding a bit more physical contact. That wasn’t too far at least – a fact that was confirmed when his other hand came to rest firmly on it, pulling it tighter to him so it lay higher up on his lap. Immediately, that helped quell any hesitancy. 

He watched you for a moment as you watched him. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” you said with a little nod. “What were you up to?”

“Had some plans with friends.”

“That’s very vague,” you told him through a smirk. 

He chuckled before squeezing your hand. “It’s nothing exciting. We literally got food and talked about a bunch of random stuff.”

“I’m just bugging,” you teased further, endeared by his earnest answer. 

“I know, I know,” he replied with a little eye roll but his smile was still a little bashful. “What did you do?”

“Oh, nothing much,” you said casually, trying not to think about what had gone on with any of the maknae line hard enough for it to show on your face. 

“Oh yeah?” he asked, and it surprised you that it came off a little challenging, his brows jumping up slightly. All you could do was smile a little wider in return because trying to elaborate on your day would just sound worse. “You’re incredible,” he added dryly with a little chuckle and shake of his head.

“Why?”

“It’s almost infuriating how likeable you are.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” you pushed back dismissively. 

“It’s not the same.”

“It is. You’re practically perfect so I don’t know what you’re going on about,” you continued, looking past him a bit so that you wouldn’t have to watch his face at the steep compliment. 

He scoffed cutely and you could see in your periphery that he too was now looking off, eyes probably catching onto whatever stars he could see behind you. 

When his thumb started to rub over your thigh, it drew your attention back to him.

“I don’t want to get confused.”

The words made you blink at him. Not that he was overly serious about it but you could sense the slight change in his tone, the way he was looking at you a little differently now when his eyes met yours. “I don’t want that either,” you agreed.

“Like, I really want to kiss you…” he began lightly, eyes darting away again for the few words as if too shy to say them right to you. “But, uh…” He settled back on you, hand gripping your thigh gently. “I think the separation of what this is and what a relationship is is kind of unclear to me.”

Mm. Very understandable.

“Like, we’re in this grey area,” he continued, his hand lifting to move in the water with his words. “Between friends and something else. Which is fine. But I… I think I need it to be outlined better. For me and… maybe for all of us.”

You nodded as he finished. “Yeah… No, you’re right. It is a grey area. So, defining it’s definitely a good idea…” For a brief moment, you paused, looking at nothing in particular as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I guess… for me, the distinction isn’t so much about behaviour. Because, it’s not really all that different when it comes to, like, physical affection and stuff.

“But it’s more so about feelings and intention and commitment. Like, in an actual relationship, there’s going to be romantic feelings involved. And with that comes expectations, even if that doesn’t become obvious right away… Because when you fall in love with someone and they fall in love with you, you do begin to expect to continue to receive that love, right? And most people begin to expect a certain amount of time and energy devoted to them. … Most people would also expect a certain level of commitment and plans for the future that involve a partnership, and a marriage and kids, etc...” You let go of his hand to be able to gesture, creating a sphere with your hands. “And that all falls under a romantic relationship to me. Like, a romantic love.”

He nodded a little, clearly listening closely though he didn’t make a move to speak. 

“That’s the stuff that I don’t feel like I can give or that I don’t think I want. But all the other stuff… the affection, the intimacy, the care, the sex… I’m very comfortable sharing that with people. It’s just a different kind of care or a different kind of love than one can expect from being in love with someone.” You watched him for a moment before adding: “Because obviously I do care about you guys at this point. Like, a lot,” you admitted with a smile. 

He let a little smile pass over his lips too as he processed, taking in everything. “So, it’s about expectation,” he said finally, not quite a statement but not quite a question. 

“Hmm… I guess so, yeah.” Damn, he really simplified that so easily. “I think people can enjoy a closeness, whether that be emotional or mental or physical or whatever, without needing to be in love, and expecting to become someone’s everything.”

“Mm,” he hummed, nodding once more as his hands started to trace absentmindedly by your knee. “The true friends-with-benefits.”

You let out a little chuckle, surprised at his little joke. “Yeah. Exactly, though. Like that’s really honestly how I see it. As a real friendship but with all the fun parts of a romantic relationship added in.”

“You don’t find the other stuff fun?”

It took you a second to find the right way to answer that one, Namjoon’s eyes watching you closely. “It’s not that really. It’s just… not sustainable for me,” you explained slowly, trying to pick the right words. 

“Why?” he asked, it coming out so gently even as it made your stomach tense a little. 

“I mean, like I told you guys a while ago: I’ve hurt people before and I hate it. It’s the worst feeling in the whole world. And if I let feelings into the mix then people end up geting hurt.” 

“You don’t want people to have expectations of you, so then you can’t let them down,” he articulated too well.

With a tiny sigh, you shot him a sad little smile and he mirrored it, studying your eyes closely. It was so obvious how right he was.

“I mean, I get it. I hate hurting people, hate disappointing people. But also, it doesn’t mean everything is your fault if something doesn’t work out.”

“It does if I’m always the one breaking someone else’s heart.” 

His brows pushed together slightly. 

“I… I don’t know. But, that’s why it just seems like the right call to keep things in a grey area. If I don’t fall in love then I can’t fall out of love, right?” you asked rhetorically, rounded eyes looking right into his. But part of you kind of hoped he’d have an answer to all of this, some solution to why the feelings always went away. 

Because all you could come up with is that everything is fleeting. Everything comes to an end. Nothing is forever.  

The in-love feeling would always go away. That’s what you were afraid of. Because that’s what had happened every time. And it always seemed to hit you before the other person, leaving you to try and carefully maneuver a break-up that you’d never imagined happening in the first place. 

You couldn’t do it again. 

“Damn,” he said simply, softly, resting his head back against the tub. “That just doesn’t sound like a way to live.”

It felt nice, how non-judgemental he seemed. Not that you’d expected him to be in the first place. But still, he’d been too on the nose when he’d jokingly called you a ‘heartbreaker’ on one of those first nights. You didn’t feel like a heartbreaker. You hated it. You would literally rather never be in love again than have to tell someone else you didn’t feel the same way for them anymore. 

“That’s just how it has to be, I think,” you said with a little shrug but you couldn’t hide the tinge of emptiness in your voice.

“Do you think you can be satisfied with that?” he asked, his expression as warm as it was curious. His hand, now back on your thigh, pulled you a little closer in the water.

“Yeah, I think I can,” you replied. You’d thought about it a lot. “Because I still get to have these close connections, you know? I still find so much enjoyment and comfort in being involved with people in this capacity. Even if I never imagined to do it quite like this,” you said, breathing out a little laugh. 

“You didn’t plan to get involved with a whole group of friends?” he played. “Celebrities especially,” he added, letting out his only little chuckle. 

“Not really something I could have foreseen,” you joked, letting your free hand trace along his forearm. Talking to Namjoon was so comforting that you just ended up feeling even more at ease whenever the two of you talked. This kind of stuff had so not been on your mind tonight but he was always so quick and understanding and calming that you didn’t even mind that this was the direction the conversation had taken. 

“Are you feeling good about it still?” he asked, leaning in a little closer as if to see your face a bit better. 

It was a little distracting though, having him, all sweet and handsome, right in front of you. You nodded to his question. “Are you?” you asked after another moment of trying not to kiss him. 

“I think so,” he said more quickly and confidently than you were expecting. 

“Does that mean I can kiss you now?” you whispered.

His cheeks rounded, showing off his dimples, and then he was leaning in the rest of the way, catching your mouth with his. It started off so slow, innocent even, just lips caressing while hands gripped a bit more firmly.

But before you knew it, he was pulling you so easily through the water onto his lap, a leg on either side until your pelvis was right over his and his arms were wrapping around you to keep you in place. 

You were turned on practically instantly, like a spark being lit inside of you. This whole day had just been too much for you to still not have received any relief. And now Namjoon was the one facing the consequences, your thighs squeezing on his hips, while your arms looped around his neck to do the same. 

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind, matching the way you were melting into the kiss, tongues pressing forward to languidly brush together. Your body wiggled, hips swirling just a little, desperate for something to rub against. It hit you right away, a strike of embarrassment at how pathetic you felt. And then you were pulling back, soft apologies falling out as you stilled your movements. 

He looked at you surprised, not loosening his hold even when you did. “What? What?” he whispered, gaze bouncing from your one eye to the other. 

“Sorry, I’m just–... I’m really…” You took in a breath trying to find a way to give him an explanation without embarrassing yourself further. Just saying you were fucking horny felt so… crass.

His head tilted when you looked away, trying to follow. It took you chuckling a little for him to let out a breathy one of his own. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah…” You looked into his eyes once more, tongue licking over your lips without even realizing. Another bashful smile. “I’m a little… keyed up.”

“Keyed up…?” he repeated. You couldn’t tell whether the quirk of his eyebrow was more genuine or teasing. But when his arms slid further, connecting behind you, pulling you down onto him more solidly and making you almost moan, you had a better idea. 

“Uh-huh,” you hummed with a little nod, trying desperately not to squirm against the bulge pressed between your legs. 

“Keyed up from what?” Yeah, he was definitely teasing you now, head tilting the other way cutely.

Your eyes fell shut, lips pressing into a flat smile. “Joon…” you whined, dropping your head forward onto his shoulder.

His hands wandered up your back, firm and comforting. “Mm? You don’t want to tell me?”

“I’m sure you can use that big brain of yours and imagine.”

That made him laugh, enough to feel it vibrate against you. He turned his head towards you, prompting you to lift up. “Come here,” he whispered before pressing your mouths together again. “Mm, can I help?” he asked between kisses, each one getting a little more heated, bodies unable to stay still once more. 

“I can’t take anymore teasing,” you complained, feeling him smile against you. 

“I’m not trying to tease.”

You moaned a little into his mouth, hips sliding forward to grind down on him. “Really?” God, you sounded so gone already, almost innocently so, praying he wasn’t going to slow things down once again. This was what hours of – what was effectively – foreplay did to you apparently. 

“You’re sober, right?” he asked, pulling back just enough.

“Yeah, only one drink,” you got out in a rushed breath before you were kissing again, his hands running over your body, squeezing wherever they could. “Joon, I’m serious,” you complained when you broke apart, the grip you had on his shoulders sliding down over his chest, appreciating the rounds of his muscles disappearing into the water as you went further down. “I need to feel you. Please. Before I go insane.”

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, blinking and looking off to the side as if trying to clear his mind enough to think. “That needy, huh?” It was so gentle, stunned a little as he looked back at you and the way you were rocking into him, bumping your core against his cock, now starting to strain in his swimsuit. 

“Yes, really. I feel like I’ve been wet for hours.” Your finger found his waistband, tugging at it lightly, testing, as you practically pouted at him.

“What did they do to you?” he breathed through a good-natured chuckle. 

“I can show you,” you replied, the idea sparking in your mind and instantly becoming the only thing you could think about. You reached to find one of the hands that had settled on your ass, pulling it around you until you could press it flat over your core, his fingers curving instantly to cup you over the underwear you had on. You were positive he’d be able to feel the slippery wetness seeping through the cotton fabric. 

“He was touching me. Under the water,” you said, a little meek, but your desperation was still running the show.

“Who?” he asked, surprising you and making you flush a little hotter than you already were. 

Your mouth opened and it took another second for you to mumble out Jungkook’s name as you watched Namjoon, his eyes somehow so soft, but also curious and dark with lust. It didn’t need to be said that it was in front of the others.

He moved his hand slightly, just so the tips of two fingers could prod gently at your entrance. You got to watch, biting your lip, on the verge of a moan as he felt your pussy clench, his eyes falling shut in response. Then he moved a bit more, sliding them forward to trace lightly over your clit. 

You shivered. “Joon.”

“Like this? Was he touching you here?”

Fuck, you thought he was going to drop the mention of JK as quickly as possible. But apparently not. “Not… not quite,” you whispered, reaching to slide your panties to the side so his fingers were brushing right against your hard clit, the movement made too easy by all your arousal. “L-like this…Ah, shit.” Your free hand gripped his shoulder tightly once more – for leverage. 

“So wet…” He was whispering now too, his other hand sliding up to rest on your neck before carefully guiding you back to his lips. He kissed you like he worked his fingers, slow but with steadily growing purpose until you were tilting your hips forward and back a bit frantically, essentially humping his hand. “Fuck, baby girl.”

“Shit, don’t say that,” you gasped, the words dropping from your mouth before you could think about them. 

“What, why?” he asked, pulling back enough to look into your eyes.

“I don’t know. It’ll make me come or something.”

His smile was one of relief and a stunned desire. “You don’t know?” he said, a second later, once he’d seemed to collect himself. Did his voice get even deeper? What the fuck. 

“I don’t know, it’s fucking hot when you say it.”

“Oh my god…” he groaned, letting his head fall back to rest against the side of the tub. “You’re going to make me go crazy.”

“You could…” you began, breathless and conjuring your courage to talk dirty a little more than you were used to. “You could go crazy with your dick inside me.”

“That– that sounds good,” he stuttered out, impossibly deep. “Can’t out here though.”

“Your room? Now? Please?” you said, quickly becoming demanding, in the most pathetic kind of way, as soon as it hit you that of course, you couldn’t out here. 

“Uh-huh,” he groaned, removing his hand and quickly standing up with you, keeping a hand on you the whole time the two of you climbed out and grabbed his towel. 

“Where’s your towel?”

Oh.

Yoongi’s room.

“Ugh, I left it inside, I guess.”

“Here.” He wrapped you up so quickly you couldn’t even protest, then ushered you through the door into the upstairs hallway. “Don’t slip,” he added in a whisper when you took a few steps ahead of him while he locked up. 

You couldn’t help the little giggle, twisting your head to smirk at him and his cuteness as you tip-toed wet splotches along the hardwood. Whoops. 

His room was close, no run-ins between anyone else and his boner thankfully. Inside, you shivered melodramatically as you tried to run the towel over your body as quickly as possible, missing about a hundred water droplets. Then the towel was tossed at Joon to do the same as you paused, looking between him and his cozy bed. 

“I… I don’t want to get your bed wet.”

He laughed, like you were the most adorable thing he’d ever seen then threw the towel to the floor. “Let’s fix that then,” he teased as he came closer, hot lips catching yours as his fingers aptly maneuvered the clasp of your bra, letting it fall loose on your chest. Without even taking a second, his thumbs were tucked into the edges of your soaked underwear, wiggling them down until they could fall to your feet. 

Meanwhile, you worked on his bottoms, trying to deal with the fact that he was so hard. And so big. And just, completely making your head spin. 

Naked and shivering, you climbed onto the bed together, him switching on a bedside light to replace the overhead. 

You flipped onto your ass, meeting his eyes as you grabbed his arm a little roughly to pull him to you. “You tease me for one more minute and I swear to god…” You were obviously playing… But also, had you been edged twenty times during the day or was your blinded mind just exaggerating?

“I’m not meaning to tease you, really,” he said genuinely, climbing under the covers on top of you to attempt to create some warmth. “I just… want to feel you.” With that, his hand slid up your thigh again, slipping over your folds and bringing out that breathy ‘ah’ of pleasure once more. 

“Mm, ok,” you sighed, drawn to his mouth again. You let your hands cup his jaw before sliding back into his hair, tongue licking into his mouth, caressing his. You couldn’t stop twitching, each time his fingers rubbed over your clit. So fucking sensitive. “I’m not kidding, I’m gonna cry if I don’t come soon,” you whimpered against his lips, only half joking. 

“Then come,” he said so sumptuously just as he let two thick fingers plunge smoothly inside you. It caught you off guard, a loud gasp turning to a sob as your walls tightened hard around him. He was certainly not going to tease you. Not with the way he sunk in again a second later, all the way to the knuckle, making sure you felt all of him. 

“Fuck, oh my god–” you cried, gripping his hair tighter than you meant to. Your hips waved up instinctively, meeting the drives of his hand until you were putty, “ah, ah, ahhhhh’-ing into his mouth, practically shaking in his embrace from the force of your high.

You would’ve been a little embarrassed maybe, sobbing this much with someone you were having sex with for the first time. But Joon felt so safe – it was never even a thought in your mind, not when your body was now warm on every inch from the way his fingers were curving up inside of you, even still, even as you came down and you found yourself struggling to take in full breaths. 

“God, you are fucking gorgeous,” he rasped, propped up on one elbow over you as he continued to work his fingers, slower now, just watching the way the sensations melted across your face. “Wow,” he added, quieter, a little breathless himself. 

“Yeah…wow,” you told him with a little nod, your eyes finally fluttering open. When you looked into each other's eyes, you both couldn’t help but smile, almost on the brink of a little laugh. 

Instead, he tucked his face by your neck, pushing it into the pillow as he groaned. “Baby,” he said, the words totally muffled. 

“What?” you asked, hands running down his back, feeling how his skin was so smooth and hot now too. 

He turned his head just enough to be heard better. “Can I still fuck you?” Those words, in his gorgeous voice, mixed with a needy tone? It just made you want to come again immediately. 

“Please. Fuck, yes,” you replied after the shortest moment of processing. Your arms wrapped around him, about to pull him where you wanted him. But together, you realized, him crawling over you to the nightstand just as you loosened your grip. 

Protection acquired, he came back to you only to find you pressing on his shoulders, giving you the space to sit up. 

“Can you…?” you asked, gesturing to the headboard with a tilt of your head. 

He smirked at you just a bit, eyes narrowing, before swiftly doing so, pulling you into his lap until you were seated exactly as you wanted, just the same as the first night you’d spent in his room – but now with much less clothing between you.

With a tiny press of your hips forward, you were able to rub against his length, spreading your juices up and down the underside. 

A steady hold on your waist, a deep breath, he watched, pressing his lips together, clearly trying to stop the way his eyes wanted to roll into the back of his head. When he looked down, you followed his gaze, moaning with him at the sight of his thick cock slipping so slowly between your lips. 

Then you reached down to wrap your fingers around him, feeling how big he was in your hand. Was he the biggest out of the five? The thought made you want to laugh, stupidly entertained, but you held it back entirely, biting your lip instead through your little smile. 

“You’re teasing me now,” he said softly, not even a hint of the whining and pouting you had been doing. 

You smiled wider, trying your best to think clearly with the drag of your clit along him. “Baby girl gets what she wants, right?”

An air of an indignant laugh then his brows were pushing up a little, the look on his face suddenly a little cocky. “I hope you don’t think that’s how this is going to go.”

Those words, you had not been expecting; they sent an icy thrill through you. “No?” you asked sweetly, lifting your hips up until his tip was nudging at your entrance.

Another deep breath from him as he looked at you with amused eyes. “For tonight, sure. But, typically – no,” he explained further, the final ‘no’ coming out firm with a little shake of his head. 

You licked your lips. God, the idea of him putting you in your place was just making you wetter, your body sinking down on him just a bit until you started to feel the stretch, and a little breathy moan came out. Damn, he really was thick.

“Fuck…” he sighed, hands absentmindedly pushing down on your hips a little while you tried not to let him conduct you. Not yet. 

You squeezed around the tip, groaning together as you fell forward a little, catching yourself on his shoulders. “You like it better when I’m good?” you whispered teasingly, so quiet with how his cock expanding your walls was choking you up. 

He let out a guttural sound, almost out of frustration, but you could feel him pulsing inside you, now halfway in. He seemed to be fighting himself, wanting to slide you down all the way but also not letting himself be forceful with you. “Y/N-ah,” he grumbled.

