This Story Has Got To Be One Of The Funniest Stories Ive Read In A While !! Love Demon Yoongi And Of

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

Keep reading

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."

---

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.

He makes my heart go 💥💗

---

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

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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