It was almost cute, the way his eyebrows were pushing together, eyes falling closed until he was blinking them open to stare at you, refusing to plead. 

“Want me to be good for you?” you asked once more, sliding in a bit farther, your breath hitching at how deep he was already. 

“Baby, if you’re good for me, you can have whatever you want,” he rushed out, hands gripping harder at your hips, head pushing back into the headboard. Good answer.

You sunk down the last inch, ass fully flush against his pelvis, his cock reaching into your tummy. “Fuuuck, Joon…” you moaned, immediately beginning to swirl your hips a little. “Can feel you all the way up here,” you gasped out, pressing into your abdomen to show him. 

He just cursed again, sounding like he was being tortured. “Baby girl, you gotta move.”

“Mhm,” you hummed in compliance, the pet name making it easy to give in, before starting to lift, feeling the wet drag against your walls. 

“Fuck, good girl,” he rasped before pulling you into a deep kiss, one hand locked on the back on your neck while the other began to guide your hips in a slow bounce. 

There weren’t many thoughts in your head but the one you could discern was simple: you could certainly be good for Namjoon. Sure, you still naturally wanted to be a bit difficult but something about those praising words floating into your ears made you melt. You just wanted more and more. 

“You’re big – god–” you told him into his mouth, the words tapering off into a whimper as you tightened around him each time you lifted, like your body was trying to keep him inside. 

“I wanna– here,” he said, holding you still a moment while he shifted himself down the bed so he could lay against the pillow. The new position allowed him to fuck up into you, pulling sharp gasps and groans from you as you tried to stabilize yourself above him, a hand tangling in his hair, face lodged in the pillow.

His pace was steady, wiping your mind each time you tried to form a thought. You had tried to move to meet his thrusts but quickly gave up on that idea when he fucked you faster, ragged breaths and low praises hummed into your ear. 

“Holy shit–” you cried, a bit of drool no doubt coming out onto the linens. 

“Feel so fucking good, Y/N.” He slowed his movements a little bit, waving his hips instead as he caught his breath. “Want to come like this? Or are you going to ride me?”

He stilled and let go of his hold on you so you could sit up, lodging him deeper inside of you.

You ground your hips forward and back, only a few times before starting to fuck him, a hand on the front of each of his burly shoulders. 

Now able to take you in, he let his hands wander up, caressing your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples lightly then harder, pinching them a little as he squeezed each mound. “So fucking pretty, baby girl. Taking me so well.”

You nodded, pussy clenching down on him as you tried to fuck him harder. 

“God, you’re so sexy, fucking me like this. Does it feel good, baby?”

With a shaky sigh, you switched to grinding on him again, giving your achy thighs a little break. “It’s so good–” Sitting up more, you let a hand rest behind you on his thigh while the other came between your legs, rubbing your wetness into your clit, perfectly displayed for him to watch. “Fuck, I’m gonna come again,” you confessed, head falling back.

“Come, baby," he breathed. "Let me feel you come around my cock.”

“Oh, fuck–” You wanted him to keep talking. He was talking more than you could’ve expected and it was killing you. “Joon–”

“Yeah, baby?” he breathed, scratching his nails lightly down your sides, over your hips, down your thighs. 

“Want you to come too.”

“Can I flip you over?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned, not even opening your eyes or making a move to get off him. 

Suddenly, you were being whipped around, legs in the air as he pinned you down onto the mattress and started pounding into you. Right away, you were crying out, curses falling from you as his thick cock hit deep and hard. It took barely ten more thrusts before you were coming, legs closing around him as you moaned an embarrassing amount of unintelligible whimpers into his neck.

You were twitching underneath him, another jolt of pleasure flying through you with each drive of his hips as he sought out his own high. 

“Fuck, fuck, baby– shit,” he groaned, louder and more pained into your hair until he too was hitting the edge, his body freezing with him flush against you, hot and tensed as he spilled into the condom. 

Finally, you sucked in a breath and let it out in a soft and shaky ‘ahhh’ as you hugged him tight to you. He had fucked you… thoroughly, to the say the least. And after the day you’d had, it was exactly what you had needed. 

After a slow minute, he pushed himself up onto his hands with a little groan of effort, sitting back on his feet so that he could bring an arm up and wipe at the dampness that dotted his hairline. 

You just smiled up at him, still breathing heavy, letting your gaze dance down over his pretty pecs, the brown of his nipples to his stomach, faint abs popping out from under tan skin. Unable to help yourself, you reached up, tracing a finger down the centre of his torso then pressing your hand flat as you felt back up, all the way until he had to bend forward once again to let you continue, which, of course, he did. 

He dropped down a little more at your tug on his shoulder, craning his neck to kiss you when you lifted your chin slightly. It was soft this time, your tongue tracing along his bottom lip then meeting his, swiping over it slowly, sensuously. You really did love kissing him – even more so now with him inside you. 

Leaving your lips, he placed a kiss on your neck, then one lower at the start of your collarbone, before finishing with a warm wet kiss to one nipple, sucking it lightly and making you squeeze around him at the pinprick of stimulation. “You’re so tight,” he groaned out, lips still pressing to your chest. 

“Maybe you’re just huge,” you toyed, giving him a cheeky little smile when he peered up at you. 

“Ok, I’ll take it,” he acquiesced with a grin, then he was sitting up again, looking down at where you were still joined. “I almost don’t even want to move,” he said cutely, with a little shrug. 

You giggled, tilting your head at him as you propped yourself up onto your elbows. 

“But I gotta take care of this,” he continued, holding at the base of the condom as he started to pull out. 

“I’m gonna go pee.” Slipping off the bed, you realized that you didn’t have any clothes, nor were you interested in the slightest in putting your wet undergarments back on. “Hey, can I steal some clothes?” you asked, staring at the damp uninviting towel on the floor as he finished.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, so assuringly, quickly pulling out some cozy sweats for you and a t-shirt, which you promptly pulled on, chuckling with Namjoon when he saw the fit of them on you.

The closest bathroom was right beside Yoongi’s room and you were surprised to see a light on from underneath the door. Then again, Yoongi’s sleeping habits were weird, all the guys’ sleeping habits were weird, really. 

But like clockwork, his door opened just as you were coming out, flicking the light off behind you, leaving the two of you standing just a couple feet apart with you somewhat drowning in Namjoon’s clothes. He had his laptop in his hand, cords hanging, big headphones around his neck. He looked at you and tried to smile. The trying to smile part was obvious. Unfortunately. 

Then he walked off towards the stairs. 

Fuck… 

Had he heard you?

A/N: ok.... hehehe. welp, there's that. i haven't written much smut for Joon yet so this was fun! i hope you enjoyed :) as always, please do let me know if you did. it's incredibly motivating and makes me want to write this series so much when i hear people's thoughts! &lt;3 and thank you! THANK YOU thank you!

Tag List: @jinsquishes @cookiechristie @yoongiigolden @jinkajous, @effielumiere  @bucketofhiros @fontainexpert @sp00kysluut @bangtan-emo @nabiolive @asyamonet22 @notbotheredtho @angelsuni @juju-227592 @the-boy-meets-evil @welcometomyworld13 @ah2002 @aris-ink @here4btsfics @bananamochidaisy @pb89nv​ @mushroom-main​ @hoseokhasmyheartxx​​ @mariegalea​ @bookingsunshine @catchmybreath94 @zandra-42

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Please reblog my work if you enjoyed it <3 Thank you!

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

He makes my heart go 💥💗

Bless thee hat for inspiring the creating of this amazing fic 🕯️💜🕯️!! This was too adorable and romantic wow loved it 🥰🥹 Min Yoongi is indeed a special kind of man

the hat (m) - myg

summary: Your world famous boyfriend has just worn his hat to your apartment. It starts things.

pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

genre: smut, fluff

au: idol, established relationship

rating: 18+

word count: 2,688 (unedited - i'm lazy, ok?)

warnings: yoongi's ridiculous and sexy hat is worn, yoongi is a bit of a silly man, penetrative sex occurs, lots of kissing, talk of being in "control", unprotected sex (wrap it up!), creampie

author's note: i'm not entirely sure what this is, sort of inspired by a line i wrote in this drabble and then the conversation that @minttangerines and i had about this scene. it's kind of chaos, completely unedited (so excuse the mistakes) ... happy birthday yoongi!

It all starts with the hat.

The wonderful and absurd hat.

The hat with its gray (polyester) outside that reminds you of pants you owned in the 90s, the kind that made a noise every time you took a step (you had loved that noise when you were younger and once, Yoongi mentioned that he had too). Then there is the white lining, not quite sherpa fleece but something close to it. 

He looks good in hats. 

No. 

He looks excellent in hats — the beanies he wears just slightly above his ears, the baseball caps that make him look simultaneously like a sexy father and the cool-as-shit rapper that he is, the bucket hats that he wears when he doesn’t want to be perceived but has to be — but he looks particularly excellent in this hat. 

It all starts with him coming into your apartment (after a long trip to the States) wearing that hat.

It’s not particularly cold out, but that isn’t what surprises you about it; it’s the fact that he’s wearing it in an apartment building that is not his own and it is … a very recognized hat. 

The hat! Known to be worn by Min Yoongi, Suga of BTS, Agust D. 

Sure, he’s wearing a hood overtop of the hat (you’re not entirely sure how it’s possible but it makes the hat look better), but still you stop a few feet away from the little area where shoes go. He stops too (shoe still on) and looks at you. 

“What?” 

Your gaze shoots to the hat. 

“You’re wearing the hat!” 

He reaches up and slips a finger under the strap of his mask and pulls it off with ease and grace (god! Why does he look good doing that?). 

“It’s supposed to be cold tomorrow, I wanted to wear it. What’s the problem?” he asks as he looks down and undoes the laces of his Nikes (his pure almost mint condition Jordan’s). 

The fact that he’s doing something else while asking the question means that he honestly has no idea what you’re thinking or worrying about. That’s something you’ve learned in the almost year of being in a relationship with him — If he’s doing something else when he’s asking questions it means that he hasn’t thought about it the way you’re thinking about it — and it has caused many a fight. Especially at the beginning. 

“What if someone recognized you?” 

You know that you might be a little too worried, obviously it’s not something he thought about and therefore it means that maybe you shouldn’t think about it too. 

He looks up from his shoes, moving his head in what must be an awkward position as he has to look out from under the brim of his hat that he has pushed up, but given his position of being hunched over, hand still on the laces, he smiles at you. 

“You worried?” 

You nod as a feeling of frustration bubbles up in your chest. Of course you’re worried. You’ve been with him long enough to know that you would like to spend the rest of your life with him but short enough to still be scared of someone finding out and your whole world shifting in a matter of seconds and thousands of tweets. 

“Yes,” you reply. 

You watch as his smile falls just a little with one corner of still meeting his eyes. You’ve seen that look before, the one that tells you he’s entertained by you. It’s a look that you sometimes think is annoying. 

Now, you’re not sure how you feel about it because it both makes you feel silly and makes you feel loved. 

Because oh! How he loves you. 

Finally he steps out of his shoes and into your apartment, walking toward you with his gaze locked on yours. 

Sometimes, when he looks at you, really looks at you, it takes your breath away. Knocks you on your metaphorical feet because he looks at you like you’re the only person he’s ever looked at (which you know to be not true given that he looks at literally thousands of people when he’s performing). 

With his gaze touching you first, his hands touch you second. Those fingers sliding up your bare arm and onto your biceps. The calluses on his fingers (he’s been playing guitar in an almost hyper-fixated way) meet the small little bumps and edges of your stretch marks that decorate your skin in a gentle reminder that you both are human beings (Something that some people forget). 

You look up at him. 

“Jagi,” he says softly. “Jagiya.” 

“Hmmm?” 

“You don’t have to worry. I’m not worried. I wouldn’t have worn it if I was,” he says, confirming that you are being foolish.  “Lots of people have this hat.” 

Your face squishes into a small pout and it makes him let out an entertained breath of air. 

“Lovely,” he whispers and then kisses you softly as his hands move up to your neck, one traveling further to your chin and jaw. 

You melt into the kiss. 

It’s chaste and gentle. You’ve learned he is often like this. His moods are like where the ocean meets the shore — sometimes hard, pushy, and demanding; sometimes gentle, calm, loving, moving with everything around him and then silly, playful, and foolish — he is ever changing. 

He breaks the kiss and his thumb moves over your cheek. 

For a moment he stays like this. Just watching you until your eyes flutter shut and all anxiety and worry slips down your spine, drips onto the floor, and disappears into the space between your apartment and your neighbors. 

Then, suddenly he clears his throat in a shocking noise that forces your eyes open with surprise, he drops his hands and walks around you, smacking your ass on the way.

“Now! What’s for dinner?” he asks. 

“You jerk!” you laugh as he opens one of your cupboards and looks inside for things he could make into something that resembles a meal. 

He peers out from behind the door for a moment and winks at you before his face disappears again. 

You shake your head with surprise, taking a moment to mix the feeling of being looked at and kissed with this one. Slowly, they settle into some sort of sweet and silly feeling that pools in your cheeks. 

You walk to him and wrap your hands around his waist and lean over his back to peek into your very empty cupboards. 

“We’re going to have to order in,” you say in a sly tone. 

“Was this your plan?” he asks. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” 

He moves his head to the side in a move of disappointment and clicks his tongue against his teeth. 

“What am I going to do with you?” he asks in his deep, dark, whiskey smooth voice. 

Your mind whirs at his tone. 

He knows it has an effect on you and will stop your brain. He knows this and while your brain short circuits he spins around and grabs you by your waist pulling a surprised shriek of delight out of you. 

He lifts you for a moment and wraps his arms around you to protect you as he guides you into your small living room (really the apartment is just one large room with a loft that looks over the rest). 

His fingers find your ticklish spot on your lower back and the room fills with your laughter and his breath. Which is hot against your neck. 

“Yoongi!!” you cry as you fall onto the couch with him on top of you. 

He is heavier than people might imagine (months at the gym and in pilates class) but he balances most of his weight on his knee that is pressed to the couch between your legs and onto his hand just above where his face presses into your neck. 

He stops tickling you and your breath moves from laughter into something more serious, determined, and lusty. 

“Jagi” he breathes against your neck and for a moment both of your bodies are completely still. 

Then, almost as if you can read each other’s minds, you are kissing, hands working and clashing together to undo each other’s jeans. 

He tastes like coffee. 

Your hands succeed and push the zipper down before you move both hands into his hair and push the hat off, it falls awkwardly against your head (breaking the kiss for a moment) and then onto the couch. 

He breaks the kiss then and pulls back. Your chest rises and falls, clothes pushed up and down on both your bodies, and you watch him with a slightly confused look. 

“What?” 

He looks at the hat and then at you and grins. 

“Come here,” he says and pat his leg before he moves to sit against the back of the couch. 

You move to straddle him but he stops you. 

“These need to come off,” he whispers (in that tone again) and points to your shirt (his, actually) and your jeans. 

With weak knees you stand and slowly slip your shirt over your head. You aren’t wearing a bra and his gaze lazily moves over how they rest against your body. He raises his hand and gestures for you to come closer. You do. Your hips swaying with each step all because of how he looks at you and how it makes you feel. 

Slowly (fucking painfully slowly) he reaches up and slips the very tips of his fingers down your collarbone, then sternum, until he meets the soft curve of your breast and he traces it; following the the movements of your body like they are notes he has played before and is hearing in a cleaner sound. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. 

You shiver. 

He takes your jeans off of your body. Those callused hands moving gently over marked skin, and then as he pulls the denim down, onto the floor, he presses a kiss to your stomach. 

You shiver and slip your hands into his hair again, down his neck and back until you reach the hem of his sweater and pull on it. 

He undresses as you stand watching. Your gaze drifts over how each muscle group moves and works with the others as he pulls off sweater, then shirt, and throws them aside. He arches up on the couch (slightly awkwardly) as he pushes his jeans down and you watch, amused, as he struggles with them until he lifts his legs and nods at them with a playful smile. 

You laugh as you step back to grab and tug them off him. 

Finally you move to his lap and sit down. He kisses you again, fingers dragging over your neck, then shoulders, and down your back. 

“Yoongi,” you whisper against his lips.

“Yeah?” 

“Fuck me, please.” 

He smiles against your lips before he bites your bottom lip. 

“Needy.”

“You started this,” you whisper. 

He lets out another entertained scoff and pulls back to look at you. He studies you for a moment and you can feel the frustrated heat grow in your chest as your excitement slips down your lips and onto your thigh. You push against him, rubbing yourself against his clothed erection (wait! Why the fuck is he still wearing his boxers?). 

He moans.

“Something is off,” he says, still studying you.

“Yoongi, if you make me move because you forgot to take your boxers off, I am going to go into that bedroom and make you listen to me finish myself off.” 

He smirks at this and then shakes his head. 

“The hat.” 

“What?!”

“The hat. You should wear the hat.” 

He says it so casually before he reaches over to grab the hat and plops it down on your head. 

He nods. “Yup, much better.” 

You frown. 

“Take it off and I stop.” 

You stick your tongue out at him and he leans forward and kisses the tip gently which makes you sputter and laugh. 

He moves his hands between your bodies.

“Mmmm,” he moans. “No need for lube this time?” he asks.

“Don’t question it, hat man,” you say as you pull him into a kiss. 

He smiles into the kiss and his fingers dance over your thrumming clit. He moves his finger over it in the way he knows you like it and your body reacts. This is what you want from him but it’s not enough. Your body is screaming more, more, more, more!

“I need you,” you whisper against his lips and he nods, separating his hand from you and you feel him pull the materials of his underpants down his thighs. You shift to help him and then you feel him against your wet folds. 

He moans deep in his throat as he moves the head of his dick along you, gathering as much of your excitement on himself before he slowly (and carefully) pushes in. 

(He stops for a moment as you wince and then with a nod from you, he continues.) 

“Fuck,” you both breathe out and swallow the other’s word. 

You begin to ride him, taking your time, adjusting. His hands roam your body. His mouth falls from your lips to your breast and licks and kisses your nipples. He moves to look at you and laughs. 

“The hat!” 

You slap his chest, trying desperately to hold in your own laugh, before he pushes into you. 

It goes like that for a few moments, laughter mixed with the moans, rising in the apartment like heat in an oven. 

Until finally, the two of you slip back into the feel of each other’s bodies. He presses his thumb to your clit and moves it with you. You ride him fast then slow until he pushes back into you in a sign that he’s desperate for you.

“Stop torturing me,” he says against your neck. 

“I’m wearing the hat, it means I’m in control.” 

He chuckles.

“Oh is that what it means?” he asks as he pushes into you causing you to moan loudly. “That’s what I thought.” 

You slap his chest again and before you can get your bearings he wraps his arm around your waist and guides the two of you down onto the floor. He towers above you, taking in the surprised look on your face. 

“If you think this means you’re in charge then give it back to me” he says as he grabs the hat off your head and pulls it onto his. He smirks (bastard looks so good in that fucking hat, with that fucking smirk) and pushes back into you. 

“Oh! Fuck!” 

He is in charge and he is desperate. His movements are quick and deep. You can feel the stretch around him as you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer to you. He groans at this slight change and thrusts faster, almost relentlessly so, until you can feel the build. 

“I’m —” 

“Come,” he commands, then kisses you. 

He kisses hard, your eyes shut tight as you concentrate on the feeling in your core, the ache in your legs, the rug under your back. Then you come. He doesn’t stop, only encourages you to be louder (which you do), and then he comes moments after you. You feel him twitch inside and against your walls. 

For a moment your breaths sync, his head resting against your chest as you hold him against you. 

“So,” he says as he separates from you and leans against the couch, fixing his boxers (you’ll shower soon). “Chicken for dinner?” 

You shake your head, “I want bulgogi gimbap.” 

He sighs and shrugs, “I’m wearing the hat.” 

You exhale with feigned anger and move, only to feel the mess he left inside you slip out of you. 

“You jerk! I can’t move without making a mess and I want gimbap!” 

He smirks. Shrugs. 

“I’m wearing the hat, means I’m in control,” he says. 

(He buys you gimbap.)

OH.MY.GOD. Your mind, hello?? Yes this is scapegoat I needed!! Please we love extraterrestrial Bangtan stories. Oh poor jungkookie 🥹 shout out to Hobi, his kindness really be otherworldly. Wait so so, can Zephi make themselves invisible?? Is that what he did to make Yoon calm down 😮. Ayeee also 👀 is that a side pairing I senses 👀 VMon/TaeJoon ?? 👀

Hehe but no fr this was such an exciting intro chapter, Yoon’s spidey senses really had him knowing something was off before he even knew it. Really looking forward to the unfolding of this story 🫡

cosmic collision (1) | myg + jjk

A responsible weedman, Yoongi always tests out new marijuana strains before selling them to his customers. When his supplier offers him a new strain, Cosmic Collision, Yoongi is eager to try it. What he doesn't expect is the alien that comes with it.

↳ pairing: weedman!yoongi x alien!jungkook

↳ genre: BTS | 18+ | supernatural | strangers to lovers | slow burn | crack | fluff | smut

↳ wc/date: 6.8k | april 2023

↳ warnings: marijuana | yoongi blacks out from being too high, but i promise nothing bad happens to him | jungkook is so precious you might not survive | yoongi is TRYING HIS BEST

↳ notes: welcome to this silly lil world of galactic mysteries 👽 i hope you enjoy the journey. pls keep your arms, hands, legs, feet, and head inside the spacecraft at all times

↳ main masterlist // series masterlist

↳ what was jai listening to? know yourself - drake

✨ want to be added to the series taglist? send me an ask or reply to this post ✨

“What’s this one called again?” As Namjoon speaks, a thick cloud of white smoke rushes out of his mouth. 

Hoseok is quick with a response, answering before Yoongi has a chance. “DJ Short Flo,” he reads the piece of masking tape stuck to the top of the glass jar on their coffee table. The name is scribbled in blue Sharpie. 

Namjoon repeats the name to himself in a low and scratchy tone. He clears his throat a few times more than is really necessary. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” 

Yoongi’s not sure the names of marijuana strains really need to mean anything, but he’s not part of the conversation. He’s too busy counting a rather fat wad of cash as he stands in the entryway of his apartment. 

Suddenly, the chill vibes playlist Namjoon so artfully crafted for the group’s weekly Friday night smoke sesh pauses. He flashes a glare at Taehyung spread out on Yoongi’s bean bag as he passes the blunt off to Hoseok, who is now making grabby hands next to him on the couch. 

“This is that nasty flow!” Taehyung belts the Drake lyrics prematurely, using his phone to switch from Namjoon’s playlist to the song that has seemingly popped into his head at the mention of Flo. 

Hoseok’s eyes widen as he lifts the blunt to his lips. He takes a drag from it while his head leans over the back of the couch. “Hey, wasn’t that Yoongi’s rapper name in college? Or was it DJ Short Glow?” 

“Top boy in this shit, I’m so international!” 

Yoongi slams his foot into his dirty red Vans. He has to bend over slightly to hook his finger in the back of the shoe to pull it out from underneath his heel. Life would be much easier if he just untied his shoes and put them on correctly. 

“It was Gloss.” 

“Reps up is in here, got P Reign and Chubby and TJ and Winnie and whoa!” Taehyung’s voice cracks as he chokes out the lyrics, and smoke simultaneously puffs out of his nose and mouth. 

“DJ Short Gloss?” Hoseok asks. 

“Yeah, and you know how that should go!” 

“Man, shut the fuck up.” Yoongi throws his middle finger up at whoever may be looking. “I’m not even short.” With his shoes on, Yoongi shrugs into a light windbreaker and stuffs the money into one of the pockets. He has to wiggle the pocket’s zipper a few times before it fully zips closed. “I’ma be back in probably two hours, okay?” 

Hoseok and Taehyung are now belting an Ariana Grande song, so only Namjoon acknowledges Yoongi’s announcement. He throws his friend a thumbs up as smoke unfurls around the blunt squeezed between his lips. 

“Have fun, bro. Tell Jin he better respond to my message on Discord. We got games to play.” 

Yoongi gives the front door a sharp kick before he yanks it open. He reminds himself to figure out how to fix it from getting stuck constantly. The paint on the bottom corner is starting to crack from the number of toes that have jammed into it. 

“Yeah, yeah. I got you, Joon.” 

Seokjin is notoriously difficult to get ahold of. Yoongi can’t text him, which is understandable, even if using other apps like Discord to communicate is annoying. It always goes back to not wanting his real phone number associated with their conversations. Yoongi never feels like pointing out that a Discord account - like literally everything else - can be traced back to Seokjin’s phone. It’s a losing battle, and Yoongi isn’t the type to argue. 

So he shoots WWHandsome#7451 a quick “omw” and drives the thirty minutes to Seokjin’s brother’s house. Or was it his cousin? Best friend? Yoongi can’t remember. All he knows is the guy is cute, and that is enough to make Yoongi not want to go to his house. 

It’s a small house tucked away in the culs-de-sac of a modest but nice-looking suburb. Yoongi always feels dirty as he parks on the curb in his 2001 Honda Accord. The car has wires sticking out where the spoiler was once connected in the back (accidentally ripped off by Taehyung, who closed the trunk too hard). The metal below his front left headlight is dented and stitched together with black zip ties after Yoongi idiotically let Namjoon drive and his friend hit a mailbox.  

The feeling of being out of place typically intensifies as Yoongi trudges up the walkway to the front door. He feels frumpy in his dad hat with a frayed bill, eccentrically-patterned pink button-up shirt over a white graphic tee, and forest-green joggers. He never cared about fashion; throwing on whatever’s clean is enough for him. But when Seokjin’s friend (Yoongi is now remembering they are just friends) flings the door open and lets his eyes roam over Yoongi’s frame, he wishes he’d at least ironed his shirt. 

“Hello,” the man purs. He brushes blue-grey hair away from eyes that are sharp and heavy as he looks up at Yoongi through his bangs. Yoongi tries not to pay attention. “Jinnie’s in the basement.” 

The basement is really just one giant gaming room with a spot off to the side dedicated to Seokjin’s rather impressive inventory of marijuana. He’s exceptionally organized, which Yoongi appreciates, with each glass jar and drawer stuffed with green buds neatly labeled. It makes the exchange quick and easy. Yoongi would prefer not to linger. 

It’s not that Seokjin has ever done anything wrong. In all honesty, Yoongi can’t quite put a name to the feeling he gets in the elder’s presence. He just knows something about Seokjin makes him uneasy. 

“Yoongi-ya, good to see you, my friend.” Seokjin’s hand clamps over Yoongi’s shoulder and his fingers dig into his clavicle. 

“Good seeing you, too,” Yoongi mumbles. He shrugs off his backpack and holds it against his chest like a shield. However, it doesn’t protect him for long because Seokjin almost immediately pries it from Yoongi’s grasp. He watches as the older man tosses the empty bag onto the coffee table in front of a large TV, making the glass rattle. 

“Sit.” 

Yoongi plops onto the couch. Halo Infinite is paused on the TV. He knows nothing about video games, but he’s sure Namjoon would squeal over Seokjin’s setup. Yoongi makes a note to never tell him about it. 

“Want your usual, right?” Seokjin asks though he’s obviously not in any rush to get Yoongi his supply when he settles beside him on the couch. He tilts his black bucket hat back, pulling the brim away from his eyes to expose dark eyebrows. 

Seokjin wears clothes similar to Yoongi’s usual attire: comfortable graphic tees and joggers. He always manages to look better, though. Sleek and expensive, with logos of brands Yoongi doesn’t even know stitched into the fabric, all monochrome rather than the patterned clothing that makes Yoongi look like a rainbow threw up on him. 

“Mhm,” Yoongi hums. “Chem Valley Kush, XJ-13, and DJ Short Flo sold really well.” 

Seokjin’s eyes crinkle as he grins. In the dim lighting of the room, Yoongi swears his teeth look sharp. “XJ-13 put your ass in gear, didn’t it?” 

This Yoongi has to smile at. “The most productive I’ve been in my life,” he laughs. “That tangerine aroma, too? Fuckin’ beautiful.” 

Seokjin reaches for the clear glass bong atop the coffee table. He brings it to his lips, pausing momentarily to say, “It’s the Jack Herer in it.” 

Yoongi watches the smoke furl through the intricately curled tubing. He’s always been more of a bowl kind of guy, but he doesn’t say no when Seokjin passes him the bong and a lime green lighter.

“I’ve got enough of all three, but try out this one.” Seokjin watches expectantly as Yoongi inhales and doesn’t continue talking until he blows a thick cloud toward the ceiling. “It’s called Cosmic Collision. Totally brand new strain, an experimental hybrid. Nobody’s got this on the street except me.” 

“Cosmic Collision?” Yoongi runs his tongue across his teeth, then the inside of his cheeks, like he’s gathering the taste in his mouth. It’s fruity and went down so smooth it almost felt more like vaping or hookah than weed. “Tastes like cereal.” 

“Good, right? Shit’ll take you somewhere otherworldly.”

Describing the strain as experimental and otherworldly is relatively accurate, Yoongi muses as he takes a few more hits from the bong. Each pull is smooth and surprisingly kind to his throat as he breathes it down. Weed like this is hard to come by on the streets. Most are harsh, perhaps from being doused in pesticides or growing in shoddy environments. Seokjin has never let Yoongi down, though. Everything he provides is always high quality, to the extent that Yoongi wonders if the man grows it himself or if he’s got the hookup with someone professional. 

Before long, Yoongi sinks into the couch and forgets his promise of returning home after two hours. His phone buzzes in his pocket with text messages he can’t seem to find the desire to check. He doesn’t hear the notifications, only feels the vibration against his thigh. The sensation warms him to the point that the way his body tingles is a little embarrassing. 

Something else buzzes in his ear, something he can hear as a muffled squeak that pulses against his eardrums. It’s rather annoying. Yoongi’s face twists into a slight grimace that quickly melts away when he feels something poke his cheek. 

“Yoongi-ya!” 

His head is almost too heavy to turn, but he manages. Seokjin’s image is blurry initially. It takes a few blinks for Yoongi to adjust, and only then does he realize his eyes have been closed for a good while. 

“Hm?” Like his head, his tongue feels heavy to lift. His mouth tastes like Froot Loops. A small smile stretches his lips against his teeth. God, he’s so fucking high. 

“Jimin and I need to leave; I’m sorry,” Seokjin gives him a sheepish look. 

Yoongi blinks a few more times and wills his arms to lift up. He stretches his back with a groan. “Shit, sorry. Didn’t realize how long it’s been.” 

His phone tells him it’s been nearly four hours since he arrived. His brain struggles to comprehend this new information, just like it struggles to accept that he has somehow migrated upstairs and is now sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water in front of him. When the fuck had he moved? 

Seokjin gives him a knowing smile. “Drink more water when you get home. And drive safely!” 

Nodding his head, Yoongi slings his backpack over his shoulder and follows Seokjin to the front door. The bag is heavy with what Yoongi assumes is weed - the whole reason why he came to the house in the first place. But he has no recollection of Seokjin giving it to him. 

“That’s some strong shit,” Yoongi mumbles mostly to himself as he says his final goodbyes. 

There’s the knowing smile again, though Yoongi doesn’t know what Seokjin knows that he doesn’t know. “Like I said, otherworldly. Have a good night, my friend. I’ll see you around.” 

As he returns to his car, Yoongi decides that Seokjin most definitely gives him the creeps. A twinge of guilt accompanies the thought because Yoongi knows Seokjin hasn’t actually done anything to deserve such judgment, but he can’t help it. Knowing that he completely blacked out for hours with the guy sends a shiver down Yoongi’s spine. Smoking has never affected him like that before. 

The car ride home is frigid and quiet. Yoongi leans forward against the steering wheel, grasping it with both hands and straining his eyes to see into the dark. Driving while high is a skill Yoongi has perfected over many years of smoking, but tonight he finds himself struggling to stay focused. His eyes keep flicking up to check the rearview mirror. He knows this means he’s so high that paranoia starts kicking in. He usually cuts himself off before that point, but tonight got away from him. Checking for cops in the rearview mirror is one of those paranoid habits of his. At least the sense of self-preservation isn’t too ridiculous. Driving while under the influence of marijuana is illegal, after all. 

To his horror, the next time he looks into the mirror, the empty street isn’t what greets him. Instead, Yoongi stares into two large, bright eyes. 

There’s a motherfucking person in his backseat. 

“What the fuck?!” 

Yoongi stomps on the brakes. The abruptness violently lurches the guy forward, making him smack his face into the back of the passenger’s seat. 

The guy groans loudly and cups his hand over his nose. “Owww.” When he meets Yoongi’s eyes through the rearview mirror again, they’re shiny and wet. “You hurt me.” 

“Who the fuck are you?!” 

It doesn’t matter that he’s stopped in the middle of the street. Yoongi puts the car into park and twists in his seat to see the person behind him better. Any feeling of intoxication has swiftly left his body. He doesn’t think he has sobered up so quickly in his entire life. 

The guy appears to be a few years younger than Yoongi. His shaggy black hair falls into his eyes, though most of his face is obscured by the large hood of his mossy-green sweatshirt. Looking down, Yoongi sees that he’s in a pair of black basketball shorts that are inappropriate for the cool autumn weather. Tattoos of strange symbols litter his hands and creep up his arms, from what Yoongi can tell. The thought that his teeth look sharp like Seokjin’s do flashes in Yoongi’s mind, but he’s too freaked out to linger on that. Imagined sharp teeth are nothing compared to how the younger man’s eyes glow with a turquoise ring around his black irises. 

Despite the fear those eyes strike in Yoongi’s body, he can’t help but admire how beautiful the man is. Something about him feels… otherworldly, Seokjin’s voice sounds in Yoongi’s head. 

“My name is-” 

Whatever the man says is lost to Yoongi. His supposed name is nothing Yoongi has ever heard before, sounding more like strange clicks and whistles instead of a real language. 

Apparently sensing Yoongi’s confusion by his mouth hanging open, the man gives him a nervous smile. “You may call me Jungkook if that is easier for you to pronounce,” he whispers hardly loud enough for Yoongi to hear. “When I am in this realm, that is the name I go by. Elder Seokjin gave it to me.” 

Realm? Elder? 

Yoongi shakes his head while his palms press into his eyes. Maybe if he slowly counts backward from ten and focuses on his breathing, the marijuana-induced hallucination will disappear. 

Silently, he mouths the numbers until he finishes his ten seconds of attempted meditation. To his chagrin, he opens his eyes to see the strange man sitting on the edge of the backseat with his hands clasped between his thighs. He watches Yoongi in earnest. 

“I can tell that you are upset.” He speaks slowly as if he thinks Yoongi may not be able to understand him. “There was nothing else that I could do, sir. Elder Jimin and Elder Seokjin closed the portal when they left after they assumed I had returned home without them. But I was in the garden! I do not like the smell of marijuana. It hurts my head so badly. I needed to get fresh air until you left.”

The man waits rather impatiently for Yoongi to respond. He fidgets in his seat, though he keeps his eyes locked with Yoongi’s. His gaze is so intense that Yoongi has to look away. 

It’s too much. 

Before any more bullshit can spew from the guy’s mouth, Yoongi flings the door open, snatching the keys before slamming the door shut behind him. His hand shakes as he presses the button to lock the doors, leaving him standing outside and the younger man inside. 

He looks up at Yoongi through the back window with confusion. Yoongi could swear that the turquoise rings around his eyes dim. 

Turning his back to the car so he doesn’t have to look at the man anymore, Yoongi finally takes out his phone. It takes Namjoon three calls to pick up, but Yoongi can’t be mad; he’s just grateful his friend picked up at all. 

“Yoong. It’s three-thirty in the morning. Hobi said you never came home.”

There was a reason why he called Namjoon instead of his roommate. Hoseok is such a heavy sleeper, Yoongi knows it would have been pointless to try. 

“I need you to come get me. I don’t really know where I am, but there’s a guy in my car.” 

Silence on the other end of the line makes Yoongi grow antsy. He lets out a loud huff, then another to indicate the sense of urgency he needs his friend to share with him. 

“What?” 

“I’m not kidding, man. There’s some random fucking dude in the backseat of my car.” 

Yoongi takes a peek over his shoulder. The guy has crawled halfway into the front seats and is pushing the buttons on Yoongi’s radio. Probably fucking up all his saved stations. Yoongi lets out a hiss. 

“Bro, you’re tweaking.” 

“Fuck you, I’m serious.” 

“Tweeeeeaking,” Namjoon drawls. There’s a giggle in the background, the soft deepness of the sound unmistakable. 

“Give Taehyung the phone.” 

For a few seconds, Yoongi only hears more giggling and some rustling. He tries to respect his friends’ privacy and not ask why they are still together so late at night. 

Eventually, Taehyung murmurs a greeting. “Hey, boss man.” 

“Come pick me up right now. This dude is refusing to get out of my car.” 

“What if he hotwires it, and when you go back in the morning, it’s gone?” Taehyung raises a valid concern, but Yoongi isn’t in the right mind to think with common sense. 

“Then it’s fucking gone! It’s a piece of shit car anyway!” 

Taehyung gasps. “Don’t talk about Mary Jane like that!” 

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. Maybe he is tweaking. The universe must agree since he turns around to see an empty car. 

“Yoongi?” Taehyung’s voice is small and distant. 

Yoongi holds his phone a few inches away from his ear and stares at his car in disbelief. He slowly approaches it, peering into the windows to inspect the backseat. There’s nothing. 

“Uhh… nevermind. I’ll be fine. Make sure Joon drinks some water, okay?” He hangs up before Taehyung has the chance to question him further. 

With trembling hands, Yoongi unlocks the car and slides behind the wheel. Another quick look around confirms that he’s again the only person in the car. How was it possible for the other guy to get out? Yoongi knows that he locked the doors when he got out. But perhaps he unlocked them from the inside, and the alarm didn’t go off? Yoongi can’t think straight, but he supposes it doesn’t matter. His car is empty. 

It remains empty for the rest of the drive. Yoongi is on edge the entire time, but he has calmed down considerably by the time he parks on the street near his apartment.

However, Yoongi doesn’t feel true security until he’s in bed, after showering away the smell of weed and the tingling feeling of his skin. The marijuana is put away, although he hides Cosmic Collision in his closet. He doesn’t know why, but something tells him to keep the odd strain to himself for now. 

With how droopy the weed made him and the stress of the ride home, Yoongi quickly falls asleep to his Pink Noise playlist and tries not to dream of turquoise-ringed eyes. 

Yoongi loves autumn Saturday mornings. He loves snuggling into his blankets while the sun gently kisses his skin. He loves tilting his head to see red and gold leaves glowing in the sunlight outside his window. He loves knowing there’s nothing that needs to be done, that he has a day to slowly move through the kitchen in his pajamas with a cup of coffee and a blunt with nowhere he needs to be. He loves gentle days. 

Today, he does not have the pleasure of enjoying a gentle day. 

Rather than the sun waking him, it’s his roommate. Hoseok squeezes Yoongi’s shoulders a bit too tightly as he shakes the older man awake. 

“Yoongi,” he whisper-yells. “Yoongi, you didn’t tell me you had someone over. He’s really fucking hot, I get it, but you have to tell me! I just walked out of my bedroom naked, which I should be able to do since it’s my apartment, and I knew you wouldn’t be up yet, and surprise! Some gorgeous man is sitting on the couch, eating my chocolate chip cookies, by the way, staring at my dick! Do you know how embarrassing that is?!” 

With squinted eyes and a scrunched nose, Yoongi stares up at Hoseok. To be perfectly honest, all he heard was hot, naked, cookies, dick. Which… Is not what one expects to talk about before their eyes have even adjusted to the daylight. 

“Wha-what, Hoba, what?” Yoongi forces himself into a sitting position. 

Hoseok flaps his arms at his side and lets out an exasperated sigh. “Your hookup is still here. And he saw me naked. And he’s eating my food. That is what I’m trying to tell you.” 

“My hookup?” 

“Yes, fuck. He’s really sexy in an adorable kind of way. I was shocked. Not really your usual type, but an improvement, honestly,” Hoseok rambles.  

Ignoring the subtle dig at his taste in men, Yoongi tries to focus on the meaning behind his roommate’s words. He is no stranger to casual sex but seldom brings people over out of respect for Hoseok. It’s a situation precisely like this that he tries to avoid. 

“But I came home straight from Jin’s… Didn’t I?” Yoongi wracks his brain, desperately searching for some kind of missing link. “I swear on my life, Hoba. I swear on my life I went to Seokjin’s and came straight home. You can ask Joon and Tae. I called them after I left because-” 

Hoseok leaps back as Yoongi rips the blankets off of his body. “Fuck!” He flies out of his bedroom, feet barely touching the ground. 

He’s breathing hard when he bursts into the living room. 

The man from the night before - Jungkook - is cuddled up on the couch. He’s wearing the same outfit, though his hood is lowered now. Yoongi can see just how disarmingly beautiful the man is without the fabric obstructing his view. His face is round with flawless skin that practically glows in the daylight. His bangs are sticking out in all directions, hair mused in what Yoongi assumes is bedhead. Yoongi can’t help but find him kind of adorable, especially when his cheeks are puffy from stuffing so many chocolate chip cookies in his mouth. 

Except he shouldn’t be fucking real! Or in his apartment!

As Yoongi steps closer, he notices the turquoise rings around Jungkook’s irises. Fear that Yoongi can only describe as primal tickles the base of his spine. It’s impossible to stamp down, no matter how many deep breaths he takes. 

“You.” He points an accusatory finger. “You.” 

Not his most intelligent moment, but his brain doesn’t know how to function anymore. A cookie-covered smile makes Yoongi falter, but he does his best to maintain a stern expression. 

“Good morning, Yoongi! Your apartment is kind of dirty, but it feels cozy. I like it.” Jungkook places the now empty container of cookies on the coffee table. The action draws Yoongi’s attention to the stack of other empty food containers, beer bottles, weed residue, and game controllers littering the table’s surface. Maybe he is dirty. 

Nah, fuck that. This is not what’s important right now. 

Yoongi shakes his head, his shaggy blonde hair falling into his eyes. “Why are you here? How did you get here?” 

Hoseok makes an odd sound that Yoongi desperately tries to ignore. But then he feels the press of a warm hand against the nape of his neck, and he can’t brush him off from how tightly Hoseok is digging into his skin. 

“Yoongi…” He sounds like he’s about to scold him. 

Before he can start, Jungkook hops up from the couch. Both strangely-tattooed hands lift upward, about chest-high, and he twists them to hold his palms out. 

“It is my fault, Mr. Hoseok.” 

“Just Hobi.” 

Jungkook nods. “I did not explain the situation well. Elder Jimin and Elder Seokjin told me never to speak to humans about this, but I don’t know what else to do. No one else from our team is here, and they must wait until the next cosmic collision for the portal to reopen.” 

His voice trembles as he speaks, and Yoongi worries the guy is about to start crying. He tugs at the many hoops adorning his earlobe and rocks on the balls of his feet, much like children do to comfort themselves. 

Maybe he’s a dick, but Yoongi would prefer not to deal with a stranger crying in the middle of his living room. 

“Cosmic collision? Like the weed?” He understands all the individual words Jungkook uses, but none of them in how he has strung them together. 

The man bites his lip. His teeth wiggle as they dig into the pink flesh. At night they had appeared sharp, but in the daylight, they are blunt and almost too big for his face. 

“Not the weed,” he says without further explanation. 

Hoseok’s grip on Yoongi’s neck tightens until he turns to look at him. Human? He mouths not so subtly. 

Yoongi shakes his head. Nothing about any of this makes sense. With a sigh, he runs his hands down his face and grimaces at how oily his skin feels. 

“Look,” he starts, furrowing his eyebrows in Jungkook’s direction. “I’m gonna take a shower. And then I’m gonna drink a cup of coffee. By that point, I expect you to have called Jin or Jimin, fuck, I don’t care who, to take you home. Okay?” 

Jungkook opens his mouth, likely to protest, but Yoongi tuts his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Nope. I said what I said.” 

“Yoongi-ya,” Hoseok protests on behalf of the bewildered man. He follows Yoongi back into his bedroom, awkwardly wringing his hands as he watches him look for clean clothes to wear. “He seems genuine…” 

“Genuine?” Yoongi scoffs. 

Hoseok shoots him a glare. “Yes.” 

“Did you not hear him, Hoba? Humans? Cosmic collisions? Portals? Last night he said he goes by ‘Jungkook’ when he’s in this realm and made some weird ass clicking sounds like The Predator, like that was supposed to be his fucking name.” 

“Okay… that is a bit strange… But I think you’re being harsh. Clearly, the guy is confused, and if he’s a friend of Jin, I think you should be nicer to him.” 

“Jin gives me the creeps, too.” 

“Yoongi!” Hoseok untangles his fingers to wave them around. “Just, just take your shower. I will get all of us coffee, and we will sort this out.” 

They do not sort this out. 

While Yoongi showered, Hoseok probed Jungkook a bit further. It was all more or less the same, though. Utter nonsense. 

He discovered that Jungkook didn’t know what coffee was, didn’t seem to understand why Hoseok had initially been upset that he’d seen him naked because “nudity is the natural state of all humans,” and seemed shocked that Hoseok could “alter” his features - pointing at the deep orange he had recently dyed his hair. As if to explain his thought process about the hair observation, Hoseok watched with thinly-veiled horror as Jungkook’s hair turned a deep purple right before his eyes. 

Needless to say, as Yoongi inches his way into the kitchen after a shower that should have been refreshing but only left him feeling cold, he does not expect to see Hoseok leaning across the kitchen table to stare unblinking at their odd guest. Their odd guest whose previously-dark hair is an icy blue. 

“Umm?” 

Hoseok lifts his eyes to Yoongi. They’re bright and full of wonder, so shiny Yoongi worries he might be on the verge of tears. Out of sadness or something else, he’s not sure. 

“He’s magic.” 

Jungkook giggles at Hoseok’s declaration. However, one look at Yoongi’s narrowed eyes makes him clap his hand over his mouth. 

“Excuse me?” 

“He can change his hair color. And his eyes! See, look. Show him, Jungkookie.” 

Jungkookie? In the time it took Yoongi to shower, they’d gotten on nickname-level? 

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Yoongi forgets about his previous threat to kick Jungkook out. Instead, he sits at the table, lets the mug warm his hands, and tries to tell himself that the wave of heat burning down his body is from the coffee and not the intensity of Jungkook’s stare. 

A stare that glows brighter the longer Yoongi looks at him until he watches the turquoise rings turn a deep pink. When Yoongi finally pulls his gaze from his eyes, he sees that Jungkook’s hair compliments his new eyes. 

“What in the actual fuck?” 

“I can change other parts of my body, too!” Jungkook beams. He shakes his head, and his hair returns to its original black. His eyes’ turquoise rings replace the pink. “It takes a lot of energy to change big things, like my facial structure. Hair and eyes are the easiest. I made myself taller when I first got to Earth, though. I like being tall.” 

Yoongi slumps in his seat. If Hoseok wasn’t here witnessing this, he would assume that the weed Seokjin gave him was fucking with him harder than he could have imagined. But Hoseok is entirely sober and untainted by Cosmic Collision. 

That means only one thing. 

This shit is real. Whatever the fuck this is.

“Where were you before you came to Earth?” Hoseok is too willing to go along with this. But, on the other hand, Yoongi feels like everyone is playing a game he doesn’t know the rules to. 

Jungkook’s nervous lip-biting returns, but he seems to push through his feelings. “Our planet is called Zephipra.” He shoots a quick look at Yoongi. “It is further into the universe than you humans have visited. Your scientists do not know about us.” 

“So you’re an alien?” It comes out like a challenge without Yoongi meaning for it to. He feels a tiny bit bad when Jungkook deflates, closing in on himself as he draws his shoulders inward. 

“We don’t like that term.” 

Hoseok reaches an arm across the table. He flips his palm upward as though offering it to Jungkook to hold. 

“What is a better term for you?” he asks softly, and Yoongi envies his roommate’s ability to be unconditionally kind. 

It takes a few minutes of silence before Jungkook hesitantly squeezes Hoseok’s hand. 

“I suppose extraterrestrial, but my people are called Zephi. That is also the language we speak.”

The gulp of coffee Yoongi takes is scalding. He should have waited for it to cool, knows this means his tastebuds and throat are burnt to shit and nothing will taste good for days. But he needs something to do as Jungkook rambles on about the history of aliens like this is all real.  

Hoseok hums along, asking a few follow-up questions when something Jungkook says confuses him. Yoongi finds it all confusing, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“So,” Hoseok claps his hands together and startles Yoongi out of his thoughts. “You said you’re stuck here until some kind of space phenomenon happens?” 

Jungkook nods. 

“And there’s absolutely no other way to get home?” 

Another nod.

“Hmm…” 

Yoongi accidentally catches Jungkook’s eyes once again. He knows his cheeks burn, but he doesn’t understand why. The heat only dissipates once Jungkook averts his gaze. 

“How long does it take, usually?” 

Jungkook draws the coffee Hoseok fixed for him closer. He peers down at the dark liquid and gives the light steam radiating off the surface a few sniffs. Yoongi doesn’t want to find how he scrunches his nose adorable, but he can’t stop the thoughts once they start. 

“Hmm, usually a few weeks.” He looks at Yoongi again, and Yoongi really wishes he’d stop doing that. “Sometimes a month or two, right?” 

Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up into his bangs. “How would I know?” 

“Well, how often do you purchase marijuana from Elder Seokjin?” When Yoongi doesn’t respond, Jungkook sighs. It’s the first time he looks genuinely upset. “I have never been here alone.” 

By the time what Jungkook has said clicks in Yoongi’s head, he and Hoseok have migrated back to the living room. Yoongi scrambles after them as he pulls up Discord on his phone. No new messages from WWHandsome#7451. 

Scrolling through their history, he finds that there is a pattern to how often Yoongi buys from him. Once he sorts through stoner memes and news articles about the legalization of marijuana at the federal level, he can see that each conversation about picking up a new order occurs around every four to five weeks. Yoongi rarely initiates the conversation; he doesn’t have to. Seokjin will let him know he has a new supply, and Yoongi suddenly realizes that, yeah, he’s almost out. He mentally joked with himself about how astute Seokjin is, that he must have some sort of supernatural sense to know when Yoongi is running low. 

Now Yoongi wonders if there’s more to it than that.  

“Are you not supposed to be here on your own?” Hoseok drapes a blanket around Jungkook’s shoulders and tucks him into the corner of the couch where the cushions are the comfiest. With Jungkook taken care of, he flops onto the couch beside him, leaving Yoongi room on the opposite end. 

Although Yoongi considers himself to be a pretty reliable guy, Hoseok’s ability to take control of an emotionally-charged situation is Yoongi’s saving grace. Unfortunately, he’s not the best when it comes to emotional shit.  

Jungkook tugs at his earrings once again. His other hand curls into a fist he repeatedly hits on the top of his thigh. It’s not hard or aggressive, but it’s distracting. 

“No. I am an… intern? I believe that is the correct term. Only researchers are allowed on Earth alone. Interns must stay with their research mentor. Mine is Elder Seokjin.”

Hoseok lets out an understanding hum. He peeks at Yoongi out of the corner of his eye, but Yoongi doesn’t think he gives Hoseok much to go off of. Yoongi still has no idea what to think about all this; his brain won’t let him. 

The three men are silent for what feels like forever. The air is full of tension, although Yoongi wonders if he’s the only one who notices it. Jungkook simply looks worried, his fist still thumping against his thigh and his fingers playing with his earrings. Hosoek is almost completely relaxed. Yoongi knows his roommate well enough to tell from how his shoulders sag, and that he’s reaching for the pre-rolls and lighter resting on the coffee table. 

“Is this the 93 Boyz?” 

Yoongi shakes his head, amazed that his friend can casually light up a joint as if this is just a normal day. “Chem Valley Kush.” 

“Nice,” Hoseok speaks out of the corner of his mouth before inhaling as he brings the lighter to the tip of the joint. 

Jungkook makes a small noise, perhaps a cough, when Hoseok exhales. His cute little nose wrinkles up, and Yoongi remembers that he doesn’t like the smell of weed. 

“Want some, kiddo?” Hoseok hands the joint to Jungkook, who hesitantly pinches it between his fingers like a snake ready to lunge at him. 

With furrowed eyebrows, he brings the joint to his lips and sucks in the smoke. Yoongi averts his eyes when Jungkook looks up at him through his lashes, cheeks pink and hollowed. There’s something about the guy that makes Yoongi’s skin crawl. 

Despite his dislike of the smell of weed, Jungkook takes a few hits of the joint like a champ, only coughing once, and even then, the sound was dainty and soft. 

Yoongi accepts the joint from Hoseok when Jungkook passes it over. He tries not to think about how Jungkook’s lips had just wrapped around the end of the joint, the same place Yoongi is about to put his lips. He keeps the hit quick and deep, passing it on to Hoseok before he’s barely inhaled fresh air to push the smoke further into his lungs. 

Only after Hoseok starts the second round of the rotation does he say, “Well, you’ll just have to stay here until the collision or whatever happens.” 

Yoongi’s heart drops into the pit of his stomach while a blinding smile blooms across Jungkook’s face. “Whoa, wait a second. Why can’t he go back to their house?” 

“We can’t leave him alone!” Hoseok chastizes him as though this is the most obvious solution to their dilemma. 

“Hoba, where is he going to sleep?” 

“Your room.” 

Yoongi scoffs. If it’s Hoseok’s bright idea, it should be him giving up his bedroom. “Then where am I sleeping?” 

“The couch.” Hoseok shrugs and passes the joint to a still-hesitant Jungkook. “Or with him, if you’re gonna be a little bitch about the couch. Do you care, Jungkookie?” 

Jungkook inhales too deeply and sputters a rough “No, of course not” in between coughs that sound painful. 

There’s no way in fuck Yoongi’s going to sleep in the same bed as an alien. “Do ali- I mean, Zephi, even need to sleep?” 

Smoke rushes out of Jungkook’s nostrils. The rigid set of his jaw makes him look older and more angular. The masculine aggression of it makes Yoongi’s stomach twist - which he ignores. 

“Yes,” Jungkook hisses. “We are not freaks.”

“No one said you were, kiddo.” Hoseok lightly flicks Jungkook under the chin before shoving the joint in Yoongi’s face with a grimace. “You, behave.” 

With that, Hoseok rises from the couch. He places his hands on his hips and looks between the two men. Yoongi hates when he gets like this, calculating. Usually, whatever that over-imaginative brain cooks up is never good for Yoongi. 

“Is there anything at your house you need while you stay with us?” Hoseok asks with his head tilted to the side as he examines Jungkook. 

The alien - Zelphi - chews on his bottom lip. His cheeks are still pink, as are his eyes. Except this time, it’s from being high rather than being some supernatural oddity. 

“They took all my things when they returned home,” Jungkook admits after a long pause. He stares at his hands in his lap, lacing and unlacing his fingers to the point that Yoongi wants to grab his wrists and force them to his sides. “I don’t require much, though. I do not want to be a bother.” 

At that, he steals a shy glance at Yoongi. Yoongi feels heat spread over his cheeks, so he opts to look at Hoseok instead. Which is a mistake because his roommate is glowering at him. 

“Jungkookie, no matter how much of a dick Yoongi is, I promise you are not a bother,” he speaks to Jungkook but keeps his eyes on Yoongi. 

“I’mnotadick,” Yoongi grumbles. He folds his arms against his chest and stares at his reflection in the TV. It’s not a clear reflection, but it’s enough to tell that his hair is, rather unfortunately, sticking straight up on his head. 

“Anyway, I’ll let you borrow some of my clothes. I tend to wear them baggy, so they should fit you fine. I have to go to work soon - I’m a hairstylist. Fucked up, working on the weekends, right? Ahh, but anyway, you can stay with Yoongi.” 

Jungkook merely nods with bright, round eyes gazing up at Hoseok as though the man is divulging his most remarkable secrets. 

“And if he’s mean to you, you can, I don’t know, shoot him with lasers out of your eyes or whatever scary things you’re capable of.”

“Oh, I would never do that,” Jungkook quickly disagrees, turning those beautiful eyes to Yoongi. 

“You can do that?” 

“Yes, but I promise I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.”

Yoongi throws his head back against the couch and groans. His body starts to slip down the cushions, but he does nothing to stop himself from falling onto the floor. 

“You cannot leave me with him, Hoba.” 

“Oh, hush.” Hoseok swats the back of Yoongi’s head as he makes his way to his bedroom to get ready. “You’ll be besties in no time.” 

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & AO3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

We love a weird and genuinely nice guy whose also highkey mysterious!! Please this was such a wholesome and cute story, the confession?? HELLO I wanted to tear up!! 🤧 JK really was out here simping and falling for reader. Tae really fumbled and missed out on that one, smh. Also we love Mint Hair Yoongi supremacy 😌🔥 loved that little addition there. I gotta catch up on so tags (so sorrey!! ) but saw this reblog and had to start with this one. The Drabble was also such a good way to revisit this couple thank you for writing them 💗💗💗

paint me naked | jjk

After the mysteriously hot guy in your university class starts taking an interest in you, should you really trust that he’s not like all the other college fuckboys? Especially when his best friend is the guy who broke your heart?  

» pairing: artist!jungkook x f!reader (ft. taehyung) » genre: BTS, 18+, college au, fluff, smut, angst » warnings: alcohol, marijuana, brief mention of drug dealing, fingering, cunnilingus, protected sex, reader struggles with self-esteem issues (due to misogyny), tae fuckboy antics, everyone is obsessed with jk’s thighs 😂 » date/wc: april 2022 | 16k » notes: this one was really fun to write! i’m a slut for art student aus tbh. it’s the depressed writer in me lkhsdks 😂 anywayy, the poems were written by me as well. let me know what your favorite part was in a comment or reblog!  special shoutout to @jjkeverlast​ for being so supportive of me when i’m stressing out about my writing

» masterlist | ao3 | send me ur thots 👅

» what was jai listening to? paint me naked - ten  //  don’t - bryson tiller

“Jungkook, I don’t think this is gonna work.”

“Let me try.” 

Your eyes strained to see the boy standing in front of you, but the room was pitch black. It was good, though. You’d purposefully blocked out as much light as you possibly could. It had been a surprisingly difficult feat, mostly because the two of you hadn’t thought this through very well. A rolled up towel was shoved against the bottom of the bedroom door to keep the light from the hallway out. Blackout curtains had already been drawn over the windows when you got there, so that made the window problem easier. Luckily, you’d remembered to unplug the digital clock sitting on the nightstand next to the bed, the last piece of light you could have some control over putting out. 

To make things weirder, you were in Jungkook’s parents’ room. 

Keep reading

I’ve been so busy I’m not reading like I usually do but it feels so great to finally finish reading P3 of this couple! From the way they met, to where they are not this journey has been so beautiful and obv SPICY 😮‍💨🥵!!! Only in my dreams do I imagine this Yoongi. 10/10 recommend this mini series

blindsided (myg)

After years of dating, you thought you had Min Yoongi all figured out - you didn't. And when he flipped the script on you, you never saw it coming.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader | Darksided AU Type: Sequel to darksided. Word Count: 6K Content: SMUT (18+ - Minors DNI,) established relationship au, POV switch, softbf!yoongi turned dom!yoongi, sub!reader, sex tape, oral sex (f receiving,) v fingering, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, squirting, multiple orgams, over-stimulation, spanking, biting, blindfold, praise kink, pussy slapping, general depravity, aftercare, fried chicken. A/N: Seriously, go read darksided (linked above) if you haven't yet. This takes place approx. two weeks later, and while the context isn't necessary, things will make more sense! Check out the playlist while you’re here. Tags: @exhibitachol @sstarryoong @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @miraculous-disaster @wakeupinahaze

For the first time in his life, Yoongi was avoiding his studio.

He had a mountain of work left to do on his mixtape – and, importantly, the drive to finish it – but that was precisely why he’d stayed away. Anytime he stepped foot inside over the past two weeks, his mind wandered far, far away from the task at hand. His previously unyielding discipline fell by the wayside the second he crossed the threshold.

Instead of focusing on the tracks he had yet to write, or perfecting the ones he'd already recorded, his eyes would roam over the surface of his desk on the other side of the room. It'd since been returned to its usual state, covered in various notebooks, and recording equipment. But it looked so much better with your bare, sweat-slicked body writhing on top of it.

And when he'd finally muster the willpower to look back at his computer, his gaze would pass over - and then jerk back to - the wall he’d pinned you against as his fingers fucked a river out of you. His blood pressure would spike as he pictured you there, relying on him to hold you upright, and any hope of accomplishing anything would drop dead on the floor.

The very same floor you’d fastidiously scrubbed to erase the mess he’d made of you, no less.

And then he’d think to himself: This isn’t a workspace anymore - it’s holy ground. 

Yoongi was running out of time, though, and he had to do his best to keep his mind on his work, off of you. Catching himself once again rewinding through recent memories, he let out a groan and forced his wandering eyes back to the screen in front of him.

He realized as he scrolled through his editing software that he’d done a piss-poor job of labeling his masters lately. This, of course, made it impossible for him to remember which track was which. On a whim, he chose the file in the middle of the folder and brought it up.

If he’d paid attention to the size of the file, he could’ve prepared himself for the consequences of pressing ‘play' - but he didn’t and he wasn't. 

“I really couldn’t love you more if I tried.” "Should I shut it off now until you're ready to start?" "I can cut it down. I do need you to cue the track, though - when I signal you."

Biting down hard on his bottom lip, he secured his headphones over his ears. He’d never been less interested in hearing his own music; so, without a second thought, he skipped over the next three minutes. As he did, his hand dropped down to palm his hardening dick through his jeans.

“Is it me, baby? Have I got you dizzy?”

Your little whimpers were barely audible in the recording, but they still managed to ignite a fire in the pit of his stomach. The blaze spread throughout his body when he pictured the way you looked below him then - so soft and shy, but with such carnal desire sparking in the dark of your eyes.

“I can’t give you what you want if you can’t tell me what that is.”

Anticipating your next line, his hand tensed around his cock. It was a pale imitation of that vice grip he found between your thighs, but it was something; and he would've taken anything.

“I don’t want you to be gentle with me. I - I know that you -”

Even caged between the walls of unimaginable heat, the irony of it all wasn't lost on him. The best recording he'd ever produced was created purely by accident -

“Stupid girl. You know nothing.”

- and it wasn't music at all.

“Get up.”

With Yoongi working hard on his creative pursuits, you begrudgingly committed to addressing your own. Like him, you had a to-do list long enough to circle the globe; but unlike him, you weren't buried in projects because you wanted to be. 

When Yoongi crossed off a task, he scribbled five more in its place. His mind never idled because he found inspiration everywhere. A half-remembered vignette from childhood that shook itself loose to become something beautiful. A word he encountered in passing that he’d transform into some modern-day epic. He generated this much work solely because his passion - like his potential - was limitless. 

To the contrary, you generated this much work because you were easily distracted. You’d start one project, and before you could finish it, your attention would flutter off on the wind like dandelion seeds. All those half-starts would stockpile until you eventually boxed yourself into a corner - and then, somehow, you'd keep stacking. 

Today's task was simple: you needed to transfer your recent photos from your camera's memory card to your laptop. Easy. Drag files from one folder to another, and then your contribution to this month's magazine spread would be finished. It should've only taken an hour - at most - for the upload to complete. 

Instead of doing what you intended, you ended up where you always did: happily lost in the weeds. This particular distraction was a folder from four years ago, when Yoongi took you on an anniversary trip to Paris. If you really had to defend this tangent, your scattered brain's game of word association wasn't far off - the photos you were supposed to tend to were from Paris Fashion Week. 

That counts for something, right? 

You snorted as you toggled through your archive. Had you taken a single photo of the stunning architecture, or countless historical sites you’d visited? Of course not. But you had snapped approximately one-hundred shots of an unaware Min Yoongi - buying you macarons; befriending a stray cat by an ATM; grimacing as he sipped wine you both hated but spent too many Euros on to waste. 

Wait, what were you supposed to be doing? 

Whatever it was, you’d swear up and down that you really did intend to finish it, but then you heard familiar, muffled footsteps. And then you felt the mattress dip slightly under the tops of your thighs and the elbows you’d propped yourself up on.  

And then the same Min Yoongi whose face beamed on your screen - slightly older, and even more adored - slid over the backs of your outstretched legs until his knees came to rest at either side of your ass. His body was warm as it loomed over you, but you shivered, nonetheless. 

Leaning in, he pushed your hair over your right shoulder and pressed a warm kiss into your left. Though he'd targeted an area several centimeters away from your spine, the aftershocks of this chaste contact rippled down its length. From there, the current divested and shot through each of your limbs, paralyzing you. 

You hummed and let your eyelids flutter shut. He ascended the arc of your shoulder, then your neck, leaving a smattering of kisses in his wake until the trail went cold. His quiet exhale tickled the skin below your ear, but he hovered in place - too far away. 

Reflexively, you whined and tilted your head to look at him. Effectively pinned, all you could do was survey his profile in your peripheral vision. “Baby?” You nudged. 

The hand he wasn’t using to hold his weight snuck under the hem of your tank-top and caressed the bare curve of your waist. His hypnotic ministrations on your side might’ve lulled you to sleep if you weren’t so intrigued by his so-far wordless affection. 

Thoroughly spellbound, your lids closed again while your lips remained parted. There was a moan building slowly in your chest, taking its time, but it was a gasp that tore out of you when his teeth nicked your lobe. His tongue was quick to soothe the pinch, and even quicker to solicit a mewl. 

You had no idea where this was coming from. Moreover, you didn't know what additional surprises this man was capable of. Though Yoongi had always been affectionate with you, he'd only recently unearthed some rare, raw sensuality that you never expected. In the time since this discovery, his touches became more frequent. You felt more of him underscoring each one, no matter how brief. 

The fingers skimming over your waist disappeared and left you cold, but before you could process the loss, they reappeared - lower now, pushing up the bottom of your underwear, and gripping the doughy cheek of your ass. Hard. Instantaneously, your hazy eyes re-opened. 

Min Yoongi truly contained multitudes. 

"Have I told you that you're my muse?" He purred into the shell of your ear as his hand massaged the skin he'd likely bruised.  

Enchanted once again, your sole response was a breathy moan. Only after his hand raised and smacked back against your ass did you realize he'd lulled you into a false sense of security. 

"When I ask you a question, I want an answer. Do you understand, baby?" 

Your shuttered breaths and accompanying nod weren't sufficient replies. His palm collided with your delicate cheek a second time, and it stayed there. The sting was muted by his fingers digging in and pinching; but it wasn't the pain that stole your attention. 

Instead, it was the wetness gushing between your clenched thighs when he whispered, "Use your words, angel." 

"I do," You muttered urgently, "I understand." 

The grip on your ass dissolved. You knew better now than to trust the warm hand kneading your cheek, but you couldn't resist moaning. Fuck - his touch was perfect. 

He contradicted the gentle caress below with a nip at your neck; and the kiss placed at that same spot preceded the true kill-shot. He hummed against your skin and your soul threatened to leave your body: 

"Good girl." 

The noise that escaped your mouth was stranded between a gasp and a cry. Oh, this man would be the death of you. 

"You inspired my next project today," He murmured between kisses to your neck. The tip of his nose was cold as it brushed across your skin and that disparity in temperature left you in shambles. "Not something I've done before -" He paused to suckle at your neck, no doubt leaving a mark when he released you, "And I need your help, baby." 

Another whimper escaped when his index finger snapped the elastic waistband of your boy-shorts; and you felt his mouth curve into a smirk. "I'll do anything -" You meant it. "Just - please, Yoongi, I need to feel you." 

"You will," His mirth left him in a breathy chuckle. It vibrated through your body and formed goosebumps as it went. "But not yet, angel. I want to savor this." 

Confused, you pouted - another exhaled laugh against your neck - and then, in a tiny voice, you asked, "What do you mean?" 

His hand slid up the back of your neck. With the base of your skull held gently captive between his thumb and middle finger, he guided you to turn your head to the left, then down. 

It didn't click right away. Silently, you blinked down at your camera. Is this what he wanted you to see? Why did - "Oh, no," you groaned as your head drooped forward. 

"Oh no?" He repeated, and though he tried, he couldn't hide the surprise in his tone. You quickly realized that he mistook your reaction for disinterest. He couldn't have been more wrong.  

Your sudden, complete deflation was simply your body buckling under the weight of unspeakable arousal. It anticipated the world-endingly perfect way he was about to fuck you; and it couldn't process the fact that it would all be memorialized. He really would be the end of you. 

Your head tilted until it rested against the side of his. "The memory card inside it is full, but there's a new one in my bag." 

Although you couldn't see it, you knew the corner of his mouth would twitch excitedly upwards at your words. At his, your mouth dropped open: 

"Any clothes you're still wearing when I come back to this bed will be ripped off. Got it?" 

It was difficult to tell which part of this exchange made your legs quiver the most: the stern warning itself; the contradictory soft, husky tone in which he said it; or the kiss the top of your head received when you responded - out loud - in the affirmative. He was gone before you could figure it out, making his way to the camera bag in the corner of your bedroom. 

He'd barely taken two steps when you frantically pulled your oversized tank-top over your head. It landed somewhere out of sight, and it was swiftly joined by your underwear - grey fabric soaked black. Your laptop was more carefully dismissed, tucked gently under the nightstand to avoid being ruined the way you were sure to be. 

When your head hit the pillow, your heart was already racing. Suddenly, you felt shy as you lay naked in your own bed, like you hadn't been in this position so many times before. There was a long-forgotten anticipation turning flips in your stomach. It bent your knees and brought your arms up to rest over your bare chest - you hadn't felt it since the very first time Yoongi saw you like this. 

As if he'd been summoned by your thoughts, Yoongi walked towards you with his focus trained on the camera in his hands. The tip of his tongue poked out through pursed lips as he carefully slotted the new memory card into the bottom, but it disappeared when the compartment clicked shut again.

He froze when he looked up at you, and your hammering heart threatened to make a break for it. 

"Baby," He was frowning. You raced to figure out which of his directions you failed to follow; but he interrupted the frenzy in your brain with that maddeningly soft, stern voice, "Why are you hiding?" 

Mouth open and poised to respond - with what, you weren't sure - you were cut off by the extended finger he raised to silence you. You clamped your jaw shut; his mouth curved ever-so-slightly at your quick compliance. 

See? You wanted to say, I'm learning! 

He removed the lens cap before his eyes flitted back up to you. "Hands above your head -" You did as he asked, though you didn't know where this was going. "- Close your eyes -" Again, you obeyed. "Don't move." 

And you didn't.  

You laid there with your eyes closed and listened for any sign of what was coming next. You could hear the muffled tread of his bare feet on the rug; and you expected further instructions - none came. Then you waited for any familiar noise from your camera - there was silence. But you smelled his cologne as he came closer, and the warmth you suddenly felt at your side told you that he’d reached you. 

“Lift your head up – but keep your eyes closed.” 

The eyebrow you raised in question was covered with some cool, silky fabric before Yoongi could have registered it. You received your answer in his actions. Gentle fingers adjusted the way the blindfold fell over your eyes, and then – even more gently – they tied a knot at the back of your head. Not too tight, but firm enough to keep it from slipping. It was no surprise to you that he’d handled this without disturbing a single hair on your head. 

His hands, once behind your head, now cupped your face. “You listen so well, angel,” He murmured before plush lips brushed against your forehead. “Lay back down the way you were.” 

Your head returned to the pillow and your elbows bent to allow your hands to meet above it. And you waited like that, trying to sense what his next move would be.

His footsteps padded off, and you figured he was seeking the best place to set up the camera. He paused, though, after only taking a few steps. The camera whirred – the auto-focus, you recognized immediately – and then it clicked. 

“So beautiful – you know that, don’t you? How stunning you are?”  

Click. 

“Perfect -” 

Click. 

“Mine” 

You couldn't help wondering how his photos would turn out. If your cheeks weren’t red under the blanket of his praise, it’d only be because you’d turned into a puddle. Your arousal had strayed far enough to slick the insides of your thighs, and if he didn’t touch you soon, you might liquify entirely and seep through the mattress to the floor. 

In the distance, plastic settled on wood. The strap affixed to your camera slithered over whatever surface he’d chosen; you could hear it slip over an edge, then it was silent. The bookshelf, you decided, third row from the top. Maybe second, if he liked the angle better? 

Without speaking first, he crawled up onto the foot of the bed. He paused there, likely kneeling in front of you. His hands slipped under your bent knees, and the only warning you got was him purring, “Come here,” mere seconds before you were pulled forward. You imagined that your gasp was still hanging in the air when you slipped out from under it. 

As soon as he was satisfied with your proximity, his hands found the insides of your knees and encouraged your legs to spread. “Now, baby -” He started, the heat of his breath indicating just how close his mouth was to your weeping cunt. “You’ll make sure the camera can hear you, won’t you?” 

The word was caught in your throat, suddenly bashful, but it eventually slipped out, “Yes.” 

You knew you’d failed as soon as you heard it, and you didn’t need to wait long to face the consequences. You jolted when his flattened fingers collided with your cunt - the sensation was a surprise, but the sound was what shocked you. Fuck! You could hear how wet he had you already.

Sodden, pooling, dripping. 

“Don’t be selfish, angel,” He tutted after withdrawing his touch from you, “Those sounds might come out of your mouth, but they don't belong to you, do they?” 

“No -” Your desperation was palpable when you responded with your whole chest. “They don’t. I – I won’t be selfish, I promise -” 

You cried out when he slapped your cunt a second time, an obscene chord formed by surprise, torment, and unbearable need.

“Whose are they?”

“Yours!” You choked, “They’re yours. I’m yours.” 

His arms hooked under your thighs and your pulse skyrocketed. “See? You are learning.” 

And then he lurched forward, flat tongue dragging upwards over your core with a pressure so perfect, your entire body tensed. He squeezed your legs harder when your back arched, and it prevented you from inadvertently slipping away from him.  

That devilish tongue swirled over your clit, and all you could manage was a whisper of a moan. He corrected you wordlessly, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs. The groan he pulled from you ricocheted off each one of your ribs on the way out. Satisfied, he hummed in approval against your cunt before he proceeded to flick dizzying circles over your increasingly sensitive bud; alternating paces in the way he knew would drive you mad.  

Both of your arms reached out, and your hands carded through his hair. You pulled him ever closer, which prompted him to shake his head furiously with the flat of his tongue pressed against your heat.  

“Oh, fuck!” you wailed. As much as you wanted to watch him, you knew that – even without the blindfold - the way his mouth moved so expertly against you would have made it too difficult to keep your eyes open. They were already covered, but you squeezed them tight enough to see stars as he suckled your clit. “Shit, baby – ah – feels so good.”  

The thread holding you together frayed further and further with every brush of his tongue against your most sensitive spot. The sound of his breathing, ragged and muffled with your thighs pressed harshly against the sides of his head, would have done unspeakable things to you - if your mindless gasping didn't threaten to drown him out completely.  

He shifted without removing his mouth from you, and he unhooked his right arm from under your leg. The heel of his hand glided up over your pelvis, your navel, and your breasts before stopping at the underside of your jaw. Two fingers tapped at your chin; you took the hint and took them into your mouth.

His tongue never let up on your clit as you slicked his fingers, suckling on them the way he did you. Once he was satisfied with the work you’d done, he pulled his hand back down to your cunt.   

Tongue still relentless at your clit, his middle finger swung the focus to your entrance, which was drenched by his saliva and your own slick. Meticulous and slow, he slid his finger inside of you. He moaned at the way you constricted around him; you melted. 

He never struggled to find that secret spot hidden behind your pubic bone. He'd proven time and time again that he was more in tune with your body than you were. Every curve, dip, and line had been committed to muscle memory.  

He could anticipate your reaction to every touch, even when those reactions varied based upon your mood or your energy level - and it was automatic. Unthinking but knowing. He teased this spot without mercy, and as he likely expected, you began to shake under his touch.  

The growing feeling in the pit of your stomach was one you knew he strived for. His favorite trick, once he knew the secret. And whenever you tried to resist – still uncomfortable with the way your body reacted to him – he gave you no choice. 

No poet could adequately describe how completely your orgasm consumed you. With the way you jolted against his mouth, he could’ve electrocuted you. You wriggled and writhed in his arms as you came, but he didn’t stop, even as your walls clenched around his fingers and your thighs pressed even more tightly against the sides of his head.

Your familiar moans devolved into some desperate sounds you’d never made before, curse words spilling out over your lips as you just kept cumming – but he still held tight to you as you bucked wildly in his arms.  

There was unbelievable pressure until there wasn’t.  

“Fuck, I love it when you do that,” He growled with his face nestled into your quivering, dripping inner thigh. His teeth nicked the skin but were swiftly replaced with a kiss from his ravenous, open mouth. “That’s my good girl.” 

He let you collapse back onto the bed, but he denied you any time to recover.  

“I think you can do it again, baby. What do you think?” He teased, alternating words and quick kisses along the interior of your thigh. “Should we see how much more you can take?”  

You babbled something in response, but neither of you could’ve interpreted what you meant. Your limp neck rolled to the side while you tried to catch your breath; there wasn’t time. You felt him coat his fingers in the remnants of your orgasm moments before he slid them inside of you and curled them upward.  

The combination of relentless pressure and a feverish pace dotted stars across the insides of your eyelids. Breathless, dangling at the edge of a precipice, you stammered, “Yoo-Yoongi -” 

Despite the obscene squelch of his ministrations, his voice rang through, clear as a bell. “What, angel? Do you want to come again?” Stupidly, you nodded, but he didn’t scold you. Given your fucked-out state, he seemed to forgive your mistake. “Then come.” 

The blindfold covering your eyes was black, but your vision went white. As you spasmed and gushed uncontrollably around his fingers, there was a moment where you could’ve sworn your soul ejected itself from your body. If it was floating above you now, it would’ve seen how thoroughly you’d drenched your boyfriend; and how perfect he still looked with your juices dripping off his chin. 

His weight was shifting at your feet when you returned to your body. It took everything you had, but you lifted one, limp arm out in his general direction. No words, just an outstretched hand begging to find him. When it did, he slotted his fingers perpendicularly under yours, rubbed the pad of his thumb over your knuckles, and kissed the top of your hand. 

“What color?” he murmured against your skin. 

You sighed softly, exhausted but not yet entirely spent, “Green.” You paused and chewed on your bottom lip. After a moment of quiet, you asked, “Yoongi?” 

“Yes, baby?” 

It was pitiful how your request barely rolled off of your tongue, but the answer would surely be no if you didn’t ask. “Can I see you?” 

He was silent for a moment – so, the answer would be no even though you did ask – but then you heard his soft chuckle. Even after he pulled the blindfold off, your eyes were useless. Somewhere in the bright white haze was Yoongi, though you couldn’t confirm that the shadow in front of you was truly him. Maybe you truly had died. 

Blinking furiously, you refused to stop until your eyes remembered how to focus. Slowly, slowly, slowly, the dark figure before you took a familiar shape. Shirtless, with damp, black waves clinging to his cheekbones – there he was. Concern was etched into his features, but his narrowed eyes relaxed when you shot him a smile. 

“Color?” You inquired with a squeeze of your hand. 

When he dropped your hand, your heart fell with it. But he sat up on his knees, placed that hand on your cheek, and captured your lips in a kiss. It was perfect, but it was torturously brief.  

“Green,” He replied. He backed away from you until he was standing at the foot of the bed. One hand dropped to his belt buckle while the index finger on his other hand beckoned you. 

You crawled towards him until his palm silently instructed you to stop. 

“Elbows on the mattress, ass up,” He ordered as he made short work of his belt. It slid easily through the loops of his ripped jeans and clattered as it hit the floor.

You leaned forward as he instructed, knees and elbows digging into the comforter you’d absolutely need to wash later – especially considering the way your mouth watered when his jeans and boxers were discarded and kicked aside. Were you drooling? 

Your body buzzed with anticipation as he crossed to the side of the bed. You wished he took his time sidling over to you, so your eyes could continue to devour his lean, snow-white frame; but if the stiff cock encircled by his hand was any indication, Yoongi wasn’t interested in wasting time. Instead, he pushed himself up onto the bed, out of sight, and the next thing you felt was his hand collecting your hair, pulling, and forcing your face up to the camera. 

His free hand squeezed your ass cheek when he said, “Eye contact, baby. Show the camera how I make you feel. Can you do that?” 

With his tip teasing at your entrance, you weren’t confident that you could – but you’d sure as hell try. “I can,” Your determination was clear, even if the voice conveying it wavered. “I will.” 

“Good girl,” He hummed. He released your hair and placed a kiss on the same shoulder blade he had earlier - when he last had you in this position. “Now, take a deep breath for me.” 

It wasn’t graceful, the way you sucked in air as he penetrated you; it was an unholy, strangled sound, and it crashed through the quiet like a wrecking ball. Every instinct begged your head to droop forward, and your back to curve up upwards, but you fought them off. Praise for your efforts tumbled out over your spine between Yoongi’s shuttered moans. His noises had you clenching around his cock, and the tightened grip of your cunt transformed them into something guttural. 

He paused when he bottomed out. Like you, he seemed to be at a loss for words. The hand gripping your hip was holding on for dear life; and the one curved over your shoulder kept you in place, allowing him to bury himself as deeply as possible.

He didn’t speak until he slowly started withdrawing himself from you, “I love the way you take me, how that tight pussy fights me whenever I leave.” 

As his cock dragged over your g-spot, your entire body shivered. He felt it and chuckled; you hiccupped, “Still so s-sensitive.” 

“Green?” 

“More -” You begged, “Please, baby.” 

You asked for it, but you weren’t ready for it. His hips snapped forward and drove him back into you before you could process what was happening. And when he kept up that ravenous pace, rutting over and over and over your detonator, it took everything you had not to explode.

All your willpower was spent trying to withstand his thrusts, though – nothing could keep you from collapsing forward onto the bed as your white-knuckled fingers gripped the comforter below. 

Before your body could fully settle over the mattress, his hand on your shoulder evolved into an arm hooking over you. He pulled you upright as his arm crossed over your heaving chest; he didn’t stop until he had you pinned to his. 

Fucking upwards into you with shallow, staccato strokes, he scolded you. “What did I tell you?” His hand dropped from your hip and dipped between your quivering thighs. His rapid thrusts didn’t falter as his middle finger began to assault your clit. “Hmm? What did I just say?” 

“Eye conta -”

The end of that word mutated into a scream. He snapped his hips forward so suddenly, you never anticipated being shoved off the edge of the world. Your orgasm ripped through you, shutting off your brain and forcing your entire body to convulse around him. 

You went limp when you fell from your high; Yoongi’s hold on you tightened to keep you from collapsing. Unrelenting, he just – kept – rutting. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

You wailed when that fourth wave crashed down over you. Caught in its riptide, you spoke in tongues; writhing and shrieking and imploding. Could a person die from coming this hard? 

Yoongi’s panting pulled you out of the abyss he’d thrown you in. “Shit,” He hissed, “I’m so close - fuck, you feel so good -” You felt it all over when he growled into your ear, “Tell me where you want it, baby.” 

You answered, but it was impossible for your hazy brain to know for sure if you’d replied verbally or telepathically. Either way, he understood – he always understood – and his break-neck speed was replaced by deep, deliberate thrusts. He groaned out your name as his cock twitched inside you, painting your walls white. 

The kiss Yoongi left in the crook of your neck didn’t wash away with the water cascading down over the two of you. You could still feel the uniqueness of its warmth, even in a cloud of steam - under the hot, heavy droplets hitting your skin.  

Your eyes were closed to avoid the conditioner he was massaging into your scalp, but your exhaustion was likely to keep them that way. The only reason you hadn’t slipped down the drain yourself was your unspoken refusal to be separated from him. Though, with that invisible string tying the two of you together, you’d never be able to stray very far, even if you wanted to.

“Can you tilt your head back, love?” 

This one was a request, not a command, and he made no effort to move it for you. The weight of your sleepiness caused your neck to roll more clumsily than you intended; it gave up, and your head bumped against his clavicle when it dropped backwards.

“Sorry,” you murmured, but he was already chuckling. “My motor skills seem to have clocked out early.” 

His laugh ricocheted off the tile. “You won’t need them,” He mused as his hands gently worked the remaining conditioner from your hair. “We can use mine.” Then he kissed the crown of your head, not once but twice. You could feel his smile spread against your scalp when you giggled. “All done, baby.” 

He’d taken his time with you; and he’d taken great care to clean – then kiss – every sore muscle he encountered. And when he was done, he used a large, plush towel to wick the lingering droplets from your skin. His hands on your waist steadied you as you stepped into a pair of sweatpants, and he smoothed the damp waves that you disrupted in unceremoniously tugging an oversized sweatshirt over your head. 

Once the two of you were fully dressed, he cupped your face in his hands, kissed you deep, and asked, “Do you need a lift back to bed?” His eyes sparkled at his joke – of course, he meant lift literally – and his eyebrow arched when you meekly shook your head. “I’m not sold. Is that your final answer?” 

You, once again, shook your head. He exhaled amusement through his nose at your indecision. Then, he placed his hands on your waist. Perfectly coordinated – as always – he lifted as you hopped, pulling you into his chest while your limbs wrapped around him. He carried you easily back into the bedroom and set you down gently on the bare mattress. 

All of your bedding was spinning in the washing machine on the first floor of your home, but he had a fluffy, full-sized throw waiting there for you. You held up one side of it, silently inviting him to join you. When he settled at your side, your head ducked down and came to rest under his chin. As soon as his arm curled over your back, your heavy lids finally closed. 

You were both quiet, one foot in a dream, when the growl of his stomach startled you both awake. Erupting into laughter, you each craned your neck to see the other beaming back. 

He wiped the mirth pooling in the corner of his eye and sighed as his laughter petered out, “Delivery from that fried chicken place?” 

“Oooh, yes, please.”

A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! The response to the first post was so incredibly overwhelming, I simply had to write a follow-up. I might continue to add one-offs to this darksided cinematic universe (lol) simply because I love their relationship dynamic. And the sexual journey they seem to be on, hahahah. Please leave feedback so I know what you liked and what you didn't! Also, lmk if there’s something you’d want to see in any possible future installments 👀

Right in the feels, my baby he will be back soon 🥹!!

the one where hoseok comes home

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x gn!Reader Type: Drabble // Fluff // Established Relationship AU Rating: SFW — Minors DNI w/ my content, regardless! CW: None 💕 Summary: It’s October 2024 and your life finally — finally — resumes its orbit. WC: .5k A/N: Deviating from my WIPs (ope) because I needed a fix-it fic for, like, reality? Nobody requested this lil baby blurb, unless you count… me. Dedicated to (m)y jihope-biased emotional support moot, @here2bbtstrash

You’d learned more in eighteen months than you had in over eighteen years of formal education.

The first lesson came on your second morning alone: hotteok tastes better when it’s made for you. Even if the cook gets distracted by the background music they themselves are generating. Even if the edges are crispier than they should be, and the centers are a bit gooey, or there’s pre-packaged mix dusting over your previously clean countertops. Even if that hotteok is cold by the time you stop kissing and start eating, you know now that few things in life are sweeter.

He is, of course, but the point still stands.

Showers, you’d learned, are colder when you take them alone. This was a surprise you grappled with for weeks and a confounding reality you still struggle to square. A scientific mystery, then and now.

All of the hot water was yours — exclusively — to use as you pleased. You didn’t have to scramble, soap-covered and squealing, for the prime spot under the shower head. Cold air didn’t nip at your damp skin when you lost territory because you didn’t have to compete for any in the first place. Still, without whole-chested laughter to echo off the walls, not much existed to separate your body from cold porcelain.

The absence of personal space isn’t something you intend to ever take for granted again.

Of all the things you’d realized in your uncharacteristically quiet apartment, one thing hit a little harder:

Love looks different every day.

Sometimes, it comes at an odd angle. It’s spending all thirty minutes of a daily allowance with a phone propped against a faucet. It’s staring up at someone’s chin, watching fondly as they brush their teeth, and smiling when they remember — without being told — to put the cap back on the toothpaste.

Other times, it looks like an Excel spreadsheet of pop culture news, fastidiously collected and organized so that no groundbreaking celebrity gossip goes unreported. It’s incredulous eyes and a scandalized mouth hanging open, interjecting occasionally with, “Wa, jinjja?”

Every now and then, it looks like handwritten letters with thick, black redactions applied after the fact with a far heavier hand. Though you couldn’t tell where in the Republic they came from, you knew — without question — that government censorship does not apply to hastily doodled hearts.

Today, however, love doesn’t look like much of anything because its hands are covering your eyes.

It sounds like clean spoons clattering back into the dishwasher you’d been emptying, entirely unaware that the door down the hall had opened and shut out of earshot. It smells like army-issued shampoo and Thai milk tea from that little spot near the train station, where surprise journeys home occur two days ahead of schedule. And it feels like the ground shifting beneath your fluffy house slippers; the Earth now back on its axis and ready to resume spinning like it should.

Tonight, love will taste like hotteok for dinner — and you won’t have to make it yourself.

First of all I live for this banner 😭 so so excited to see how these two progress omg there’s so much TENSION ooof 😩!! Also excited for this Seokjin, polo w skulls?? Of course he would

keep singing this lie (1) | kth + jjk

Black Swan, an up-and-coming alternative metal rock band, is going on their first official tour. Jungkook looks forward to proving himself in a cutthroat industry; Taehyung looks forward to the groupies. Neither of them expects to find the comfort their hearts truly desire in one another.

↳ pairing: drummer!taehyung x singer!jungkook

↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | rock band au | bandmates to lovers | secret relationship | smut | angst | fluff

↳ wc/date: 7k | April 2023

↳ warnings: tae has sex with a female oc | Big Dick Tae (as usual) | masturbation | a lil bit of homophobia that's subtle, not overt | the way tae talks about girls/sex is kinda gross and very dudebro | drunk sex (consensual)

↳ notes: i'm really excited to post this. i kinda wrote it in a whirlwind of crazy taekook brain rot so pls forgive me for any errors. I'll probably go back and edit it later once my brain is more ~relaxed

↳ main masterlist / series masterlist

↳ what was jai listening to? the series playlist

✨ want to be added to the series taglist? send me an ask or reply to this post ✨

“Yes, yes, yes, f-f-fuck, V, oh my godddd.” 

Taehyung uses his forearm to swipe his bangs away from his forehead. Humidity tends to turn his hair fluffy, and his hotel room has his skin burning like a sauna. A bead of sweat careens down the side of his face. The sensation of the hot moisture gliding down his neck would usually make him cringe, but he’s too focused on the girl beneath him to care about how unfortunate it is that humans must sweat. 

The girl’s name had been on the tip of his tongue all night, but tequila shots and the press of her tongue against his shoved her name deeper down his throat. Not that it matters if he can’t remember it. Taehyung isn’t the type to moan girls’ names during sex. He much prefers hearing his own name come from theirs. 

Well, not his actual name. 

Teeth digging into the inside of his cheek to hold back a grunt, Taehyung flexes his fingers to grab the flesh of the girl’s hips with more force as she moans, “Harder, harder, harder,” because he’s nothing but a people-pleaser. All great performers are.

There’s something selfish about the selflessness of wanting to please others. Perhaps it’s born from the pride that feeds Taehyung’s ego as the girl scrambles to hold onto the bed each time he pitches her forward with a snap of his hips. Numerous braids create intricate patterns on the bed sheets around her head, each adorned with little gold cuffs that catch in the light. Her bronze skin glows from the furnace their bodies have made out of the room. Taehyung likes how her thighs jiggle as his hips smack into her, likes how she squeezes her tits and looks up at him with eyes so deep he weighs the pros and cons of losing himself in them. 

She has a pillow beneath her hips to raise them up, helping to meet Taehyung’s hips as he kneels between her thighs. And, god, she’s so tight and warm around his cock. He drags his nails down her thighs until he reaches her knees. Then, cupping them from the back, he adjusts her legs to rest against his shoulders as he leans down slightly. Nothing in his head but heat and the sweet sound of skin slapping together. She’s so wet Taehyung’s cock glistens every time he pulls out of her. And the sound her pussy makes as he slides back in? Divine. 

“Right there, please, V. There, please, please.” She throws her head back, and Taehyung nearly folds her in half to latch his lips against the vulnerable skin of her throat. 

“Yeah?” His voice is breathy and hoarse from screaming during the show. “You like when I-” 

“Taehyung, open the fucking door!” 

His hips stutter, losing their rhythm as loud banging vibrates through the hotel room’s door. 

“Shit,” Taehyung groans into the crook of the girl’s neck. His thrusts turn into slow but deep grinding, hips swiveling in a circle. It might not be pound town, but the girl is still enjoying herself if the way she’s clawing the shit out of his back means anything. “Fuck off, Jeon!” 

“No! It’s three in the fucking morning, and I want to go the fuck to bed!”

Taehyung pulls back to meet the girl’s eyes. The seductive look is gone; in its place, something so soft that he feels like he’s intruding on her privacy with such emotions on display. He doesn’t deserve a look like that, whatever it means. Affection, perhaps. Maybe gentle amusement? It’s not the irritation he’d expected. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs. He eases her legs down and pulls out slowly and delicately. She’ll be sore tomorrow, he’s sure. 

The girl leans on her elbows and watches Taehyung search for his underwear. Clothes are strewn all over the room. They’re damp with sweat and wrinkled from fingers twisting into the fabric. 

“It’s okay,” she insists with a bright smile. “I was enjoying it, but he doesn’t sound very happy…” 

“Come on, Tae!” 

With a groan, Taehyung rips off the empty condom and uses his free hand to pull on his briefs. On the way to the door, he throws the condom into the trash. 

Despite having a key to the room, the chain lock prevents Jungkook from opening the door all the way. It was purposeful, of course. Taehyung never went to college, but he has enough sense to know a sock on the door won't stop his bandmate from barging into the room. Judging by how wide Jungkook’s eyes are, the chain lock allows him to peer into the room just enough to see the girl slowly peel herself off the bed to find her clothes. 

“I hate you,” Taehyung says before slamming the door in his face. Closing the door is necessary to undo the lock, but the force with which he closes it isn’t. 

“Jin said we have to be up at seven which means we only have four hours to sleep...” When the door swings open, Jungkook’s eyes briefly drop to Taehyung’s crotch. His dick strains against the tight fabric of his briefs. The outline is prominent because the fabric is wet from precum, and Taehyung just had his dick in the creamiest pussy he’s ever experienced, and Jungkook had to ruin it. 

Jungkook’s tongue slips across his bottom lip, eventually stopping to wiggle at his piercing. It’s a nervous habit Taehyung finds rather endearing. Well, whenever he doesn’t have a case of blue balls. 

“Could’ve waited ‘til I finished,” Taehyung grumbles. 

He quickly lifts his eyes to Taehyung’s face. Furrowed eyebrows make his expression look dark. “What?” 

“Oh fuck off and get in here.” 

Taehyung ushers him in with a fervent wave of his arm. He keeps the door open. At three in the morning, no one is around to see him in his half-naked glory. And even if someone was in the hall, they’d be getting a great view of Big Dick Kim Taehyung, free of charge. 

No shame in the game, right? 

Taehyung thinks as much as he turns to face the room again. It’s a ridiculous sight he should probably feel bad about, but he can’t find it in him to care. Jungkook looks unbelievably uncomfortable. Taehyung can tell because his tongue is still shoved in the corner of his mouth, and he’s tugging down the sleeves of his black, long-sleeve shirt. His pretty doe eyes lock onto the half-dressed girl. 

“Um, Kookie, wow, hi. I’m so sorry, I’ll just…” The girl tucks one of her braids behind her ear. She’s wearing an oversized Black Swan graphic tee that falls at the middle of her thighs. In her hands are her bra and jean shorts. 

The Black Swan t-shirt is one Taehyung designed himself, black cotton with splotches of red and white to create an abstract painting of four men with wings. "You Never Walk Alone," the song that made them... not famous, but something, is written in Jimin’s swooping handwriting at the bottom. Printed on the back, bold and red, is “Black Swan” above a list of tour dates and venues. Taehyung was proud of how their merch turned out, especially considering Seokjin’s cousin did it all for them at a discounted rate. But seeing the shirt on a fan makes him feel warm all over. 

And maybe also the alcohol. 

“It’s okay!” Jungkook rushes to convince the girl and hopefully squash her awkwardness. “It’s nice to meet you…” 

“Imani.” She looks like she’s going to pass out. Taehyung can’t understand how talking to a musician is scarier than fucking one. 

“Imani.” Jungkook’s smile makes his nose crinkle, and Taehyung is terribly aware that he’s standing in his underwear, hard as a rock. “Did you like the show?” 

Jungkook subconsciously mimics her stance, tucking a strand of his unruly hair behind his ear. The mullet looks good on him; Taehyung is glad he didn’t let Jimin cut it before the tour. 

Imani’s dark eyes flit between the men like she can’t decide who to stare at first. Taehyung notices that Jungkook makes a point of looking anywhere but at the two of them directly. 

With a sigh, Taehyung runs his hand over his face and wills his boner to go down. He’d had so much to drink it’s a miracle he even managed to get hard in the first place. His dick is starting to throb, forcing itself into the front of Taehyung’s mind until all he can think about is how fucking warm and tight- 

A throat clears, and the sound forces Taehyung back to reality. Jungkook is squatting in front of his suitcase, likely searching for pajamas. Whatever praise Imani had to give about the show is lost to him, though he's sure it was positive. Why else would she let him fuck her?

Turning to Imani, who has been far more patient than he deserves, Taehyung offers her a small smile. “Need me to get you an Uber?” 

She nods, shyly looking up at Taehyung through her eyelashes like she didn’t just beg for his cock not even five minutes ago. She’s cute. Taehyung thinks no one can really blame him for bringing her to his hotel room once he got tired of the afterparty. The afterparty hadn’t even been for them. The headlining band is well-known enough to be an opener for one of the main stages at Spine Breaker Fest. Black Swan was merely invited to the headliner’s pre-festival concert because they stopped in the same town on their own tour leading up to the festival. 

It’s whatever. Taehyung knows these things take time. Fame and fortune can’t just fall into their laps. They’ve worked hard, though. Especially Jungkook. 

Taehyung ignores the side-eyed look Jungkook gives him when he lets Imani dig her fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck as she licks into his mouth. She tastes like strawberry-flavored vodka, and it makes Taehyung’s teeth ache. He never lets groupies kiss him. 

“Sorry about…” Taehyung, not so subtly, nods in his bandmate’s direction. 

Imani covers her pretty face with one hand, using her other to squeeze Taehyung’s bicep. It hurts. He’s sore from performing four nights in a row but doesn't tell her to let go. “It’s okay,” she giggles. “It was really nice hanging out with you, V.” 

I’d love to do it again. She doesn’t have to say it out loud; everyone in the room knows. 

Taehyung gives her ass a squeeze when she begins her walk of shame down the hall. Maybe if the band returns to her town, he can add Imani’s to the list of couches they can crash on. 

With the door closed, Taehyung reaches into his briefs to adjust his dick. He’s still just as hard as when he was balls deep inside the pretty young thing he so rudely had to turn away. All because of a starry-eyed motherfucker who needs to sleep.

“You let the girls you fuck call you by your stage name?” The question doesn't feel accusatory, but Taehyung swears it sounds like Jungkook is offended. By what, he has no idea. Jungkook isn’t looking at him when he speaks. Instead, his eyes stare at the queen-size bed they’re supposed to share tonight. The same bed Taehyung was just fucking a groupie on. 

Taehyung retracts his hand from his underwear and shrugs. “They like it. Adds to the feeling of fucking someone famous or whatever.” 

“Right. Because we’re so famous, we’re staying at a Holiday Inn, which we consider a luxury compared to our usual Motel 6.” 

With a snort, Taehyung swipes a pair of pajama pants from Jungkook’s open suitcase and shuffles toward the bathroom, phone in hand. The younger man’s not wrong; this Holiday Inn is nicer than the motels they typically book. The pay for this gig is one of the highest they’ve gotten. Splurging seemed justified. 

“I’m gonna…” He jabs a thumb over his shoulder to point toward the bathroom. Now that Imani is gone, he has a chance to really look at Jungkook. The waves of his mullet are shiny from the curl mousse he uses, meaning he took a shower next door in Jimin and Seokjin’s room. 

Taehyung fidgets and feels the need to cover himself with the pants he’s holding, but he wills himself to stand still. It’s not that big of a deal. He and Jungkook have seen each other naked plenty of times. It comes with the territory of being a band with no money; privacy is a luxury they typically can’t afford. Seeing each other’s soft dicks in quick flashes between changing clothes is normal. 

Walking around with a boner in front of his friend feels different, though. Even if Taehyung isn't naked. 

“Gonna?” Jungkook still doesn’t look at Taehyung’s face when he speaks.  

“Shower, dude. I fucking stink like vodka and sweat. And pussy, though I don’t mind that.” 

“Right.” Jungkook gives Taehyung a look he can’t quite read, but it disappears almost immediately as a goofy smile puffs up his cheeks. “Have fun trying to piss with that thing.” 

“Fuckface!” Taehyung flips Jungkook off right as the other man shoots him with finger guns. “And stop looking at the bed like that. We only fucked on top of the comforter, and you didn’t even give me a chance to bust a nut. Just take it off.” 

Jungkook makes a gagging sound as Taehyung slams the bathroom door shut. 

The chuckle in Taehyung’s throat immediately dies when he’s alone in the bathroom. The lighting is too bright, electric white, and strong enough to highlight every pore, wrinkle, and imperfection on Taehyung’s face when he confronts himself in the mirror. It’s brief; he’s not interested in lingering on the dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes. Late nights downing liquid poison and early mornings marching to the tune of Seokjin’s nagging can put a man into an early grave if he’s not careful. 

Good thing Taehyung is always careful. 

Tonight he’s careful to keep quiet as he fists himself in the shower, thankful that the water pressure is intense enough for the sound of the shower to drown out any wayward moans he might let out. Hotel body wash and his calloused hands are nothing compared to how good pussy feels, but Taehyung is no stranger to jacking off under the pressure of limited time. Maybe musicians who are actual celebrities have time for a hot body in between shows, but the members of Black Swan work themselves into the ground to score gigs and promote themselves. Pussy can’t be a priority over money. Just the way shit goes. 

“Fuck,” Taehyung hisses through a half-bitten bottom lip. He tightens his grip around the head of his cock, twisting a few times before gliding his palm against the tip. 

When he closes his eyes and tilts his head back, he imagines how good it would have felt to come all over Imani’s tits. They were so full and perky, nipples a dusty brown. Or maybe she’d let him come on her face. Taehyung groans, picking up the pace of his hand. He lightly thrusts into his fist at the thought of Imani’s plump lips slicked up with his come. How she might lick her mouth clean. How he could lick her clean.  

The pressure in his gut is tight, and it burns, his cock pulsing a warning, and the divine image of Imani’s lips morphs into someone else’s. 

“Shit, shit, shit, oh fuck.” As Taehyung finds his release, come splattering the shower wall, he squeezes his eyes shut to see a pink tongue poke out of soft lips. The tongue wiggles a familiar metal hoop pierced through a plush bottom lip as his cock pulses for a final time. 

Energy spent, Taehyung leans his forehead on the wet tiled wall of the shower. 

“What the fuck,” he whispers harshly to himself. “What the fuck.” 

Taehyung has never had a more unsatisfying orgasm in his life. It was great. Mind-blowing, actually. He felt like he could barely stand to finish washing his body, his entire body tingling to his toes. He probably can’t count the number of times he dropped his washcloth because his hands were shaking so hard. 

And that is precisely why it was unsatisfying. It felt too good, and Taehyung spent the rest of his shower trying to ignore the memory of a tongue licking at a lip piercing replaying in his mind as he came. The whole thing is rather unfortunate, really. If Taehyung could stop overthinking how Jungkook had looked at him when Imani kissed him, Taehyung wouldn’t have gotten his friend’s image stuck in his head at such an awkward moment. 

It’s guilt making him obsess over the situation, Taehyung decides as he rubs a towel over his hair. The guilt of locking Jungkook out of their hotel room just so he could fuck a groupie when he knows the band needs rest - especially Jungkook. Being the lead singer is exhausting, even if Jungkook acts like he's okay.

Clean (in body, not in conscience), Taehyung pulls his (Jungkook’s) warm, plaid pajama pants up to sit low on his hips. He brushes away the taste of alcohol and pussy from his mouth, only realizing after he’s done that he accidentally used Jungkook’s toothbrush. 

Another secret he’ll take to the grave. 

By the time he’s dragging himself to his side of the bed, Taehyung still feels hot, like the shower's heat burned so deeply into his skin that he soaked it in. 

Jungkook is curled on his side, facing away from Taehyung. Blue light glows across his face from his phone. Twitter. The kid has a bad habit of checking their hashtags or the tags of venues and other bands they’re performing with. It’s all a bunch of nonsense: blurry concert photos, thirst tweets, and the occasional dudebro claiming Seokjin doesn’t know shit about shredding just because he looks like a suburban dad. There’s no use trying to stop Jungkook from internalizing it all, but Taehyung isn’t the type to give up easily. 

“Hey,” he whispers because the room is pitch black, and the quiet feels intimate. Intimate? Why would he use that word? “Time for bed, yeah?” 

Scooting up to slot himself behind Jungkook, close but not enough for their bodies to touch, Taehyung reaches around his chest to grab his phone. 

“Twitter will be there in the morning.” His voice comes out low and thick with exhaustion. 

Jungkook shivers, probably from Taehyung’s breath dancing across the nape of his neck. He smells of vanilla and lavender from Jimin’s shampoo. It’s comforting, though Taehyung figures that’s why Jimin buys it. Still, the sweet, floral scent is odd coming from Jungkook, who typically wears cologne with woody notes, cinnamon, and sandalwood. They’re masculine scents that make Taehyung dizzy. 

Jungkook lets out a breathy “yeah” and snuggles deeper into the blankets, hands tucked under his pillow. 

“Good.” Taehyung runs his knuckles along the side of Jungkook’s face, stopping at the top of his cheekbone. His mullet is tied back in a ponytail, leaving just his wavy bangs to cascade over his brow. It’s an absentminded touch that Taehyung hardly notices. 

Jungkook murmurs something Taehyung doesn’t hear and tilts his head slightly to give Taehyung more room to continue his knuckles’ path. But he’s already plucking Jungkook’s phone out of his hand. 

With the phone secured, Taehyung rolls back to his side of the bed and plugs it in to charge for the next… three and a half hours they have to sleep. The screen lights up to reveal a selfie of the four of them - Taehyung, Jungkook, Jimin, and Seokjin - at the first gig they ever played as a band. Only three years ago, yet Taehyung smiles as though it’s a memory from a past life. 

“’m sorry I yelled at you.” 

Taehyung turns his head to look at Jungkook. He lets the apology bleed into the dark silence for a moment. Snippy behavior is almost always followed up by an apology from the youngest member. Taehyung never takes his outbursts personally. Too much is riding on the kid’s shoulders to ever be mad at him. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

“It wasn’t nice.” 

The bed creaks when Jungkook rolls over to lie on his side, this time facing Taehyung. His eyes are half-closed and drooping. He’s adorable like this, like always. There’s a reason why girls swoon over Jungkook more than the other bandmates. 

“I was being a dick.” If he wasn’t lying down, Taehyung would shrug. “I deserved it.” 

Silence engulfs the room long enough that Taehyung assumes the younger man has fallen asleep. It isn’t until his eyes finally give in to the heaviness that Jungkook’s soft whispers glide through the quiet. 

“Never a dick. Deserve good things, always, Taehyungie,” he mumbles into his pillow. 

A sleepy chuckle lazes out of Taehyung’s chest. “You too, Koo.” 

“Mm, g’night, TaeTae.” 

Taehyung’s chest tightens when he feels fingers ghost the inside of his wrist beneath the bed sheets. He rarely initiates physical contact with anyone. It’s always Jimin enveloping Taehyung in hugs, lifting his bangs to plant sweet kisses on his forehead, squeezing his hand in reassurance during every pre-show pep talk. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, hangs off of Jimin and Seokjin the most. Taehyung’s not sure when he and Jungkook stopped being as close as they were when the band started. But little moments like this remind Taehyung that maybe he gets in his head too much, overthinking things that aren’t even real or true. 

So he spreads his fingers to allow Jungkook to lace theirs together. They’re tired, and their tour is barely a quarter of the way done. There’s still a month until Spine Breaker Fest and nearly three months of post-fest gigs. 

Sometimes it’s nice to be grounded when you spend so much time with your head in the clouds, dreaming of things you may never grow tall enough to reach. 

He hopes they’ll grow for Jungkook’s sake. He meant it when he said he deserves good things. 

Taehyung squeezes Jungkook’s hand. His grip is loose, and Taehyung knows this means his friend has fallen asleep, but he still whispers, “Night, Koo.”

If Taehyung falls asleep to a lip piercing and a bunny smile, that’s another confusing secret to take to his grave. 

In the morning, Jungkook's leg is thrown across Taehyung's thighs. The older man grunts as he shoves his leg off, grumbling about Jungkook being a gym rat. There’s a reason why Jimin doesn’t ever share a bed with Taehyung, even though the two of them are the closest. Jungkook sleeps like an octopus, all limbs and a wicked snore. Taehyung doesn’t know if octopuses make sounds, but if they do, he’s sure they’d bellow like Jungkook does when sleeping. As the second youngest of the group, Taehyung is doomed to suffer Jungkook’s sleeping habits in favor of the older members getting their peaceful beauty sleep. 

“Hyung, turn it off.” 

Jungkook’s sweet voice is always gruff in the morning. He practically growls and tosses a hand out to slap Taehyung in the chest when the older man doesn’t move quick enough to turn off the alarm on his phone. 

“Ow, fuck!” The slap stings and turns his naked golden chest a blushing red. “Jin hyung's gonna rip us a new asshole if we don’t get up, man. I'm not tryna deal with his shit right now. My head fucking kills.” 

Jungkook grunts. He throws his pillow over his head and mumbles into the mattress. Whatever he says is inconsequential. The fear of Seokjin’s wrath if they don’t leave the hotel on time and the knowledge that Holiday Inns provide complimentary breakfast motivate Taehyung to haul his ass out of bed. 

A hangover and less than four hours of sleep don't look good on Taehyung. He inspects himself briefly in the bathroom as he uses his hands to cup cold water from the sink to his mouth. He quickly gulps down ibuprofen for his headache, feeling like some kind of animal hunched over the sink, scavenging for fresh water. He supposes he's not too far off. 

Today and tomorrow are travel days. That knowledge is enough to have him humming to himself as he washes his face. Travel days mean he gets to nap on the pull-out cot in the back of their camper van until it's his turn to drive, or one of the guys whines about having a chance at napping. Taehyung is known to complain loudly, but he always gives the guys what they want. 

They deserve good things. 

Taehyung covers his face with a handtowel, appreciative of the barrier between his sensitive eyes and the painfully-bright bathroom lights. He doesn't hear the door open over the sink's running faucet, so the press of fingertips into his bare sides startles him. 

"Oh," he sounds with a sharp exhale, lowering the towel from his face. Jungkook's cheeky grin greets him through the mirror. His hair is in disarray, just like Taehyung's, and there are two lines on the side of his face from where the fabric of his pillow pressed wrinkles against his skin. He looks undeniably soft. 

"So easy to sneak up on you," Jungkook teases. "You sure you wear earplugs when you're banging away on stage?" He squeezes Taehyung's hips. His hands are warm when they press against Taehyung's bare skin. 

"I always wear protection when I do any kind of banging; thank you very much." 

Jungkook doesn't appreciate Taehyung's snickering or the dirty joke, and he makes that known by shoving the other man out of the bathroom. 

"You're disgusting, you know that? Get your head out of the gutter." 

"I'm being safe. Didn't they teach you that in school, Mr. Edumacated?" 

Taehyung sticks out his tongue to avoid how his lips threaten to form the boxy smile girls go nuts over. It's okay to smile, but he does it once the bathroom door is shut. In private, he can tuck his chin against his chest while he rifles through his suitcase for a change of clothes. It's nice when things are easy between the two of them. Taehyung tries not to take advantage of these moments because he knows their relationship is fickle. 

Taehyung pulls on a pair of black joggers to match the plain black t-shirt he yanks over his head. His eyes find the mirror hanging on the wall. There's no use trying to manage his bedhead, so he uses a headband to push his bangs away from his face. The curls fall to frame his face rather than get in his eyes. Usually, he prides himself on being the member with the most diverse taste in fashion, but today he's aiming for a look that says, "dead but delicious," in the words of a character from one of his favorite movies. A few nights ago, he'd tried to get the guys to watch What We Do In The Shadows with him, but Seokjin was yelling at him to turn it off barely ten minutes into the movie. Something about it feeling like a weird, indie, supernatural version of The Office. As if that's a bad thing! 

Adjusting the thin gold chain resting on his collarbones, Taehyung gives himself a final look in the mirror before packing his luggage. It's minimal because they only bring overnight bags to the hotel, leaving the bigger stuff in the van. Smaller bags mean less effort to pack up, although Jungkook is always nervous that someone might steal the van. Jimin likes to point out that it's the ugliest vehicle he's ever seen in his life, and anyone who wants to steal a pickle-green camper van with Star Wars decals and an "EMO DAD" custom license plate is genuinely psychotic. 

With a snort at the thought, Taehyung digs around in Jungkook's suitcase to toss a few articles of clothing onto the bed. It's an outfit similar to his: black sweatpants, a black hoodie, and a black undershirt. However, he has a little more fun with the briefs and socks he picks out for Jungkook - decorated with purple hearts and marijuana leaves, respectively.   

Satisfied with his artistry, Taehyung slips on his backpack and grabs the handle of Jungkook's suitcase. The water is still running in the bathroom; from experience, Taehyung knows it will take a while for Jungkook to finish his morning routine. So he heads to the lobby with everything. After that, Jungkook will only need to bring his toiletries down. 

Unsurprisingly, Seokjin and Jimin are already seated in the dining area. Their overnight bags sit on the floor near their table. They're munching on the typical food hotels in the middle of nowhere America serve for breakfast: cereal, weirdly-artificial scrambled eggs, sausage links, and burnt toast. Terrible, really, but perfect hangover food for Taehyung, whose stomach is empty and who is one more glass of water away from throwing up in front of his bandmates, hotel staff, and multiple families with small children. 

"Good morning, Taehyungie!" Jimin's entirely too loud, his voice carrying over the backdrop of babies crying at the tables beside them and pink-faced politicians going at each other on the TV hanging on the wall. 

Taehyung drops the luggage beside his bandmates' and slumps into the chair beside Jimin. 

"Oh, baby." The blonde man reaches over to press the back of his hand to Taehyung's forehead. "You look like shit." 

Seokjin nods in agreement, his mouth stuffed with food. 

"You're so loud." Taehyung tosses a look over his shoulder, eyes scanning the dining area. "I don't need everyone hearing you call me baby." 

His eyes land on a group of young women crowded around a table. They're pretty and giggly, the type of girls who like guys like Taehyung. Guys with stern faces who look bored and unattainable. They're the type of girls who think opposites attract - and that it will work out. 

Jimin lets out a huff and rolls his eyes. "Sorry, sometimes I forget you're scared of platonic affection between men. So fucking metal of you." 

"I'm not scared of anything," Taehyung grumbles. His complaints have little bite to them; it would require energy he certainly doesn't have. He folds his arms against the table and lays his head on them. Something on the table makes his forearms stick to the surface. He tries not to think about it. 

"I meant it with love, you bitch." Taehyung's eyes are closed, but he knows Jimin has a smile on his face. He can hear it in his voice tilting at the end of his sentence. 

Jimin's chair scoots across the floor when he pushes off from the table. As he passes Taehyung on the way to the buffet, he runs his fingers through Taehyung's hair. Jimin's fingers may be calloused from years of strumming a guitar, but he has the gentlest touch out of anyone Taehyung knows. 

"I told you to lay off the tequila shots." Seokjin's voice is muffled. Jimin has fought him over talking with food in his mouth one too many times.

Taehyung grunts. 

"I distinctly remember you crying at the beginning of the night about how you didn't want to drink." 

"Yeah, I know." Taehyung turns his head to the side so he can speak, but his eyes remain shut. Walking to the lobby shook him up a little bit. If he keeps his eyes closed, maybe nausea will stay away. "Blame Jungkook. He's the one who kept buying the shots." 

"Jungkook-ah still asleep?"  

"Getting ready." 

Seokjin chomps away at a waffle drenched in syrup. His cheeks puff out with food, almost making him look like he's not the most intimidating person Taehyung has ever met. Even if he's wearing a pink polo. It does have a tiny skull and crossbones stitched into the pocket, though. Taehyung will give him credit for that. 

"I'm surprised he's even up. With you and that girl being so fucking loud-"

"Ahhhhh!" 

Taehyung cracks an eye open to see Jimin hovering over him with a plate stacked with food.

"Food! You need food!" He rushes to speak and places the plate beside Taehyung's head. The tilt of his head over his shoulder is a poorly-executed attempt to hide his face from Taehyung when he glowers at Seokjin. "How about we go over the plan for the day, hmm?" 

Seokjin rolls his eyes, but he immediately takes out his phone. "Alright, we've got roughly ten to twelve hours to go today. I've factored in stops for food, gas, and bathroom breaks for when Taehyung gets the DADS." 

"Shut up," Taehyung scoffs. He props his head up with one hand and uses the other to pick at the food Jimin brought him. "I don't have the DADS." 

Seokjin points at him with a fork. "Yet." 

He tsks when Taehyung opens his mouth to accuse him of putting such bad energy into the universe. "Anyway. Taehyung's got the first shift." 

"What?" Taehyung shoots up in his chair and immediately regrets the quick movement as his head spins. He groans, wrapping his arms around his waist. "No way. No way I'm doing that." 

"Doing what?" 

The three men startle at the sudden appearance of Jungkook standing beside their table. In his hands is a small travel bag that Taehyung knows holds his toiletries and pajamas. He gives the group a quizzical look, but the cute bunny smile plays at his lips. Taehyung is pleased to see he's wearing the outfit he picked. 

Of course, he is. He had no other option. 

Still, Taehyung smiles despite his unease. When he catches Jungkook's eye, the younger scrunches his nose and wiggles it slightly. 

"Taehyungie is hungover, and hyung wants him to drive," Jimin explains off-handedly. Apparently, his concern for Taehyung's well-being is put on the back burner so he can focus on the influx of Instagram followers the band has gained after their performance the night before. "Look how many likes Jungkookie's post got!" He turns his phone around for the other three to look. 

In the photo, Jungkook is standing in the middle of the stage. His head is tilted backward, and his arms are spread wide as if he's opening up for a giant hug from the universe. The stretch of his arms makes his jean jacket fall open, exposing his bare chest. His skinny jeans hang low on his hips, exposing the bright white band of his Calvin Klein briefs. The venue's lights reflect off the sweat covering his toned abdomen. The first comment on the photo is someone boldly declaring that they would love to lick the sweat off the singer's abs. 

"No surprise there." Seokjin snorts. "Sex sells."

Not to sound cliche, but Taehyung thinks he looks like a rockstar. A real rockstar. 

"Uhh..." Jungkook's cheeks turn a light shade of pink, which prompts Jimin to let out a delightful giggle. "I'll drive first." 

They all ignore the fact that Jungkook doesn't respond to Jimin or Seokjin about the Instagram post. 

Taehyung's eyes are stuck on Jungkook as he reaches for the apple juice Jimin brought him. Despite being nauseous only a few minutes ago, his throat now feels uncomfortably dry. 

"You got the same amount of sleep that I did," he points out with a pout. 

Jungkook waves him off. "Yeah, but I'm not hungover." 

It's not supposed to be judgmental, Taehyung thinks. But it feels like it when Jungkook doesn't look him in the eyes as he speaks. Guilt makes the apple juice taste bitter. 

"JK, please eat?" Jimin tugs on the sleeve of Jungkook's hoodie. "We can argue about driving shifts and eat at the same time." 

Taehyung ends up in the passenger seat. Jimin says sitting up front will be easier for him to ask Jungkook to pull over if he needs to throw up. Taehyung thinks Jimin just wants to lounge in the back with Seokjin on the pull-out cot. 

The camper van is kind of old, and Seokjin bought it used, but it's got enough room for the guys to spread out a bit and still pack all their equipment and instruments in the back. There's a small sink that doesn't work and a mini fridge that's a tad bit too warm, but it does the job. The cot is what Taehyung is most appreciative of; his legs are too long to be shoved into cramped seats for hours on end. 

Jimin and Seokjin sprawl out on the cot together, sharing a pair of earphones to watch something on Jimin's laptop. Probably Queer Eye, Jimin's newest obsession. It's funny, considering all Jimin ever wears is dark-colored clothing with rips and chains adorning the fabric. Tan France would likely be appalled. 

"It's punk, Taehyung. You and your frilly high fashion getup wouldn't understand." 

He's pretty sure Jimin is the reason why the eyeliner industry still exists. 

A light pressure against Taehyung's thigh pulls his eyes away from the back of the van. He looks down to see Jungkook's phone sitting in his lap. 

"Get the directions up for me?" The younger one fumbles with the dashboard phone holder while Taehyung pulls up the GPS. "You can use the AUX if you want." 

Taehyung's eyes widen. When Jungkook looks over, his expression drops for a millisecond. 

"No jazz." 

"Jungkook-ahhhhhhhh!" 

"No fucking jazz, hyung. I'll fall asleep and kill all of us. Is that what you want?" 

Jungkook tries to look stern, but his mouth noticeably twitches at the corners. It makes Taehyung's chest tighten. Probably because he's teetering on the verge of throwing up. 

When Jungkook's tongue flicks out to lick at his piercing, Taehyung finally drops his eyes to the AUX cord his friend is holding. He plugs it into his phone and picks the latest album he's been listening to because his brain is short-circuiting with the memory of Jungkook's lips from the night before. 

Hozier's Eat Your Young filters through the speakers, and Taehyung wonders what the fuck is wrong with him when Jungkook's voice drops lower to match Hozier's baritone. 

"Let me put my lips to something, let me wrap my teeth around... Hey! Put it back on!"

Taehyung furiously scrolls through his recently played songs. Why are all my songs so horny? He silently bemoans to himself. His thumb eventually lands on Ring Ding Dong, and Seokjin immediately screeches from the backseat. 

"Absolutely the fuck not!" He shoots up from the cot, causing the earphones to rip out of Jimin's ear. "Turn it off!" 

He tries snatching the phone from Taehyung, but he beats the older man off. "Okay, fine, fine! I'll pick something else!" 

Jungkook falls silent as he navigates the van onto the highway, taking a moment when Taehyung pauses the music to listen to the GPS announce which direction he should go. He looks so serious when he drives, one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other resting on the shifter. It's so different than when it's Taehyung's turn to take over. Taehyung drives with his whole body, arms loose to bust a few moves when a song hits just right. He likes to weave through the lanes, drive fast, and let the windows down to blow through his fluffy hair. 

Maybe not today, though, considering he feels like death. 

Taehyung's forearm bumps his when they both move to rest their arms on the middle console. He quickly lifts his arm, but Jungkook lets out a quiet laugh. 

"Stay." 

Taehyung keeps his eyes on his phone, but he nods as he returns to the position. They can rest their arms comfortably, even though it forces them to press their forearms against each other. 

Finally, he finds some random punk pop playlist Spotify curated for him and tosses his phone onto the dash. Eventually, they'll enter a part of the countryside with unreliable service, and looking at his phone will be pointless. 

The occasional nostalgic band shuffling through the playlist isn't enough to keep Taehyung's eyes open. He tries not to lean back in his chair and tries to widen his eyes to stare out at the empty highway and emerald green fields blurring past them. It's so boring. Taehyung's brain is always buzzing, a never-ending monologue of thoughts and a desire to fidget and move. It's hard to stay in one place. 

"You can sleep." Jungkook looks at Taehyung out of the corner of his eye. 

"You need someone to stay up with you." 

Jungkook shrugs. His fingers tap the steering wheel to the beat of the song. Taehyung thinks he'd probably make a great drummer. He tucks away the thought of teaching him one day deep into the recesses of his mind. 

"It's okay, really." 

It's not okay. Jungkook needs company, and Taehyung knows it. 

Sighing, he crosses his arms against his chest and picks a new tactic. He uses all his effort to twist his face into a scowl and glares out the window. Maybe playing stubborn will give him new energy. 

"No." 

A finger reaches out to flick Taehyung on the tip of his nose. "Shut the fuck up and take a nap, hyung. Please." 

Jungkook's chuckle rumbles from his chest when Taehyung pouts. Pouts typically get Taehyung what he wants, although he can't quite master the puppy-eyed look Jungkook pulls out when he feels like being deadly. So just in case Jungkook tries to pull it on him now, he keeps his eyes forward. 

As usual, Jungkook manages to command his attention even without Taehyung looking at him. His index finger drops slightly to poke at Taehyung's bottom lip as if he's trying to push it back into a normal position. 

"Don't be so difficult," he chides with a grin, returning his right hand to the shifter. 

Taehyung nods, unable to find the words to protest when he still feels the ghost of Jungkook's finger pressed to his lips. He flicks his tongue over the spot and wonders why his chest still hurts. 

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Oooooo excited for this one!! A pack of seven alphas vying for one person ?? Dangerous and spicy I love it

Moonchild | OT7 | WIP Wednesday

MAIN MASTERLIST

Pair: OT7  x f!reader ; endgame ??? x f!reader  

Summary: Working at a coffee shop that only opened in the late hours of the night was the most exciting thing about your life, really. You never had that many friends, your love life was nonexistent, and you just couldn’t explain the feeling of not belonging that chased you no matter where you tried to find your place. 

It was when seven very handsome strangers came into your life that weird things started happening around you and within you. Could they be the ones to fill in what’s been missing? Or would getting involved with them and their world put you in danger? 

Genre: Series, fluff, angst, smut, non idol au, ABO, werewolf au. 

Warnings: This is just a little teaser from the first chapter of the series, since this story won the poll for the wip wednesday game! I’ll be posting the whole first chapter on my membership on Ko-fi, if you’re interested. 

WC: 1.7k

Min Yoongi was the first one to meet you.

He never believed in fate, really, most of the beliefs his kind took as gospel, he chucked to superstition and coincidences. But even he wouldn't deny that it wasn't by chance that he ended up at Moonlight Café that night. 

Yoongi had been following Namjoon’s orders, checking in with some old friends that were part of the same faction his pack was in. With the North and South of Seoul being as divided as it was right now, it was important to keep close to those who were still on your side. 

But that didn't explain how he reached that part of town, only two streets away from the border where the north territory ended and the south started. 

He shouldn't be there. It was too close to the limit. If he ran into trouble, he could easily be taken as a threat; and facing members of the Southside Clan alone was not something he was ever interested in.

But Yoongi still walked into the coffee shop, the only place actually open at this time of night. The whole street was pitch black, only a few lamp posts reflecting from the wet asphalt. 

Moonlight, however, was warm and welcoming. The low lights of the inside didn't disturb the wandering souls that came in looking for a coffee at three in the morning.

Or a place to rest, in Yoongi’s case. 

"Welcome to Moonlight." you were saying as soon as he crossed the doors. The prettiest smile on your face; one he wouldn't mind seeing more of. 

His heart took a leap in his chest as his stomach turned upside down. 

It took Yoongi a while to recompose himself and actually walk up to the counter and place his order. He would never forget that night, but he really wished you did.

Yoongi was a flustered mess, stumbling over his words, which made you laugh and, most likely, think he was a fool. 

He had only ever heard of encounters like this, his inner wolf chirping happily simply by being in your presence. 

Yoongi went home smelling like you that night, after one single brush against his shoulder. That was his only mistake. 

The fading scent of you that was stuck to his clothes was enough to catch the attention of the three youngest of the pack, so much so they followed Yoongi for four days until he returned to the coffee shop just because he had to see you again.

Park Jimin was the second to meet you, after a heated game of rock, paper, scissors that he may or may not have cheated to win against Tae and Kook. He didn’t really understand the appeal of a coffee shop that opened between midnight and six am; but then again, he wasn’t there for the caffeine. 

He was there, however, to meet the cute barista girl who’s scent he couldn’t get out of his mind. 

Jimin was someone who had flirting as his second nature. To him it came as easy as breathing, almost. So he had the perfect pickup line for you, one to make you blush, maybe let out a giggle or two. And he rehearsed it over and over in his head as he confidently walked up to the counter. 

“What can I do for you tonight?”

It wasn’t the sweet tilt to your voice that disarmed him. It wasn’t even the way your eyes seemed to let out pink and purple fireworks in a dark night sky. But smelling you in person was much much better than catching a whiff of you in his hyungs clothes. 

At that moment he knew. Sakura flowers and vanilla beans were his new favorite smell in the whole damn world. 

Kim Taehyung was the third one to meet you. 

He had been waiting outside as his closest hyung made a fool of himself in front of you. Taehyung could hear Jimin’s inner voice spilling curses at himself and praises at you, repeating over and over again how nice your scent was in person. 

Taehyung walked up to the counter after Jimin had left, when you were walking around the main room to make sure the few sleepless patrons were well served. He had his arms crossed as he read the food and drink options scribbled onto the chalk wall behind the counter. He didn’t drink coffee, so he might have a problem. 

“Do you like hot chocolate?” 

The raising of the hairs in his arm were the first sign you were standing next to him, body reacting before his brain could even catch up. 

Then he watched you make the sweet drink from a distance as he tried to figure you out. 

Kim Seokjin was the fourth to go looking for you. He had heard whispers about you between Jimin and Taehyung, who kept coming home late after a job, buzzing with sugar. But it was only when Yoongi showed up one morning, with red cheeks and a dopey smile on his face that the eldest of the pack was intrigued. 

Being the older wolf also had its perks; like having a way of knowing where his pack members had been –by having access to an app, it wasn’t a super power or anything like that–. 

It was a breach in privacy that he never resorted to, unless it was in situations like this. So he typed up the address he found and the GPS in his car let him into Moonlight. 

Only he didn’t know the weird hours the coffee shop worked with, so he stood in the rain for a good twenty minutes before someone arrived. 

“Oh, goodness! Have you been there for too long?” 

Seokjin knew instantly that it was you that his members were coming to see everyday  for almost two weeks now. And he could definitely understand why. 

You passed him your umbrella, uncaring that you had to be the one left in the rain now, as you opened up the coffee shop. You gave him something to dry his hair with and his first coffee of the night was free of charge. 

Jung Hoseok was a curious man. 

But he was also Namjoon’s right hand when it came to taking care of their pack. Which meant he needed to be alert and watchful of what went on with his brothers, while the leader was more concerned with affairs from the outside of their home. 

He was the fifth to pay Moonlight a visit. His only goal that night was to keep an eye on you from a distance, find out what it was about you that seemed to cast a spell on the members of his pack the way that it did. But all it took was an easy smile and the offering of a gingerbread cookie for his protective stance to falter. 

“I swear it’s going to feel like a warm hug.” 

You promised him when you served him the sweet, your own recipe, he found out. But now he was wondering how it felt to hug you instead. 

Jeon Jungkook couldn’t believe he was the sixth to meet you. He was the one that could scent you from Yoongi hyung’s clothes the minute he was walking into their shared home, he was the one to find the way to Moonlight when Taehyung hyung and Jiminie hyung lost Yoongi on a side street. 

But he had been busy lately, and with new attacks happening closer and closer to their border, Jungkook was needed in the field. 

Yet, all seemed worth it when he made it into the café only thirty minutes before it closed. 

Instead of treating him like an inconvenience, you were sweet as honey and didn’t mind all his chatting. He walked you home that early morning, not even noticing how your small apartment was three streets inside the Southside territory. 

“You really didn’t have to come all the way here just for me. Get home safe now, okay?”

You parted from him with a small squeeze to his shoulder, one he really wished would have lasted longer. On his way home, Jungkook wondered just how many days he could wear that shirt before it lost your sweet scent. 

Kim Namjoon’s pack ran itself at this point, which allowed him to focus on the business he had to take care of on the streets. But he liked to believe he could read his brothers very well, so it didn’t take him long to catch up on the fact that something was going on for weeks now. The leader would catch whispers, hear the main door opening and closing at all hours after dark. 

And, god, he could smell you. 

It didn’t take him long to figure out his pack members were interested in someone. Even the hyungs were bickering with the youngest. Namjoon watched from afar as they discussed who had more rights in courting you. Yoongi saw you first –a childish reasoning that made Namjoon laugh to himself–, Jungkook knew where you lived –a more concerning logic–, Seokjin was the eldest –that motive didn’t really hold any weight in a pack made solely of alphas–. 

It was all fun and games for now, but as soon as it got serious, Namjoon knew that bickering alphas, especially when a potential affection –or even worse, a mate– was involved, things could get ugly. 

It was even easier to figure out where his members had been going every night, and as soon as he walked into the coffee shop with the odd hours, he knew why. 

“Hello! Come on in.”

You had to be the prettiest thing Namjoon had ever laid eyes on; you were small, at least by their patterns, delicate and soft features, but nice hips that would make you the perfect omega for an alpha; or seven. But your scent was still the best part about you, a sweet and mouth watering sakura and vanilla smell that Namjoon wanted coursing through his veins, stuck to his clothes, his skin, and his bed sheets. 

Being inside Moonlight that night also brought a few concerns to his mind. As much as it was still on Northside territory, it was too close for comfort with the south; and the constant visits to the border by the Bangtan pack could be seen as a taunting threat. 

But by far, what puzzled Namjoon the most, was the fact you weren’t an omega. You weren’t even a wolf. 

You were human.